Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"…One…Two…Three…"

 The trio lifts in unison, strain etched on their faces as they try to jostle their cargo as little as possible. There are moans and grunts as they deposit the load onto the couch, taking care not to pull off the thick white sheets or the makeshift plastic tarp stitched together from garbage bags and duct tape…

 When they are done, they stand back.

 Ned is panting, bending over and placing his hands on his knees, sweat dripping down from his forehead.

 There is an odd silence between them, staring down at the maroon and black armor that adorns the unconscious man now occupying, and bleeding all over, Aunt May's couch. Their eyes land on the intertwined, double D's carved into his chest plate.

 "…So…" Michelle finally says, straightening up and looking over at Peter, who is wiping his bloody hands across his thighs. "…This is why you quit marching band."

~~~

Two Days Earlier

"...are in the side drawer. Only use them in an emergency. I put a spare inhaler in-"

 Aunt May gives Peter a funny look, twisting her head to the side and then shaking it as she looks away, getting that nearly wild look in her eyes that he hates but has, unfortunately, become a regular thing these days. "Right. You don't even need that anymore." She laughs a little, running her fingers through her long hair. "Wow."

 "May…" Peter says, trying to pull her from her thoughts before another one of these conversations start up. It's not that he doesn't like talking about Spider-Man in front of her, it's that he doesn't like that fearful glaze that comes over her eyes when they do. He doesn't want her to worry this weekend. "I'll be fine. It's three days."

 "Uh-huh, well, I put Mrs. Muggin's number on the fridge just in case anything happens, alright? Just don't...let her in here." May says, pointing a finger at Peter. She narrows her eyes, keeping the finger on him. "…And don't let her cat in here either."

Peter's furrows his brows, eyes widening slightly as he turns his head. "That thing is her's?"

May lets her hand drop and reaches down to her suitcase, pulling the handle up so that it can roll behind her. "It didn't used to be.”

“Uh.…” Peter takes a second to ponder what that even means, imagining the last time that the scrawny, evil-looking cat with the matted fur and a bent tail managed to get in to their apartment. It had taken two days to get it out, and the smell had lingered for a couple weeks after that.

"Duly noted," he says, as May grabs her purse in the other hand and stands there, looking at him, her eyes welling up with tears.

 "Well," She says, inhaling slightly, before wrapping her arms around him.

"...Maaaay," he laments, and man, the spider-strength definitely doesn't make him immune to his Aunt's bear-hugs. "I can't breathe."

He's trying to keep the situation lighthearted, but he understands what this is. She hasn't gone on a trip since…well, that night. And between now and then she had discovered his secret, that he's a vigilante who goes out every night and faces a lot of pretty dangerous situations. It had been a couple of weeks, since she finally came to terms with it, but still-…it was fresh on the pair's minds.

"Peter, listen to me." She says, pulling away from the teenager and holding him at arm's length. "I know I can't stop you from-" She brings a hand off of his shoulder to wave around vaguely. "But please just-…this weekend, maybe stick to…saving cats from trees and stopping kids from getting hit by cars or something."

Peter chuckles slightly. "Okay, I'll try."

"Peter-"

"I said I'll try!"

May sighs, shaking her head as she lets him go. "I swear I'm gonna get ulcers," She mutters, as she pulls the door open. Despite her worried demeanor, she does smirk at him.

Peter smiles back.

 "See you later, tough guy," She says, crossing the threshold, almost closing the door, before she opens it slightly again. "Don't be late for school!"

 Peter laughs, as he walks up to the door and presses it shut behind her, turning around and leaning up against it. A smirk spreads across his face as he views the empty apartment.

Home alone for an entire weekend. Yes!

~~~

"-got the hot chocolate if you've got the marshmallows, and then we're gonna need a couple of energy drinks. Okay, a lot of energy drinks. Ooooh, and maybe some of those lime potato chips-"

"-Ned."

"What's your mbps? Do you think it could handle both of us? Should I bring my aircard? I should probably bring my aircard- Dude, how good of a signal do you think Karen gets?"

"Exceptional, but -Ned-, We aren't hijacking Karen's network to play Overwatch,”  Peter gripes, as he stuffs his books into his locker. He shakes his head and smirks at Ned's very disappointed expression.

"Man, I really wanna see what it can do. I mean, it's a product of the smartest guy on the planet."

"She probably won't even let you," Peter throws back.

"You never know unless you try," Ned leans against the locked, narrowing his eyes. "Also? You calling your suit a she? Mildly creepy."

"What's creepy?"

Peter slams his locker door closed in a knee-jerk reaction as Ned straightens, pushing himself away from his locker. Peter's swiveling on his heels to get a face-full of frizzy hair as he nearly takes down Michelle. Correction. MJ, their new friend.

Theeeeeeeiiiiir new friend who also doesn't know.

"What?" He asks, blinking.

MJ narrows her eyes at Peter, shaking her head slowly in a way that says "are you kidding me?"

"…What's creepy?" She asks again.

"Oh, uh-nothing, just-" Peter makes a sort of waving motion with his hands, before kicking a backwards thumbs up towards Ned, who sputters.

"New video-game." Ned spits out. "Uh. Well. Old video game. Ish. We're gonna play it tonight."

MJ raises her eyebrows at the pair, her lips pressed in to a thin line, as she nods in a manner that shows that she either doesn't believe them or doesn't care. Or both. Peter still can't get a good read on her, which is…troubling.

The three of them share a rather awkward silence.

"…Wanna…join us?" Peter eventually asks.

MJ turns her head to the side slightly, a small, suspicious smirk on her lips, but he thinks he detects the smallest hint of surprise in her eyes. "You sure three's not a crowd?"

Peter shakes his head, glancing back at Ned who is staring at him wide-eyed, before turning back and nodding, then subsequently realizing that his head motions leave something to be desired in the interpretation department. "No!-No. Three is definitely not a crowd. A crowd's gotta be, at least, what, five?"

MJ's smirk widens, and she rolls her eyes, before walking past the two of them. "Maybe." She says as she passes. "Later, nerds."

"...Later.…" Peter mumbles, moving forward and pressing his forehead against the cool metal of his locker, which helps to sooth the heat on his cheeks from that embarrassing encounter. He anticipates the "Dude-" that slips from Ned's mouth the second MJ's out of earshot.

"I panicked." He says dully, before Ned can even yell at him.

"This was our night!" Ned laments, raising his arms and reaching for the sky. "No school people, no parents, no aunts, just totally awesome, unfiltered, unabridged video gaming."

"…And 'shop talk'?" Peter ventures, turning his head while still keeping it on the locker.

 "And shop talk!" Ned confirms desperately.

"She probably won't even show up, Ned-" Peter says, pointing after the direction MJ had gone. "She doesn't seem like a video game person. Or a…hanging out with people person."

