Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Peter Parker was bad at talking.

Not in the physical sense, he just.. never knew when to stop. Or what to say, or how to say it.

He always found himself skirting around in the background to try and avoid attention as much as possible. He didn't want to get in trouble for simply saying the wrong thing, though.. it happened more often than not.

“Penis Parker. Back from the principal’s office I presume?”

“Wow. Way to go Parker. You’ve ruined another person's life!”

“People don't usually talk this much in fights, kid.”

Blah. Blah. Blah. He was sick of it.

His mind always raced and he said things faster than he understood what he was saying.

“Peter.” The social worker, Mrs. Lake, sat across from him. Her fingernails tapped against the table of the beat down diner the two were seated at.

“Mrs. Lake.” Peter nodded, his teeth gritting out the words. His back was slumped against the cushy, yet uncomfortable, seating. His scuffed shoes squeaked as he bounced his leg. An anxious habit he never seemed to break.

“Mr. Parker, what you've done is highly unacceptable.” Her voice was laced with bitterness. Peter bit back a laugh. “You can't just run off whenever you feel like it!”

“I don't just ‘run off’” He bit back. “They gave me a bad feeling.”

“And you think that's a valid reason?” Tap. Tap. Tap. The fingernails clicked. “You think you can leave a perfectly good home because of a feeling?”

“And what I'm supposed to trust your judgement?” He glared through the overgrown bang’s of his curly brown hair. “Trust whatever system you have?”

The woman scoffed.“You doubt the system? Fine. Stop making it everyone else's problem.” Tap. Tap. Tap. “We run background checks.”

“Yeah, shitty ones!” Peter snapped. “Real shitty ones that get people hurt!” The walls. The smell. Thehandshapedbruisesthathealbutneverleave.

“What do you want me to say, Mr. Parker?” She growled. TapTapTap.

“What do you want me to say?” The teenager huffed. taptaptaptap

He crossed his arms over his worn out jacket. The thick heavy duty fabric protected him against the cold. taptaptaptaptapta— “It's not like I have any more family members for you to ship me off to!”

Mrs. Lake sighed. A hiss of breath left between her teeth, and puffed out fog. The type you see when it to cold outside. Not peter’s fault the place couldn't afford heating.

She pushed up her triangle glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. Peter realized he’d done it again. Mouth off to the wrong person and suddenly it's off to the principal’s office!, or jail, or getting crushed under a building and— breatheicantbreatheitshardandfoggyicant—

“I won't make you go back, Peter.” The teenager beamed. “But this can't keep happening. You have to figure out what it is you want. Why it is you keep running.”

Uh. Yeah Peter has an answer to that. Foster care is shitty. That guy and his stupid wallpapers were shitty. And his bad mouth. The fuck did he know about Peter anyways?

But most of all, the guy had bad vibes. He failed the spidey-o-meter, which is a quick track to I gotta get the fuck outta here.

Peter refused not to listen to his senses anymore. It always got him hurt.

He closed his eyes and grounded himself. coffeesweatvanillamoldpeaches. Smells overwhelm him. One sense at a time. But he likes this place. The smells are familiar. They don't grate against him like the chemical perfumes, or the dust of fancy offices, or the alcohol and tears that stain each and every house he gets sent to.

Tap.Tap. Sound. The fingernails grate against his senses. Maybe not because of simply how annoying they were, but also how repetitive it was. What it meant.

It meant Mrs. Lake was here. It meant he was in trouble, and it meant he was getting shipped off. Again.

He was so tired of getting shipped off. Of feeling so out of place. So unwanted. It was normal for Peter to feel alone. He’d felt wrong all his life. A simple understanding of me vs them.

When his parents died it was hard. He was a kid back then, but the wound still felt fresh. Like a scab that got picked, or he moved to fast and some stitches ripped. It probably had to do with the fresh new death of one May Parker.

Peter was cursed. He had to be. His parents always joked about ‘Parker luck!’ but it turned out to be more like Peter luck.

He knew somehow it was his fault. That somehow he was the reason everything went to shit. His parents died in a plane crash but he was never scared of heights. He found freedom up high. Surely he should be scared? Surely he should honor them with more thoughts? But he can't.

He can't because when he thinks parents he thinks may and her cookies, and her goofy grins and corny jokes. And he thinks Ben. Ben and his cracking jokes, and love for the world despite his flaws. His photography that no one understood but Peter did.

Peter knows he failed them. The moment he got these powers, he should have bailed. Should have up and left before they got hurt. Before they did get hurt. Because Peter couldn't stop it.

Was he selfish? He didn't want to be selfish.

“Peter..?” Mrs. Lake snapped him from his thoughts. He pulled himself away from his hunched up position, and spit out the nail chucks he bit off. Peter wonders how there isn't a dent in the floor from his near obsessive bouncing. “I'm sorry there's no one listed—”

“There has to be.” Peter denied. He quickly stood, shouldering the grief. “There has to be someone.” Because Peter was selfish.

————————

Five. Five cups of pure caffeine down the drain which is Peter's throat. He didn't care for the taste. He just needed the push. The push to keep working. Just need to find something.

There was nothing. No more relatives of Ben Parker. Not even any for May. He groaned and let his head flop against the table. Back at the same diner, coffee shop, whatever. He knew he was starting to get predictable.

The nice older lady who worked there always brought Peter an extra pastry of some type. She claimed he needed to eat more, and that ‘all that stress’ wasn't good for him.

Peter disagreed but bit his lip. He knew manners. And, she was probably right. She never lied about her care for him. Her care for all the street rats that came in smelling like death, and covered in dirt.

Her heartbeat thumped honest.

Peter felt creepy for listening the way he did. He felt like maybe it was weird to smell people for lingering alcohol, or listen to their heartbeat. But he couldn't trust them. He couldn't trust anyone.

Fury itched at his fingertips. Ran hot through his blood. It was a bad idea to be spider-man in this state. He didn't want to lose control and punch someone's head off— or whatever he could do.

So he ordered another coffee, cracked his knuckles and locked in.

Right. Okay. He forgot about his parents. He neglected them while doing the initial search for family members. Richard Parker had no one but his brother. Dead end, dead dad. What else is new?

Then Mary Parker. Or alternatively Mary Fitzpatrick. Peter gnawed on the plastic as he read through her history. Dead parents, yada yada. Great. No one.

Maybe Peter should aim for emancipation.

————————

Great! Turns out he’s to young for that. He just turned 14. Peter can't handle another week in this new group home, let alone a year or so of back and forth. The sheets are itchy and he can't stand the sounds it's just.. so loud. So despite his prior understanding of his rage, he put on the costume.

Spider-Man lets him feel free. Lets him feel strong and useful and like he understands the world a bit better. Like it's his place.

He gets to be himself. He can be mouthy, and vengeful and no one can tell Spider-Man what to do. No one can kick him to the curb, or another house. And no one will die.

He's swore on it.

————————

Peter was getting desperate. He can admit that, sure! But they were moving him. Again. To hell’s kitchen.

Peter has nothing against it. It's a nice place. Nice being subjective.. It's crime full and poor and daredevil roams the streets. It's like his home just so.. different.

Peter hates it. The smells are wrong. Queens smelt like home. He doesn't want to hate it. His mom lived here. She was from here. Peter liked to imagine she’d be proud of him. That she’d wrap him up in a blanket and smile and go “Peter. You're doing so well.”

“Peter I'm so proud of you.” “Peter you did all you could.”

It's sad, he thinks. It's sad and stupid because he doesn't even remember what she looks like. He has no place here. He doesn't. Because it's not home. It's a sick reminder of a woman he never got to know. Someone who got taken away from him. Like everyone else.

And hell, Peter managed when he was moved to midtown. But he wasn't going to the same school anymore. He wasn't doing anything normal anymore.

The system let people get away with killing May and Ben Parker. The system never cared about his parents deaths. They never even found the body's.

Peter dug into his own records. Birth certificate, passport, everything. He needed to cheat his way out. He was smart. The laptop he used was built from scraps he found in the dumpster. He could manage this.

He would manage this.

And that's how Peter Parker found out he wasn't a Parker, at all.

He was born Peter Fitzpatrick, name quickly changed after birth and Mary’s quick marriage to Richard Parker. Which.. okay? Maybe they got married because of him.? Some folks do that.

But Richard wasn't put down as the father. And as much as Peter wished he could shove it off, he couldn't.

So he did what he did best! It was science. That's not even a shock at this point.

He had to test his DNA before. Spider bite baby!! Nothing insane about this at all.

And

Wow.

Richard Parker was not his father. Ben Parker had no relation. May Parker raised a kid not her own, not bens own, not even Richards own.

Peter had single handedly caused the death of these people.

He brought them in. Let them close. He was the reason they died. Him. And he should’ve left. Mary shouldn't have dragged them into this. Mary should of dropped Peter off a bridge the second she had the chance.

Peter had questions.

So many questions.

So many questions and quite frankly, no answers..

————————

“You knew Mary Parker back when she was Mary Fitzpatrick, yes?” The teenager blew a piece of hair out of his eye. The tips almost frosted from the cold weather, he’d run off fresh after a shower before Ms. Gale could see what he was doing.

She said Peter was evil. That something was wrong with him. That he was a troublemaker with the devil in him. It wasn't the first Peter’d heard of that. So he’d brushed it off.

The woman across from him, Marci Stahl if he had her name correct, grinned. She had a sharp smile, and cunning attitude. Peter was surprised she’d even agreed to meet him. “Yes. I did. You look just like her..”

Peter stopped the growl that rang in his throat. “I didn't—”

“You didn't have to sweetie.” The way she said it made Peter feel demeaned. Patronized. “I do my own background checks. Why’d you think I decided to meet you?”

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat. “Okay.” He fidgeted with the hem of his jacket. “So.. you know she's dead then?”

The woman frowned, but nodded nonetheless. “Is that what this is about, Peter? You want to.. get to know her better?”

Peter nodded. His chest squished with every breath. “Yeah uhm.. She died when I was young so.. I guess— I dunno?”

She nodded. Peter was overwhelmed by her perfume. Chemical. He noted to himself. “And she talked about her ol’ pal Marci?”

“No.” Peter’s voice was flat. “I may have uh..” He scratched the back of his neck, rubbing where the absent prick of the spider sense was. He wished for a moment that Marci was a evil villain. At least then he could deal with her.

“I may have stalked her class records and..” Peter coughed awkwardly. “Cross referenced it with old photographs, the amount of same classes, personally types based on old classmate statements—”

Marci laughed. Peter's face flushed. “You’d make a hell of a lawyer kid.” ba-dump. Peter held his breath. “Or a PI. Most people wouldn't do all that digging. What do you wanna know?”

Peter grinned sheepishly. He pulled out a binder and shuffled out some papers. Printed out DNA tests, which he kept on hold simply due to shock and to feel like doing all this research was for a reason.

He wasn't stalking a random man.

“Couple things I need to know. Just some yes, or no questions. Simple really.” Peter coughed into his hand. He straightened his back and his eyes narrowed in concentration. “You’ve had relations with a Franklin ‘foggy’ Nelson, is that correct?”

Marci’s heart sped up. “..yes?” Steady. Not a lie.

“And worked with him as interns at Landman & Zach?” Peter questioned.

“What is this about?” Marci’s back straightened. “I thought this was about Mary?”

“It is.” Peter nodded quickly. “I just have to fact check some things. Nelson now works for the firm Nelson, Murdock & Page, right?” Peter's heart thumped in his chest. He felt the waiters footsteps through the floor. Heard the ticking of Marci’s watch.

Marci quirks a brow. “I didn't think you’d asked me here to talk about my ex and his firm.” She bunched up her nose. Her muscles shifted. Peter was losing her.

“I found out that Richard Parker is not my father.” Peter said blankly. He didn't want to give this information out. Didn't want to talk about himself. But he had to throw her a bone. Can't just back her into a corner and make her talk. She's not a criminal. And he's not the devil of hell's kitchen.

Marci made a noise. “Ah. You’re wondering who your father is?” It was a mix of a question and a statement. She wanted Peter to answer, but she already knew.

Peter nodded. “I mean.. I took a test..”

“DNA?” She sipped her drink. Peter's nose wrinkled at the smell. When did that get there?

“...yes.” He nodded. “I needed to know.”

“How’d you find out? The test?” She crossed her legs.

Peter shook his head. “No. I was looking into my birth records. Debating on emancipation, but I don't have guardians and I'm to young.” He sighed.

Marci hummed so he continued. “I noticed my birth last name, and the lack of a father on record. I thought, maybe they just weren't married yet? But it felt fishy. So I dug.”

Peter tilted his head as he listened to Marci's heartbeat and breathing pattern. It's changed. Like she’d realized something. “If you know who your father is, why ask me?”

“Because..” His leg bounced with his nerves. “I need to know it happened. I can't just go off science, as much as that’d be easy. I need.. a source. And I can't very well ask m— Mary.”

Marci bit her lip. “You’re like him too. You have his eyes.” Peter stilled. Thump. Thump. Steady. “But you have her smarts. Damn.”

“Please.” Peter's voice broke. “I just need to know.” Tears welled in his eyes. The substance clouding up the green-brown hazel.

Marci sighed. “I didn't know him well. Foggy knows everything about him. Practically attached at the hip, those two.” She flicked a wood chip off the table. “But yeah. Mary and Murdock had a fling in college.”

Peter’s breathing slowed. He let out a sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding. “..”

Marci tapped her glass, a small humming noise as she thought. Her phone vibrated, but she ignored it. Peter quirked a brow. “They went out for a little. But it definitely happened. Murdock wasn't one for long term relationships. He slept around.”

Peter wrinkled his nose. Marci laughed. “What? You wanted to know!”

“You.. said you didn't know him well?” Peter muttered. He felt small. Like a child. Like when he was six and found out his mom and dad would never return, or when he was eleven and held Ben's dying body in his arms. Or a few months ago. May. She was sick..

“But.. you did know him?” Peter looked up at her. He wondered if he looked at pathetic as he felt.

Marci nodded. “Oh yeah. Him and foggy were best friends. Still are.” She hummed. “If your nervous about talking to him, don't be. He’ll love ya. Foggy's always going on about ‘his sweet heart!’ and whatever else he says.” She rolls her eyes fondly.

Peter stills. “I don't know if I want to tell him?”

“Are you asking me, or telling me that, Peter?”

“Telling.” He says firmly. “Definitely telling.”

Marci hums yet again. Peter appreciates her truthfulness. “Well. I can't make you tell him. And I’m not going to tell him for you. Not my relationship.”

“Thank you..”

“But..” She stills. Her body shudders with the sigh she releases. “I’d recommend you talk to him. Even if it's to get information. You don't have to have a relationship with the guy.”

Peter nods slowly. “Though I'm sure he’ll try and rope you into one anyways.” She muttered under her breath, amused. Peter's eyebrows scrunched together. He wasn't supposed to hear that.

“Thank you Ms. Stahl.” Peter stands up and shakes her hand. “I appreciate you taking time out of your day to—”

“Oh none of that nonsense!” She waves him off. “This is my personal number. Call me if you have any questions about Mary, okay? We might have lost contact but I still care about her.” She hands him a napkin.

Peter nodded. His chest heaved and his feet felt heavy. “..thank you..” he quietly muses. His hands clench the paper.

“Don't isolate yourself kid! Call auntie Marci if ya need anything!” She teases and walks out the restaurant. Her heels clicking.

Peter listens for a few blocks until he can't hear her anymore.

“...I need a drink.”

————————

Peter finds himself wandering hell’s kitchen. This part of the city is starting to get to him. The smells. The sights. The tastes. It's not queens. It’ll never be queens. But he's starting to think of it as home, and that's scary.

Peter let's his train of thought wander. His feet take him places he’s never been and his mind takes him down different thoughts patches than he ever thought possible.

‘what if he doesn't like me?’ ‘what if I'm weird and awkward?’ ‘he doesn't want a kid.’ ‘what if he doesn't believe me?’ ‘hes a lawyer. Lawyers are scary.’ ‘hes blind. What if I say something offensive?’ ‘he's not made of glass.’ ‘what if I kill him.’ ‘i can't do that.’ ‘selfish.’ ‘i gotta stay away.’ ‘talk to him.’ ‘stay away.’ ‘talk—’ ‘selfish.’

He finds himself staring at the sign to the office. Seriously? He wandered here??

He listened to the heartbeats. Picked out different voices. He found him. He found the man. He's right there. He's so close. Peter can hear him.

But he can't. The man’s happy. He didn't ask for a kid. He doesn't know about the kid. Context from Marci’s conversation gives that away. Peter thinks the man would be better off without a wannabe Parker.

Without his ‘Peter luck’ because it wasn't the parkers. It was him. And he can't ruin more lives. He just can't.

..maybe tomorrow.? Yeah.. Tomorrow.

————————

Peter knows he’s selfish. Knows how incredibly selfish it is to want to drag a man into this. Into his life. Into the fucked up things he has going on. But the man should know right? He deserves to know that he has a child out there.

“you have proof Peter..” he whispers under his breath. “Okay.. uhm.. fuck.” He paces the sidewalk. The door of the building going in and out of sight.

“I should’ve told Mrs. Lake..” Peter mumbled bemused. “I should have told her and she would deal with this, and—” Peter whimpers under his breath.

His chest squeezes tight. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. He walks in before he can convince himself against it. The door creaks as he enters the lobby. “I've got this..” he mutters under his breath.

He shifts around the near empty lobby. Seems like the place just opened up. That's fine. Peter's biological dad is a broke pro-bono lawyer who took on the castle case. Maybe he’d be used to Peter's weirdness.

A blonde woman strolls in, her eyes widen at Peter. “Oh! Sorry! Didn't hear you come in!” She grins, but grits out the last sentence. Like it's a dig at someone. Peter really hopes it isn't him.

He coughs awkwardly into his hand, wishing now more than ever he’d sprung his last twenty on clothes. He must look like a hot mess. But, pro-bono right? “Uhm.. that's okay..”

He shifts awkwardly, mentally chastising himself for his awkwardness. So he can talk when it'll get him in trouble but not now? Great. “Ms. Page, I assume?” Peter steps forward, putting his hand out to shake. She smiles and accepts it.

“Yep! Sorry the offices is a mess right now.. we’re getting set up.” She beams. “What can we do for you Mr..?”

“Peter. Peter Parker.” Peter feels his throat close up. “Uh.. I need to see Mr. Murdock—” ba-dump. Her heart sped. Was she,.. nervous? There's no way she could know.

“Oh? He’s out right now!” Lie. Peter hears him in the building. In fact the man shuffles to a stand hastily. “But I can take a message!”

Peter cringes. “That's.. not a good idea. It's uhm..” personal.

A man steps out of his office. Murdock. Matt Murdock. Peter feels his nerves jump. The blind man steps forward. “It's okay Karen. I got back a few moments ago.” He grins. Peter tilts his head at the obvious lie.

“Mr..?” Matt gestures for a handshake, Peter takes it.

“Parker. Peter Parker.” Peter pulls away from the handshake before the eventual hand sweat. “I just needed to speak to you for a moment. It's uh.. personal..?” Peter's voice squeaks, and he tries not to feel embarrassed.

He hears Karen's heartbeat calm down. Her eyes narrow slightly, and Peter wouldn't have noticed without his sight. She thinks he's suspect. Like he's threatening the blind man.

“Personal?” The man mutters. He tilts his head slightly and Peter wonders if that how he looks when he does it.

“Uhm. Yeah..” Peter's hands fidget with the straps of his backpack. His beat down DIY laptop shuffles against scrap metal and his important papers. “It hard to say so I guess I'll just say it—”

Peter pushes down the whimper he feels at the man’s expression. It changed from assessment to pity in an instant. “Hello Mr. Matt Murdock! In college you had relations with a certain Mary Fitzpatrick, later renamed Mary Parker.”

Matt’s grip tightens on the desk he was lax resting against. He swallows thickly.

“She had a son. And uh.. Might be fifteen years late on the announcement but um..” Peter shuffles awkwardly. “Hi, I'm Peter Parker, and I'm pretty sure you're my dad.”

Karen sputters out her water, a choked sound coming out. And.. Matt freezes, but his heart does not.

Chapter Text

Matt has to be going insane.

The first time he heard the footsteps and quiet muttering he thought sure! Okay. Someone has something to say about our business. Something to talk about!

The fifth time he heard it he was certain another gang had come after him. That fisk couldn't stay in his place, or that some new guy found out about daredevil.

The person smelt of blood occasionally. Scrapes and bruises that seemed patched up by the next day. The clothing smelt of ash and dirt, mostly in the jacket which Matt could hear crinkle and crunch.

Some moments he thinks it's a criminal. Other moments he thinks it's a teenager who's down on their luck. Either way he feels responsibility.

He knows it's a teenager by the third day. He can tell by the heartbeat. By what the kids been saying.

It's mostly nerves. The teen hyping himself to eventually turn away.

Matt airs on the side of caution. “Karen. We're being stalked by either a anxious teenager with some sort of abusive guardian, or a teen criminal.”

Karen quirks a brow. “what?”

Matt nods. “Yeah. Just.. he's looking for me specifically. Be careful?”

Karen nods. “Course I will.”

The teenager seemed a minute away from having a heart attack at any given moment.

Matt was close to just walking outside and talking to the teen. Maybe lead him inside, get him some tea, and help out with legal trouble. Maybe the kid was being abused? Gosh Matt's paranoia made him want to gnaw at the walls like a freed rabbit until there was no plaster left. No brick. 

Just a lovely open floor plan, with an unusual amount of uninstalled windows.

The boys pacing speeds up, and slows down. Matt's back feels tense.

“You have proof, Peter.” The kid mumbles. Matt quirks a brow. He's gotten almost.. used to peter. “Okay.. uhm.. fuck. I should've told Mrs. Lake.”

A guardian? Lawyer? Teacher? Who? Peter's mentioned her once.

“I should've told her.. and she would deal with this and—” The teens ranting stopped at he made it to the door. Matt straightened his back. Was he actually—? “I’ve got this..”

And the door creaked open. Peter observed the room. His stance stiff and his heart seemed to skyrocket. Peter's head swivels to the door where Karen enters. 

“Oh! Sorry! Didn't hear” her teeth grit. Matt clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Damn. His bad. “you come in!”

Peter's breathing speeds up, and his hands clench his pockets. “Uhm.. that's okay..” His voice is squeaky. Kind of awkward. He shifts his body weight from foot to foot. “Ms. Page, I assume?”

He steps forward for a handshake. Karen shakes his hand. “Yep! Sorry the office’s a mess right now.. we’re getting set up!” Peter nods. “What can we do for you Mr..?”

“Peter.” The teen states. Matt nods to himself at the truthfulness. “Peter Parker.” His heart speeds up. Not enough to be a lie, but there's.. uncertainty. Matt notes it down in his head. 

Karen furrows her brows. She tilts her head like she realized something. Right.. Matt talked about the semi-stalker. Found out his name from one of Peter's self critiquing rants.

Nevermind. No way this kids a criminal.

“Uh..”

The boy swallows thickly. He grows to smell like sweat and ew. Matt remembers foggy's talks on not being creepy. Stop commenting on the smells of a not suspicious teenager with anxiety. “I need to see Mr. Murdock.”

Matt's heart speeds up. He feels himself grip the desk. Is— no. No. Peter's a teenager. A child. Maybe he just wants Matt for some weird odd yet normal reason. Even though records state foggy's the better lawyer— right? (Maybe he's pushing his agenda on his friend.. but foggy should take pride in the work he's done!!)

Karen grows nervous. It must be obvious because Peter picks up on it. Taking a step back and letting his heart race along with her’s. “Oh? He’s out right now!”

Karen lies. Her heartbeat skips. Matt doesn't want Karen to cover for him. Especially not if this kid works for someone bad. For something bad. But he doesn't.Paranoia hits Matt hard.

“But I can take a message!” Karen beams with her customer service voice. Matt stands up to get to the door.

“That's not a good idea.” At least he doesn't want to drag Karen into it. “It's uhm..”

Peter stares at the door. Matt mentally curses. He must've made it to obvious.

Matt decides now to step out of his office. The teenager seems to expect it, but Karen's shocked. She must not have expected Matt to come out and conversate with the stalker teen.

He knows Karen probably didn't think anything bad. She just likes to air on the side of caution. She can see Peter. See how young and potentially bruised up he is. Matt can't sense any right now, but he also doesn't want to check in too much. He is not a creepy stalker, no matter how much foggy jokes.

It's not Matt's fault he can hear foggy from blocks away!! 

“It's okay Karen. I got back a few moments ago.” He grins, throwing his charisma on the table. Just gotta get the teen to relax. You can do that Murdock. Yeah! Fuck. Where's foggy?

Karen sighs and gets herself a bottle of water.

Peter tilts his head and Matt takes that as his cue for a handshake. “Mr.?” like he couldn't hear him through the wall. “Peter. Peter Parker!” The teen chirps.

Peter's hand is calloused. It doesn't match up with his scrawny form. Each finger is calloused, his palm is calloused. Does he work? He must tinker. Matt hears the scrap metal in the boys bag. His knuckles creak. He’s broken his hand before.

Peter's hand is sweaty. It seems he knows that because he pulls away quickly to (discreetly) wipe his hand. 

“I just needed to speak with you for a moment..” The teen pauses. He bites the inside of his cheek until Matt smells blood. That's.. really self destructive. “It uh.. personal—” Peter's voice cracks. 

Matt notices the teen's heart race. Peter's nervous, that much is obvious, but Matt doesn't know about what. Is he being hunted? In some sort of crime adjacent field? How personal?

Karen seems to calm down, which is the opposite from how Matt feels. She knows Peter's not a threat. She's always been good about reading people, even without Matt's super senses. “Personal?”

Peter hears him. “Uhm.. yeah..” The teen shifts from the heel to the balls of his feet. His hands clench around the straps of his bag. “It's.. hard to say, so I guess I'll just say it..”

The teenager trails off and clears his throat. Matt tilts his head. Abuse right? It's gotta be? If he gets on it early does he get ten points? 

“Hello Mr. Matt Murdock!” The teens voice is chipper, but it wavers with stress. “In college you had relations with a certain Mary Fitzpatrick.” Thats— not what he was expecting.

“,later renamed Mary Parker.” Peter sounds like he's reading off a script. Matt guesses with all that pacing he had time to think. Isn't Peter's last name— “She had a son.”

Matt feels the pit in his stomach grow. “And uh.. might be fifteen years late on the announcement.. but uh…” Peter shuffles his feet. “Hi, I'm Peter Parker and I'm pretty sure your my dad.”

Karen spits out her water. Thum— True. Matt's senses feel frozen. He feels like he's the iceberg that killed the Titanic. He feels cold, and numb— and simultaneously, “When did it get so hot in here?”

He pulls at his tie. Lax. Loose. That's what he needs to be. Calm. Calm for his—

He has a son. A teenager who's standing in front of him. A teenager who has chronic anxiety, and shows up bloody. Is Peter like him? Angry and— Is he alone?

“Did your mom send you?” Matt blurts out. His voice wavers between gruff and soft. He doesn't— what is he supposed to do??

Peter stiffens. “No..? I—” He pauses. “Shit.. do you really not know?” 

Matt tilts his head. He feels Karen place her hand on his shoulder. “uh..”

Peter coughs into his hand. “Yikes— I mean it makes sense.. college hookup? I mean who keeps up with that? I should be glad you even remember her. Imagine me coming here and you didn't remember?? Drunk hookup? Oh god. That would suck.. why didn't I think of that as a possibility—” The teenager rambles.

“Not know.. what?” Matt forces out. He bites the inside of his cheek. It feels like rubber.

“About Mary Parker.” Peter say blankly. He looks at his shoes. “She uhm.. she's kinda.. dead?” Holy cow. Is today drop bombs on Matt Murdock day? Forget being charged as a terrorist. What the fuck.

“You're an orphan?” Matt feels his voice crack. 

Peter sighs. “Mary Parker died in a plane crash, with her husband Richard Parker.”

“Was this recent?” Matt stands up. Karen bites her lip. “Did she name me in her will? Why haven't I spoke with a lawyer or— or someone—”

Peter backs away at Matt's sudden movement. Karen pulls him back. “Matt. Slow down. Deep breaths.”

Peter bites his nails. His leg twitches and he fights the urge to pace. “They died when I was six.” 

And Matt? He doesn't know if he can take this. He trembles and Karen leans him against a desk. Peter looks away. “Uh.. shit— sorry to be a debbie downer..”

Matt almost snorts. He rubs his hands over his face. What. Peter's apologizing? Of course he is. The teen seemed nervous all week— Matt thought his son was a criminal. “No— it's.. you aren't.”

“I have proof!” Peter ruffles through his backpack and hands Karen a file. It's thick. “Everything from Mur-patrick sightings, to DNA tests.” Peter nods to himself.

“Sorry I don't have braille copies.. the printer at the library didn't have that type of.. well.. printer.” Peter shrugged. He fidgeted with his hands. He almost lit up. Beaming,“I'm sure it's not hard to build.. I could design one..” He mumbled under his breath.

Karen opened the file but looked at Matt. “It's.. okay, Peter. We trust you.”

Peter blinked owlishly. He tilted his head. “You have no reason too. I understand if you don't.”

Matt feels frozen.

“Also! I can give you my email if you want the digital copies!” Peter beamed and he scribbled it down on a sheet of paper. Karen accepted it. “Or if you just.. want to.. chat— I dunno..” His nails snapped against each other. Clicking.

Matt feels like he's going insane. “So.. wait. if— if you are an orphan for— how old are you?” Whatthefuck.whatthefuck.

“I'm fourteen!” Peter beams from beside Karen. He's leaning over her shoulder while she digs through the file peter gave. “That's my backup file, Ms. Page. I probably should have sent the documents online but..” He looks away. “Guess this was a conversation I wanted to have.. in person.”

“Uh—” Matt felt his brain melting. “wh— lawyer? Social worker? Why—” He bit his lip.

Peter stood up straight. “I wanted to be the one to talk about this.. you know?” He bit the inside of his cheek. His fingers cracked.

“Right.” Matt stands up. He paces the area In front of the desk. “Right.Right.Right.”

Peter's brow furrows. “I know this is.. stressful, and weird or whatever but you got nothing to worry about!” Peter nods to himself. “I don't expect money, or housing or whatever—! Foster cares not.. that bad. Been a rough few months but—”

“Few months?” Matt edges closer. “You’ve been in foster care for a limited amount of time? Wh— who did you live with before?”

“Matt. You're scaring the kid.” Karen nudges him back. Peter's face scrunches. “Not a kid.”

“Is this a bad time orrrr..” Foggy shuts the door behind him. “Matt, buddy, what's going on? Why we interrogating this kid?”

Peter growls quietly. “Not a kid.”

Matt doesn't bite back his sarcastic remarks. “Fourteen is no where near adulthood.”

Peter rolls his shoulder. “Cool. Well, I should head out.”

Foggy slips into a chair. “Hold on, uhh..” 

“Peter.” Karen supplies. Foggy nods. “Peter. Look, whatever Matt's said wrong just forget about it.” He leans forward. “He either didn't mean it, or.. well. Yeah.” Foggy. Senior officer of damage control! Reporting for duty!

Peter blinks away tears. “It was a mistake to come here.”

Matt bites his knuckles. Don't say anything rash. Don't say anything stupid. “Peter. I'm sorry— I didn't mean to come across..” like a dick? “Like that.. I’m just..” He pinches the bridge of his nose. His red sunglasses smudged and positioned up. “I need to know.”

Peter bites back his own snide remark. Matt can tell by the breathing pattern. “Yeah.” He swallows the blood in his mouth. “Yeah okay.”

Foggy quirks a brow and Matt gestures for questions later. 

“I've been in foster care for a few months. First time for everything you know?” Peter’s foot tapped impatiently. “My aunt and uncle took me in after my parents died, but uh.. can't really live with them if they're dead..?”

“You're a double orphan?” Matt wants to scream. “And you didn't come here for custody?”

Peter shrugs. He's scrunched up in attempt to make himself smaller. “Yeah.. uh.. just wanted to let you know..” He clears his throat. 

“So uh.. could we go get lunch or something? Sometime..” The teens voice broke through the wave of shock and.. horror? Joy? Matt felt. “I don't know any good spots around here.”

Foggy spoke up. “You’re not from here?”

Peter shook his head. “Ah. No. Queens, born and raised!” Chipper attitude filled his voice.

“Queens..” Matt repeated. The word felt foreign. “Yeah.. uh.. okay.” He nodded.

Peter made eye contact with Foggy. “Nice to meet you Mr. Nelson! I was just stopping by! I'll be outta your hair now!”

Matt attempted to grab Peter's wrist but Peter flinched. Goosebumps. Peter was scared of him? Of people? “Peter. Please don't go—”

“I know you probably have more questions..” Peter kicked dirt off the ground. Rubber scuffed the floor. “But I don't have any answers you might be looking for. I didn't know her well.”

“What about what I can do? What I can answer?” Matt stepped forward slowly. Peter's heart raced like a rabbit. “Do you have any questions about me? About your mom?”

Peter stepped back. “Uh.. not really.” Lie. “I already googled searched you.. and Ms. Marci knew my mom.”

“You talked to Marci?” Foggy sat up. “Wait— hold on. Who are you kid?”

“Oh. Yeah sorry.” Peter shrugged. “Peter Parker!” He shook Foggy's hand. “I'm Mr. Murdock’s son he didn't know about.”

And there's the fourth person to have a heart attack today. Ding. Ding. Ding!

“Well.. uhm.. I should get going anyways!” Peter's voice strains. He grips the straps of his bag and takes a couple of steps back. It takes everything in Matt to not reach forward.

“Yeah..” Matt mumbles. He feels like the moments fleeting. And when Peter leaves there’ll be no proof this happened.

“It's getting late..” Peter checked his wrist for his clock. It was broken. “Ms. Gale will be mad if I'm too late.. and it's a long walk back!”

Karen perked up. “Who?”

Peter shrugs. “My.. foster mom? Eh..” He makes a so-so gesture. “She runs the group home I live in.”

Matt makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat. “Oh..” Matt steps forward. “So you really reached out for—”

Peter sighs. “Closure, Mr. Murdock.” His weight shifts from foot to foot. One of the shoes must have a hole in it from the way it hissed out air. “I suppose it was.. nice to know I had any family left..”

Peter feels the tension in the room grow. He ignores Karen’s sad eyes, or foggy's pitying glances, but it's hard to ignore the silent squeezing of Matt Murdock’s fist. Matt notices.

Even through his.. anger? Sadness? Confusion? He notices. The way Peter tilts his head at the interactions. He's observant. Did he get that from Matt? Or through.. the foster care system? Is that what the scrapes and the.. the blood was?

“Uhm.. feel free to reach out if you have any questions or—” Peter coughs awkwardly. “Or if you want any records of proof I have.” Peter looks down at the ground before sighing.

Matt steps forward. “Peter if you have her number, and uhm..” He ignored Karen and foggy’s stares. “If you wanted to, I'd love to go out to dinner to talk?”

Peter’s heart speeds up. Matt ignored his own fear and heartbreak at Peter's croaked out, “really?”

Matt nods, because he knows Peter can see it. “Yes..”

Peter's heart races. He fidgets with his bag. “I'm—” His breath catches. “I shouldn't.”

And for what feels like the millionth time that day, Matt felt his heart shatter. “Oh—”

Peter shivers. His hands start shaking. “I should go. Uh..” He blinks his eyes faster. The salty smell lingers, and Peter's jacket ruffles as he wipes his eyes. “Sorry.. for.. uhm.. bothering you.”

Peter takes a step back. “And Ms. Page I loved your journalism! If you ever need a photographer— we'll. I'm sure you already know some but.. you have my email!” Then Peter's off.

Matt listens to Peter's quick footsteps as he runs out the building and down the street. Until he can't hear Peter anymore. Which doesn't last nearly as long as it should— as he wants it too. 

Matt stiffens. His breathing quickens and he reaches for his cane then decides against it. He'll probably have to abandon it anyways. Then he darts out the building.

Foggy sighs. “And he's gone.”

“Big shocker!” Karen muses sarcastically. “Do you think he'll be back today?”

Foggy shrugs. “Who knows.” He leans against the wall. “It's Matt Catholic guilt Murdock, and he has an orphaned son. I doubt he's gonna come back till he knows more about Peter.”

Karen nods. “Figures. Want a drink?”

Foggy grins. “I could go for something. Josie's?”

Karen beams. “Josie's!”

———————

Matt catches up to Peter's heartbeat from blocks away. The teen’s slowed down but his hearts racing and his breathing is quick. He mumbles under his breath. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”

And Matt's heart aches.

Peter dusts off his jacket and lets the loose fitting fabric consume him. He turns into an alley and parkours up to the roof. Matt tilts his head. Why's Peter on the roof? Why does he know how to parkour? Why?Why?Why?

And.

Oh.

Sniffles. Peter's crying into the jacket. He curls up next to some discarded wood boards with nails so rusty you could get tetanus just breathing near it. Like one touch would make the metal crumble. They smell. Bad.

Peter hugs his bag and shuffles through it until he finds a camera. Right.. Peter mentioned photography. Was that one of his hobbies? What hobbies did he have? It was late. Why wasn't Peter back at home? Or.. not home. Why wasn't he going back? He said he would, and Matt was certain Peter wasn't lying.

Change in plans probably.. gosh teens were so.. inconsistent? How do you get used to inconsistency?

Matt felt the paranoia waft over him. He’d always worried for civilians, and teenagers. And his friends. Especially late at night… okay maybe it wasn't late. His point still stands.

Would he have grounded Peter if he was acting as a parent? Did he want that? 

It doesn't matter. Matt pushes those thoughts aside. He wants Peter safe. That he knows.

So if he follows Peter's heartbeat as his son.? parkour's across roofs and snaps photos than so be it. Peter walks on the edges of buildings. He jumps and seems to have a great understanding of the layout.

The sun’s supposed to go down soon. It's getting colder. Peter seems cold. He's shivering. Matt can hear the chatter of the teeth. Can feel the vibrations.

Peter snaps photos with what seems to be no reason. Potted plant? Snap. Sign on a restaurant? Snap. 

One thing stays consistent, and that's Peter's ability to friend each and every cat he comes across.

“ch-ch-ch” He clicks his tongue and holds his hand out. A particularly old cat limps forward and melts into Peter's touch. “hey buddy.. you doin' well?”

The teen rummages his bag for the old beef jerky that Matt fears everyone can smell. 

“here ya go!” Matt can only imagine Peter's goofy grin, but he knows he can hear one. “whats your name fella? I can't just call you 'ginger' in my mind. Though.. it's not the worst name..” 

Peter hums. “I'm bad at names.. uhm..” 

“if the kids were hanging around they'd probably call you Mr. Sparkles or something.” He scratches gently behind the cats ear. “you know what? I'll stalk up on glitter from the good ol' glitter rations and make you something sparkly. Yeah?” Peter snickers.

Matt tilts his head when Peter tenses. He couldn't have gotten too close, could he? No. But Peter shivers and mutters a quiet “stalker..?” under his breath.

Matt backs off before Peter realizes it's him. Because his apparent teenage son being in danger because his blind distant father is daredevil is not something he’d ever want to happen. 

Peter shakes his head rapidly. Over and over until the goosebumps go away. The teen clutches his camera tighter.

Maybe Karen would be okay doing some research for him? Not.. stalking just— yeah. Stalking. 

Stalkings not.. bad. Matt's stalked criminals before. He’d stalked Karen the first night they met. Granted she was framed for murder, and on the run from the business section of fisks mob. Nonetheless!! 

He doesn't follow close behind, but once he hears Peter empty a house full of warmth, and baked food, and children's heartbeats, he relaxes. Peter's safe. 

———————

Foggy sighs. “Of course we’d have so much bad guy mojo nerves that Matt's kid picks up on it.” He runs his hands through his hair. 

“Not a kid!” Karen mocks the teens prior comments. “But.. it's sad, isn't it? We immediately judged him and it's like he could feel our nerves because he just.. ran.”

“He's Matt's.” Foggy leans against the table. “He probably can.”

Karen nods. “Yeah.” She bites her lip. Eyes raking the bar. “It's sad though. I mean— Matt has a kid, a kid who’s scared and small and—”

“It's.. horrifyingly upsetting.” Foggy agrees. He tips the glass back, and taps at the last drops. “And if he's anything like Matt, which let's be honest, the whole nervous puppy dog eyes and self sacrificing language? Then.. we’ll have our hands full.”

Karen sighs. “I just want to bundle him up in a blanket and— give him hot chocolate or something..” She rests her cheek in the palm of her hand. “Maybe hot tea?”

“There goes normalcy!” Foggy jokes. 

Karen snorts. “Yeeeeup.”

They go silent.

“He was so adorable though right??” Karen speaks up. Foggy laughs. “Oh yeah! He did the little Matt head tilts— probably for a different reason.”

Karen nods eagerly. “It felt like he was.. observing us? If that makes sense?”

Foggy grins. “No I totally get what you mean! He kept staring and doing subtle head tilts— can't believe we didn't notice when he walked in.” He leans back in his chair. “I keep mentioning the head tilts— but man! Identical!”

“You weren't there when he walked in!” Karen takes a swig. “I was! Kinda.. Ooh! Maybe I'll be his favorite!! He did compliment my journalism!”

Foggy groans. “I swear if he's another Murdock in the flirting-with-women department—”

Karen snorts and rests her head against the table. Foggy and her laughs slow down until it's quiet.

“What are we gonna do about this?” Karen mumbles.

Foggy sighs. “Be there? For Matt and the kid. Neither of them probably know normal.”

“We aren't the best about normal.” Karen muses.

“Yeah..” Foggy trails off. “but Matt's important to us. I don't want him to go down the self sacrificing line again. What if the kid doesn't want him in his life? Matt can't handle that.”

“In some ways that feels like twisted payback.” Karen snorts. “but I doubt Peter would tell Matt if he didn't want him in his life?”

“I dunno. He probably just wanted Matt to know.” He ordered another drink. 

“He's Matt's son. He probably has that same self sacrificing shtick.” She gestures loosely. “you know.. the whole.. bah”

Foggy nods. “Course. It.. It's gonna be rough though right?” He leans against the table. “I mean I can deal with Matt's emotional un-intelligence, but Peter? Dude what am I supposed to do about that?”

Karen shrugs. “If Matt's eventual talk with Peter doesn't work, we'll have to step in.” 

“Karen I am not fighting Matt over this.” Foggy deadpans.

“what? Nooo!” She shakes her head. “Deny. Deny. Deny. I'm talking about Peter. Take the talk to him”

“There's no way he'd be more reasonable.” He shook his head. “Karen he ran from the situation. I'm not stalking a teenager to have a fucked up shovel talk.”

“Shovel talk?”

“Its— nevermind. Look you get the point..” He grumbles.

The two get stopped from their conversation by a stressed out Matt Murdock. A Matt Murdock with shaky hands and that ‘kicked puppy’ look as foggy describes it. 

“Matt?” Karen tilts her head as the brunette man flops into the seat next to them. He bites his nails and his leg bounces. A stress habit.

He takes Karen's drink and chugs it. “I..” His voice breaks into cracks. “I don't know what to do..”

————

It's not a lie. Matt Murdock has no clue. It's not like someone wrote a book on what to do when your son comes knocking on the door to your law firm to drop the news and run off. Your son who's in foster care and an orphan. 

Your son who's somehow just like you in ways you never wanted.

And even if someone did write that book, Matt doubts it would be in braille.

Karen does look into the records for him. After they chug a bunch of alcoholic drinks and stumble back to the office with more. Who cares for sleep? Matt’s got a child to cyber stalk.

Foggy groans from the floor. “Isn't this creepy?? Stalking a teenager is very illegal!” He nods to himself.

“So is vigilantism.” Matt hums from his desk. He runs his fingers over the adapter. Braille and screen readers pulling him through the files.

“I'm not happy ‘bout that either buddy—” Foggy hic’s. He closes his eyes. “Man.. what’ll Peter think?”

Matt pauses. “What will Peter think of what?”

Foggy shrugs. “ ‘aredevil?”

Matt shakes his head. “That's.. Thats not something I ever want him to find out about. I'm not dragging a teenager into this.”

“Mm less talking about thissss—” Karen slurs out. “More talking about Peter!! He's sooo cute and—” She blinks the spots out of her vision. “Tinyyh—”

“I don't think we’re gonna get anywhere tonight..” Foggy yawns.

Matt sighs. Huffing into his palm. He’d been rereading the same sentence in Mary Fitzpatrick— Parkers, records. He couldn't make sense of anything, but he couldn't just.. sleep. Couldn't leave Peter out there. On his own.

“Matt.. buddy.. you're getting all broody—” Foggy sits up. “Yeppp! Broody face! What's wrong?”

Matt sighs again. “I can't stop.. I need—” He gets dizzy standing up. “To.. To make sure he's safe and..” not alone.

“Didn't you stalk ‘im home?” Foggy wipes his eyes with his sleeve. Matt hesitantly nods. “See! Its—”

“You know I can't.” 

Foggy snorts. “Not the time to get wise with me, Murdock!” He cracks a smile that Matt can't help go along with. “But seriously. He's fine for one night.”

Matt hesitantly nods. “Yeah.. i—” He sighs. “I want to see him in the morning though.”

Foggy pats his shoulder. “I don't know if you're ever gonna see him, but you can probably talk.”

Matt punches his shoulder lightly. Foggy grins.

“but.. fogs, I'm— I don't know what to do.” Matt pulls at his hair. “I don't know how to approach him. How to be a parent. I don't even know what I want—!”

“Its okay not to know buddy.” Foggy pats his shoulder. “The situation is rough, and complex, but I think that you should talk to the kid. At least get him to want a relationship.”

“but.. I'll just make his life more.. complicated.” Matt sighs, woefully.

Foggy groans. “nope! Nuh uh. Nada. We are not doing this again.” He takes. “Matthew Murdock you will talk to Peter, and you will not isolate yourself from him. Let him make that choice.”

“I feel like he did make that choice..” Matt mumbles.

“He ran about because he was scared. What you couldn't smell that?” He crosses his arms.

“No I could but—” Foggy wrinkles his nose. “yeah. that.” Matt sighs again. “If he's scared of me I can't just.. show up at his house.”

Foggy nods. “That you can't! But you still should. I think he was scared of telling you.”

“Telling me? Why would he be scared of—” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Right.. Anxiety.”

“I mean.. yeah. The kid definitely had that.” Foggy muses. “Do I want to know how you know that?”

“..”

Foggy quirks a brow.

“..heartbeat.” He swallows thickly. “That and he paced around our building for a week before coming in.”

Foggy snickered. “Didn't you think he was a criminal?”

Matt punches him again in the shoulder. “Shut up.” He mumbles fondly.

Their back and forth gets cut off by Karen's snore. 

“Think we’ve all had too much to drink..” foggy snorts.

————————

Matt wakes up with a raging hangover. It was a bad idea to get drunk. He knows that, especially if he ever wants to even consider custody of Peter.

Peter who did this outside of the law, and his social workers. He probably had to. Matt understands. He respects the system, but sometimes.. you have to do more.

Peter clearly did more.

He did a whole investigation of more, then took it upon himself to tell Matt. 

Matt's not clueless. He knows how Peter and his foster-ish mother might respond to blind estranged father stumbling in hungover but he's showed up to work after being stabbed. He can handle this. What's one teenager?

Fuck he was going to have a panic attack. Ten billion simultaneous panic attacks. 

He’d showered. Scrubbed himself clean. The scent of alcohol lingered but who knows how strong it was. It was fine. It’d be fine.. totally, fine. 

He wore one of his many suits. It's not overdressing, is it? Matt doesn't have many casual clothes. He wants to look like someone Peter can depend on anyways. Yes. Dependable Matt Murdock. Definitely not a vigilante.

Definitely hasn't skipped court to fight ninjas. Definitely didn't fake his death!

He arrives at the place Peter ducked off to last night, after checking with Karen that it was Peter's current address. Peter's inside fussing over a kid for a piece of scrap metal.

“C’mon Savannah! Please! You don't even know what to do with that!!” Peter whines. “Just— I promise to stitch up Mr. Wiggles again if you give it back?”

“Really??” A little girl askes. Peter nods. “Yep! Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear!!” She cheers and hands Peter the copper wire. Peter relaxes. He seems more worried about her getting hurt with it than anything.