"Or a person person," Ned adds.

"That's-…" Fair? Peter feels shitty for thinking it. "…a little much, right?"

"Hey, man- I'm just saying, if she suddenly wants to call us friends, she should at least act like it." Ned starts walking, and Peter takes that as a cue that the bell will ring soon for homeroom. Which means he has a date with detention. As he will for the rest of the year.

He glances back in the direction that MJ had gone.

"…Yeah, guess you're right."

~~

"KISS YOUR GRAN GOODNIGHT, BITCH!"

"-no no No NONONONO-crap." Peter drops the controller, then realizes what he's done and webs it back to him before it can crash to the ground.

"YESS!!!! YESSS!!!!! TAKE. THAT." Ned is fist pumping the air with every syllable.

"You don't even play fair, you just use the wheel."

"You're envious of my skills, young Padawan," Ned replies back, drumming his fingers together as he looks up at Peter.

"That's not skill, that's like bringing a grenade to a shooting match, throwing it in the vicinity of the target, and then claiming to be the best shot."

"Okay well maybe if you didn't play upside down, you wouldn't get your left and right mixed up so much."

Peter opens his mouth to contradict but honestly Ned has a point. He sighs, unsticking himself from the ceiling and twisting so he lands on the ground with his feet. Ned stares at him.

"What?"

"I just want to reiterate how cool that is," Ned says, nodding, as he sits back on the couch. "And that our lives are amazing."

Peter snorts, shuffling back on to the couch and letting himself fall back on to it, jostling Ned slightly as he does.
 

He doesn't argue Ned about it because he's right. Life was pretty sweet right now. Was he an Avenger? No. Was Tony Stark still 'mentoring' him? Also no.  It'd been radio silence since Peter had turned him down. The teenager had flip-flopped back and forth on the decision that he made when Mr. Stark had asked him to join the team, wondering if it really was just a test of the lessons he had learned while fighting Mr. Toomes, or if the billionaire had actually been serious, and was now angry at him. But, looking over at Ned, glancing around his house, Peter is starting to think that regardless of what Mr. Stark had meant, he had made the right decision anyways. He would have really missed this place, Queens, his Aunt, and Ned. He'd have had to leave school, and as much as he had thought he didn't need to be here, after letting the shine and shimmer of having the suit and being under the tutelage of Iron Man had worn off, he realized he still…wanted to be a scientist, whether that meant using science to up his superhero game, or well, being an actual scientist in a lab somewhere. And he had friends here, ish. He wasn't the most popular kid around (or even remotely in the realm of popular to be honest), he had a good crowd of people in the Academic Decathlon team, and pretty much all of them would be doing Science Olympiad in the Spring.

Things are so much better now that Ned and Aunt May know, now that Peter doesn't have to hide from the people he's closest to. Even if he does feel guilty, seeing the look in his Aunt's eyes, it's not as guilty as he felt lying to her every time she brought up his odd behavior, when she had that freak-out after the ferry incident.

And Spider-Man? Peter feels like he's really starting to get some wear on his soles with Spider-Man. He's becoming a more established, more recognizable vigilante. And he's feeling more confident too, he's making smarter decisions (he thinks). Which is good because more recognition means more problems, too. Like dealing with the police coming after him, and losing a certain element of surprise and confusion when facing enemies. They’re starting to anticipate him. But it's fine because between he, Karen, and Ned, they're really starting to become a solid force to be reckoned with.

"What?" Ned asks, looking at him. Peter realizes he's been grinning at his friend.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, no I was just thinking: Our lives are amazing," Peter replies, leaning forward and grabbing his controller.

His phone pings at him before they can rejoin the server, and Peter digs it out and glances at the notification lighting up the cracked screen. It's Karen's notification system. He usually has her monitoring police broadband in the background, then when there's a problem, she sends him a message on his phone.

"Shit-Uh," Peter glances at Ned with a sheepish look, but Ned just looks like they hit the lottery. He turns off the ps4 and grabs his laptop and headset out of his bag.

"Just tell me where I can set up."

~~

"This heater is amazing."

{Your destination is approaching on the right, Peter…}

 "Got it."

"You know? Sometimes I wish Karen wasn't a thing," Ned's voice comes over the comm link in Peter's ear. "No offense, Karen, but I feel like I've got nothing to do here."

{None taken. I was designed to aid in all areas of fieldwork, so it isn't surprising that your presence is not required} Comes Karen's neutral, yet somehow sassy voice. Peter laughs.

 "Woooowwww, that's awesome. Upstaged by a piece of hardware. A very, very incredible piece of hardware." Ned admits.

 "You're moral support?" Peter asks, as he clings to two webs and propels himself up a building, landing hard on the upper corner, just before the edge of the roof, and situating himself under a gargoyle. "Okay, I'm here."

"Okay, hold tight. They should be approaching like, any minute. Jesus, that's high. God…damnit, stupid internet-"

Ned was able to tap in to Karen's feed and see everything Peter saw real time, which he thought was amazingly cool (and sometimes incredibly unnerving). But the connection required for constant, real-time surveillance? Not something he and his Aunt could afford. For now, Peter smirks and settles against the wall and waits, feeling the cold of the concrete and the arch of the gargoyle cool his skin where they touch the fabric of his suit. The whole getup is emitting a low heat, enough to combat the cold, winter air, but not enough to start him sweating with all the webslinging he did to get here.

A stolen car linked to an AMBER alert was what had popped up on his phone and a high speed pursuit had been in place. When it came in to range of Karen's pre-set search radius, they were rushing past Forest Hills. By the time Peter had gotten in to his suit and to a point in town where he could actually websling, they were on the bridge. Peter had debated giving up, but after listening to the trouble the police were having, decided to continue his pursuit.

"Ugh, I gi- -up wi- th- --rnet."

 "Uh, Hello?"

 "Got you back. Still nothing?"

 "Still nothing."

There had been a stall in the chase somewhere in Midtown East and Peter, panting and getting frustrated, decided to try and get ahead of them. He was near his school, planted up in the corner of some bank, waiting for the moment to swoop down and catch them now.

Okay so technically this wasn't saving kids from getting hit by cars. But this involved cars, and saving kids, so Peter was gonna call loophole on this if his Aunt saw it on the news later…

"Seriously, I'd be freezing my butt off waiting here if this thing didn't exist," Peter finally says, still praising the heater in the suit.

"Uh huh.…" comes the reply, slightly distracted and Peter furrows his brows under the mask.

"Ned?"

"Yeah? What?" The sound of gunshots and yelling floats through the comms. Another voice shrieks profanities and insults in the distance, all coming through on a sort of in-and-out audio.

"Are you playing Overwatch?" Peter snaps.

"Peter you've been swinging around for half an hour," comes the reply. "I got bored and Karen takes care of everything."