Peter bursts through the door of the building. Matt had heard the teen swiftly lying to the sweet? Hopefully sweet old lady who ran the home. Something about “library Ms. Gale. I just have some more school work to get caught up on. It's hard transferring!”

And she’d agreed.

Peter pulled Matt away from knocking. “Don't.” He dragged the man into the alley nearby, peaking over his shoulders. “Sorry, Mr. Murdock, but what are you doing here and why?”

Matt dusted off his jacket. “I came to say hello, and.. talk.”

“And you couldn't have used a phone??” Peter sounded exasperated. Stressed. He pulled the hood of the same dirty, soot filled jacket, up over his head.

“Peter..” Matt broke on his attempt of using a ‘stern dad voice’ “what aren't you telling me?”

“What? Nothing!!” Peter squeaks. Matt quirks a brow. “...Ms. Gale doesn't know..”

“Doesn't know, what, Peter?” 

“...that I have a dad, who's still alive, and not y’know six feet under! Or missing! However they’re framing it these days.” Peter trails off. He scrunches up his nose. “You smell like booze.”

Matt freezes. Damnit. He knew he should've got a fourth opinion. Karen and foggy were also drunk obviously they just couldn't smell it.

Peter goes stiff and Matt hears Ms. Gale start for the door. Peter whispers a quiet duck before dragging them behind a dumpster. Ms. Gale walks by. Matt tilts his head. Interesting. Play the blind card Murdock. “What's happening?”

“Ms. Gale… She's..” Peter tilts his head. “She's gone now. Sorry.” He helps Matt up and dusts off some of the new dirt. Right. Like that will make a difference. Should Matt buy him clothes?

Right. Not the point. Does Peter have her schedule memorized? 

Peter stares at Matt. “Did you internet stalk me or something? I didn't tell you where I lived.”

Matt scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “.. something like that.”

Peter huffs. “Right.. well. Sorry for being kinda a dick there.. Coffee?”

Matt nods. More time with his s— with Peter is more time with Peter. Matt gestures for Peter's arm to lead, and Peter takes up the cue and leads him. 

“Sorry.. I just..” Peter coughs into his hand awkwardly. His shoes squeaked against the ground and he absentmindedly kicks pebbles. “I couldn't tell her. It's not an easy thing to tell people.”

Matt nods. “I assumed she knew before you told me.”

Peter shrugs, but his face heats up in embarrassment. “I uh.. didn't.. tell anyone?”

Matt hums under his breath. He can't criticize Peter for something he would have done.. No matter how much he wants to be hypocritical. He knows Foggy would have laughed at this situation. ‘of course your kids just like you Matt!!’ 

That's why foggy's not invited.

Foggy will never be ‘uncle foggy’ at this rate.

But anyways, Matt doesn't know if he wants peter to be anything like him. He’d assume not being in this kids life he'd turn out.. different? Better. But it seems being an orphan with secrets is a biological trait.

“No one?” Matt tilts his head.

“I mean..” Peter trails off. “I just..” The words get caught in his throat. “I don't know her. She's.. nice? I guess. Better than others I've had.. but..” Matt holds back his shiver. Holds back his need to impulsively check the teen for bruises and cuts, and..

“But..?” Matt urges the teen to continue.

“But there'd be.. complications? She either wouldn't believe me, or it’d be this whole stupid pity thing.” Peter grumbled under his breath. His teeth grit. “I'm tired of everyone feeling bad for me. For acting like they know anything— anything about what I've been through.”

Peter sighs. “And truthfully, she wouldn't believe me. She thinks I'm a troublemaker.” Matt can practically hear Peter's eye roll. Is that creepy and gross? Maybe. “‘there’s Parker! Up to no good again!’” The teen mocks. “She thinks I'm the devil. I think she thinks that of all teen boys.”

Matt's heart races. He totally cursed this kid.

“Don't know why she takes em in..” Peter trails off.

Peter stops walking abruptly. Matt almost doesn't realize it's a light. “but.. I just wanted to have one thing for myself. To make it.. less complicated than it is.”

Matt nods. “I.. understand..”

Peter's face flushes. “Sorry for.. ranting? Uhm..” He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “I just—”

“It's okay.” Matt nods. “I don't mind. I like learning about you.”

Peter doesn't respond. Not for awhile.

“This is a bad idea.” He states. Matt tilts his head in confusion. He hopes it's not Peter running away again. “What is?”

Peter sighs. “Coffee.” He mumbles. 

Matt quirks a brow and Peter takes that as his cue to explain himself. “There's a limited amount of spots in the area that are.. bearable.” Peter taps his free hand against his side. “So many places are too busy and.. loud.”

Matt couldn't agree more, but he lets Peter continue. “And some places smell bad. Artificial or like sewage? Just.. ew. And not to mention the amount of chemicals they put into food! Like.. do they not realize people can taste that??”

All issues Matt's had with super senses. He nods eagerly in agreement. “Ah. I get that.”

Peter beams and Matt tries not to let it go to his ego. “Right? And all the good places are expensive! So very limited places! Plus I have to go out of my way to avoid certain shops today because if I run into MJ—” Peter pauses.

Matt tilts his head. “MJ?”

Peter sighs. “She's a.. friend. And if I come in she'll be all ‘peter where were you?’ ‘why aren't you at school?’ ‘whos this guy you're with?’ ‘answer my calls!’ not a question, that last one.” The teen grumbles.

“I love MJ. But she can read me like a book, and man..” He huffs. “I do not wanna be read right now.”

Matt nods. “Ah. So avoiding your friends?”

“Just for a bit.” Peter assures. “Just until I know what to say.” lie.

Matt would call bullshit if he were playing hypocrite. But he can't drive Peter away. It's like looking in a mirror, if Matt actually could look. Maybe it's like hearing your reflection? gosh how would he even explain that.

It's not like Peter's at Matt's shitty friend level. It's not preferable to hear about Peter isolating himself, but he hasn't faked his death and hid out in the basement of a Catholic orphanage, so it's a win in his book!

“We are here!” Peter beams, leading Matt in. He opens the door in a way that doesn't ring the tiny bell. Matt notices, Peter doesn't.

Matt notices the way Peter actively relax's. The way Peter inhales the room like it's the last bit of oxygen left, and he's accepting his fate and— maybe Matt's still a little hungover.

The room smells. It's not overwhelming like cheap perfume, or expensive old oak. Smells Peter probably wasn't familiar with, but instead it was full of warmth. Coffee, vanilla, spice, mold and a taint of rust from a leaking pipe. It's homey, it a way. It reminds Matt of his father. Of fogwells.

A woman beams as she rushes over to greet Peter. She’s older, and smells like vanilla, coffee and a very unique peach. Peter seems to relax when she comes over. A sheepish attitude displaying.

She pulls the teen into a hug and ruffles his hair. “Pete! Ah! Still wearing Ben's jacket, huh? You really should let me patch it up for you!”

Peter shrugs off the idea. “Maybe next time!” He says chipper. It's clearly a lie. “And you act like you didn't see me recently—”

The woman waves off the idea. “It's been over a week! If we aren't feeding ya, who is?” She straightened his coat and Peter flushes. “I'm kiddin’! Take a seat sweetheart! And it's lovely to meet ya sir!”

Peter’s face flushes. It creeps up his ears. “Oh! Martha, meet Mr. Matt Murdock! Mr. Murdock, meet Martha!” He tries to rush the interaction.

Martha chuckles. “Ah. Don't be embarrassed Pete! He seems much nicer than the last person you brought here! Almost dented the table that one” She ribs. “Didn't like that lady anyways. Always giving you grief, kid.”

Matt tilts his head. “Huh.”

“Okay! We realllly— like really should get a seat!” Peter tugs Matt's arm. “Uhm.. Mr. Murdock do you want anything?”

Matt almost says no. Because truthfully, he could care less about the coffee. Or about this shop, but he enjoys being here because being here gives him information on Peter. Ben’s jacket. Last time he was here. Guests? Who does Peter bring here.?

“Just a black coffee will do. Thank you.” He smiles politely, and Martha nods and heads to the kitchen.

Peter sits down anxiously. Matt sits across from him. “Sorry about that.. Mrs. Martha can be.. alot. She means well..”

“It's quite alright Peter. I'm just.. glad we could talk.” Matt holds his hands together on his lap. How is he supposed to hold his hands? What if he's doing this all wrong??

“Yeah..” Peter croaks. He twiddles his thumbs. He clears his throat. “If you want the physical copies I don't have them yet.. I sent Karen the files last night.” they must've been too drunk to read them. 

“No thats—” Matt pursed his lips. “I just wanted to check up on you. You ran out quickly yesterday and..” I'm worried goes unsaid. 

Peter nods. He's curled up like a kid in trouble. “I'm fine..” lie. “I just got.. overwhelmed. not dead family.. big deal, y’know?”

Matt nods. “I do.” He almost laughs. He understands a lot. “I.. lost my father when I was young, and found my mother later in life.” 

Peter nods. “Sometimes I think it'll never get easier.” His hands shake. “I still remember..” he trails off. 

Matt bites his tongue. No child should have to experience that. No kid should know what it's like to feel that grief. To be alone. To.. hold the body. To see the death.

Peter takes a second and coughs into his hand. He clears his throat. “I didn't mean to.. to drop everything on you and run. It was shitty of me.”

Maybe. But Matt's the adult. Matt's the adult to a teenager with dead parents, dead relatives, and abandonment issues. Or at the very least fear of connecting.

“And I don't expect you to believe me cause you technically have no real proof—” Peter rambles.

“Peter?” Matt breaks the teen out of his rambles. “It's okay. I believe you.”

Peter pauses. His throat closes. “Thats— that's.. yeah.. okay.. yeah.” He nods slowly. “Yeah.” The teen stares at his shoes.

“Also you can call me Matt” Matt grins. He's trying to crank up the charisma. “Mr. Murdock makes me feel old, and formal”

“Aren't you a lawyer?” Peter quirks a brow. At least, he does in Matt's mental image.

“Yes.. but not a paid one.” 

Peter snorts and Matt beams. Ego? Never been higher. 10 points for Murdock. 

“Do you have no defense for the old accusation?” Peter asks smugly.

“I'm a lawyer. Of course I do.” Matt nods to himself. Peter rolls his eyes. “That's not an answer. Also you said you don't get paid.” The teen wags his finger, Matt chuckles.

“Because my clients don't have money, I however, am a great lawyer.”

“Y’know I hear a lot of deflecting and not a lot about the age thing?” Peter leans in slightly. “You are old! And that's okay. I respect the elderly.” He nods, smug.

“I am not elderly—”

“Black coffee for Murdock, and I got you your regular Pete.” Martha smiles as she places the items down. Hail Mary. Matt's been saved. Peter goes stiff. “Ms. Martha— you didn't need to—”

“Peter. Eat the damn pastry.” She tsks. “Give me some peace of mind.” She walks away, not letting the teenager defend himself. Peter grumbles but eats the food anyways.

“So, Stalker—” Peter takes a bite, not minding the time gaps between words. “What do you actually want to talk about? Kinda Orphan to Kinda Orphan stuff? You seem all.. worried.”

“I just..” Matt swallows thickly. “want to learn about your life.”

“Surely you have more questions?” Peter tilts his head. 

“I do” Matt agrees. “but there's a lot I want to know. Only some are questions.”

“alright.” Peter's tone gets cocky. “Speed round. Go!”

“wh— okay..” Matt clears his throat. 

Chapter Text

Peter Parker remembers what it's like to be crushed under a building. To be alone, without backup. His back straining, his head dizzy. Blood. The vulture. His stupid homecoming (gone wrong) experience. (Not clickbait!!)

This? This was worse.

Crumbs on mouth. Blind father across table. At least he didn't have to be concerned about appearance.

What a day! What. A. Day.

If you had told Peter a month ago, hell even two weeks ago that he’d be talking to his dad he’d probably sputter out a confused “he’s alive??” before accepting it as some curse from the universe.

What could it be this time?? Zombie? Magic spell? Another crazy scientist wanting to fuck with his life?

Or was his dad just back some other way? Faked his death? Richard Parker was a shield agent..

But no. It's not that. That would be too easy. Wayyyy less complicated than this.

Instead he’s playing twenty questions with a lawyer. If it were any other situation he’d assume he was in trouble.

In a way he was.

Not that it's something he’d ever admit. Peter knew he was way in over his head. School was easy. Spider-Man was freeing. It was the whole.. Peter Parker part that got things muddled.

Peter's work to personal life ratio was shit. He’d been spending more time than preferable as Peter ‘parker’ with his troubling home life and skewed family tree.

What would he tell the kindergarten teachers!! Blasphemy for him to be wrong on those early assignments.

“This might be personal..” Matt trails off before coughing into his fist. “.. but I'd like to know just.. everything about the past few months? For instance— you said you haven't been in foster care for long?”

Peter stills. Right. Yeah. Actually gotta do the answering part of twenty questions. “..yeah.” He swallows thickly. Suddenly the croissant isn't that tempting anymore.

Matt gestures for Peter to continue.

Matt Murdock scares Peter. His face isn't easy to read. It's always sad, somewhat pitiful but that's to be expected. His eyebrows are always furrowed. It's so bad Peter swears the man has never not furrowed his brows. Peter sees the creases. Can't throw him off old man.

He's clearly stressed, or angry, but his actual emotions? Hard to read. There's no possible way he could care so much. He's blunt. Must be an intimidation tactic. Scare Peter into talking. Lawyers..

The teen sighs. “I lived with my aunt before this..” Peter shifts the drink in his hand. The liquid splashes against the cup’s inner walls. It's brown. Coffee, of course.. and it stains the white paper. “May was awesome. Like seriously the best. No competition.” His hand swipes in a chop motion.

“But.. she got sick, y’know? And.. she could've gotten better.” Peter feels himself hiss the words out. “But the hospitals? The doctors— they.. They didn't put in enough care. Shit with insurance and just—”

Peter looks away. “She didn't make it.”

Matt stills and Peter measures his breathing. It's ragged and uncoordinated. One. Two. Three. One. Two. One. One. One.

“And uhm.. your uncle?” Matt tilts his head.

Peter huffs under his breath. Great. Just what he wants to do! Hash out some trauma with this guy. The less Matt Murdock knows about Peter, the less he knows about spider-man, the better.

“Ben got shot.” Peter says blankly. He ignores Murdock's choked breathing. “I was uh..” There? No. No matt didn't need to know that. “It affected me and may badly, y’know? Bills and just..”

Peter sat up straight. “I never expected it to happen the way it did. He wasn't even on duty..”

“On— on duty?” Matt asks.

Peter nods hesitantly. “Yeah..” Matt can't see. He forgot. “Ben was a cop. A good one. Probably one of the only cops I trust.” He sipped his drink, not minding the burning of it. It'd heal quick anyways. And he'd had way worse than a burnt mouth. So if his lips quirked up, and his eyebrows furrowed in slight pain? That was his to keep a secret.

Not that it had anything on his.. other secret.

“He died via mugging.” Peter kicks his feet. “He was real close with the uh.. firefighters. Said they were good, y’know? Honest men.” Peter bit his lip. He felt the blood and just wiped it off. Matt didn't need to know. No need to make him feel obligated to be in Peter's life. He wasn't obligated to do shit.

“He got me a jacket made from the material. I had a camera of his too but it broke.” Peter shrugs to himself. “I keep putting off Ms. Martha’s requests to stitch it up. I know how to sew ‘cause may said it was important, but ah.. I dunno.” at least you didn't say ‘y’know’ again, Parker.

Matt takes a deep breath. “That's..” He swallows thickly. “I'm glad you felt like you could tell me this. That must've been hard, Peter.”

Peter's eye twitches. Why is this guy talking like a shrink? Seriously man? That's all ya got? “Yeah..” Peter scoffs. “Hard.”

He pushes himself away from the table. “Look. Unless you have questions about this whole..” he gestures to the both of them. “..us thing. Then I don't see the point in talking.”

Matt bites his tongue. Peter can smell the blood. “I didn't—” He pulls at his tie. “I didn't mean it like that Peter. I just understand what it's like to not trust anyone after family dies. I was raised in an orphanage Peter. I get it.”

No. You don't. Peter wants to say. He wants to explain how, no, Mr. Murdock. You don't get it because it's my fault.

Was that fair of Peter to think? Probably not.

But it was Because Peter could've done something about it. Could've stopped the mugger before he even left that stupid situation Peter let him leave from. How Peter could've called up Mr. Stark or worked harder on the cure to cancer. It's stupid. He's smart why couldn't he figure it out??

May would've laughed at him. She would've pushed back his hair and kissed his forehead and whisper ,"Pete.. you're mad because you couldn't cure cancer?" And she'd take the stress off. And they'd laugh. 

But may wasn't here. 

May said it wasn't his job to worry. She was right. She was always right. But Peter would never forgive himself for letting them get hurt.

“..Peter?” Peter came back to himself. He came back to Matt's hand on his shoulder, and tears in his eyes.

“Shit. Sorry.” Peter wipes his tears discreetly. Fuck. Hopefully Matt didn't realize. “I didn't—” He swallowed his fear. His emotions. “My bad.” He said blankly.

Matt pursed his lips. “..right..”

“We should move on.” Peter slumped in his seat. “Got any other quandres or queries?”

————

Matt Murdock was going to need a real tough punching bag after this.

Peter was crying. Crying because of Matt's questions.

Matt was never good at this part of the job. As daredevil he was better at being gruff, interrogating. Beating criminals into a coma. ‘kicking ass!, taking names!’ but comforting? That he was shit at. He’d do his best for the victims but it wasn't.. easy.

And as regular ol’ Matt Murdock? Comforting was a foggy thing. Matt offered security. Protection and witty words. An abundance of just the right things to say to get people out of trouble. Even his blind orphan annie act helped. People felt better with someone who had gone through tragedies.

All that to say, he got by. Wasn't perfect but he got by.

With Peter? It's like all he could do was say the wrong thing. Your uncle died? I'm here for you and glad you could tell me.

How was that the wrong thing to say???

Matt could hear this kids heartbeat. Why was this so difficult? Was this just what it was like to be a parent. To understand and do the bare minimum? It felt like a constant strew of failures. One after the other. 

Holy cow. Holy shit. Holy whatever.

Normally Matt would build up to the important questions. Keep his cool. He thinks he's kept his cool, but from Peter's increased irritation it seemed that wasn't the case. He was coming off like a total loser.

A loser. 

Didn't the suits do anything for his street cred? Or the blind card? Women loved it when he played the blind card. (not that he'd ever admit to that..) 

Why was it so hard to get Peter to like him?

“How long have you known?” Matt broke the silence. He tried to keep his voice steady. Peter shrugged. Matt tilted his head slightly. Angled it to listen.

“.. almost a week.” The teen muttered. Thump. Th— Truth. “I was just digging through my records.” Matt doesn't know why he listens to the teenagers heartbeat anymore. He trusts Peter.

But he also doesn't trust that the teen won't lie to protect himself. Or that he won't run first chance he gets. Gosh.. okay that sounds like he's holding him hostage! He isn't.

Matt feels like the wind is outside his lungs. “..and?”

“And it said I didn't have a father listed.” Peter gritted through his teeth. His hands clenched the fabric above his knees. “I was born Peter Fitzpatrick. Later changed.” The teen let one hand loose of himself to bite at his nails. A nervous habit, Matt noted.

“And I dunno. It seemed fishy. She would have listed it if it was Richard.” Peter said blankly. His leg bounced under the table. Matt tries to memorize the heartbeat pattern.

Ba-dump. Flip. Thump. Repeat.

“So you looked into it?” Matt felt Peter's heart speed up.

Ba-dump. Flip. Ba-dump.

“I did.” Half truth?. “I uh.. did a DNA test.” there it is.

Matt tilted his head. “Thought those were expensive.” He mumbled under his breath. Senses honed at the teenagers beat up shoes, and the smell of dirt so beat into his clothes it crunches. What was that thing foggy mentioned? ASMR? He ‘showed’ Matt a video once.

Matt didn't like it.

Peter’s heart seemed to race. Again. “Yeah I uh.. did my own..”

Matt’s lips quirked up. Wasn't Mary into chemistry? Biology? “Seems rather advanced.”

Peter's face flushed. “I uh.. I usually test for spider DNA. But.. it wasn't a big challenge.”

BioChem. Mary did BioChem.“Spider DNA?” Matt tilted his head.

Peter nodded. “I like spiders..”

“Yeah?” Matt muses. “That's.. That's nice.” It's a start. Peter told him something. Something about himself. “What else do you like? Any hobbies? You mentioned a camera?” good. you're— what was that saying? In the ballpark now? 

Maybe Peter was right.

Matt was a loser.

Peter sips his coffee to hide the fluttery feeling he gets. “Yeah.. Photography is fun. ‘minds me of Ben..” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“And how's school going?” Matt tilts his head. Peter does it in sync. “You actually want to know?”

“I want to know about you. yes.” Matt nods. Peter straightens his head and nods to himself. “Yeah. Okay.. uh.. why?”

Matt stills. “Because..” what? You're my kid? You're an orphan? You're alone? “.. I'm curious, and I care about you.”

Peter grumbles under his breath. “You shouldn't” And he looks away.

Matt purses his lips. He doesn't know how to respond to that. “What about me? Don't you have any questions? Medical records? History? My job?” Is Peter interested in him?..

“Uh..” Peter looks away. “If you could send me your medical history that could help.. I guess..” Peter tilted his head. “I don't get sick often, so it's not really a problem.”

Matt deflates. “Right.. yeah. Of course..” He grips the seat tight. Peter tenses and Matt wonders if he's pushed another button.

“... what's the weirdest case you’ve ever worked on?” Peter asks.

Matt sighs in relief. Okay.. work. Not the topic he thought the teen would go for but Peter seems smart. The kid did a whole DIY DNA test. Something Matt has no clue about. He doesn't know anything in the realm of that. Mary did. didpetermissher?

“Weirdest or hardest?” Matt questions.

Peter shrugs. “I dunno.. both?”

Matt hums. “You're probably wondering about the castle case, huh?”

Peter nods eagerly. “...yes..?”

Matt grins. “Well I wasn't too involved, unfortunately. Had another client.. thing, but I was there for some of it.”

Peter deflates. “So I should ask Ms. Page or Mr. Nelson about it then?”

Matt rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “You make us sound old.. but yeah. They’d have more details. I can however tell you that fi— someone cut a deal with Frank and that's why he threw the case.”

“Is that allowed? Y’know.. patient—uhh.. attorney—client privilege?” Peter tilts his head.

Matt hums. “Maybe. But he wasn't really our client after that.. and most details were public anyways.” He quirks a brow. “What? Do you plan on telling anyone this?”

Peter rolls his eyes and slumps in his seat. “...no..”

“All good then!” Matt beams. Peter snickers but doesn't say anything.

“Can you tell me about Fisk then? Since it's all public?” Peter leaned forward.

Matt felt his heart race. “Maybe. It was.. a very difficult case. We lost friends, and most cops were dirty.” Peter wrinkled his nose. “You still got him though?”

Matt nodded. “Yep! We got some information fro—”

Peter's phone rang. The teen flushed and pulled it out of his pocket. “Shit..” He looked up at Matt. “It's my boss. I gotta take this.”

Boss? Who the—

“Hello—” Peter started out. He winced at the voice through the phone.

“PARKER. citizens caught Spider-Man terrorizing the park yesterday! And we need to do a story on the pollution the ‘spider menace' leaves behind!”

Peter sighs. “So.. Spider-Man in the park and a photo a webs. That all?”

The man on the line freezes. “..yes.” He coughs and Peter rolls his eyes. “I need them by 5! Swing by the office before then!”

Peter's eye twitches. “Course, Jameson.. On it boss!” He waited for half a second before the man hung up.

“Sorry Mr— Matt, I gotta go. I'm on Spider-Man duty.” Peter shrugs his bag onto his shoulder.

“Spider-Man.. duty..?” Matt furrows his brows.

Peter hummed. “Yeah. I take photos for the bugle. Newspapers..” He groaned quietly into his palm. “Anyways got get those photos or I'll be fired!”

“How..” Matt stood up after Peter. Following the teen to the counter. “How do you have a job at fourteen? That's not legal, here.”

Peter shrugged. “Free lance, but I'm the only guy to get real good shots of him so.. I get paid the big bucks.” The teen beams and pulls out his wallet.

Matt beats him to handing over money. No way is he going to let Peter pay for him. Peter furrows his brows but doesn't say much.

“We should..” Matt chokes up. “..do this again.. sometime..”

Peter nods, shrugging Matt off. “Yeah.. uh.. sure..” lie? “Bye, Mr. Murdock!”

And the teen rushes out the door. Matt doesn't rush to catch up with him. “..bye.. Peter..”

He slams his head against the wall, and ignores the people's questions of concern.

————————

Sometimes Peter hated his job.

Hated Jameson. Hated photography. Hated Spider-Man.

He technically only hated one of those things, but it just brings down the vibes, you know?

After properly gnawing on his cheek while fiddling with his camera he took some shots. Some were far away, some close ups. Yada yada yada.

He autopiloted his way through everything. Autopiloted his way through work. He got a decent amount of money. Hopefully enough to pay for food so he wouldn't eat Ms. Gale out of house and home. Fast metabolism was a bitch.

He also needed new clothes. He couldn't keep recycling the same three science pun shirts he had, even if no one really noticed.

Also?? Screw white shirts. Peter practically banned them after getting his blood all over one. It didn't wash out and he was tired of the ‘ketchup’ excuse. No one believed him anyways.

Anyways... It helped to keep himself busy. If he worked constantly he wouldn't have to think about it. May. The beeping. He wouldn't— Ben. The blood, and bangandgunpowderandsirens.

He wouldn't think about that. His past failures. The people he hurt.

He flopped against his bed. Maybe it just wasn't worth it anymore. He felt like he was sinking. He was so tired. So tired and sore. For the past week it had been constant. A loop of wake up, Spider-Man, bugle, Nelson Murdock and Page, Spider-Man, sleep.

Now he could check his daily stops of hyping himself up off. There was no use now. They knew.

Peter wondered why this happened it him. Why is life was an endless string of bad luck and untimely loss. He kept trying. He just kept doing everything he could and it still wasn't enough. He wasn't enough.

Did the universe hate him? Did they think he was washed up? Out of his prime now that he's not thirteen? Thirteen was when Mr. Stark thought he had value. The first time someone other than May and Ben had thought he could be something.

He could be something. He was doing fine. He helped Ms. Gale with the kids when she was to busy. He wiped their tears, and helped them tie their shoes. He told them it was okay to mourn, okay to not be okay.

If only he could follow his own advice.

Guilt ate away at him until he was no more than the pile of flesh and bone his new appetite had reduced him to.

He knew this new opportunity should be something to jump at. Something to be excited for. A new look on life. A new future. A family.

But what was Peter supposed to do? Accept it?

Accept it and all the new deaths?

He hated sleep. In his dreams he saw May, and Ben from before. He had ruined that. He saw Mary, and Richard. He had ruined that. And as a new addition, he saw Matt, and Mr. Nelson, and Karen Page on the floor covered in blood. Or crushed under a building. Or hospitalized.

He couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't let that happen. He didn't care if it broke Matt Murdock's heart, that's better than his neck.

——————

Peter went out as Spider-Man. It took awhile to get to Queens from Hell’s Kitchen, but he managed.

Everything was faster by swing!

“Yo. Big man. Not tonight.” Were sometimes all the words he needed to say.

He was only so nice with very small time criminals. Usually the guys from FEAST who Peter recognized and knew were good. He stopped them from robbery's, and sometimes offered them food.

Which he admits is stupid of him. Especially when he's broke…, but the smiles on the guys faces. The pure look of understanding and a simple “you the best, Spidey!” goes a long way.

Peter wishes he could look at someone like that.

“Hello Mr. Davis!” Peter beams as he pops his head down from the ceiling of the car garage.

The ‘Mr. Davis’ in question, Aaron Davis, startles and jumps back. “Holy sh— Spider-Man? Kid. You gotta stop doing that.”

“But you’re the only criminal who will talk to me.” Peter said blankly. Aaron rolled his eyes. He could hear Peter's pout.

“Yeah? Not a good thing, man.” He huffed. “What is it this time? You want info on something?”

Peter nodded sheepishly. “Yeah.. also I uh..” He scratched the back of his neck. “..brought ice cream?”

Aaron Davis sighed. “Yeah? Alright kid. Come on.”

Peter follows him into his apartment. Obviously he knows this is normally a stupid idea, but one, he knows and trusts Aaron. Oddly enough. And two, he's spider-man. He's fine.

Aaron pulls out two spoons and two bowls. He scoops some into each bowl and slides one over to the spider. “Eat up, kid. You look .. tiny.”

Peter huffs. He deepens his voice. “I am not tiny. I'm big, and very.. uh.. old.” great. Another voice crack.

Aaron snorts. “Yeah. Okay man. Anyways I got info of a robbery on fifth.”

“There aren't banks down there.” Peter says blankly.

“Yeah. They’re robbing some new type of heroin.” He shrugs. “Probably gonna end in a gang war.”

“Shit.” Peter wipes the ice cream from the lower unveiled half of his face. “Okay, gotta stop a drug heist, drug war, and get this base down. Awesome.” He muses sarcastically.

“Thanks Mr. Davis!!” Peter beams as he opens the window. Aaron just sighs.

Peter might have spent the rest of his night staking out and preventing another gang war, but it was the best he’d felt in weeks.

————————

Matt had not had a good night.

Not at all. In any sense of the word.

He'd gone home and refused to let himself trash his apartment. He wasn't saying he was that angry, but he was very upset. He didn't know what to do, or how to do it, or what to think.

And when he went out daredeviling, he had not had a good time.

He busted a human trafficking operation and then promptly went to have a panic attack on the roof because one boy sounded a little too much like Peter.

Peter who sounded broken, and whose heart raced like no other.

Some of them smelt like him too. Like soot, gunpowder, dirt and blood. All underlying smells on Peter, smells he was used to. On children. Call him crazy but kids shouldn't smell like that!

None of them smelt quiet like Peter though. Peter who smelled like oil, cinnamon and newspaper. He had that in common with Karen.

If Matt had seen them, he was sure it’d be worse.

Young faces. Peter was that young. Some were younger.

What if something had happened to him? He was vulnerable. Matt couldn't imagine it. Maybe he understood franks— nope. No. Not going down that path.

It didn't matter. He wound up back in bed, face bruised and knuckles bloody. His talking alarm clock yelled at him, and he could hear foggy breaking into his apartment with a key. How dare he.

“How did you even get innn…” Matt groaned into his pillow. He wrapped his blanket tighter around himself. “‘s not fair.. get outta… h—” He yawned. “..here.”

Foggy snorted. “Right. Uh huh.” He rolled his eyes. “You okay man?”

“Yes.” Matt said firmly.

“And that's why you slept in til noon?” Foggy tapped the clock.

“I'm a grown adult, Franklin.” Foggy gasped at the words of utter betrayal Matt had just spoke.

“Wow? Really.” Foggy backed away. “Fine. No breakfast for you.”

Matt tilted his head. He sniffed. “You got me blueberry..?” He turned to semi face foggy. Blueberry muffins. The fresh kind without gross toxins. Foggy smelt like jasmine and honeysuckle.

Foggy sighed. “Yes you wounded duck. I'm worried. Now tell papa foggy what's wrong.”

Matt chuckles before freezing. Nothing was funny anymore. 

No Matt was not dramatic, shut up.

“He calls me stalker foggy.” Matt grumbles into his pillow. “Stalker!! He doesn't even know I stalked him!”

Foggy sighs. “Okay— one that is hilarious, and we will be talking about that and your stalking issues later—” Matt groans. “Two, we have work buddy. C’mon.”

“We don't have any clients.” Matt deflects.

“Wow. Great defense bud.” Foggy rolls his eyes. “But we won't have any clients if you don't get up and go to work.” He drags the man out of bed.

Matt glares at foggy. “you can't see. Those eyes don't work on me.” Matt attempts to look sad but foggy walks away. “Nuh uh. Not swaying me pal. I'll make coffee.”

“You don't get it foggyyyyy..” Matt groaned. He reluctantly sat up. “He's so.. nervous. And I brought him to tears. Tears. What kind of a father would that make me?”

“Human?” Foggy tilts his head.

“Mm false.” Matt threw on a shirt. “I'm superhuman— enhanced? Remember.”

“That doesn't mean you can read the kids mind.” Foggy pauses. “You can't do that right.?”

Matt sighs. “I wish..” He huffs into his palm. Foggy quirks a brow. “It’d help in court! And with dealing with fisk.” Matt defends.

“baddies aside, Matt. Buddy. You can't fix his anxiety if you can't even fix yours.”

“But his is self destructive.” Matt points out. He walks into the kitchen. “He bites things until there's blood.”

“Like your any different?” Foggy scoffs. “Buddy you chewed up your lip so bad I thought you went out daredeviling.”

Matt sighs. “Mm I did.” He fixes his bed head, or attempts to. “Check knuckles.”

Foggy sighs. “Course you needed to get out all that matt-gression.”

“Matt-gression?” He quirks a brow. “Really? That's what we’re calling it?”

Foggy nods. “Yeeep! Can't change it. It's set in stone.”

“Boo.” Matt shakes his head. “Just for that I'm not coming to work!”

Foggy deadpans. “Matt if you stalk that child again—”

“What?” Matt walks back to his closet. “I'm in the other room, I can't hear you.”

Foggy snorts. “Really, Murdock? That's how you wanna play?”

Matt grins. “I have no clue what you're talking about, fogs.” He straightens his tie as foggy walks in.

“Wh— how’d you get dressed so fast?” Matt walks past him. “Matt? Matt I'm serious about the stalking thing.”

And he keeps walking.

“Matt? Matt we will talk about this later!!” Foggy calls as the door gets slammed shut.

————————

Peter knew he wasn't being paranoid.

That wasn't his first thought when he felt the sense of watching. watching. watching. But he knew better now.

When Matt had shown up at his place yesterday morning he'd thought, ‘hm. Weird of him to internet stalk me! But I did drop fatherhood in his lap..’

Then today he’d felt it while chatting with Mrs. Hernandez at a market. He’d agreed to go pick up some food for Ms. Gale, which was a thing he didn't want to do, seeing as though Ms. Gale hated him and he rarely had the time. He made his peace with it though.

Then, Matt fucking Murdock tapped around the place. His red sunglasses perched on his nose and his suit straightened to perfection.

Peter wanted to riot, run. Whatever. However Mrs. Hernandez was in the middle of a story about her grandkids and Peter didn't have the heart to stop her story.

Peter gave it a thought to bail on the market after this, but he knew he couldn't do that to Ms. Gale. He’d made a promise, and despite Matt's clear.. issues, Peter had planned to keep said promise.

Also no point in going to a different market. Liam, a child who became his roommate only a month or so ago, was autistic. And Peter could push through all the chemical tastes, but he saw Liam was having trouble. Not that the child's taste buds were as strong..

Peter had tested different shops with Liam, and the market was the best success by far. He didn't tell Ms. Gale how much extra he sprung from his own pockets to get Liam some fresh fruit every now and then, but that was okay.

He wondered how a blind man was able to stalk him so well. If it was Mr. Stark Peter would've known it was tech, but Matt? There was no way he planted a bug Peter couldn't find.

Peter knew he was being tracked throughout the market. He found himself subconsciously rubbing the back of his neck and looking over his shoulder.

He paid attention to Matt as the man talked to a random shopkeep and bought a pear. Seems he also knew this spot but Peter wasn't buying it that he wasn't being a freak about it.

Matt Murdock kept angling himself like he wanted to fake an accidental run in.

Peter dodged every attempt.

————

Peter watched a rock skip down the docks before sinking. He felt like that rock, and if he wanted to he could go into a whole deep analogy on it but realistically, he just felt like he was sinking, drowning, whatever.

Stupid rocks.

Rocks do not rock. And that's why Peter would never be a geologist.

It didn't matter that it was late. The sun was setting and it reflected on the water. Peter was tempted to take a photo.

He heard clicky footsteps, and glanced over to spot Karen Page. He hadn't spoke to her really ever, but technically not since the day he came to the office. Which was only a few days ago. Peter felt like this was the longest three days of his life. 

And he had to wait hours on a plane to Germany to fight captain America. That had been a wait.

She seemed nice. She smelled like ginger, lavender, print, and faint gunpowder. She wore soft colors that didn't make Peter's head hurt.

He heard papers crinkle in her bag. Metal click against pens, and her heartbeat fluttered when she met his side. She leaned over the rail and smiled at Peter. Her smile was infectious.

He’d seen the fake smile the days prior. All business. And he knew of how hardcore reporters could get. He worked with them after all.

“Hey, Peter.” She spoke softly. Melody backed by the splashing water.

“Hello Ms. Page.” He nodded respectfully.

“You can just call me Karen.” She flexes her hands. Peter looked back out at the water. His shoulders squared and he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Heard you and Matt talked the other day.”

Peter nodded hesitantly. “Yea’.. suppose.” He picked up another rock, flipped it in his hand and skipped it down the waterbed.

“Didn't go well?” She tilted her head. It wasn't like Matt's. Matt did it to hear. But it was similar. Like she'd spent so much time she’d picked up the subtle habit.

“Went fine.” Peter mumbled. “He's real.. curious.”

She relax's her shoulders. “I mean.. we all are.”

Peter sighs. “I know..” He bites his lip. Rocks are easier. “I'm sorry. Didn't mean to drop it on you and run..”

Karen laughs. It doesn't feel mocking but Peter still quirks a brow. “Peter it's fine. I'm surprised you didn't punch Matt when he showed up.”

Peter snorts. “I'm not gonna punch a blind man!”

“You’d be surprised how much Matt makes you question that opinion.” Karen grins.

Peter's shoulders relax. “I did kinda wanna punch him..”

Karen beams. “That's the spirit! So uh..” She smacks her lips. “Whatcha doing out here? It is nice out but, I only come to the dock to think.. or have shady conversations about future articles.”

Peter laughs. “As a photographer, I'll keep that in mind!” He sighs. “I dunno.. just needed to get away from the house I'm in currently.. and uh somewhere Matt wouldn't stalk me. I'd dunno how he does that.”

Karen sighs. “Yeah.. He's just worried. You’ll get used to it.” She nods.

“Mm doubt it.” He flips another rock before dropping it. Not skippable. “It's weird. Don't know why he wants me to stick around.”

“I think he's more worried about you wanting him to stick around.” Karen muses. Peter quirks a brow. “Actually? Cause it felt like talking to a shrink. ‘im so sorry about that Peter!’”

He scoffs. “Sounds just like my case worker.”

She sighs. “Yeah. He doesn't like to talk about himself, and despite how witty and good of a lawyer he is, he isn't good at that stuff.”

Peter sighs. “I know it's probably not fair of me to expect anything, especially because I know I'm like.. actively pushing him away..”

“At least you admit it.” Karen muses.

“okay.. ..but like..” He groans into his hands. “I'm bad.”

“Bad? Peter I helped take down fisk.” She ran a hand through her hair. “He was bad. You’re fourteen.”

“Bad luck.” He admits. “People around me get hurt, and die. It's better” easier. “—to keep everyone at arms length.”

“You know how that sounds right?” She furrows her brows.

“I know.” Peter bites his lip. “It sounds all self-destructive and like.. super bad for my health but trust me. It's easier for everyone involved.”

“Not Matt.”

“He'll get over it.” Skip. Kerplunk.

“It's..” She swallows thickly. Her heart hammers with nerves. “It's not my story to tell but Matt understands. He gets it.”

Peter sighs. “Maybe. But I can't bury anyone else.”

She holds his shoulder. “He can't either.”

Peter stands there silently. He knows his brains racing through thoughts and ideas. Every possible situation. Every possible answer. He can't see one where this ends well.

“Karen. I've only told you this much because I.. respect you.” Peter stammers out. “I don't trust you. Never trust a reporter, but I respect you.” He sighs and kicks a rock by his foot. “This won't end well.”

“You should still try.” She attempts. “Just.. meet up with Matt every once in awhile and talk. It doesn't have to go beyond that.”

Peter swallows thickly. It’d be easier to eat rocks than let Matt Murdock into his life.

Honestly? With his spider powers he’d never tried.. He can put dents in cement. He so could crunch up a rock. Munch munch, Parker.

“Why?”

“Because he cares about you.”

“I don't deserve that.” Peter hisses out.

“I don't feel like I deserve him sometimes either..” She admits. Peter freezes. “He's so good, and he see's— metaphorically, the best in people. I've done bad things, Pete. And he's forgiven me.”

“But he's not perfect either.” She sighs. “He seems all perfect and.. Saint Matthew. But, he has issues. Everyone does. He's human.”

“But he's not a bad guy right..?” Peter's heart races. He can hear it echo in his eardrums. He can't deal with another adult who's a bad person. Too many guys want him dead. He couldn't handle it if Matt was even slightly shitty.

His mind immediately went to baby killer. Then drug lord. What? Don't ask Peter. He doesn't know why his brain works that way.

“No. No Matt's good.” She furrows her brows, but Peter knows she’s honest. He can hear the genuineness behind the message. “He's.. actually self destructive like you.” She chuckles.

“Okay..” Peter nods.

“Okay?”

“I'll give it a try.”

Karen smiles softly. Peter wants to huff and shove her into the cold water. Damn her for being nice and whittling her way into his system. His defenses are literally building proof. He fought Captain America and had less trouble.

Peter thinks Karen could've single handedly solved the Sovika accords.

“Alright.” She nods. “Now teach me the tip to skipping rocks? I've never gotten one that far.”

“Really? Okay well you..”

Chapter Text

It's not like Peter objectively ment to block everyone out. 

Not like he wanted to dodge Matt’s totally not stalkerish almost bump in’s. 

He just… couldn't be around them.

He knows what Ben would’ve said. That Ben would've held his shoulder tight and told him what to do. He even would've sprung on therapy despite the bills.

Ben was usually right about things. He could sniff out problems like a hound dog, and solve them like a mechanic.

Peter knows there are people he could go to. To talk about the situation. The heavy guilt he carries. He could talk to anyone in FEAST and they’d talk to him. He could talk to every cop in that station, in all the stations.

Almost everyone knew Ben. ‘the Parker's are good folk’

There's an even smaller list if Peter wanted to size it down. Any of the cops Ben trusted. Had word on being good men and women. Or Peter could've gone to those May had more directly impacted. 

He could've gone to old neighbors. New neighbors. Ms. Gale.

Peter knows his list of resources are boundless. He just doesn't want to talk to any of them. It’d be admitting defeat. He can do this himself. He doesn't need help. He doesn't need distractions.

He doesn't need to be Peter. He doesn't deserve to think of the Parker's.

“Peter do you blame yourself?” 

“..what?” Peter blinked. His hazel eyes adjusted to the bright lighting of an office.

“Do you blame yourself for your aunts death?” She said blankly. Mrs. Lake. Her brown hair had a reddish tint. Peter always thought of his mother when he saw it. “You’ve been disappearing more often. Ms. Gale’s worried.”

“So what? She called you?” Peter scoffed. “Teenagers disappear all the time, Mrs. Lake. It's not like I'm killing people.” His tongue clicked the roof of his mouth.

“Well. That's good.” Mrs Lakes voice was inflicted with sarcasm. “Doesn't change the fact that you should be in school.”

“And there it is!” Peter smirked. “And I almost thought you cared about me! For shame Mrs. Lake. You should do a better job of keeping up your ‘uncaring social worker’ appearance. What would the kids say?”

Mrs. Lake nearly snarled. Her long fingernails clicked against her desk. “Peter.” She warned. “You're behind in your academic’s—”

“I skipped a grade.” He deadpanned. Everyone in his life died. Screw Peter for wanting a day off. (month’s. It’d been months.)

“You’re still behind.” Her voice cut through the air. Unfortunately her tongue wasn't as sharp as Peter's. Even with his lack of understanding of the legal system.

“Hm… technically, I’m not?”

“Peter.” Her voice snapped. “I've found a list of schools in the area that would be more than willing to take you.” She straightened a small paper file, and took out a packet. “Here's the list, and registration papers. I expect one to be filled out by the end of the week.”

Peter slumped back in the uncomfortable chair he was so graced with being allowed on. Surprised they even let him in. His hair was so greasy McDonald's might actually put him through a strainer.

“This mean you’ve given up on pushing me back to midtown?” Peter let himself grow smug.

Finally. His weeks of entrapment to her excessive nagging were over!

“No.” Man. Her bun must've really been tight because Peter swears that can't just be from the stick up her ass. “I still think you should go back. For who knows why, the school still wants you. I think it's because of that little decathlon team.”

Peter scoffed. “Whatever.”

“Peter. I'm serious.” She put her hand over his wrist. Her grip was tight. Her hand felt like leather, smothered in palm sweat and moisturizer. “If you need someone to talk to—”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Peter shrugged her off. “You’ll respond in Three-to-Five business days. I got it.”

She scowled. “We have resources.”

“And let me end up in another pile of ‘lost causes’?” His shoes squeaked as he turned around. “I'll take my chances.”

“You know your father made you a legacy there?” Mrs. Lake made Peter pause. “Not in the normal sense. He surely didn't donate, but he was successful. Made a good impact.”

“What?” howcouldsheknow?howcouldsheknow?

“Yep. Richard got in like you. Scholarship.” Her heels clicked as she turned to stand in front of Peter.

“Oh.” right yeah. “..Richard.”

Stupid traitorous thoughts. Richard didn't raise him and die for him to think of a guy he's known for a week (and stalked for another week prior) as a father figure. He didn't know Matt. 

Matt who stalked him and had a stupid interesting job. Matt who always listened. (Richard was always busy, but who has time to listen to a six year old?)

Matt Murdock wasn't anything to him. He wasn't. You hear that universe? Don't need to kill this one off! Peter's got it covered.

“I know it's hard to believe—” She paced the room. Peter couldn't hear her over the thumping of his own heart. It's so loud. How did it get so loud. “—but you have a very bright future. And I'm sure those little friends of yours miss you—”

“You know nothing.” Peter snarled. He caught himself. “I have to go. Good day Mrs. Lake.”

She sighed. “Good day, Mr. Parker.” and, “Think about what I’ve told you.”

And he was off.

That was stupid. Utterly ridiculous.

Peter clenched the list in his hands. He didn't care about schooling. He could ace every test if he so wanted to. A little extra effort and he could be out. At least, in the math and science portions. English was.. more of a challenge.

Not that he didn't have the gene’s for it. Matt was a lawyer. Words were his job.

MJ liked reading. She was always deep in thought. She had that sort of smug smile that just said ‘i know you better than you know yourself.’ 

If Peter really had wanted to graduate he'd learn from her. 

It's not like it was a bad idea. College. The whole growing up shabang. Peter could handle it. Probably. But he didn't want may to worry about college funds, and now may’s gone and he doubts the foster care system will be paying. 

He guesses he also has Murdock now. Matt clearly wants to be in his life. Maybe he’d sign the forms, and take Peter in legally. Lawyers or whatever..

Then when Peter was sixteen he'd get emancipated. Boom. Problem solved.

But Peter couldn't do that to anyone. If he was going to fix the problem, then he was going to do it himself. 

Despite how much of a challenge that had come to be. Peter would not give in and go down the easy path. He would handle it.

“Peter?” A familiar blonde tapped his shoulder. Peter jumped back. Had he been that deep in thought? What if she was a villain? What if vulture got out? Or he had a whole new bad thing-guy-whatever to deal with.

“Ms. Stahl?” He tilted his head. “What’re you doing here?”

“Just, Marci.” She smiled. Still as sly as ever. “And my office is around here. You? Doesn't seem like your stomping grounds, teddy.”

“Teddy?” He quirks a brow. “And uh— no. No it's not. Social worker.”

She nods. “Ah. Makes sense.” Her fingernails tapped against the zipper of her purse. “C’mon. Let's get a coffee. On me.”

“Okay— but.. teddy?” Peter followed along. He realized how childish it made him look. Peter wanted to break the baby duck allegations Ned used to— 

“Yeah! You're all grr” She roars with her hands. A pawing motion Peter thinks looks more like a cat begging for food after you’ve already fed it. He needs to check up on sparkles. “— but really you look adorable. So the intimidation factor is just.. not there.”