"Oh, my god," Peter says dramatically, rolling his eyes as he switches his hands from the wall behind him to the gargoyle above him, a more comfortable position, at least. "Maybe if you didn't have both going at once, you'd be able to actually see what's happening right no-."

That's when he hears the sirens, really hears them. He'd picked up on them a while ago, but now they were getting close, and he turns in the direction they are coming from.

A dark red sedan comes careening in to view, drifting on a wide turn and just avoiding a crash with a taxi. Peter lets go of the gargoyle and pushes off with his feet, using a web attached to the side of the building as a lifeline. He skips across the building and starts to descend.

"Karen, am I close enough to get a decent scan of the vehicle?" Peter asks, knowing that Droney doesn't fly fast enough to keep up with a high-speed chase like this. 

{You'll need to get at least 500 feet closer} Karen replies.

"Damnit," Peter says, among the sirens and the explosions in the background on his comm.  "Ned can you turn that off?"

"Sorry, is it getting good?"

"We're gonna find- Oh Shit," Peter gasps. He lets go of the webline and drops.

The driver of the dark red sedan was good, that was for sure. How else could they have evaded pretty much the entire police force of Queens and Manhattan while also weaving in and out of New York traffic? But they didn't give a crap about the safety of others. The vehicle had weaved on to the oncoming side of traffic to avoid a squad car that had entered from the adjacent street. Suddenly it had stopped, swerved, skidding in a U-fashion to turn on to the next street, narrowly missing a box truck.

Said box truck was now losing control, and as Peter dives without a web towards the intersection, it jack-knifes and heads straight for a restaurant on the corner. Peter reaches out with his webshooters, and aims between the two traffic lights. "Web grenade-Web grenade!"

The ball of webbing shoots from his palm and hits the sidewalk, exploding in a mess of webbing that connects the two traffic lights just in time to catch the box truck. Peter instantly shoots another, normal web line with his other hand, swinging dangerously low, his feet touching and skipping across the pavement, as he rolls in front of another car that had swerved to avoid the box truck, and holds out his hands.

"Peter!-"

The bumper crumples under his grip and he feels the strain in his wrists as he skids backwards, stopping the car just a few feet of the opposite side of the intersection's sidewalk, where a few dozen pedestrians stand frozen in shock.

"HOLY SHIT, that WAS AWESOME." Ned shouts over the comm link. "At least I think it was awesome! It was mostly a lagging mess but it seemed awesome!"

Peter sighs in relief as a few tentative claps, then a chorus of cheers erupts through the crowd.

"That. Does it." Peter mumbles, swiveling on his heels to face the crowd, and the street the dark red sedan had disappeared down. "Everybody good? Good? Okay! Farewell, pedestrians!"

He takes a few steps to run before shooting a webline to the nearest building, gaining speed and height as fast as he can. "That guy's gonna kill someone!"

"He probably already has…" Comes the hesitant reply.

"Karen, scan the vehicle," Peter says. He pointedly ignores that last statement from Ned, because he doesn't want to think about the people who got hurt while he was catching up. Peter shortens his swings, casting a webline out and tightening the tension so he's wasting less time following through with the arc of his swing. He can feel the wind start to pick up as it sweeps past his suit, his arms starting to burn from the effort of swinging at this pace.

{Two occupants - One adult, the other matches the height and weight of a four to five year old child}

Peter is catching up.

 Uh. Peter?"

"Little busy here, Ned!"

"Are you expecting company? Caaaaause the doorbell just rang."

"What? No?" Peter asks more than answers as he turns, grunting slightly as the force of his tight arc tests his ability to hold on to his own webline. "Just don't answer it."

"Oh My God, It's MJ."

"Oh, my God, Ned!" Peter yells. Panic dances across his chest. MJ?!?

"You invited her, remember?!?" Comes Ned's panicked voice. Great, now they're both panicking! Peter sees the red sedan, coming near the border between Midtown and Hell's Kitchen. He throws out a couple quick weblines, propelling himself forward at a quicker pace.

"I didn't think she'd actually come!" He gripes. "Make her leave!"

"How the Hell am I supposed to do that?"

"I dunno! Ned I can't talk, just- take care of it! Hide the laptop! Karen, end call-" Peter lets go of the webline and plummets down towards the dark red sedan.

~~

"Peter? Peter! What if you get in troub-" Ned listens to the click on the other end of the line that signals Peter has hung up on him, and sits back in his chair, freaking the Hell out because-

Because he doesn't know what to do. This is why he's the guy in the chair, not the super hero. As awesome as Peter's life is? Ned is kind of really glad that he's the best friend of the guy who's a super hero. All the fun, none of the danger.

Okay…well, not as much of the danger.

"Hellllooooo? I can hear you dweebs in there, you know."

Ned glances down to the laptop that’s connected to Karen's network, and Peter's viewfinder. He has just enough time to see the top of the red sedan they'd been tailing explode open from gunfire before he slams the laptop shut.

You better be okay, jerk, he thinks, as he stuffs his headset and the computer in to his bag, zipping it up nicely and shoving it all under the couch. He walks to the door once again, placing his eye up against the peep hole and sucking in a breath.

He unlocks the door and opens it, smirking at Michelle, who looks anything but amused, standing there with a white box in her hand. He can see the thin straps of a smaller backpack across her shoulders.

"Hiiiiii Micheeeeellle," Ned says, grinning at her.

Michelle raises an eyebrow at him, then walks in to the apartment before he can stop her. Ned panics, opening his mouth to say something, anything, but he doesn't for the life of him have a good excuse, so he instead he says, "What are you doing here?"

Ugh. Man. That came out wrong.

Michelle walks in to the apartment and looks around, and it creeps Ned out because she looks like she's observing, taking stuff in with a calculating eye. She turns back to Ned and frowns. "…You invited me?"

Ned shakes his head immediately. "No-yeah. Right. I mean, just…it's kind of late. We didn't think you were going to show up."

"Yeah, well, I had to deal with a thing, and then the line for donuts on a Friday night was surprisingly long." She says, lifting the box slightly in her hands.

"…You brought donuts?" Ned asked, honestly a little surprised.

"Thought if I was going to partake in gaming, I should at least contribute some food." She answered simply, turning her head back to the living room and looking at the menu screen for Overwatch, and the very empty couch. "…Uh…Where's Peter?"

"Uhhhhh, Peter?" Ned asks. "Peter Parker?"

Michelle raises both of her eyebrows and narrows her eyes at Ned, as she leans forward slightly, reaching out and depositing the box on to the little dining table. "Uhhh, yeah? Peter Parker? This is his place, right?"

"Uh- R-ih-hight," Ned says, laughing through the first part of the word. WOW. How is he so terrible at this? "See, the thing is Peter is…not here."

 "Obviously."

"Because-...he's, out getting food. Yep." Ned says quickly. "But uh, he hadn't decided what we should get yet, so I have no idea when he'll be back."