“Wh— I can be intimidating!!” His voice squeaks. He deeps it. “I mean— I can be intimidating.. rah..?”

She snorts. “We can workshop it.” She waves a hand dismissively. “It's real close to ‘Foggy bear’ anyways.”

Peter thinks he likes Marci. She's very truthful, and honest but has an energy, an aura of playfulness. Marci Stahl isn't trying to parent Peter, to tell him what to do like everyone else in his life seems to be doing.

She gives him advice, and buys him drinks. She smells like caffeine and chemical perfume which makes Peter's nose scrunch, but he's sure smells delightful to people of the average nose family.

She wears professional colors. Bright reds, and tans. The type you expect to see in an office. She's bold. Peter respects that.

Peter knows he's had a hard time letting people into his life after Ben died. He knows that probably what's happening with May. (Though you’ll never hear him admit it.)

Peter misses them. May was all soft colors, baby blues and warm oranges. She was flowers. Petunias, peonies, anything she could get her hands on. She's spent days working over the little dirt box they had on the fire escape. She was soft and fuzzy like a warm blanket.

Ben was sharper, but just as warm. He was the blue of his uniform, and the tan’s of his old leather books. He smelt like gunpowder, soot, and dust, but never in a bad way. Ben had this way of making everything feel safe. He was a good man. Everyone knew that. He felt hard, like leather. An itchy, protective surface. 

No one was quite like that.

No one would ever be that.

So Peter made due. Marci was a good person. She wasn't the type looking to become best friends with Peter. To act as his guiding hand. She was however, kind and clearly had some sort of care over the situation.

“How are things going?” She shoulders her way into a cafe. It smells like artificial sugar, and lemon. Peter follows.

“Been.. okay I guess.” He shrugs. “Talked to Matt. It was.. weird.”

Marci hums. “In what way?”

“Just..” He slides into a seat. Marci sits across from him. “I dunno. He tries, I think. It's just weird. M not used to it.”

“Good weird, then?”

“I guess.” Peter shrugs again. “You don't have to do this. You aren't like.. morally obligated to hang out with me.”

Marci snorts. “That's— wow okay. Peter no. I'm doing this because of purely selfish reasons.”

He quirked a brow.

“I'm curious.” She takes off her scarf. It's a nice peachy yellow. “I want to know what happened.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “I stalked his office for like a week, then finally told him. He got all.. sad and I thought he didn't believe me ‘cause there's no reason he should..” Peter rests his head against the palm of his hand. “.. so I ran away. Met a cool cat. Named him sparkles.”

Marci looks torn between laughing and pitiful glaces. “That's— okay. He did believe you though, right?”

“Oh yeah.” Peter sighs. “Dude stalked me and everything.”

Marci quirks a brow. “Excuse me?”

He snorts. “Yeah! He showed up to the group home. I took him to my usual coffee spot and we talked for a bit.. He mostly asked questions.” He pauses. “probably a bad idea to take him there..” 

“Okay..” She narrowed her eyes. “Stalking aside, it went okay? He didn't ask weird questions? I can get foggy bear to chew him out.”

Peter wrinkled his nose. “No that's not necessary. I handled it. Plus then I had to go take photos for my job.” He swipes his palm on the table. “All good.”

“Why were you so scared to reach out to him?”

“What?” Peter pauses.

“You were scared he wouldn't believe you. He did.” It's loud. Peter hears a man try and cop a feel. The woman pepper sprays him. It's so loud. Cat. Cat crying. “And you clearly don't want to reach out to him again.”

childcryinglouditssoloudcatcatcatcathungerneversatisfied.

Focus. Peter focuses. “You don't know that.” He deadpans. “I totally could.” His senses hone in on Marci. On the conversation.

“But you don't.” She wags her finger. “You haven't.”

“Sometimes it's easier to live in the idealistic’s of a person.” Peter went quiet. “I don't think I could handle anything worse.”

She swallows thickly. “p— wow that's..” Her eyes dart around the room. “Heavy. You don't get that from Mary, I tell you what.”

Peter quirks a brow. “Matt has never once said anything like that.”

“Mm yeah. The confidence is all Mary.” She waves off Peter's concerns. 

“I am like.. the least confident person ever.” Peter blinks.

“Yeah. Exactly. Mary.” She nods. “Mary was.. very shy, but bold. She was mouthy. So was Murdock, he just went more sarcastic and slick with it. I can see why they had a thing.”

Peter snorts. “Yeah, okay.” He bites his lip. “..coffee?”

She nods. “Coffee.”

Once they order the conversation lightens up. Peter still feels a crushing weight. It's not been long that May's been dead. It's only been a few years since Ben, and it's felt like forever since his parents. 

Marci knew Mary. Oddly enough she seemed to know Mary better than Ben and May. Maybe it's because Mary and Richard were just like that. They were selective with their time.

Ben used to tell all sorts of stories about Richard. About his dumb college days. They used to say Peter was just like his mom. Smart and intuitive. But that he was a Parker in the luck department.

Maybe the Parkers did have bad luck. Their bad luck was meeting a Murdock.

“Mary used to get that look in her eye when she was deep in thought.” Marci hummed. “Just like your doing right now. Wanna tell me what’s up, or are we just going to drink coffee in silence?”

“Sorry!” Peter straightened up. “I zoned out. I didn't mean to.”

“You heard what I said, right?”

“...about mom?” His fingers pick at the plastic cap. “Yeah.. I uh.. I did.”

He continues “I don't actually know that much about her..” Peter clears his throat. “could you..?”

“Oh yeah!” She dismisses the idea of no. “Mary was really..”

————————

Peter, all things considered, had a really good morning. He didn't have many morning’s like that anymore.

Sure, Mrs. Lake sucked. Peter wanted nothing more than to throw away the list of schools and go back to total truancy. Unfortunately it was something he’d have to get to.

Just not today!

Yep. Peter's mastered the art of procrastination. He’s great at it. Totally recommends. 10/10.

Marci was nice though. Peter quite enjoyed his conversation with her. (Despite her calling him patronizing nicknames.)

Peter could list on one hand the people he currently let know anything about him. And he was very prone to lying about vast other things. Oh dear Matthew Murdock, and Karen Page, you want to know Parker's life? Dang! And out of the picture you go!

Peter couldn't afford to have people he loved and cared about. He learned that. The universe seemed to get off on making him learn that. (Ew. Gross universe!! Don't cha know Peter's a MINORRRR)

Peter's first job was giving him a call? In what world— that's.. okay. He can handle this. Just pick up the phone Peter.

“Uh—heyyyyy happy.” He leaned against the chimney of the roof he was currently on. Hey no judgement, pal. “How's it— How's it hanging?”

“Peter.” The unamused voice of happy rung out. “Stark wants to see you.”

Fuck. Now? “Now?” His voice squeaked. “I'm not like— in trouble or anything right?”

“Just get over here, Parker.” 

Great. Awesome. That totally instills confidence!

“Heya underoos! Glad you could make it!” Tony's voice echoed in the lab. He smelt like expensive booze, chemical cologne and oil. 

“Still with that nickname, Mr. Stark?” Peter beamed. “You wound me!” He slapped his chest.

Tony chuckled. “If you hadn't been fighting crime in your underwear, it wouldn't be a nickname. Now would it?”

Peter huffed. “Hey. It's not underwear.” A beat. “Underwear is comfortable.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Gimme your wrist thingys” He waved Peter over. “Been feeling the itch to upgrade em. I'm gonna make a copy.”

The teen reluctantly walked to join him. “Oh? That's what this is about?”

Tony cocked a brow. “exsqueeze me?” 

Peter's face flushed. “Not in a bad way Mr. Stark! I've just been.. doing different patrol hours.. and figured you’d noticed or something. I hoped it wasn't bad..” He laughed awkwardly. His hands wrung together like a nervous puzzle. What even was a nervous puzzle.?

Better than thinking Tony would know about May. No assumptions. Fuck. He can't tell him. 

Tony cracked a smile. “You worry too much kid!” He rolled his shoulder and propped up the web-shooter. “Anyways. Thought you did Spider-Man after school?”

Peter shrugged. “Not really… doing the whole school thing right now.” He gestured loosely.

Tony hummed. His eyes narrowed on the web-shooters. “Yeah? You graduate out?”

Peter's shoulders slumped. “... something like that..”

Tony beamed. “Ah! I knew you were smart kid!” He clapped Peter's shoulder. He winced. “You know, you take after me so much. We should have you tested.” He joked.

Peter felt his own pulse hammer. Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea. “Aha.. who knows.” He swallowed thickly. “Mary Parker was a shield agent. Gotta get my smarts from somewhere.”

Tony tsk’s over the machine. “You’ve been out as Spider-Man more? That going well?” Click. Wrr.

Peter nods. “Yep. Yeah— uhm.. great.” mind the fact the scar from last night's mugging gone wrong was still itching as it healed. God he needed to eat more. His healing factor's working overtime, and with his very extreme work out routine he burns through food faster than he can eat it.

“That's good kid.” The man hums. “Should be done in a minute.”

A full copy pops out of the machine. Yes. Of course Tony Stark has a glorified 3D printer. Awesome.

Peter sticks his shooters back to their rightful place. His wrists. Then heads out.

He's used to only short conversations with Mr. Stark. It's not abnormal. That is, when they do actually have conversations. It's more often after the vulture. Peter guesses it some sort of guilt for leaving him stranded, suitless, under a building.

That doesn't matter though. It only takes a few sentences of a conversation to get Peter feeling like a total anxiety train wreck. Like yeah no way does he have his life figured out, look at Mr. Stark!!

It's probably foolish. To have his mentor on a high pedestal. 

But it's Tony freaking Stark. Peter can manage awkward conversations, and a lack of attention. That's life for you. It's like rule one of getting a father figure. They don't pay attention. Cough. Richard. Cough. 

That's why Matt’ll never make it. He's trying too hard.

Maybe that's rude of Peter to think. But everyone else like that died in his arms, so he thinks he gets a pass.

————————

Peter had a love hate relationship with new york's sounds. There was only so much he could take when it came to sewer rats and sirens. 

Honestly he hated being in his civilian clothes. Hearing a crime and not being able to stop it? How did other secret identity heros manage? Did daredevil just look away?

Maybe daredevil didn't have to worry about looking weird if he stopped crime. From newspaper description's Peter piled together when he was so not in his fanboy faze, the guy was totally jacked.

To be fair that media was over hyped slander propaganda spread by that Fisk guy. They wanted people to think he was a demon, devil, whatever. A terrorist.

Peter's problem is that he was tiny, and looked scrawny.

In no way could this teenager be Spider-Man! Spider-Man held a giant boat together! Spider-Man frequently stopped baddies, and Spider-Man stopped moving trains! Peter could never...

Anyways. Wandering New York in his civics wasn't a peak Peter idea, however he didn't really want to deal with his newspaper boss yelling at him about Spider-Man. He already had a headache!

And ugh. Look at that. Peter passed a crime scene actively flooded by cops, and reporters. They're saying it's yet another punisher kill. Yikes. 

Peter sure has opinion's on that guy and— holy shit is that Karen Page?

“Karen?” Peter see's her wiping sweat off her forehead while a cop questions her.

“Peter?” She pushes away from the nameless bodies of the New York police force. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just on a walk.” He aim's for nonchalance. “Saw the scene. What's happening?”

She clicks her teeth. “Nothing you won't hear on the news later. Think I can join you on your walk?”

“uh Ms. Page we weren't done with questioning—” A cop rushes forward, his eyes meet Peter and a sense of familiarity flashes through them. “Pete? What are you doing out here? I heard about May—”

Peter tugs Karen along. “Bye officer! We were just leaving!”

He hears the officer muse something under his breath about teenagers, but ultimately he doesn't follow. Peter calls it a win.

“You got anything going on?” Peter looks up at Karen. “cause my day is wide open, and I don't really wanna skip around and stare at the traffic lights.”

Karen snorts. “Well.. before all.. that, I was actually working on a fluff piece!” She digs through her bag for a sheet of paper. “I'm gathering research on good shelter’s and organization’s in New York.”

“Not limited to hell's kitchen?” Peter asks, peering over the paper.

“Yep.” Karen nods. “I'm thinking of basing it on FEAST.”

Peter pauses. “..need a photographer?”

Karen smiles. “I could use one, yeah.”

Peter grins. It's more of a smirk. He pulls out his camera. “Never leave ‘home’ without it!”

Karen beams. “Wow! And to think I thought you were ignoring me.”

Peter tsks, wagging his finger playfully. “Can't get it outta me that easy, Ms. Page. Though I'm sure you're one hell of a reporter!”

Karen nods. She rolls her eyes fondly. “Just good to know you aren't locking yourself up. Matt does something like that when he gets upset.”

“Locking myself up is not on the agenda I'm afraid!” He beams brightly. “That was last week!”

She lightly pushes his shoulder. “Alright photographer. We should probably take the subway.”

Peter wrinkles his nose. “ew.”

Karen snorts. “Seriously? There's two of them?” She puts her papers back in her bag. “What could you possibly have against the subway?”

“okay no—” Peter makes a gesture to say pause. “I'll ride it, I just won't be happy about it. It's too... loud? And smelly.”

“reallyyy?” Karen pretends to scribble it down. Peter scoffs and steals the imaginary pen.

“I will break this fake pen. Don't test me karen”

“uh I actually have thirty more pens on me sooo..” She shrugs.

Peter gasps. “wh— we're playing by child rules? So unfair.” He crosses his arms. “I actually have super pen finding vision and I crush them all.”

Karen laughs. She hides it behind her hand. Peter laughs with her. 

“I really do hate the subway though..”

“That's fair. TAXI!!”

————

When they arrive at FEAST Peter know's he'll bring his a-game with shots. This isn't just for the Daily Bugle. It's for the New York Bulletin! They talk about more than just Spider-Man! Have they ever written about Spider-Man?

That doesn't matter! It's mostly talked about by those in hell's kitchen anyways. (Which Spider-Man currently doesn't patrol. He so would though. Daredevil spooks him..)

“Karen, give me the run down on what you know so far about FEAST.” Peter comments. “I can be your go to guy for this! I practically grew up there.” He nods.

Karen looks unsure and Peter freezes. “wh— not in a bad way!! My aunt worked there! We volunteered quite alot— and so I just know my way around.. uhm..”

Karen smiles. “Really?” She clicks her pen. “Do tell.”

Peter didn't think it would feel so good to talk about his aunt, but it did. It really did. “Aunt May was awesome. We'd try and donate whenever we could, which wasn't often.. So we mostly donated time!”

It felt really good. Freeing. Like she wasn't really dead. Not in the way where she was revived, or it never happened, but more like.. she lived on through her legacy. Her memory. New people would learn about her.

They did eventually stop by FEAST and Peter mostly lingered while Karen did the investigating. He did check up on the regular's and some of the new comers. He saw Karen smiling at him encouragingly from wherever she was stood at the moment.

Oddly enough he wasn't embarrassed like he used to be. May would pinch his cheek and thank him for being to helpful and behaving as a child. He'd always flush and shove off the compliments. 

Maybe he truly had grown as a person. Awesome!

“I've gotta get this to Ellison.” Karen closes her notes and drops them back into her bag. “You wanna come with? You've got to drop off those photos right?”

Peter nods. He said one last goodbye to the great people at FEAST. “Yep! Definitely not passing up the chance to see another News company! Jameson acts like he has me tied down, but I truly am freelance.” 

Karen beams. “Alright then!”

Peter hums to himself. “Karen why were those cops questioning you? Did you like.. commit a crime or something?”

Peter knew it had to do with the punisher. The rouge anti-hero. Because Peter refused to call him a vigalante. He knows Karen worked on the trial, and by Matt's supposed uninvolvement he's guessing she knows a lot. A guy with the nickname Foggy can not have that much to do with the punisher. Peter forbids it.

Karen snorts. It seems Peter's comment was funny. Like some sort of inside joke. Suppose journalism can have illegal ways of uptaining information. Technically Peters a criminal. It's fine.

“They always do that when it has to do with the Punisher.” She sighs. “because I worked on his trial we must be friends.” She hums. 

Peter shrugs. “Who knows. For what it's worth, I think you could have very scary friends Ms. Page.”

She grins. “You overestimating me now?”

Peter makes a pop sound. “Nope! Just tell the Punisher that ‘Peter Parker, Spider-Man photographer, Extraordinaire!’ would not like to be killed, please and thank you.” He nods very seriously. Karen snorts again.

“Yeah alright, Pete. I'll spread the word!” She ruffles his hair. “No one messes with my nephew!”

“Nephew?” Peter cocks a brow. 

Karen nods. “Yep. It's official. I'm claiming you!” 

Peter laughs. “I— alright?” He shrugs. “Why not!”

————

Being at the bulletin was awesome. 

Sure most fourteen year olds Peter knows wouldn't care. Wouldn't like it. But this was Peter's element. He was in the zone here!

It smelt like ink and lemon sanitizer. Karen had her own office because she was that cool of a journalist. Peter stared up in awe at the articles she had hung.

Fisk, Daredevil, the Punisher, and a whole lot about injustice. Peter could get behind this. 

Karen was currently letting someone process the photos so Peter could add it to his collection, meanwhile she showed the files to Ellison. 

“Karen Page? Actually working on an assignment I gave her?” The man chuckles. “What did the world end?”

She probably rolls her eyes by her silence. “no. I'm just very.. moved by the cause.”

The man nods. Peter can tell by the ruffle of facial hair. “Alright. Get me a piece written up. I've heard good things about FEAST.”

Karen beams. “I also wanted to talk about hiring a new photographer!”

The man pauses. “Something wrong with our current ones?” He seems to trust Karen's gut read.

“No!” She defends. “No. No. Just..” She trials off. “...think we could do with a freelancer.”

The man sighs. “Are they any good?”

Karen stiffens. “You'll give him a chance?”

“Is he any good?”

“yes!” She nods. “He took the ones for FEAST.”

“huh.. he does have the eye for what'll sell.”

“mhm!”

“..” He sighs. “Alright. I'll give him a chance.”

Karen beams.

————

Karen and Peter are heading relatively the same direction so they decide to walk home. It's a nice night. Peter had a good day. He had a great day, actually.

It was dark out. Peter knew it wasn't really safe out at night. He knew it could be dangerous.

He never expected this to happen.

A quick heartbeat. Someone who was trying to get the jump on them.

Peter had felt the shiver. The full body shock. He was to late to warn Karen. She had walked past Peter, and when he realized and tried to catch up, sheath.

gunpoint.

Peter wasn't used to feeling small anymore. He could lift shipping containers, bench press a Toyota, throw a Ford F-150 like a football. He wasn't small as Spider-Man. But he was as Peter. 

Because Peter was fourteen. Peter was a lonely scrawny double orphan who couldn't save anyone. Peter was nothing. Peter was small.

But he didn't like living as Peter. As the boy who couldn't save Ben. As the child who cried at the foot of May's bed as he heard her heartbeat stop. He heard Ben's heartbeat stop too.

The gun clicked. The undeniable sign of the safety going off.

He steps in front of Karen.

Peter felt his body shake. He felt his heart pump, and his vision go blurry. It shouldn't be this scary. It shouldn't be this scary.

He could handle it. He's handled worse. 

Then he remembers Karen. Karen who's behind him with confidence. 

Peter knows he can hear her hand clench around her gun. How she clicks the safety off. 

Ben was armed too.

Ben had training.

It wasn't enough.

“Karen. please don't do whatever you think you want to do.” Peter whispers. His body steps in front of her. Her heartbeat spikes. 

Peter knows what she must be thinking. She has a gun. Peter's fourteen. 

She has a gun and Peter's fourteen.

That didn't save Ben. Ben had a gun, and Peter was twelve. Ben had a gun and Peter was twelve. 

It felt like he was back there. In that stupid alley. The stone and brick walls. The undeniable New York must. The mold. The rats fighting over a sock, and a slime covered banana.

Everything was so loud. He remembered not knowing why everything was so loud. 

The stupid mugging asshole waves his gun around. Blood. Peter remember’s blood. “Gimme all your money or I shoot!”

It doesn't matter that the man's heartbeat staggers. That it skips. He's untrained and reckless. Untrained and reckless with a gun. 

“Peter..” Karen's voice is stern. “Peter get behind me. I have..”

“I know.” Peter's voice is barely a whisper. His body trembles. “It's not enough. He’ll see it, get scared and scared means reckless.”

Karen purses her lips. “Peter.. c’mon. Let me handle this.” She puts her hand on his arm. Peter realizes how small he is. He doesn't even come up to her shoulder.

“No.” Peter shakes his head. “No. I can't—” His voice hitches. “Not again.”

The gun. The gun. The gun.

It's just one guy. 

Peter could take him.

There could be complications. He could reach for it and it could hit Karen. Karen could die. Her heartbeat could fade and Peter would be left alone. He’d be left covered in blood knowing it was his fault.

“Peter..” Karen furrows her brows.

“I said—” The man steps closer. Peter's body goes tense. 

Whack.

A club strikes the gun out of the way. The mugger freezes. Blood. Gunpowder— Kevlar. 

A man in a red suit descends from the rooftops. Daredevil. Peter's wished he could meet him before. The og, original vigalante. He always has childish daydreams about meeting him, and he’d be all ‘wow Spider-Man. Nice to meet you, at last! Let's team up!’ or something.

Peter’s eyes don't pull away from the gun. Despite daredevil beating the shit out of the mugger. He was more violent than Peter expected. 

The man was past passed out and yet he didn't stop.

Peter didn't care. He felt bad for not caring, but the gun. The gun was right there. 

The gun was right there and Peter was saved. Peter couldn't do anything.

You know what the worst part of loosing people is? To Peter it's the way the world changes. The void left behind. The way people change.

Second worse thing? Funerals. Peter despises every one he's ever gone to. It's hard to deal with people and their sideways glances. The judgment. Peter knows they must also see him as a curse. 

He feels like a ghost, and it's not even his funeral. Watching on the outskirts as people pay their dues to people Peter couldn't save. To people Peter misses.

He misses them like he missed air. People don't expect the way your brain feels with the lack of oxygen. It feels like Peter's been living on fumes.

He hates the way death changes a body. The way they look. Like a haunted mockery of who they once were. They sound off. Dead. Almost silent. And the smell is horrid. 

They couldn't wash the blood out. Couldn't musk the scent of metal stitches. 

Watching the box get lowered into the ground is haunting. Even when they don't have a body to bury.

“Shh.. It’s okay.” Karen's voice broke through. Her arms were wrapped around him. “Peter? Peter can you look at me? It's okay.”

Peter shook his head no. “...not again. I couldn't—” When did his vision get so blurry. 

The smell of blood filled his nose. His hands clenched at his chest. He felt Karen's heartbeat. He heard daredevils. Both were fast. 

“I couldn't do anything.” Peter tries to breathe. “He was gonna— and I couldn't—” His voice breaks.

Daredevil peers over his shoulder. Karen blocks Peter's view of the gun. “Peter. Look at me. It's not your fault. We need to get out of the alley, okay?”

Peter shakes his head. “The gun. It's still—” Tears roll down his face. “He could’ve shot you.” He stared at Karen.

She shushes him. “Sh. It's okay.” And she accepts the hug Peter pulls her into. He buries his head in her shoulder. 

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry.” He mumbles. “I'm so sorry—”

“It's okay..” Her hand runs through his hair. She looks back at daredevil and beacons him closer. He obliges. “Pete. Hey. This is my friend, daredevil.”

Peter nods. “Yeah.. I uh.. read your articles on him.” He wipes his own tears. “Sorry. Didn't mean to seem like a tourist. I've been mugged before.” He doesn't try to hide his voice crack. “Today's just an off day, I guess.” His laugh is humorless. 

Karen pulls away from the hug. Her eyes look even more blue. Peter knows it's because it's red and puffy. Borderline crying. Karen seems to be empathetic that way.

Daredevil edges closer. “It's.. okay.” His voice is unusually gruff, but it wavers. His words are clear. He has diction. “It's handled now.”

Peter nods. Daredevil doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands. “You sound weird.” Peter says without missing a beat. “Kinda like batman. Are you also a billionaire?”

Daredevil holds back a laugh, but the smug grin he's described as having comes back. “Far from it.” His head cocks and he looks at Karen. “I'm going to walk Peter home. Everythi—”

“No!” Peter squeaks. God. This is so embarrassing. He just had to go and have a mock PTSD anxiety (panic) attack in front of daredevil. So lame!! “Really. You should walk Karen home. I'll be fine.”

“Peter..” Their voices seem to echo at the same time. 

“Really I'm fine!” He puffs out his chest. “All good! Totally.. bueno.. aha” He knows some Spanish. Why did he sound like that.

Is it weird that Peter can feel Daredevil's disappointment? Maybe. But also he's had a long day. He doesn't want to be coddled by a guy with red little demon horns. If Peter was more religious he'd claim that to be blasphemy or something.

Karen seems to sigh. “I’ll call Foggy.” She pulled out her phone. “And he’ll take me home. I'll be alright Peter.”

Peter wants to huff and say it won't matter. He wants to dig his heels in and refuse. It's not going to work out. It never works out. 

But Karen's looking at him expectantly, and as long as she's away from Peter. It might be better. “..yeah okay.”

His shoulders still feel tense. Karen nods and walks off, still in view. She calls Foggy Nelson and Peter pretends he doesn't hear the worried voice on the end of the line.

He hops up a dumpster, and climbs onto the fire escape. Daredevil joins him.

First thing Peter notices now that he’s out of his haze, is daredevils awkward. The man’s gruff, but he bites his lip like a shy schoolgirl. 

“Not good with kids?” Peter asks. He pats the spot next to him. 

“..not especially.” He does a very showy flip and sits next to Peter. 

Peter holds back his snort. “You trying to impress me, Mr. Devil?”

“What?” He shakes his head. His voice deepens. “No. That was the most efficient way to—”

“You are such a bad liar, wow!” Peter laughs. He covers his face with Ben's sleeves. “Who would’ve thought. Daredevil. Horrible liar!” Peter pushes his hand out, panning across the sky to get his point out.

“That is a horrible headline.” Daredevil huffs.

“Yeah. Karen’ll workshop it.” Peter nods. Daredevil looks horrified. “You are not selling it to Karen.”

Peter nods eagerly. “Oh I so am!” He's glad he's quick. He snaps a shot of daredevil, who’s hands itch towards it, but decide against whatever action they want to take. “There! Cause I'm a photographer.”

Daredevil smiles, and Peter beams. Holy shit. Daredevil thinks he's funny, or cool, or charming or whatever!!! He should be way more suave. Like hey? He's spider-man?? 

Peter angles the camera like it's a phone and takes a very expensive selfie. “And now I have a piece of memorabilia.”

“You want to remember tonight?” The masked man quirks a brow. Or Peter assumes. Mask, remember?

Peter nods. “Despite all.. that, I actually had a good day. Karen’s cool.”

The man seems to smile. “That's.. good. That's really good.”

“Yeah!” Peter nods. “Are—” He pauses. “Are you sure you don't have better things to be doing? Y’know… saving the city and all that jazz.” He does loose jazz hands.

Daredevil tilts his head. “It's quiet tonight.” And after a beat he adds, “and you are important.”

Peter clutches his camera close to his chest. “Right.. yeah..” He swallows thickly. “Totally.”

Daredevil stands up, and offers Peter a hand which he accepts. “Karen's ride is here. We should get going.”

Peter nods slowly. “Yeah— yeah. Could— uhm.. could we make a pit stop first?”

The man hesitates. 

“There's a stray cat I need to check up on!” Peter rushes to defend himself. “His name is Mr. Sparkles and he’s the most important thing in my life right now. I have some tuna in my bag, that honestly smells reallyyyyy bad, but I need to feed him. I also should find a sparkly something for him cause y’know.. Mr. Sparkles. And—”

“We can make a pit stop.” Daredevil chuckles. 

Peter pauses. His cheeks hurt from smiling. He can't tell if he's overcompensating or just happy but either way it's working. Negative thoughts, be gone! Peter doth slay you from his head!!

“Sooo…” Peter climbs up the roof, accepting the helping hand from daredevil. “Mr. Devil— dare? Daredevil, sir?” He kicks a piece of gravel. “Double D?”

The vigilante seems to shrug. “..yes?”

“How many times have you actually run into Karen.” Peter pops up. “Cause like.. you guys worked together to stop Fisk so.. had to be more than she wrote about.”

“Ah..” He seems to think. “...more times than I could bother to count.”

Peter nods, satisfied with the answer. “Makes sense.”

Daredevil pauses. If Peter focuses he swears he can hear the man's brain wrr. “How do— Why do you do parkour? Most people don't..ah..”

“Don't do it on the regular?” Peter chuckles. “I take photos of Spider-Man for the bugle. Don't worry though, I won't sell your picture and let Jameson make a hate piece on you!”

“He wouldn't be the first.” Daredevil muses. “The whole.. devil of hell’s kitchen thing.”

“Oh yeah.” Peter nods. “You were like.. a terrorist.”

The man winces. “..yes.”

“Anyways. I suppose there's more to it than that.” Peter shrugs. He climbs up onto the next roof, ignoring the masked man’s showy flips. Seriously? Every jump man? “I like being up high. Hearing and seeing everyone. Makes me feel.. free.”

“Huh.” He pauses. “I get that.”

Peter beams and rushes ahead. “Mr. Sparkles?” He hops onto a fire escape. “I've got tuna! Don't tell Ms. Gale but I stole it.”

He pulls out the can and cracks it open. “It was at the back though.. can't promise there's not mold..”

A cat slows its way into view. It's ginger, and skinny, but when Peter's done with it it'll be fat and happy. Just you wait world. Peter places the can down and backs away, letting the cat come closer.

Daredevil looms from the roof. Peter's tempted to comment on how he's attempting to be ominous but he didn't want to scare the kitty.

“Ch ch ch.” He clicks. Mr. Sparkle walks closer and melts into Peter's lap. He tried not to scream.

If it there was anything he was glad he didn't get from the spider it was purring. Because Peter would be purring up a storm right now. “Mr. Daredevil, you should come down. Say hi!”

“He’s friendly, I swear.” Peter nods to himself. 

“Cats don't.. like me.” Daredevil muttered.

“Oh c’mon. You liar.” Peter tsks. “Come say hi!”

Daredevil drops next to Peter with near silent steps. He drops into a seat next to Peter. “Hold em.” Peter shoves the cat (gently) into daredevils lap.

The man curses and takes off a glove to gingerly pet the cat. “Huh..”

He then sneezes.

“I'm allergic.”

Chapter Text

Matt's had his life flash before his eyes more times than he could count. That is to say, metaphorically. Anyone, who's anyone knows Matt can't see. That doesn't stop the memories from sticking.

Matt's lost people. Friends, Lovers, and most commonly father like figures. No matter their varying degrees of success and shittyness.

His father, who was all bruised knuckles and scotch. Who was warm hands despite the violence he could do with them. Jack Murdock tried. Sometimes Matt felt angry. (He always felt angry.) He’d feel angry about Jack's death.

At the man who killed him. About the fucked up situation his father was in. At his father for being in that situation. At his father for choosing a moment of glory over his son. Over his family. If you’d ask Jack Murdock he’d say it did it for Matt. Matt resented that.

Matt still loved him though. He’d always have love for his father. Jack Murdock was flawed, but he tried and Matt would grieve him for however long it took.

Stick. Stick who was ice cream, cheap bribes, and bruised ribs. Who was harsh and playful, yet understanding. He was blind too. Offered a sense of kinship, and training. But stick was never one for family. Even when in the later years stuck claimed ‘Matty’ and ‘ellie’ were all he had.

Matt wouldn't care. Stick abandoned him. Stick made him a child soldier. Stick was cruel. Matt felt crushed by his leaving. By his absence. He’d never forgiven stick, and even after the man’s death, he never would.

The man made him a child soldier. The man tried to drag him back at every chance he had. Tried to rip Matt away from his new life, from the bonds he had made, and he had been successful. Stick had gotten what he wanted in the end.

Father lanctom.. Father who was confessionals, hot tea, and good advice. Who helped Matt through all his worse decisions. Who met an untimely death because of Matt. …Who wouldn't want Matt to think like this.

Matt had lost all of these men. Peter had lost many too. Matt wanted to be the greatest possible version of all the men. Even if it was unrealistic, unreasonable and idealistic. Peter deserved the best.

He deserved a father to be proud of (who didn't make reckless decisions). A man of kinship who understood (who didn't abandon ship. who was there.) A father who had good advice, and knowledge, but most importantly felt safe. (He wouldn't die. He couldn't do that to Peter. Not again.)

So even if it was the hardest thing, quite frankly ever, for Matt to do, he would be there. He would get Peter through this, and he would be a father. The father not only he wanted, but that Peter deserves. 

He wanted to be something for Peter. If he couldn't be a guiding hand, he’d be emotional support. If he couldn't help Peter in that way he’d be a friend. He just wanted to be there for Peter.

Matt knows if he had any thoughts about how bad he was for Peter, Karen and Foggy would read his mind and slap some sense into him. They said he wasn't allowed to pull anymore disappearing acts, or fake his death.

He trusted them. Foggy knew what he was doing. He was great at his own interpersonal relationships. With everyone, even Matt. And Karen was weirdly self actualized. She could be secretive, hold cards to her chest but she still trusted people. 

Because Matt couldn't have Foggy levels of relationship goals, he’d aim for Karen. Still very unrealistic, but in this version Peter doesn't have to know Matt's a super powered vigilante freak who was trained by a blind ninja to fight evil undead ninjas at the age of ten.

And he’d do all this why? 

Because Peter is reckless, nervous, and on edge, but Matt knows the teen could be soft hands, snarky smart comments, and safety. Matt was doing this for more than just his Catholic guilt (which was eating away at him. He’d need to confess soon or something..). He was doing it for Peter. Peter was getting better. Peter's already getting closer. He just needs a push.

Matt just not sure how to shove him.

It's wild how one conversation in his vigilante alter ego has him understanding Peter more than he ever did as Matt Murdock. His not sure wether to be jealous of himself, or really really grateful. 

Peter was scared of guns. Peter had lost his uncle Ben to guns. Peter was there. 

Easy conclusions to come by. It didn't take Matt any brilliant ‘Karen-Level’ detective work to figure that out.

He wondered for a brief second why Peter didn't tell him. Why Peter kept it to himself when he should have a support system. When he should feel like he can lean on Matt for help.

Then again Peter is a Murdock in everything but name. He wasn't raised by Matt, or anyone Murdock adjacent… and yet he still turned out just like Matt. Well, minus the crime fighting and secret senses after an accident, but Matt couldn't fault Peter for that!

Infact, new nightmare. Big fear. Matt doesn't want Peter to be like him. 

For all that it's worth, Matt Murdock doesn't hate himself. Not currently. He hates qualities of himself. He hates how shitty he was in the past. He doesn't think he deserves Foggy, or Karen, but he has them anyways. 

He doesn't deserve the stability.

Matt hopes Peter never feels that way. He knows the teen probably does, seeing (hah) as though Peter runs away from his Matt Murdock persona as much as possible. Hell, the closest Matt has gotten to Peter and comfortability being in the same sentence, was as daredevil.

Fucking daredevil. His violent alter ego. The version of him that felt good punching a man past unconscious. A version of him that knows it. 

Was it the sense of stability? Did Matt's ‘hero act’ make Peter feel more reliable? Was it the whole thing were people don't see vigalante’s as real people? Gosh what was he? An actor?? 

Or was it simply because it wasn't Matt Murdock. It wasn't Peter's blind estranged father who couldn't seem to do anything right. Matt wasn't reliable. Matt wasn't what Peter wanted. Was it selfish of him? To want Peter in his life?

He couldn't be selfish. He couldn't beg Peter for a scrap of attention just to know the teen was okay. That would be unreasonable, and very desperate. Matt was not desperate.

“Soo..” Karen starts the conversation. “How’d it go? With you and Peter?”

Foggy ducks into the room. “I heard Peter's name?” He walks over. “What about my new favorite nephew?”

Matt scoffs. “I told you, you aren't uncle Foggy to him. You disagree with my stalking to much.” He waves the man off.

Karen nods eagerly. “A little light stalking never hurt no one, Fogs.” She wags a finger.

“And” Matt continues. “You have actual nephews.”

Foggy scoffs. “Fine. God son.”

“No way is that what's happening—”

“Matt.” Karen buts in. “Seriously. How’d it go with Peter? He was pretty shaken up.”

“Shaken up?” Foggy questions. “Oh jeez. What happened this time?” He leans over the desk.

“Nothing.” Matt practically growled. Great. Daredevil persona off, Matt. Get it together. “Nothing, Karen—” He says pointed. “Is making things up!”

“I don't have to smell heartbeats to know that's not true.” Foggy snickers.

Matt huffs. “I do not smell heartbeats.”

Foggy seems to squint. “You do seem to be smelling much of anything.. are you sick?” He stands up straight. “Dude, your nose is like hella red.”

“Wow.” Matt deadpans. “Astute observation.” 

Foggy huffs. The air’s hot and smells like coffee and bagels. Common. “You know what I mean! You better not be sick.”

“I'm not sick.” Matt crosses his arms.

Foggy quirks a brow. 

“I know what you're doing. Stop it. I'm not.”

“Then what are you?” Foggy crosses his arms in retaliation. 

Matt sighs. “I…” He racked his brain for a lie. He couldn't find one, so you know what? This is now a pause for dramatic effect. “...pet a cat.”

Foggy gasps. “But— huh? You and cats do not mix.”

“They hate me.” Matt agrees.

“Uh no dude. Cats love you.” Foggy scoffs. “You hate them. They love you. Which is such a rigged thing by the way.” He leans against the wall. Karen snorts. “No, Karen it's true! He also hates dogs. Who hates dogs?”

“They smell bad..” Matt frowns.

“Reason, Murdock.” Foggy taps impatiently. “It has something to do with Peter, I'm guessing?”

“..” Matt reluctantly sighs. “Yeah.. I met his unofficial cat.”

Karen gasps. “MR. SPARKLES?” Her earrings chime with her exaggerated movement.

“You know about his cat?” Matt cocks a brow.

“Holy shit I have got to talk with this kid.” Foggy beams. “Genius name.”

“He was mocking the children in his group home.” Matt tries to one up. Hah, he heard Peter name the cat!

“Still named it that.” Foggy shrugs. “I think you're just mad because Karen's the favorite.”

“Aw! That is so sweet of you, fogs!” Karen bats her lashes bashfully. Overhyping the moment.

“Karen is not the favorite.” Matt scowls. 

“He calls me aunt Karen now.” Karen points out.

Matt freezes. “...what?” Holy shit. She's serious. Matt almost shakes her by the shoulders. 

“That adorable fact aside,” Foggy drags the conversation forward, like a good friend. Matt picks up his jaw from the metaphorical jaw drop. “You didn't want to tell me you and Peter hung out again? I thought he was avoiding you.” Bad friend!! Bad friend!! Abort! Abort! 

“Still is.” Matt sighs. He says it like he wants to growl it out. Wants to have heat behind his words, but he doesn't. “..still is.”

Foggy pinches his brow. “So then what happened?” He grits out.

Matt goes silent. How is he meant to explain it? ‘oh yeah I was out as daredevil’ bad start. ‘—and heard a mugging. I realized it was Peter and Karen. Peter was having a panic attack, I got stressed out… beat a man into a probable coma then me and Peter skipped off into the sunset!!’

Matt's a lawyer. He has to have something— really anything better than that.

“Ah..” Matt purses his lips. He can feel foggy’s judgemental stare incoming, if it's not already present. Last ‘look’ on life before foggy ‘breaks up' with him again. Good bye world! Matt hopes he served you well.

“Peter got mugged.” Matt finally blurts out.

“Holy shit.” 

“And obviously I was.. there..”

“As daredevil?” 

“...as daredevil.” Matt reluctantly agrees.

Foggy groans and buries his head in his hands. Now he knows how Matt feels. Matt can hear the shuffle of short hairs as foggy rubs his face. Matt doesn't really mind the new haircut. It's not like he could see foggy, but it makes the wind sound weird.

“Of course.” Foggy muses. “Of fucking course! And— how the fuck do we get from cat to here?” He straightens up. “What— wait. Is he okay?”

“Last I checked.” Matt nods. “He was in shock. I walked him home and he made a pit stop.”

“Uh— you said shaken up?” Foggy’s teeth click against each other. A motion the man has picked up sense Matt’s lifestyle stresses him. “So not hurt but.. mentally?”

Matt goes quiet. Peter was not okay mentally, but the teenager wouldn't accept help. It was like the antithesis of who Peter was. Of who the Murdock's were in general. 

Karen sighs. “He has a bad reaction to the gun. Which— not surprising for a teenager, or anyone really but..” She purses her lips. “It was more so how off it was.. and the way he handled it.”

She wipes off her palm sweat on her skirt. “He was horrified. Shell shocked type levels of freeze, and he was insistent on protecting me.”

Foggy almost snorts. “Guess we know where he gets that part from, huh?” He tries to lighten the mood.

Matt turns his head away to mirror the effect of ignorance. As if to say ‘i don't see you’ or in this case ‘i don't hear you.’ which is practically impossible. Minus the two times he went deaf. Frank was a bitch for that, and Matt had learned his lesson against letting buildings crush him.

“So.. mini-matt has some sort of PTSD?” Foggy asks. Karen nods solemnly. “Welp!” Foggy slaps his hands to his knees and stands up. “I'm gonna talk to him.”

Nope. NightmareNightmareNightmare.

Matt is not having this. “What? No.”

Foggy stiffens and Karen sighs. “Matt—”

“No. You—” Matt hisses in a breath. “No. Bad idea. You shouldn't talk to him.”

“Oh! So you will?” Foggy snarks. “Cause phew! Burden off my chest Murdock.”

“No.” Matt says blankly. It's the opposite of how he feels. He wants nothing more than to rush to Peter's aid and kiss his forehead. Wrap the teen up in a blanket and lock him away from the dangers of hell’s kitchen.

Even if he's not super big on physical contact. (He is. Just with the people he cares about. Foggy says he's a ‘cuddly drunk’. Matt chooses to live in ignorance.) And of course he knows it's not healthy. Peter's growth would surely be stunted and Matt's not a monster.

He's the devil. Obviously.

“And, why oh why not?” Right. Foggy.

“It's a bad idea.” Matt crosses his arms. “He’ll know it's me. Peter's smart. Allergy's?? And I didn't do the best at covering my voice. Best give it time.”

Karen huffs. “Kay. I'll talk to him.”

“Karen. No. Dude, you will scare that puny teenager.” Foggy rested a hand on her shoulder. “My dear friend, you are terrifying.”

Karen sighs but agrees nonetheless. “Fine. Fine. Yes.” She waves him off. “Foggy goes and talks to Peter.”

“Just— no.” Matt shakes his head. “Karen can check up on him in a few days. I’ll keep watch.” Foggy scoffs, Matt continues, “We have no other reason to talk to him. It’ll.. stress him out!”

“Peter’s not in school, and has a deadline to pick a new one.” Karen offhandedly mentions. 

“How do you know that?” Matt asks, suspect. Was this more of Karen stalking? Matt was thankful, nonetheless, but he couldn't just use this as an excuse to talk to Peter.

“We spent the day together??” Karen judges him. Boo. “At some point he was going to bitch about the things that bother him.”

“The fact that you know my son better than me aside..” Matt huffs. “I can't just talk to him about it. I want to fix all his problems but, unfortunately, not magic.”

“Boo.” Foggy throws a piece of food at Matt who just judges. “Matt, do not bullshit us with the unfortunately. We know you hate magic.”

“What isn't there to hate?” Matt deadpans. “It's unreliable, and smells weird.”

“You just hate fun.” Foggy scoffs. “You hate joy, magic, and whimsy. And you know what? I can't respect that, Murdock. You should apologize to the magicians.”

Matt scowls.

“I bet your just jealous because you can't do magic.” Foggy muses. “You liked the Hobbit to much to be a true hater.”

“It smells, Foggy!” Matt defends. “It smells disgusting— and it's mostly light trick which” He waves a hand Infront of his face. “don't work on me.”

“What if Peter loves magic?” Foggy defends. Matt scowls. What is this? A mock trial?

“There's enough time to fix that.”

Foggy goes silent. “Wow.” He scoffs. “Just wow. I can't believe you Murdock. Evil. Evil.”

“Guys.” Karen cuts them off. “I think it's a good idea. Foggy should talk to him.”

Foggy cheers and matt wishes he could glare. “This is ridiculous.. preposterous.. unfathomable!”

“Spit it out Matt.” The two groan in sync.

“He's my son. I should decide how we do this moving forward.” Matt defends. That is what he does.

Foggy seems to roll his eyes. “No offense buddy, love ya, you aren't…”

“good at this stuff..” Karen finishes, wincing.

Matt scowls. He feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment, and he hopes it doesn't show visually. “I just don't think it's a good idea. Maybe.. daredevil could swing around—”

“Matt.” Karen warns. “If you don't do that for other victims, you can't do it for Peter.”

“You should probably keep the two far apart anyways.” Foggy shrugs. “Don't want him getting involved with the ‘life’ and all.”

Matt buries his head in his hands. He pulls at the roots of his hair, straining against the pure paternal stress. “I just— He’ll figure it out. He'll get scared off—”

“He's not a stray cat, bud.” Foggy places a gentle hand on Matt's shoulder. “You just gotta talk to him.” Matt smiles sheepishly. “But not now. He’ll put two and two together. He figured out you were his dad through discrepancies. Honestly, no DNA test needed.”

He feels himself frown and loosen up. “I.. suppose that'd be a good idea. I do want him to have a support system.” He grins sheepishly. “Peter is really smart, huh?” It's rhetorical. He’d knock the lights out of anyone who disagrees anyways.

Foggy beams. “Yeah! Woot woot!” He pumps a fist in the air. “Now I'm going to go find that mini-you and talk the shit out of him.”

Karen quirks a brow. “Be nice.”

“Afraid I'll hurt his feelings?” Foggy throws his coat on.

“Afraid he'll make you cry if you try.” Karen corrects. “Go gettum tiger.”

————————

Peter supposes it was a matter of time before someone from the stalker gang found him. He didn't know what he expected, or what he had hoped for, but it surely wasn't Mr. Nelson.

Mr. Franklin 'foggy' Nelson was an enigma to Peter, not because he was mysterious (which he was) but because Peter simply didn't know him. He’d read up on him of course. The guy was famous, practically. Great lawyer, ran for district attorney on a single issue, Fisk.

Which regarding his past famous feats, makes sense.

The guy had good reviews. People talked positively about him. Marci talked positively about him, which was decently trustworthy. But Peter only trusted new comers with how far he could throw them. Which, considering his super strength.. pretty far.

Course he wouldn't! Chuck the guy across New York he means. Didn't mean it wasn't a thought.

Peter spotted the man in his diner, Café, whatever. His diner/café/whatever!! 

Peter wasn't as territorial as daredevil, or the not so friendly spider that bit him, but that doesn't mean he was happy about this.

Foggy Nelson was interesting. He smelt like wood oak, orange and pine. A confusing batch of smells, but he was obviously put together. He had hints of lavender, and batches of newspaper. He clearly saw Karen recently. Matt too.

Foggy Nelson was different. He had a very put together style. Good suits. Bland colors. All things considered, boring. Bland. But then Peter spots his tie. It's green and covered in threaded dinosaurs.

The type that you can feel when you run your hands over them. Embroidered? Maybe.

Then, Mr. Nelson waved him over. Of course. Honestly, Peter needed to be freed from his thoughts, but that doesn't stop the annoyance.

“Hey! Peter, right?” He stuck out his hand. Peter eyes him over before shaking it. It's sweaty. He’s clearly anxious, so this must be an intentional meet. That or he has chronic levels of anxiety.

“Yes.” Peter says blankly. “What are you doing here, Mr. Nelson.”

The man pales. “Ah! Just Foggy! Mr. Nelson makes me feel old.”

And Peter could be a nice person, orrrr he could squint at the man’s eye bags and wrinkles. 

He's not that cruel.

“So you stalked me here to what?” Peter finds himself scoffing. “Talk to me about the mugging? You can tell Karen not to be worried. I'm fine.”

“Okay— there is a lot wrong in that statement and I feel the need to correct.” Foggy hums. His heartbeat races with stress. Peter can't help but want to laugh. Yeah. This guy is so obviously a lawyer. “Like— one I didn't stalk you. I’m against that actually.”