"Uh Huh," Michelle says, folding her arms, giving Ned an expression that clearly says 'I don't believe you'. Ned just smiles back.

A few seconds pass between them.

"Well, then, that seat taken?" She asks, pointing towards the couch.

"Uh…No." Ned says, relieved and somewhat alarmed that she doesn't press the matter. He automatically walks towards the couch and sits down. Michelle takes her seat next to him, taking off her shoes to reveal white and grey, striped socks, and tucks them neatly under the couch, before tucking her legs under her and pulling off her small backpack. She reaches in to her bag and pulls out a new paperback.

"…Uh…you wanna…play?" Ned asks, after watching her for a moment. Her eyes sweep up from behind the book, glancing at Ned, then the TV, then back to the pages she just cracked open.

"Nah, you go ahead."

"…Right…" Ned says, turning slowly back towards the TV before joining the server, trying really hard not to panic or look at the clock.

~~

"…Ow…"

 Peter pushes himself up slowly, feeling the ache in his right arm and side as he listens to the fabric of his suit scrape against the concrete. He hears a clattering and turns, shoving a couple of pipes and metal sheeting off of him, rolling on to his back.

"That sucked," He admits, taking a moment to catch his breath, before he realizes he doesn't have a moment, and jumps to his feet.

The dark red sedan is trapped in a wreck of rebar, studs and broken brick, the side of the old building having caved in easily against its impact. Peter jumps over a small pile of bricks and boxes that were overturned during the crash, landing on the crumpled hood. The driver’s side is empty, as is the back seat of the vehicle.

"Remind me to jump away from the car before it hits the building next time," Peter mumbles, rubbing at his sore shoulder.

{Sure thing. Would you like that reminder every time you engage in a car chase, or right when the odds of impact become inevitable?}

"What? Karen, no, it was- Never mind…" He says, landing back on the concrete. He rolls his shoulders slightly, not knowing if the blackout he'd experienced was only for a few second, or a few minutes. "Are they still in the building?"

{Checking.…}

He starts to make his way around the lower floor that he is currently in. The building is old, abandoned, and open, but looks like it might have housed a company here once. Though the style is like some sort of warehouse, there are a lot of desks and chairs that are strewn about, papers, pretty much everything you need to run some sort of office type workplace.

{I'm showing three life forms in the building, two match the description of the suspect and missing child-}

Peter furrows his brow in confusion, as he suddenly feels the hairs on the back of his neck stick up. "Wait-, three?"

 AH! No..- No! Get away!"

Peter swivels in place towards the sound. It's a man's voice, possibly the voice of the suspect, but also it could be some other, random person who happened to be unfortunate enough to be here.

Two gunshots go off, followed by a scream that undoubtedly belongs to a little girl, and Peter is running, sprinting towards what sounds like the North West corner of the building. He shoots a web, then another, propelling himself through a wall with a glass-less window and skidding in to the fray. He sees someone running, out of the corner of his eye, disappear in to the shadows before he can pinpoint who it is.

In front of him, is the suspect, he saw the man's face on the news feed Karen had fed to him, and caught a glimpse of him when he blew a hole in he roof of the car earlier. His back was facing Peter when he'd dove in to the area, but now he turns around, sees Spider-Man, and shoots blindly.

Peter ducks, flattening himself against an overturned desk as he feels the bullet whiz by him, heart thudding, as it always does when someone's shooting at him. He has no clue if this suit is bulletproof and he kind of doesn't want to find out. He doesn't think it's bulletproof, but he wouldn't put it past Mr. Stark to find a thin, and nearly indestructible fabric.

"Hey, I was told it's not nice to shoot at people before you introduce yourself!" Peter says, pushing himself up into a flip, reaching out on the turn and webbing the gun from the man's hand. He catches it, and snaps it in half to take it out of play. "Hi! I'm Spider-Man! Did you see a little girl running around here?"

"Fucking freaks!" the man yells, tripping over himself as he runs in the opposite direction.

Peter rolls his eyes, jumping up and skipping from wall to wall as he tails the man. "Dude, I was able to keep up with you when you were in a car, do you reaaaaally think you've got a shot on foot?"

The man turns down a corner, out of Peter's sight, slamming a door in his wake, and Peter gets there just in time to hear something crashing down in the next room. He goes to open the door, and it opens about an inch before it hits something that feels pretty solid. Brilliant.

"You know that's not gonna stop me!" Peter calls, taking a few steps back, before he runs in to the door and slams it open. The whole thing comes off the hinges, and he sees a metal shelving unit tilt and fall on to its side, causing a deafening roar as it does so. He grimaces, wincing against the sound, before hopping over it unceremoniously, and walking towards the only other doorway in the room.

"Come on, man! We both know that-" Peter stops, blinking at the driver of the dark red sedan, lying unconscious in the middle of the next room. A feeling of doubt suddenly overcomes him, a sort of creeped out feeling, similar to the ones you get when you play scary video games and you know something's about to happen.

Cautiously, he walks towards the man, kneeling down to check his pulse.

{Vitals are strong. He's just unconscious} Comes Karen's voice, softer than normal.

The door behind him suddenly shuts, and Peter jumps, turning mid-way and spreading his legs in a fighting stance.

"Hello, Spider-Man."

~~

"Oh, COME ON!"

Michelle raises an eyebrow from behind her book as she watches Ned croak for the fifteenth time in ten minutes.

"HELLO? EXCUSE ME? WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO THE CONCEPT OF WATCHING YOUR TEAM MATES' BACKS?" Ned yells over the headset, before logging off in an act of passive aggression and leaning back against the couch, fuming.

A second later a donut finds its way in front of his face. Ned's eyes slide over to Michelle, who has put down the book and is holding the chocolate glaze out to him.

"You're not you when you're hungry." She says simply.

Ned sort of wants to punch her in the face, which is not usually his style, but something about her just…bugs him. The whole, 'too cool for you', sarcastic one-liners deal isn't his bag. It just seems like those people are acting. Fake.

He takes the donut anyways, and staring at her.

Michelle goes back to her book.

It has been an hour and a half since Ned hung up with Peter, and he's starting to get a little worried. But he can't call Peter, not now, with Detective Jones over here. She's way too smart and he has a feeling she has like, a third eye and extra ears or something. Ned glances at the clock for the umpteenth time, which to be honest, is the real reason he has been sucking at Overwatch.

"Lines are a bitch on a Friday night."

Ned turns his head towards Michelle, who has gone to her book, but seems to be offering that as some sort of explanation for Peter being absent. Ned bites his lip, she says it in the same way she says almost everything, with a neutral tone and a steady cadence. It makes it hard to tell if she’s suspicious or simply doesn’t care.

Ned tries to play along anyways. “Yeah…I honestly have no idea where he is.” 

“Maybe he got caught up in something,”

It’s said with just flippant enough tone to imply suspicion, and that rubs Ned the wrong way. “Maybe.”

Michelle leans back on the couch, smirking and closing her book. “Or maybe he got run over.”

“Will you quit it?” Ned snaps suddenly, anxiety crawling up his spine, because man. What if he did get run over?

Michelle raises an eyebrow at him, a slight bit of surprise in her expression, before it levels out in to an even stare. “What-“

“I’M BACK! - I’m…back.” The two of them turn to face the front of the apartment, where the door hangs open in half-swing back to a closing position, and Peter is standing there in the clothes he wore that day to school, waving a single hand in the air, before hunching over and placing his hands on his knees. He takes a moment to catch his breath. He looks like he’s been running…

…or swinging. Swinging is more likely.

Ned’s heart is hammering in his chest. Peter looks, well, good, but he’s missing a very important object that sort of seals the deal on the story Ned fed MJ. Not that Peter would know, seeing as Ned couldn’t call him…

“Where’s the food?” Michelle asks.

“Huh?” Peter asks, tilting his head up and looking at her, seeming to notice her for the first time, still catching his breath. His eyes dart to Ned, who is shaking his head frantically and making motions with his hands that he knows won’t make any sense to Peter, but hopes he just…goes with it anyways.

“The food? Was-…was…was closed.” Peter stutters out, before letting his eyes fall closed and hanging his head.

“ ‘Food’ was closed.” Michelle echoes, amusement in her voice.

Bless Peter’s soul. They really need to get better at lying.

"Uh." Peter says, staring back at Ned for a moment, a bit of panic on his face, before Michelle rolls her eyes and points at the box on the living room table.

"Relax, I don't care what you were doing. I brought donuts anyways." Their classmate seems to be giving them a break, and Ned has no idea why, but he thanks his lucky stars for it at this moment. Peter seems to be having the same thought, because he visibly relaxes. There's still a thin cloud of awkwardness though, lingering in the apartment. Peter and Ned stay in their relative positions for a moment, before finally, Peter speaks.

"I didn't think you were gonna show up, MJ, or I wouldn't have left for so long." He says, kicking off his shoes and padding over to the living room. The couch can seat three, albeit in close quarters. Ned is about to move so Peter can sit on the edge when Michelle scoots to the side quickly, making a space for Peter in the middle. The ruffled-looking teenager gives her a thin smile, before snatching a donut from the box and plopping down on the couch. "Thanks."

"You leave poor old Ned here all by his lonesome often?" She asks, picking up her book, but keeping it closed on her lap. Peter exchanges a glance with Ned.

"Not usually, he's spending the night," he says, to which Ned nods, while also giving Peter the eyes. The eyes that say,         what happened         without saying anything at all. Peter gives him an almost imperceptive shake of his head, which yeah of course, Ned figured Peter would tell him later, since, well, MJ is here. But he is dying to know now.

And once again, he is annoyed at Michelle's presence.

"Ah." MJ replies. "If this is your idea of an, 'My Aunt's away' party, you guys really are losers."

"Hey! We are-…" Peter glances at Ned again who jumps in.

"-Not the adventurous type. And indeed-…" He can't think of anything else to say. "…losers."

“Uh-huh,” MJ says, raising a brow again, glancing between Peter and Ned, before leaning back and opening the book. The interrogation, as well as the conversation, seems to be over at that point.

Peter turns his head back towards Ned slowly, his eyes slightly wide, and his lips pressed together with a force that nearly makes them disappear. Ned sort of stares back and there is this small moment where neither of them know what to do. Peter looks…a little different. A little giddy. Ned has known him for a while, and can tell by now when something is up. Something happened while Peter was gone, something that the young hero wants to talk about, but Michelle is barring them from doing it.

Which is really annoying, considering she doesn’t seem to be making the effort to actually hang out with them. She’s just-…reading her book.

“…So…video games?” Peter finally says, reaching forward and grabbing the controller. Ned nods slowly, getting up so he can reach the other one.

Peter’s default is to stick himself to the wall or the ceiling when they are playing video games. It’s sort of his default for everything now, when they are alone. He’s always perched in some weird, unnatural and impossible position, half of the time upside-down, and Ned wonder how he does it. Being upside-down is ridiculously uncomfortable and occasionally dangerous for a normal human being, but Peter does it constantly and sometimes prefers it. Ned blames the spider thing.

Not that he’s complaining because let’s be honest, hanging out with your best friend while he is suspended from the ceiling is weird in the best way. His friend is a superhero so he definitely is totally okay with it.

Peter can’t do any of that right now though, so instead he just sort of weirdly folds himself on the couch, re-positioning himself a few times in an attempt to get comfortable. Michelle takes an eye off her book to glance at him until Peter finally settles. Ned can tell he would rather be on the ceiling. So weird. So cool.

They cycle through a few titles, since Ned is tired of Overwatch. In the end they decide to try and beat LEGO Star Wars in a record amount of time. Michelle actually finishes her book while they are playing, setting it down on the arm of the chair and curling up with her legs tucked under her, watching them play.

About halfway through the game, Peter’s manners overcome their need to beat this record, and he turns to Michelle and offers her the controller. To Ned’s surprise, she takes it wordlessly, and then it’s Ned and MJ trying to beat the record as Peter fishes through the apartment for more snacks. MJ is surprisingly good, and while Peter cracks open the lime chips, and sits in front of the stove heating the milk for the hot chocolate, they manage to beat two levels.

“Okay so, chocolate, chocolate, and more chocolate…I don’t have a stick for the marshmallows so we are uuuuusiiiiiing….” Peter rummages through the bag he got from the bathroom and tears open a fresh plastic bag. “-Tongue depressors!”

“Gross! I love it,” Ned says when he pauses the game and Michelle pushes herself from the couch, padding over towards the kitchen on striped, socked feet. She looks at Peter with a bit of amusement. Peter shrugs and hands one of them towards Ned, who takes it and folds it in his hands.

“I think we should microwave ten of these so they get all big and stick together,” Ned says. “Then this would be perfect.”

“As long as it doesn’t get all over the stove, May will kill me,” Peter says, looking back towards the gas burner. He reaches out to give one to Michelle, who holds up her hand.

“Nah, I’m good. Actually- I’m gonna bounce.” She says, glancing at the clock. It is around 1 am at this point. Late, true, but Ned still finds it odd, and aggravating, that now that they are actually doing something that requires talking to them, she suddenly has to leave. It isn’t as big a feeling as the relief that floods through him, though.

“Uh—…Alright.” Peter says dumbly, retracting his tongue depressor slowly and sticking it back in the bag. For what feels like the fiftieth time that night, there's a strange awkwardness, before Peter finally adds. “Well, it was nice hanging out. Thanks for coming.”