Peter scoffs again. “Really?” He quirks a brow. Foggy furrows his own.

“Yes, really. Highly against Karen and Matt’s way of doing this but I can't really stop them.” He grumbles. “It's always ‘Foggy you're lame!’ ‘Whats the harm in stalking?’ like we aren't lawyers??” He shakes his head bewildered.

“Anyways, no. Not stalking. Matt and Karen mentioned you come here often. Figured I'd catch you here.” He shrugs. “Maybe slightly stalker-ish, but I'm innocent I swear!” He holds his hands up in mock defeat.

“..you have five minutes to explain yourself..” Peter says ominously, like the ominous fucker he is.

“That's way to much time.” Foggy shakes his head. “You’ll learn to be a better negotiator.”

Peter scowls. “I could leave right now if that’d be better.”

“No!” Foggy squeaks. “Nope! No— ah no. Not necessary. I get it. You have all the cards here.”

“What?” Peter quirks a brow. “I'm not manipulating you?”

“Your not?” Foggy sounds shocked. “Not even with your puppy dog eyes?”

“My what?” 

“Nothing! Just something Matt does. Nevermind!” He clears his throat. “Anyways.. No Karen was worried, yeah but so am I. So is Matt.”

Peter let's that sink in. Of course he knows they would be worried about him. He had a little panic attack and ran off with daredevil. Who, he supposes they’ve worked with but it could be a little sus.

“Right..” Peter let's his shoulders loosen from the tense position. He always has his guard up. Karen seems to get that, Matt seems to get it. Foggy seems a little to.. laid back. He reminds Peter of Ned.

“So what? You came instead of them?” 

“Yeah. They wanted to, course, but I'm the best with emotions.” He shrugs like it's common knowledge. Karen and Matt seemed very adult mature. They didn't act as good as May, or Ben but no one was so that's not a fair comparison. 

They asked Peter questions about himself, which only the nice adults did. Karen was Peter's favorite, mostly because she didn't look heartbroken every time she stared at Peter. Matt did.

Matt clearly didn't know what he wanted though because he hadn't stalked Peter in a week. Yes, Peter knows how insane that sounds, shut up! But regardless. He didn't know what he was getting into. 

A relationship? With Peter? Woof dude. Bad idea.

“..the best?” Peter asks skeptically.

“Oh yeah.” Foggy nods. “Matt's a mess, and Karen's very over protective. Well they both are but since Karen was there she..”

“Oh.” Peter realizes. “Right. Yeah.. She's mad.”

Foggy furrows his brows and sighs. “There really is two..” He mumbles. Peter realistically shouldn't have heard that, so he ignores it. “Peter, Pete, buddy ol’ pal—”

“The point?”

“Right!” He blinks out of his fog. Heh. Fog. Get it? “No she's not mad. Just scared. She’d probably chew you out but it's all from worry.” He nods to himself as if fact checking. “And Matt'd do the same thing, then feel bad. The hypocritical bastards.”

“Hypocritical?” Peter tilts his head. “They also throw themselves into danger and embarrass themselves in front of the coolest vigilante?”

“Coolest?” Foggy whispers. “Uh— well yeah, actually. Karen was a major daredevil fan when he first started out. Defended him from all the slander, despite what I said about him.”

Foggy leans in. “And they will kill me for telling you this but… yes. Heavily.” Peter coughs out a laugh. “I'm serious! They are the first to try and handle deadly situations. I'm no bad myself, but I'm not reckless.”

Peter snorts. “Okay. Okay.” He hums in thought. “Your time has been expended.”

Foggy grins. “Awesome. Cause the other reason is I wanted to actually talk to the kid everyone in the office is obsessed with. Gotta boast about something.”

Peter feels his face heating up. Oh. That's.. huh. 

“Speaking of which!” Foggy straightens up, a sly grin on his face. No wonder he was with Marci. “Why did you call Karen ‘Aunt Karen’. I will never live up to that!”

Peter nods. “That's true. You won't.”

Foggy snorts. “Wow. You have his sass too.”

Peter sticks out his tongue. “I am way cooler than Matt.” Foggy nods in agreeance. “And also way scarier. I have—”

“Aura?” 

“You are to old to say that.” Peter deadpans. “That's evil. How dare you.”

Foggy rolls his eyes. “I'll agree with the cooler part, but Matt is scary.”

“Matt is scary?” Peter scoffs. “The guy who stalked me, and almost cried when I mentioned dead parents? Him?”

“You'd be surprised.” Foggy muses. He lets out a low sigh. 

“In what way?” Peter leans in. “How does he out scare me? I have the element of mystery!”

“You're also like, twelve.”

Peter gasps. “Fourteen, and I'll have you know that's never stopped me before!” He nods. “Just ask Ms. Gale! She's horrified of me.”

Foggy quirks a brow. “In— in what way?”

Peter smirks. It's evil and Foggy's face lights up in recognition. Peter supposes he looks like Matt. “Part of my mystery…”

“Oh god.” Foggy plays along. “Please don't evil laugh!” He pleads.

———————

“Guess who had a successful conversation with Peter?” Foggy beams loudly as he enters the office. “Uh, This guy!”

Matt can't tell if he feels relieved, or jealous. Quite frankly it's both. Because yay! He's happy Peter's gaining a support system. Foggy and Karen are the best people for that. Matt’s screwed up so much, but they still stick by him.

They're used to his crazy. They can handle his teenage son.

On the other hand, Matt's mad. Not at Karen, or Foggy and definitely not Peter, but himself. How come he can't bond with Peter? Can't find any common ground? Or is it that they have to much common ground?

Does Peter think his life is too crazy? He wishes the teen would talk to him. If it was a problem Matt could solve it! He can handle Peter's crazy because he's been through it all. 

Well, not technically. But Matt's getting old. He's been through a lot!

He's not the same immature college student. He's not even the same person who started being daredevil. He's better now. He can have an emotional conversation without wanting to run off and beat up some human traffickers.

Most of the time, at least. Peter makes him feel crazy. Like a deranged man who just can't get it right. Like he's a teenager again. Is this all kids? How is he meant to handle this?

With as much care as he can, clearly.

“He's okay?” Matt asks. He feels the strain in his voice, and if Foggy notices he doesn't act on it.

“Seemed more embarrassed than anything else.” Foggy shrugs off his coat. “He thought Karen was mad at him.”

Karen seems to frown. Matt can only imagine the supposed ‘sad eyes’ she's giving Foggy right now. He's heard the effects of them far too often.

“He also— Matt don't look so sad. He likes you.” Foggy sighs. “He said he was embarrassed because it happened in front of— and I quote, ‘the coolest vigilante’”

Karen seemed to beam. “Awh! That's so cute!”

Matt felt his face heat. “..he’s a daredevil fan?”

“Big one.” Foggy nods. He shuffled in and took a seat nearby. “Read all the daredevil articles, said that's how he knew of Karen. That and he’s a nerd with an interest in journalism for some reason.”

Karen groans. “Ugh! We need to steal him already.” She huffs. “Like— okay I'm against kidnapping but… you get what I mean right??”

“He would despise me.” Matt muses pathetically. Like the sad pathetic man he feels like.

“Stop doing illegal things to acquire Peter.” Foggy scowls. “We are working on a legal custody plan for a reason.”

“It only works if Peter wants to be in my custody.” Matt stands up. “Which.. isn't something he's interested in.”

“You don't want to work on it, buddy?” Foggy's asks, his voice soft. “Just in case?”

Matt begins to pace. It feels weird, to be a grown man so afraid of a teenager’s validation but he is! That makes Matt feel so pathetic.

“Hate to be the one to tell you this Matt, but Peter definitely wants you around.” Karen pipes up. “He's just scared of you dying or leaving him. He doesn't want to get attached.”

“How do you..” Matt pauses. His nose scrunches up. “I knew I smelt him on you! He talked to you and not me? This was last week right?” Matt whines. “Then— wait. Why were the two of you hanging out yesterday? I never asked.”

Karen sighs. “Cause I'm not his dad? Less expectations.” She trails off. “Plus he likes my journalism!” She beams.

“What?” Matt stops his pacing.

“He likes my—”

“Not that part.” Matt bites his cheek. The constant scab is there. He's not allowed it to heal yet. “Expectations? What expectations?”

“Because your his father?” Karen tilts her head. “It means more to him if he fucks up your relationship.”

“He could never.” 

“Well he doesn't know that.” Karen sighs. “Teenagers are.. irrational. He's lost people, and now bounced around the system.”

Foggy nods. “He made many snarky comments, but it was clearly masking insecurity. That's like.. teenager 101.”

Matt groans. “So what do I do? I can't just.. force my way into his life!”

“No.” Karen agrees hesitantly. “..but you can be there. Talk to him on the phone, get dinners. Take it slow.”

“I feel like that's been your advice the past two weeks. Week? How long has it been?” Matt slumps in his chair. “Why couldn't it be cut and dry? Black and white?”

“It never is, buddy.” Foggy muses. “It never is..”

“Well that ominous as fuck—” Karen blurts.

——————

Matt was getting antsy. It’d been a few days and he found himself getting restless. 

Karen hadn't stopped by to see Peter yet, and Matt didn't know if that was because of his lack of emotional maturity or her own busy schedule. Foggy also hadn't seen Peter again. The man stated he didn't want to rush Peter.

Matt can't tell if talking to Peter would be good or bad. Usually talk equals good. It means Matt isn't fighting. Which oddly enough many of his talks end in. (Except with foggy and Karen. Though sometimes Matt wishes they would just punch him.)

However Peter is.. strange. He needs to talk to people. He seems to have the understanding that it would be beneficial to talk to someone, yet he never does. Matt supposes that's another unfortunate trait Peter picked up from him. Or Mary. She was never one for talks either.

Clearly! Seeing as though she just never let him know about Peter. 

Nope. Not time to dwell. Not. time. to. dwell.

It's days like this Matt wishes he understood Peter more. That he could just read the teen’s mind and poof, magically fix his problems. (Don't tell foggy. Matt still despises magic.)

Matt has a routine. Currently he's out grabbing a coffee for Karen. Hopefully she’d show today, Karen had been disappearing the past few days. Matt suspected it was Castle. That or the Peter incident (as Foggy dubbed it. He said he was work shopping a better name.) got to her worse than she let on.

Matt likes his routine. It's the same, unless changed by some unexpected force. Usually bad.

Today was one of those changed days.

Peter’s heartbeat was fast. Quick and speedy. Matt had grown fond of it as he had any other of his friends. Heartbeats were unique. Heartbeats meant alive. 

Peter’s was always fast. The teen ran off of nerves, and caffeine. 

So Matt didn't expect to hear said heartbeat coming from an alleyway, needless to say it scared the shit out of him.

However Peter didn't smell like blood. Peter didn't have any current injuries. Maybe scraped knees? 

The problem was the way he sounded. 

Peter's heartbeat. Peter's breathing. It was quick. The teen kept forcing himself to take deeper breaths. His hands clenched his shirt fabric and the brick wall behind him. He was trying to ground himself.

“...Peter?” Matt entered the alleyway. He knows he shouldn't realistically know Peter was there, and all things considered this was a horrible idea. Peter would realize Matt knew he was there. He'd think Matt was an ableist weirdo who lied.

“..Matt?” Peter's voice was hoarse. He was crying? Yes. Salt. “What’re.. Why are you here? You should leave.”

“Peter what's wrong?” Matt stayed firm. He crouched down in front of the teen. “I can tell something’s wrong.”

Peter hissed. His chest heaved and he pressed himself further to the wall. “..it feels wrong. I can't do this anymore. I can't..”

Matt slid into the spot next to him. “Did something happen? Something set you off?” Great Matt. Way to interrogate him. He is not a client.

“No!” Peter growled defensively. “..no. I just.. I saw my friend out in the..” He loosely gestured to the city streets, despite Matt's obvious blindness. Matt didn't mention it though.

Matt implored Peter to continue.

“And.. I dunno. He was with his parents.” Peter bit his lip. “And they were just.. talking about school. They made jokes. I don't understand. Even thinking about school just.. feels crushing.”

Matt pursed his lips. “Are you scared to go back to school?”

Peter furrowed his brows. “Course not!” He sighed. “..I dunno? Maybe..” His shoe rubbled some loose gravel as he shifted. “I guess.. yeah. Just cause— like.. It's going to be stupid!”

Peter huffed. “Not that I’m stupid, or.. people are stupid, but.. they get all..”

“Weird?” Matt questions. “They’d ask to many sensitive, and quite frankly invasive questions? Things you aren't ready to talk about.”

Peter was silent. Seems Matt it the nail on its head. 

“Peter, I know it’ll be hard.. but isolating yourself isn't the solution.”

“You don't know that.” Peter grumbled. “Ned doesn't need to know. My teachers don't need to know. Flash doesn't need to know.”

“They’ll find out eventually.” Matt says calmly. His voice almost a whisper. “And I'm sure if you have friends, they’re worried about you.”

“And if I don't?” Peter quirked a brow.

“You do” Matt said blankly. “You told me so when we went for coffee.”

Peter huffed. “Ah, how could I forget! Stalker gets me to ‘talk about my feelings!’” The teen crossed his legs. “What? You magic or something?”

“No.” Matt scrunched up his nose. “Kinda hate magic.”

Peter snorted. “I'm more of a sci-fi fan myself.”

Matt smiled. “But.. Peter, it’ll be good to talk to them.”

“I just..” Peter tucked his legs against his chest. “I don't want anymore pity. It seems something shitty always happens, and it always happens to me.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “Life is so stupid, and— and uncontrollable. I just want to control this.. this one thing.”

“Your friends care about you Peter. You can control which people you choose to let in your life.” He pauses. “Don't let it be a bad choice.”

Peter huffed. “It’d be safer if they weren't there. It was.. selfish of me to bring them into my life.”

“Peter did you ever hear about Midland circle?” Matt spoke almost abruptly.

“What?” Peter paused. “Uh.. I think so. It collapsed.. Why?”

“I was in there.”

“What?” The teen squeaked.

“And I barely made it out. I lost people and thought it was selfish of me to have Karen and Foggy in my life.” Matt doesn't stop. “I just hurt them more. They thought I was dead.”

Peter seems to think for a moment. “...so your saying I should fake my death?”

Matt scowled. “What—?”

Peter snorted. “Kidding! mostly… but uh— very different situations. That isn't anything like this.”

“Is it not?”

“It isn't.”

“I happen to think it is.” Matt defended. “Something scary, maybe even traumatizing happened to you. You want to keep your distance to avoid pity, and explanations. You think it's selfish to rely on people.”

“It is.”

“It isn't.”

“You can't possibly know all that.” Peter scoffed. “My life is a constant string of fuck up’s. When I was crushed under a building I didn't have any life realizations. I don't want my friends to be the next Parker's.”

He was fucking what? 

“You were crushed under a building??” Matt hears Peter’s face flush.

“We were sharing stories..” He trailed off. “Don't be a hypocrite.”

A hypocrite?? Matt was in a full Kevlar suit saving the city and maybe the world from evil ninjas. The fuck??

Oh yeah. And he wasn't 14????

“Right.. well uhm..” Matt cleared his throat. “My father died when I was a kid. He got shot in an alleyway for not throwing the fight. He did it to prove a point, or for his pride. I'm not sure.”

Peter went silent. Matt kept going. “Before that I had went blind in a car accident. Chemical’s.” He gestured to wear his sunglasses perched. “People around me have gotten hurt. My uh.. girlfriend, she was in the building with me.” A beat. “She didn't make it.”

Peter's chest tightened but Matt wasn't done. “Later on the ah.. fake daredevil attacked Karen and killed father lanctom, and that was after me isolating myself. Bad things happen, and we can't control that.”

“Oh.” Peter clicked his tongue. “..but where do I start? What if Ned like— …no you wouldn't hate me.” Peter groaned into his hands. “This is so stupid.”

Matt chuckled. “Just.. Talk to your social worker and get back into school. Talk to your friends. I'm sure they'll understand.”

Peter nodded and stood up. “..thank you Matt.” He wiped his tears. “I gotta uh— I gotta split..”

“Bye, Peter.”

“oh uh— Matt?”

“yes?”

“I'd..” The teen swallows thickly. “I'd be down for going to get lunch sometime.. if you want..”

“I'd— I'd love that.”

Chapter Text

Peter Parker never knew himself to be the type to run from a problem. Sure, he had been a wimpy kid. Weak, and small with asthma and old cracked glasses. Yet even then, he’d never backed down.

He’d fight and scrape and crawl. He'd go til he couldn't breathe, and his body was battered. Til his muscles screamed, and his eyes blacked out. Til there was no place left for him to crawl to.

Peter was used to being considered scum of the earth. The looks from the richer students at his school. The judgmental glances from posh adults. Even the shoves from those of ‘his kind’. 

Like even the fellow freaks didn't want him. Didn't want to be associated. It wasn't just that he was poor, or odd. It was like something was wrong with him. Fundamentally wrong.

Peter was always considered weird, and freakish. He knew that. It never stopped him before.

Which is why now he was feeling particularly pathetic. 

He knew he had the right to grieve. Aunt May was a lovely person and everyone that lost her felt lost themselves. Peter just couldn't understand why it was effecting him like this. He should be able to go to school, and deal with flash. It’d be no different from the usual dead family members joke.

So why was he scared?

Peter knew it was because he didn't want to be perceived.

‘poor little orphan boy lost another parent!!’ 

God. Peter wanted nothing more than to rip his brain out at the thought.

He was scared to talk about May’s death to Ned. Scared to admit it as real. He’d been on autopilot most days. Errands, taking care of the kids, and Spider-Man. Easy as pie.

Ms. Gale was urging him to go back to school. Peter knew it was because she was worried about him. She never liked to admit that. Infact, teen boys were the bane of her existence, but she was good. Cared, in her own twisted way.

Part of Peter thought she just wanted him out so she didn't have to deal with him. He’s sure if he actually talked to her she’d admit that was only part. As stern as she was Peter was sure she'd show concern. Which wasn't a thing Peter needed or wanted so he stuck to being a ghost when she was around.

The only times he wasn't on autopilot was when he was dealing with his new.. family? New people. Probably because his guard was up, or it was to far down for his comfort. It was an anxiety nightmare.

Peter was furiously embarrassed of his breakdown, but luckily Matt had caught only the end of it. Peter was always more violent with his tears. That's to be expected, of course.. Peter was a violent boy.

Not in the reckless sense. Not anymore. It would tear him apart to be reckless, but he was dangerous. He had fucking super powers.. He could hold up tons, and run as fast as an Olympic runner. He was no speedster, but he wasn't shabby.

It was stupid how weak he felt over his feelings. How incredibly weak. As Spider-Man he shouldn't have these weaknesses. He shouldn't. It could get someone hurt, or killed.

It already had. Peter Parker was an irrational teenager, but he had convinced himself it didn't matter. His good outweighed the bad, and he did more for the city than the avengers. When has iron man ever saved a train? 

Has Captain America ever stopped a mugging? Or helped a little old lady across the street? actually maybe. Who knows what was real about Steve Rogers propaganda!! okay no. Peter sounds like a hater.

He isn't. 

He might've fought Captain America at twelve, (and he so could've won bro. Trust him!!) but that was for iron man. He had respect for the guy. Except when he had detention. Cap’s lecture’s were getting old.

Who could deal with that? Steve, buddy ol’ pal, ol’ chum. You can't be this broke man. You have iron man and shield as your sugar daddies.

Even with the whole.. divorce like fight that Peter had been dragged into.

It was also stupid how Matt Murdock had convinced him to re-enroll and have an actual human conversation. Peter? Doing healthy communication? The world must have ended! (Peter wants to say again, but really it's just too many close calls.)

But it was something about the genuineness behind the man's words. He'd never expected Matt to understand him. Maybe that's stupid of him, Matt did go blind. He had a traumatic experience Peter couldn't understand. And they both had building trauma! So.. yay?

He turned in his paperwork, and he could tell Ms. Gale was proud of him. In some facet. He was not looking forward to starting school, or handling any part of Peter Parker’s old life.

So he had to man up, so to speak. Peter wouldn't let his life decay around him. He wasn't that pathetic. Pathetic Parker.

Walking up to the Leeds household made Peter's skin crawl. Fighting the winter soldier was a less scary idea. It gave him some anxiety, but this? Man. Peter was tired of having to talk. It was just easier to punch things until they worked.

Oh god. That makes him sound horrible. He swears he doesn't mean it like that!!

The door creaked open and Peter could feel the splinters under his knuckles. How hard had he knocked? “Uhm.. hey Ned..”

He didn't expect to be yanked into a hug. It was ned though, what else could he expect? 

“Peter..” Ned sighed. “I'm so glad your okay.. I've been— I've seen Spider-Man around so I knew you were alive but—” He pulled away and wiped a forming tear. Peter felt the guilt eat at him. “Uhm.. come in. Come in.”

Peter was ushered inside. He felt his own heart race at the sights. The comforting familiarity of Ned, and Ned’s family. The house was so.. lived in. It was warm, and the wallpaper wasn't ugly. (It's a bigger deal than one would think..) 

It smelt like old perfume, and the walls lingered with smells of food from the kitchen. Home cooked meals and the buzz of electricity by the frequently used TV. Peter was almost surprised to not see Ned’s grandmother there, watching her old telenovelas.

Things Peter wanted to deny himself. He didn't deserve to feel comforted with this after he abandoned Ned. What kind of selfish friend did that?

“Ned— I just..” He bit the inside of his cheek. “I wanna say I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry.”

“What— what uh..” Ned swallowed thickly. “What for?”

Peter held back his shock. “Abandoning you? Running away?” It was one of the things that had been echoing in his head like an empty mantra. It was one of the few things bouncing around in there. Peter's head felt like a TV loading screen. The logo was bouncing around, but never hitting the good spot. (The almighty corner!!)

“Peter..” The teen looked away. “May.. she— I know how much she meant to you.”

“She meant things to you too.”

“Peter she was your family.” Peter bit back a flinch at the strong ‘was’. Ned held Peter's shoulder. Peter was glad, he surely did feel like running. “The last bit of family you had. It's okay to be irrational, or— or just want to disappear for a bit.”

“I left you for months.” Peter felt himself growl. “I abandoned you! You—” His eye twitched. He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Why aren't you mad at me?”

Ned looked at him like that was a stupid question. “Seriously? Why aren't I mad at you?” He scoffed. “Peter, you're my best friend. I thought you’d be out of your self destructive spell when you finally decided to show up!”

“See! You are mad at me!” Peter beamed. His head nodding quickly. It would've gave a lesser man vertigo.

“Are you trying to make me mad at you?” Ned bit back bewildered. “How— what?”

“Didn't have to try very hard.”

“Wh—” Ned pinched the bridge of his nose. He stepped forward and pulled Peter into another hug. It was tight, but Peter could easily get out of it. He didn't know if he wanted to.. “Stop trying to push me away.”

Peter felt his chest heave, and tears drop. Yet again. Man. He's crying so much lately. “I uh..” He sniffled. “Re-enrolled. I'm coming back next week..” conversation switch? wow. Like Peter's never done that before. Really, he's so honest! Never ever runs from conversations!

“Really?” Ned tried to mask his excitement and failed. “Wait— are.. are you even ready for that? You can take more time man. I saved all your homework.” He faltered.

“No, no. It's ah..” Peter waved off the idea. “I'm as ready as I'll ever be, and it’ll be nice to get Ms. Gale off my back. She my.. foster-ish mom.”

Ned seemed to pale. “Oh my god! I forgot about that! Is your living situation okay? Do I need to fight them? I don't got muscle but—”

“Ned—” Peter chuckled. “It's okay! Really. It's fine.” He smiled softly. “She's nice. Kinda… okay she tries and that's the important part.”

“Oh jeez man..” Ned rubbed the back of his neck. “I'm just glad you're okay.. so uh— what convinced you? I know you aren't worried about the workload.”

Peter paled. “Oh— oh fuck yeah you don't know—” He wheezed. “Ned. Dude. Broham. The craziest thing ever happened to me!” Remind Peter never to use broham again. It makes him sound like he orders pineapple on pizza. 

Yuck.

“Crazier than Spider-Man??” 