Michelle nods slightly, backing away from them and grabbing her shoes, book, and backpack as she does. “You guys can keep the donuts.”

She pulls out her phone, checks it with a fluid swipe of her thumb, then stuffs it in her pack with an annoyed look on her face. Something Ned and Peter both notice but don’t comment on because they both seem to be eager to be rid of her. Not necessarily to be rude, just…well. They’ve got stuff to talk about.

“Really? Thanks…” Peter says, walking her to the door. Ned watches from afar as Michelle smiles for the smallest of seconds. Ned busies himself with opening some graham crackers.

“Well, thanks for inviting me. Have fun with…” She waves her hand vaguely around the apartment. “-this.”

 “Uh-huh,” Peter says, glancing back inside. “Uh-we will.”

 Michelle nods slowly, glancing around before just sort of walking out the door, waving her hand and calling out a “bye” as she goes. Peter shuts the door slowly and turns around, leaning up against the maroon wood and giving Ned a weird look. Ned can tell he’s using his super hearing to track her footsteps, the way Peter's eyes drift between him and somewhere beyond the door.

When Michelle’s gotten what Ned assumes that Peter assumes is an acceptable distance away, he finally opens his mouth.

“…That was-“

“Weird,” Ned finishes.

“Awkward?”

“Both.” Ned decides, shoving a marshmallow on his tongue depressor. It doesn’t work well at all, the initial breach of the outside layer sort of causes the whole thing to fall apart as Ned tries to force the flat, thin, and wide wood in to the center. Ned shoves that one in his mouth and tries again, this time sticking the wood in to the side. Better.

Peter walks over, glancing back towards the door with an indecipherable expression on his face. “Yeah…she didn’t…say much.”

“She’s pretty good at LEGO Star Wars though, who knew?” Ned admits, his words muffled around the marshmallow, and now that he’s gotten the hang of it, he skewers another one and hands it to Peter, who takes it and makes his way to the stove. He removes the metal thingamajig that holds the pot, Ned honestly doesn’t know what it’s called, and turns the knob until the clicking sounds. The flame ignites and Peter puts it on high, so they get a sizable flame. The two of them hold their tongue depressors and marshmallows over it, watching as the flame disperses and licks around the bottom of the fluffy, white substance.

“What if-“ Peter starts, concentrating on the flame for a moment, turning his depressor idly in his hands. Ned watches Peter watch the flame. “-…nah.”

“Huh?” Ned asks, as Peter pulls his marshmallow away and goes to make his s’more. Ned doesn’t understand how Peter can take it away before it gets crispy on the edges, with just that hint of a burnt taste. It’s the actual best.

“Nothing. So you gotta hear what happened to me-“ Peter starts, swiveling around with a sudden renewed energy, as if the fact that they are alone has suddenly dawned on him. Ned almost asks him to backtrack to his thoughts on Michelle, but he wants to hear this story waaaay more so the change in subject is allowed.

“Yes! God, I’ve been dying, dude. Did you stop the guy? Did the police catch you? Did you have to bust your way out of jail?” Ned asks. He suddenly gasps. “Did you get kidnapped by a sewer monster and have to escape his underground lair?”

Peter furrows his brows and scrunches up his nose at Ned. “Wait, what? No. What sewer monster?”

“Dude, there’s always a sewer monster.” Ned presses.

“I-“ Peter glances to the side as if considering this, then admittedly nods. “Fair point- But no. I didn’t get kidnapped by a sewer monster or arrested.” He’s been assembling his s’more this whole time and takes the time to shove half of it in his mouth. Ned realizes Peter must be starving. He was gone for hours, and then they sat and played video games for hours, and Peter barely ate anything during that time. He eats an insane amount of food these days, Ned doesn’t know where it all goes. “It was better than all of that.”

Ned pulls his marshmallow away when he realizes that it’s on fire. He blows on it furiously as Peter stares, though his friend doesn’t actually do anything to help and instead shoves the rest of the s’more into his face.

“Okay, so then what happened?”

“We should really order a pizza - maybe two pizzas.” Peter says instead of answering Ned, glancing at his smore like it isn't enough. He pauses, before running over to the box of donuts that Michelle had left behind. “Like…three pizzas.”

“Peter!”

“Okay Okay! So-“

~~~

“Hello, Spider-Man…”

To say that Peter is startled is a bit of an understatement, though also inaccurate. He doesn’t jump out of his skin or anything. But this is definitely playing out in classic, horror-movie fashion, and Peter would prefer not to end up chained to an insane contraption where he has to pick between two gruesome deaths, or glued to the sewer walls and forced to give birth to some chest-bursting alien thing, soooo…

…he decides to settle for ‘a little creeped out’.

The man (he hopes it's a man, of course it's a man get a grip) that speaks is standing in the corner of the room, his arms slack beside him and his body angled so that it’s actually only partially facing him. His head is pitched downwards, off to the side, not looking at Peter.

Okay. Amend that to 'Really creeped out'.

Peter has to physically restrain himself from taking a step back, while simultaneously calling out, “Dude- ….standing still in the dark, eerie corner? Really? What is this, PT? If I blink, will you disappear? Are you going to zap me back in time?"

He realizes he's babbling, but can't control his stupid mouth.

A huff of amusement from the horror movie corner. The man tilts his head slightly, something Peter picks up less by sight and more with his senses. When he’s on edge…it’s insane what the teenager can pick up. He still isn’t completely used to it, if he’s honest.

But since he is (amending again) certifiably creeped out, and is sort of half-expecting something to jump down from the ceiling and attack (he would be lying if he said he didn’t glance up), Peter decides to point his right webshooter at the man and shine his light. The bright red illuminates the man’s suit with a spindling white-web pattern dancing across him, and Peter gets his first glimpse of red eye-glass and maroon horns.

Oh shit.

“…Y-You’re Daredevil.” Peter exhales, his voice going high and he hates that, but what can he do? The color, the horns, the billy club...Daredevil may not be as famous as the Avengers, but he is well-known in Hell’s Kitchen, Midtown, and the surrounding areas as a protector of the people. Kind of like Spider-Man, but way edgier and a hell of a lot more brutal.

Peter has no idea how this encounter is going to pan out, so when the maroon and black-clad vigilante takes a step forward, Peter takes a step back, watching him like a hawk. Daredevil seems to pick up on the teen's edginess, and his exposed lips turn upwards slightly.

"That would be correct, and you-" He says, his voice low, but smooth, and…honestly? Slightly captivating. "…Are in the wrong city."

"So what, there's territories now?" Peter asks, despite himself, and bites his lip under his mask when Daredevil steps forward again. Peter matches it, equal parts anxiety and thrill running through him.

"Not officially," the older vigilante answers, tilting his head as he assesses Peter. "But, in a sense, yes. A disturbance happens in my city? I know about it."

Peter is going out of his mind trying to figure out if he's about to get in a fight with Daredevil right now. His heart rate kicks up a notch.

“Relax, kid.” Daredevil says suddenly, as if he can somehow read Peter's mind. Daredevil turns his attention to the man on the ground. “I’m not here for you, I’m here for him.”

Peter turns his head towards the man lying on the ground as Daredevil continues to speak. "Max Houghton, 38, multiple counts of drunk and disorderly, one conviction of domestic violence- spousal abuse -, which he did time for. Countless more, if he hadn't covered his tracks so well. He got out of jail three days ago. Abducted his daughter from school this afternoon and made a break for it."

Well, damn. Peter hadn't even gotten a name. Thanks a lot, Karen. "Where did you get all that?"

"I hear things," Daredevil replies vaguely. Okay.

"Alright, so - "

"What I'm saying is, I can handle it from here," Daredevil says suddenly, turning his head back in the direction of the door, then walking towards that same door.

"What? But what about this guy?"

"He's not going anywhere."

"Okay but what about the little girl? She's still here somewhere," Peter exclaims, remembering that the small figure he must have seen earlier was probably her. Damn it. He kicks himself internally.

"Like I said, I can handle it."

"But I chased this guy all the way over here-"

"-And you left a couple car crashes and a broken wall in your wake so," Daredevil says, turning his head sharply towards Peter. "Look, it's nothing personal. I just prefer to work alone. So-…" He pulls the door open before turning back towards Peter slightly. "You should go."

Peter scoffs and throws up his hands as Daredevil disappears through the door.

"Are all of you guys jerks?" He asks, turning towards the unconscious man on the floor. "Or is it just me? Do you think the costume puts them off?"

{Your apparent adolescence is a more likely cause.} Comes Karen's voice and Peter nearly jumps out of his skin, having forgotten about her.

"Jeez Louise, don't-…don't do that." Peter says, walking up to the unconscious guy. Max. Max Houghton.

{I'm sorry, Peter. I thought you were talking to me.}

"I was talking to him." Peter says, gesturing at Max.

{…That man in unconscious. Both I and Daredevil told you this. Perhaps you have a mild concussion. Running vitals-}

"No-ugh…nevermind, I'm fine." Peter groans, running his hands across the fabric of his mask.

A sudden scream fills the warehouse. Peter jumps again.

"What was that?" the teenager asks. He already knows the answer, even as Karen speaks.

{It appears to be a child's scream.}

 Crap.

 Peter looks down at the man. Another scream fills the warehouse.

Screw this.

Peter points his wrist at the man, showering him with a blanket of webbing, before taking off towards the door and heading after the scream.

"Hey-…wait! Shit…"

The wall crawler makes his way across the warehouse, carefully adhered to the ceiling. Peter barely picks up the dark form of Daredevil diving down towards a pile of crates and machinery. There's a clang of the man's body against the metal. Around them, the air is cold and damp, and Peter can smell the musty scent of old, rotted wood and moss. He waits for a second, learning over the past few weeks that sometimes diving in to these situations headfirst can end up putting you in more trouble.

There's another scream, nearer, but muffled. Coming from wherever Daredevil had dove.

"Come on, kid…gimme just…a little break here."

Peter takes that moment to shoot a web at the ceiling and glide down to the floor, giving him a better vantage point.

"What're you still doing here?" Daredevil grunts, as he pushes against one of the crates. Unfortunately, it doesn't budge.

Peter is surprised Daredevil places him. He could have sworn he hadn't made a sound… "Uh."

"I told you to leave," The man says, giving up and crouching down towards the hole. There's a pile of machinery and crates someone must have dumped here long ago, but there's a crevice just big enough for a skinny kid, or a toddle, to squeeze through. He can barely make out the little girl crouched back there, and he can definitely make out the quiet sobbing.

Daredevil waits for a moment, calm, and patient, then slides back towards the opening, reaching out a hand towards the little girl. "Erica, come on now, I'm not gonna-"

He's cut off by another scream, as Erica scrambles back against the wall, unable to actually go anywhere.

"She's scared of you," Peter remarks, and though he can't see Daredevil roll his eyes, the teenager can practically feel it.

"Astute observation," comes the reply. "Listen, kid-"

"You knocked out her Dad, and you're dressed like a demon," Peter presses, crouching down and crawling up to Daredevil, careful to stay out of sight. "I mean, no offense, but your mask is a little…" He waves his hand in front of his own mask.

Realization dawns on the lower half of Daredevil's face, his lips parting as he nods. "Ah, damnit." He seems to think for a moment, before turning to Peter and saying with a chuckle, "Is it really that creepy?"

"Have you seen yourself?" Peter asks, an eyebrow cocked under his mask.

He is answered with a simple laugh, like the man is amused at an inside joke he has with himself, and Peter is slightly baffled. "Well, we can't leave her in there, so."

"Let me," Peter says instantly. "Kids love me!"

"Uh-huh." The tone Daredevil uses makes Peter think he doesn't really believe him, or have much faith in him. Wow. That hurts.

"Here, just…uh," Peter starts, crawling forward. For a second he thinks Daredevil will stop him, but the man silently shifts away from the gap between the crates, and Peter replaces him, staring down in to the hole. Erica, she stares at him, wide-eyed.

"Hi, uh- Erica, right? Hey, why don't-"

He is met with a rather shrill scream.