“Crazier!” Peter jumped and grabbed his friend by the shoulders, shaking him. “Maybe even crazier than Mr. Stark— wait.. no. No, that's going too far..”

Peter paused then continued. “Do you know those lawyers who took down Fisk?”

“Uh yeah? MJ only talks about them like.. once a week.” Ned furrowed his brows. “They helped my lola with her landlord. She paid them in fruit for like a week.”

“Oh yeah.. How's the garden going?”

“Good, good.” Ned nodded. “I can give you a tomato before you leave. They’ll probably rot if we don't use em soon.”

“Awesome!” Peter beamed. “Ms. Gale will like that..”

“Anyways. You were saying?”

“Right! I met them!” Peter beamed. “Not just that! I met them because Richard Parker, my dad, isn't my biological father.”

“I'm sorry??”

“THERE'S MORE!!” Peter shook Ned harder. Ned glared at him. “Sorry.. sorry but seriously! Mr. Murdock, drumroll please Ned.”

“Not doing that. I'm dizzy.” He scowled.

“Right!” Peter did his own drumroll. “He's my biological father!”

“WHAT?”

“and since I'm living in hell’s kitchen—”

“EXCUSE ME?”

“I'VE MET DAREDEVIL!!”

“HOLY?? as Spider-Man??” It was Ned’s turn to shake the others shoulders.

“BETTER!! As me!” Peter beamed. “Also I kinda have a cat now? And I need help getting him something glittery.”

“Peter. Pete. My guy—” Ned took a deep breath. “Why— wh.. How did you meet daredevil? Also you have a living family member?”

“Okay— I know how this is gonna sound..”

“Peter..”

“.... I got mugged.”

“WHAT? and you didn't handle them?”

“They had a gun—”

“Never stopped you before!”

“I was with Karen..”

Ned blinked back. “The A.I.?”

“No uh..” Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “My aunt? Kinda? She's Matt’s friend— ALSO THE JOURNALIST WHO TOOK DOWN FISK!! KAREN PAGE.”

“Peter.” Ned held his shoulder tight.

“...yeah man?”

“You’re fanboying. Stop it.”

Peter frowned. “MJ would too. You're technically the odd one out.”

“MJ would not fangirl. She's to cool for that.” Ned defended.

“What? No!”

“She didn't fangirl at Spider-Man”

“That's different.” Peter waved him off. “I'm just Spider-Man. I feel like she suspects that, and I'm a loser. Karen Page is a journalist, and a woman! MJ hates men.”

“We’re men though?”

“She tolerates us!” Peter quipped.

————————

Maybe Matt was right about the whole ‘talking things out’ agenda he was pushing. Peter felt high on life. He got his best friend/ guy in the chair/ hype man back.

Anyone would be happy if they had a Ned, Peter decided. 

With a small bag of tomatoes in his arm, he fought the urge to skip home. 

It was kind of foolish of Peter. To think he could truly be happy. Ned deserved happy. Matt deserved happy.

Peter felt his hands shake. He's fine. This came out of nowhere. He's fine.

Sometimes emotions just do that! That funny thing where everything flips and your brain feels buzzy. When your skin feels like leather, and your tongue is thick against your throat. Like it doesn't belong.

The necessary urge to rip at the seams of who you are as a person. Who Peter is as a person.

Being with Ned reminded Peter for the first time in months of his old life. Even while doing familiar things with Karen, or feeling an odd sense of serine calm with Matt, it wasn't normal. 

Talking with Ned, even about new experiences, was too normal. 

He for a second had forgotten may died. He had thought about going home afterwards and what may might cook for dinner. He had hoped she wouldn't burn it with Parker luck. 

Then he remembered.

That's stupid.

It's not like it was new information. He doesn't know why it clicked like that.

By the time he's returned himself back to reality, his body feels sluggish but his skin is fuzzy. His skull isn't buzzing, and his tongue doesn't feel like strangulation.

The tomatoes are gone though. Splat splat on the pavement. Kinda like movie blood. Way to bright to be accurate.

fuck.

————

“Mrs. Lake—” Peter urged. “I wanted to talk about that actually. My living situation?”

“Yes. I'm so glad it's finally going well!” She beamed. It was the happiest Peter had seen her yet, and it was at the idea that he was finally settled. Happy in a group home. She wasn't even hearing. (Because Peter had given up on the idea of her listening.) She was just.. glad to not deal with him.

“No I just..” What was he going to say anyways? He’d signed up for school. He was getting better. He was. He can't help the fact that it hasn't a thing to do with Ms. Gale, or Ned, or really anyone he once knew. Familiarity. How could he explain that it was from a bunch of new people in his life?

New people he shouldn't have even really known. These people weren't May, or Ben, but they’d never compared themselves or tried to be. So far they had done nothing but try. Peter wasn't used to that. He doesn't know if he wants to be used to that.

Peter's not the kind of boy people try for. He's not meant to be, and that's okay! He helps and gets undeserved glory but as Spider-Man.

Peter is no one. Spider-Man is someone.

Peter can't help but be bewildered everytime he's interacted with Karen. She seems to act like she just.. gets him. It's uncanny.. and foggy! Peter thinks he's so nice! Even through all of Peter's (quite frankly meek) attempts at pushing him away.

Peter doesn't even know what to say about Matt. He feels like admitting the man is cool is admitting he wants the man in his life. (Which he doesn't!!)

Peter sighed. “Nevermind, Mrs. Lake.” He let out a small smile. “I'm doing great where I'm at.”

“Good!” The woman beamed again. She clapped her hands and stood. Her eyes were sharp like a predator. It made Peter feel like she could read him, and just chose not to. Her boney appearance reminded him of a bird.

Birds eat spiders.

Peter left, ignoring the shiver down his spine, or the prick at the back of his neck. It was probably nothing. He couldn't deal with that right now.

It was practically everyday now he had a stalker on his back. They usually meant no harm. It was either Matt, or Karen. Usually Matt. Never foggy. Peter suspects foggy couldn't do stealth to save his life. Not that Matt was much better.

Matt definitely thought he was good. Peter could tell that much. The man just.. wasn't though. Anyone who knew how to tail someone could tell Matt was there. Which is fair! Matt's a normal guy. He has no reason to suspect Peter was a sub in avenger, who had Tony Stark up his ass about safety.

No one has any reason to suspect that.

Spider-Man is totally, undoubtedly, one HUNDRED percent, an adult man. Definitely not a high schooler! One who can't even go to prom. Pssh!

Anyways, on the way back Peter loses the person tailing him, and makes it back to good ol’ tailer park Ms. Gale’s place, he changes. Spider-Man doesn't rest. Spider-man has no schedule.

His suit fits snug, which makes sense because it's stark made. He still remembers the goofy suit. It was homemade. Handcrafted from spare threads and old sweats.

May would have chastised him for his sewing. It wasn't a big hobby of her's, but she'd learnt enough to know never to let Peter near needles ever again.

As New York's resident favorite (and least favorite..) spider, Peter has learned a few things. Listing from backflips and dodging bullets to straight up horrifying levels of spying!

Now he's no Natasha Romanoff, despite them both being spider's, but he thinks he can do pretty well! Sticking to ceiling's gives him a major advantage! No one thinks to look up.

“m tellin' ya. Bossman has no care for us. Puttin' us on a minor bust! What're we even doin' here?” Goon 1 groans.

“ya. ya. Shuddup, will you!” Goon 2 shoves a box into a big shipping truck. The metal creaks. “Its not even a bust at all! We's just movin’ cargo.”

“In spider territory!”

“Be’ddr than the devils.” Goon 2 hops on the truck. “sides! This ain't even that illegal. Bosses bought this shit. We just movin’ it.”

“And if SpiderMan gets wind of it? You hear he's got iron man watchin' em?” He shuts the garage door. “I heard from Manny that iron man was stalking the guy when he was busting toomes back in september.”

“That's jus rumors! And after the he crashed starks plane? No ways is they workin' together.” 

“Really? Cause I heard toomes was so spooked he won't give up SpiderMans identity!”

“You listen to gossip to much!” Goon 2 smacks his lips. It makes Peter flinch his shoulder up to his ear. Gross. “The spider ain't coming round! 'parently the head huncho's been setting shit up. Drug tradeoffs, minor human trafficking. Shit to keep the kid busy.”

Goon 1 sighs and shuts the truck doors. “Aight. When SpiderMan jumps us, I'm not saving your ass.”

Peter is nothing if not a man of convenient timing.

“That'd probably be smart.” He drops down and webs goon 2's feet to the concrete ground, which makes the man trip. “Also, guys.. c'mon.. It's Spider-Man! They never say it right..” He grumbles.

“Loved the lore drops though guys! Seriously!” He swings over and dents the metal of the truck with his landing. Pulling himself up he scurries across the roof of the vehicle to break the windshield and prevent Goon 1 from running. “Honestly? You guys deserve goon's of the month! Props!”

Peter pops off the steering wheel and tosses it at goon 1, who is scrambling the opposite direction. He does a showy flip over and beams under his mask as goon 2 tries to yank his foot up. Two measly thwips and the goons are pinned.

“Anyways! I'd so love to know more about this cargo! Whatcha got!!” He peels the metal door of the vehicle open. “Mystery box!! Woot woot! I'm hoping for rainbow dash, personally.”

Cue groans of annoyance from goons.

The moment Peter stepped into that truck he knew something was wrong. It was like his brain was screaming at him to run run run. The smells were putrid almost. Overwhelming to an obsessive degree. 

He felt goosebumps. His entire body racked with natural chemicals that told him simply, danger. 

He fought the urge's and cracked open a box to find viles. Viles of something labeled Ethyl Chloride. Why would this be illegal? He didn't dare open it. 

“NOT SO FUN NOW, EH SPIDER GUY?!!” 

WHACK!!

A goon (Peter had lost track of who) punched Peter. Square in the nose. His nose which now let out an echoing crack. howdidhesneakuponhim?

——————

Fuck. He was latelatelate. 

Peter rushed into the tiny restaurant he and Matt had chosen to meet up at prior. He knew his hair was fucked from the mask, and his nose wheezed with every breath, but perks of having a blind dad! 

Matt wouldn't be able to see the ugly purple bruises, or the horrendously broken nose. He’d just hear regular ol’ Peter! Totally normal, neverrr starts a fight, Peter!

Yeah. Yeah this could work.

It’d be easier to hide vigilantism from Matt than it was from May. He wasn't living with Matt, Matt couldn't see, and he didn't know all of Peter's lying ticks yet!

Amazing. Perfect plan. 10/10 on Peter's scale!

Peter whipped his head around the restaurant to survey for Matt, who he found quickly. He saw no point in waving and jogged over. 

Peter let out a weak smile, despite Matt's lack of vision. Force of habit. “I'm so so sorry for being late! I can't even come up with a good excuse— cause there isn't one but.. uhm.. I'm still really sorry!!” He rambled.

Normally Matt would have chuckled. Peter hadn't known the guy long, and his anxiety did tell him that Matt Murdock would yell and kick him out on his ass, but Peter was determined to have a good day so he ignored the little voice. It was always unreasonable anyways.

However, Matt did not laugh. Matt didn't yell either. No. No, instead he cocked his head to the side and frowned. He furrowed his eyebrows. 

Matt Murdock quickly straightened himself, and put on a forced smile. “It's alright Peter. I'm just glad you didn't ghost me!” Fake lawyer charm.

God. If Peter wasn't currently feeling guilty he would so call out that bullshit. 

“Right..” Peter scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, and slid into the seat across from Matt. He took note of the two waters and chugged his. At Matt's questioning head tilt Peter set the cup down with a noticeable tink! “...I ran on the way over.. aha.. thirsty?”

Fuck. He was blowing this. First time actually meeting up with Matt on mutual terms and Peter was screwing it up! Majorly. 

Peter rested his arms on the table and twiddled his thumbs. He fought the urge to whistle awkwardly. It was how he was feeling. Can't blame a guy for fitting a movie stereotype.

Matt Murdock had this.. look like he was assessing Peter. Which was weird because Matt couldn't see. Duh. 

It was even weirder because this was the first time Matt had done it like this. Usually the older man would slip into a conversation, and a charming smile that didn't hit the soul. Sure, it was blinding, and his conversation skills were top tier when he wasn't ripping you to shreds in court. (Yes, Peter had looked up footage from very public trials. If Johnny Depp could stream his, then anything was on the table.)

This time however, Matt hadn't even tried for a conversation. His shoulders were tense, his nose scrunched, and his hands gripped the seat tightly. Peter could hear the faint noise of the plasticky cushion of the cheap diner they were in, crack and break under the stress. (not Peter's usual diner, but Peter had refused to go anywhere nicer. Mostly because Matt refused to let Peter pay.)

Matt reached a hand onto the table and somehow, with perfect accuracy, touched Peter's hand. He held it softly, running a thumb pad over the scarred tissue. 

Peter pulled his hands away.

“So is the food good here or what?” Peter's voice cracked. He flipped open the tiny paper menu in front of him, briefly scanned it then chose the cheapest item that sounded manageable. 

“..Peter.” Matt cleared his throat, and Peter couldn't stop his heart from racing at the oh shit feelings he felt flood his system. The older man frowned. “Did—” He bit his lip.

“Did you get in a fight? You smell like.. blood.”

Oh.

That's what it was. Okay.. that made sense. So Peter was in a rush and forgot to clean up well! He didn't think about others smelling it because he could always smell blood. His blood smelt funny after the ‘incident’ that was the bite. 

Sure, he didn't know what it smelt like before, because no powers. However, he had smelt others blood before. His.. mom worked in a lab. The days kid Peter got to visit and explore were his favorites. His brain went and worked faster than he could explain in words. 

It.. hurt. It hurt to think of those moments so Peter didn't dwell.

His blood. Right. It didn't smell so off. He smelt like he was drenched in chemicals, and plastic wrapped in spider silk. 

Luckily Peter couldn't smell others blood unless he focused. Which meant he had to be bleeding real bad and just.. hadn't noticed.. How else could Matt smell it?

“Aha! Do I?” His voice squeaked. “Thats-Thats crazy! Wow!” His voice cracked. “Psh— I- whaaaaaaat?”

“Peter.” Matt spoke firmly. He pulled Peter's hand into his own.

“...yes?” He bit back his own anxiety. 

“What. Happened.” Matt's voice was gruffer than Peter would expect of a lawyer. Expect of anyone who wasn't cosplaying a mob boss with a cigar addiction, really.

“I don't— pff— I dunno what you’re talking about!” He spoke with way to much chipper inflection. Shit. He was so cooked.

“Peter.” Matt's voice grew softer. He clenched his hand around Peter's own. It was soft. A kind tug. Peter wasn't sure if it was to ground Matt, or himself.

“...it's not a big deal..” Peter trailed off. He found the.. openness?, the vulnerability… uncomfortable. “I just.. got in a little fight. It wasn't anything!”

“..” Matt furrowed his brows further. His shoulders shook with some fury, or strain. “Peter.. are..” Thick swallow. “..Is your home life not safe? I can get you moved? you could move in with m—”

“wh— wait!” Peter stood up. “Mr. Murdock I'm not being abused!!” He sputtered. “Ms. Gale is judgemental but she would never! And I mean never.”

Matt held his hands up in defense, retreating. “..just Matt, peter.” He paused. “I didn't mean to imply.. that. You.. You must know how this looks, right?”

“Do you?”

If a blind man could death glare, that would be Matt Murdock. His deadpan face of utter disappointment, or perhaps some sort of unimpressed shock would rival that of a Broadway actors.

Matt tugged Peter's sleeve until the boy slouched back down into the booth. Then he took Peter's hand again. The gentleness of the lawyer always shocked Peter. He wasn't sure if he deserved it. Not after everything.

“Peter..” Matt squeezed gently. “I just want you to know you can talk to me. About anything.”

Peter felt himself twitch, then after a moment, he sighed. “..Ms. Gale's just over the top sometimes, you know? Better than neglectful..” He bit his lip. “She's real strict. Dress codes, chores, church on Sunday type of shindig. Real catholic.”

“huh. Does she make you go to mass?”

“uh.. no not really.” Peter shrugged. “She offers. Takes most of the younger kids with her. Gets them in tiny little suits. It's actually quite adorable, but uh. Most teens don't go. Either cause why? Or just lack of money for anything appropriate to wear.”

“You think the church would mind?”

He blew a raspberry. “No? I mean, probably not. just..” He gestured loosely to the air. “y'know.. strict.”

Matt nodded. “You ever gone, Pete?”

Peter shook his head, aware of the fact Matt couldn't see it. “Nope. Don't have the money, really. Ms. Gale will sometimes raise money for suits. For kids who are really..” mentally ill? Broken? “..lost. Why? You catholic?”

Matt snorted. “I dabble.” He let his shoulders untense, and after a moment of hesitation. “..if you wanted we could always get you a suit. I would love to take you. If— if that's what you want of course.”

Peter let his shoulders untense. “..maybe. maybe I'd like that.”

“Yeah?” Matt smiled.

“..yeah.” Peter stilled. “I should probably go wash the blood off so people don't think I got mauled.”

“Its that bad?” Matt quirked his eyebrows.

“What! No! Nope! Nuh uh!” Peter shook his head quickly. “People just over react these days!” He stood up.

Matt held his wrist, gripping it for a mere moment. “Peter? You do know you can tell me what actually happened. I won't judge you.”

“ah nothin' big. I assure you!” They both knew he was lying.

————————

Matt had never wanted kids. They were smelly, and gross, mostly overwhelming. 

Kids were like parasites you loved. Matt didn't want to be responsible for another human being. He could hardly manage himself!

Yet he couldn't help but find himself wondering about Peter's childhood. Wishing— no. Yearning to be apart of it.

Peter was odd, and intelligent. Sweet and brave. Most recently though, violent. Matt never expected himself to have to hear Peter's tiny annoyed mumble as he snapped his nose back into place with prestige and practice of one who could only be experienced.

The teen's obvious poking with mild annoyance at his battery smelling bruises.

Matt truly had forgotten about the smells of blood the first week Peter staked them out. He’d pushed it out of his mind the moment he found out he had a son. Which sounds stupid. If anything he should’ve hyper fixated more. 

He should've been up Peter's ass about that. Found some sort of reason he knew about it. ‘you smell like blood’ fucking really? Matt was so glad Peter didn't call him out on that.

Matt had been in shock. He had gotten sloppy. He can admit that! 

He however, cannot come to terms with the horror that is Peter's apparent use to fighting. The teen hadn't even thought to mention it! He just.. ignored it, and kept moving.

Okay sure, Matt's done that before! He's gone into work after being shot, and gotten back up when he really should have been way past his limit, but Murdock's don't do that. They fight, and fight.

Only way to keep a Murdock down is to put them in the grave.

Why was Peter like that? He’d hoped maybe that skipped a generation. That maybe just maybe Peter wouldn't be like him. Wouldn't ignore cracked ribs or stab wounds. Wouldn't wait until physically impossible to rest. 

But, nope! Life just can't be that kind of simple huh? Great. Now Matt has to deal with a secretive teenager. That's honestly evil. Straight up cruel.

God really loves his ‘Job’ stories, huh? 

What part would this be now? Would it even be job? Is good mashing up his stories? Little bit here and there and not all accurate? What is this? Percy Jackson? Foggy mentioned those books. Anyways..

Matt went to place he always did after anything shook his world view, or perception of himself. The Catholic Church.

As much as people loved to joke about Matt's ‘catholic guilt’ it wasn't that. Sure, yes, he was Catholic, and he was guilty. He often felt that deep pit that left him feeling empty, angry, and unfulfilled.

They weren't one in the same. Not always. His deep self hatred, which he surely has almost beaten!, isn't the problem here. Yes, he feels bad for not being there for Peter's life. That's not the issue.

It's not the only issue.

Now his issue is parenting. If father lanctom could see him now! A dad. Wow. So awesome and totally not straining.

Matt comes to the realization he hasn't really told anyone. Karen and Foggy were there, and that's it. Matt doesn't really have other friends. Who would he call up? Frank Castle?? No. Nope.

Matt will not be opening that can of worms for as long as he can. 

There is someone he should probably tell. She's probably the best person to go to over parenting guilt.

“It's weird to talk and not have to say ‘forgive me father, for I have sinned’” Matt mutters to himself more that anything. “But I.. I have? I think..”

Margaret nods. “I'll make tea?”

“That would be..” Matt swallows thickly. “Thank you.”

“What is it you think you’ve done, Matthew?” Maggie sets the teapot down. 

Matt whistles, like he could ever be casual. “What is it I haven't done?” Matt tilts his head in time to hear Sister huff out a hot breath of air, and shake her head lightly. “I have a child..” He says quietly. It feels like a secret. Suppose it is.

“Expecting?”

“Fourteen..” Matt muses. He listens as her heart races. As her eyelid twitches, and her muscles contract.

“Ah.” She clicks her tongue. “And you’ve just found out?” Matt nods. 

Maggie trails off. She hangs her head for a mere moment before rubbing her face in barely concealed stress. “That can't be all, is it? Something happened.” Just as quickly as she was down, she was back up.

Of course she knows. Matt's not making it a secret. His face is apparently really easy to read. Gosh. What even are the perks of being blind? Being underestimated in court? 

His acting can only take him so far.

“I think..” Matt pursed his lips. “..I think Peter's doing what I'm doing?”

“Being self destructive, or vigilantism?” Maggie said deadpan. Her voice cracked with amusement, and Matt was sure she had a sly grin.

“Both?” Matt sighed. “Not vigilantism in the same way, but.. what I did as a teen..?”

“Ah.” Sister Margaret placed a cup of tea in his hands. “You came for assistance.”

“..it would be helpful.” He slumped against the wall. “How do you do it? Take care of the orphan’s when they get.. self destructive.”

“You say that like they’re animals. They are people, Matthew.” The older woman clapped her hands once. “Do you believe in karma, Matthew?” Was Matt in trouble? What was this?

“Do you?”

“To a degree? Yes.” She waved off the idea. “It's amusing how God works sometimes.”

Matt bit his lip. “Right.. yes.” He strained out his aggravation. His hands clenched, and his neck strained. What did those signs foggy always would quote say? Keep calm and… throw a party? Get drunk at Josie's? Matt decides he hates those variations. 

“How do I stop him?”

“It's simple.” She sighed. “You can't.”

“His nose was broken. I heard it.” Matt ran a hand through his hair. Ew he was greasy. “His ribs were— were fractured, and he was just.. sitting there.” His hands clenched the drink. “What— how am I supposed to let him do that?”

“How are you sure it wasn't a one time fluke?”

“He was too used to lying about it.” Matt grumbled. “He didn't even budge. It was noticeable, but only because I'm.. me. No one else would have known.”

Matt conveniently left out the part about Peter's original stalking. He didn't want everyone to joke about the bad habits the teen has somehow also picked up.

“Ah. I'm assuming you haven't told him then?”

“Would you?” Matt growled. 

Sister Margaret just sighed. She placed a hand over Matt's and he wouldn't admit it, but it made him feel warm. 

“I don't know what to do.” His voice cracked. “I'm so scared for him. He's fourteen and alone!”

Maybe it was childish and immature of Matt to lash out. He didn't know how to handle this. How to get Peter safe. He was so scared, and tired. It felt like a loop how often those negative emotions played. Like it was all Matt could feel.

He couldn't help wanting to fix the problem. He had the solution. He could do easily just scoop Peter up, (the boy was severely underweight, and Karen had mentioned stunted height) and take him home.

Not that Peter would accept it as home. Matt only had a one bedroom, which he'd easily give up for Peter until he found an affordable two bedroom. He was sure Peter wouldn't mind if the new place was small, or kind of disgusting. Well, as long as it didn't smell.

He and Peter agreed on that front.

“You cannot push him faster than he wants to go.” She chastised. “He will dig his heels into the ground, and let friction stop him.” Her hands tightened around Matt's. He could feel her blood rushing, and hear the race of her heart. Passion. “Father hood isn't a race Matthew. It's not about doing it quickly, or the best. It's about trying and running it to completion.”

“Like a marathon?”

“..sure if we wanted to continue the metaphor..” She trails off. Her hands release his. “Being there for him, is.. hard. It will always be challenging, but I am proud of you for being in his life.” She squeezed his shoulder.

“You’ve become a good man, Matthew.”

All Matt could manage was a quiet whisper under his breath.

“I'm really not.”