"Wow, that is-…a set of lungs." Peter says, pulling back as Daredevil shakes his head, snorting.

"Oh yeah, kids love you."

"Okay, okaaaay, just-" Peter says, glancing back towards the little girl. She looks absolutely terrified, and Peter really feels bad for her. She can't be more than four or five years old. Trapped in these boxes with nowhere to go, with these crazy people in masks standing at the only exit. After getting kidnapped by her dad and being involved in a crash?

Yeah…he feels terrible.

"Turn around," he tells Daredevil, glancing towards him. "Actually, uh…can you stand…over there?"

"Why?"

"Please just do it, and don't look back, okay?" Peter says.

Daredevil keeps stalk still for a moment, his folded across his chest, before nodding once and turning away from Peter. He walks a couple of steps away, leaving the young hero and Erica alone.

Instantly he turns back towards the hole, putting his hands out as Erica gets ready to scream again. "Whoa, whoa! Hey, wait, I'm not a monster, okay? I'm just a normal guy, see? Watch-"

He glances back at Daredevil, who tenses slightly, but doesn't seem to be moving. Carefully, keeping one eye on the other vigilante the entire time, Peter reaches up and pulls his mask up to his forehead. He angles himself so his back is towards Daredevil as much as it can be. He sticks his face back in the hole, then pulls out his phone and turns on the flashlight, pointing it so his face is illuminated. Better than the eerie read web shooter light, he decides.

Erica doesn't scream this time, her face contorting in confusions slightly when she sees the human face.

"Yeah, see? No monster, just a person!" Peter says, trying to sound way more joyful than he feels. He smiles at the little girl, then looks around the small space. "Your hideout is super cool. Do you think I could come in there with you?"

"No!" Erica says, folding her arms and pushing herself back against the wall.

"Okay, Okay," Peter says softly. "But why not?"

"You're a bad guy!"

"Me? I'm not a bad guy!" Peter exclaims, but he exaggerates his voice, and the offense in his voice is very obviously fake, his tone higher than usual.

"Yes you are." Erica insists.

"I'm not! Know why?"

"Why?" Erica asks, with a huff of breath.

"Because, I'm----" Peter tries to decide what to say. "----Aaaaan, Avenger! I'm a super hero."

Erica blinks for a moment, staring at him. "…Like Black Widow?"

Yes. Yes! Roll with that!

"Yeah! Exactly like the Black Widow…Uh…in face, I'm her…sidekick?" Peter asks more than states, but he picks up the story anyways. He hears Daredevil shift a little from his spot a couple of feet away, clearly impatient, but he doesn't budge. Embarrassment tinges Peter's cheeks, but you know what? She's a kid, whatever. Sue him! "Yeah, I'm her sidekick. I'm Spider-Man!"

"No, she awready got a si'kick." Erica exclaims, getting to her knees and pretending to shoot a bow and arrow at him, making little "Pew" noises at Peter.

"Awww, Hawkeye?!? Naaaaaaah, I'm better than Hawkeye. I'm like a real spider. I can climb on walls and spin webs."

"Ew." Erica says, but, in a turn of fortune, her lips turn upwards and she giggles.

"Ew?!?" Peter asks, with mock disdain. "Not Ew! It's cool!"

"Ew!" Erica exclaims.

"I can show you! It's awesome!"

"Nuh-uh,"

"Yeah-huh," Peter says back in singsong. "If you come out, I can show you. I'll spin you a….I'll spin you a…" He glances around, seeing a large, metal beam above them. "I'll spin you a swing."

Erica's eyes get wide.

"……………Okay." She says finally, a little bit of apprehension in her voice.

"…I'm going to leave the room, call over the police. You should disappear before they get here," Daredevil says suddenly, softly, as he takes a couple steps away. Peter doesn't turn his head, instead reaching for Erica with his hand as the little girl slowly crawls her way towards him.

"-Meet me by the water tower after."

Peter pulls his mask down just as Erica climbs out, turning his head to look towards the space where the older man was, but he's already gone.

~

Peter's never made a swing before so he has to improvise a little. He gets the single strand attached to the beam and makes a sort of huge loop at the bottom, fanning out so Erica can sit on it, and pushes the little girl until he hears sirens, then the screeching of tires against the asphalt outside.

"Gotta go now," He says to Erica, reaching in to one of his small, sewn-in pockets and pulling out a small piece of paper and a pen. He scribbles a little note with directions to the dad's location and sticks it to the webbing of the swing, then leaps up and grabs hold of the strand. Erica giggles as she sways gently from the momentum of Peter grabbing on. "Be good for the police, okay? They're also super heroes."

"Okay, Bye Bye, Spider-Man!" She says, waving up at him, as Peter climbs backwards up the strand.

Of course, he doesn't leave right away. He stays hidden on the ceiling as the cops pour in to the building, surrounding Erica, swinging happily on the webbing. As soon one of the female police officers crouches down next to Erica and takes her hand, Peter makes a swift exit.

He's nervous about meeting Daredevil at the water tower (which is pretty easy to find). He kind of thinks he's about to get told off, though he doesn’t understand why. He got thee little girl out of the crawl space, right? Sure, he hadn’t left when th man told him to, but he ended up needing help anyays. Peter grimaces, his teeth grinding together. So many of these people and they all seemed o have one thing in common: They hated working wiith other people. 

Or at least, they hated working with Spider-Man. 

He detaches from his web and lands on the side of the water tower, crouched vertically and in the shadows. Sirens echo in the background, but they are distant, just a part of the constant, discordant soundtrack of New York. Peter waits, having stirred himself in to a bad mood despite te fact that he helped return a little girl to her mom. He should be focused on that. Right? 

"Hey."

Peter blinks, glancing down as Daredevil appears from under the metal beams that hold the tower up. Right.

"Hey?" He echoes, with an upward inflection. "No eerie greeting?"

 Daredevil shrugs. "Simplicity is a favoritism of mine."

 "He said, un-simplistically," Peter retorts, dropping from the water tower to the floor below. Daredevil follows the teenager's movements with interest, though his 'gaze' is never direct. It still creeps Peter out, if he's honest. 

 "That a feature in your suit, or can you just…do that?" The older man suddenly asks. 

That is the first question Daredevil has really asked him this evening, so Peter is a little surprised, not knowing if he should answer truthfully or not. It can’t hurt, can it? "Uhm. I can just…do it." 

"Huh…Definitely the weirdest power set I've come across so far." Daredevil decides, folding his arms.

"It's not weird- it's unique," Peter combats, holding up an index finger at the man.

He's rewarded with a chuckle. "Alright, then. Unique. Now-"

"Look, Mr…Daredevil, I know what you're gonna say, and let me just tell you that-"

"Good job."

"-I can totall-what?"

"I said, good job. With the little girl." Daredevil shrugs. "You were right. My costume is, uhm…" He tilts his head down at himself and spreads out his arms slightly. "…Terrifying."

"Very creepy, yeah." Peter agrees instantly.

"And I'm not the best with kids." He finishes. "Combined, I stood little to no chance of getting her to trust me. But you, you did. So."

"Thanks for the assist?" Peter suggests, the grin evident in his voice even to himself.

"Don't push your luck." Daredevil says, frowning. "You're Stark's kid, aren't you?"

"Uh-…what?" Peter's cheeks flush a little, at the implication. It surprises him that Daredevil makes the connection between him and Tony Stark. It surprises him even more that Daredevil assumes the guy is his dad. Is it that obvious, how much Peter had chased him around?  "No, he's not my-"

 "You were a small-timer until Stark recruited you. Avenger, huh?" Daredevil clarifies. Oh.

Peter coughs, his cheeks burning underneath the mask. "Uh, I mean, I guess. All he did was give me a new suit." His voice cracks a little, slightly higher than normal, and Peter feels even stupider. 

Daredevil catches it, or perhaps he had suspected all along, and just took this opportunity to ask. "How old are you?"

 "Uh-" He tries to come up with a believable lie. "-nineteen."

 A smirk plays across Daredevil's lips. "Ri-ight." He says. He doesn't believe Peter for shit.

 Peter sighs, and the familiar frustration that accompanies being underestimated due to his age begins to settle in. You would think he would be over it by now. "Old enough, alright? And I'm not an Avenger. That was just to get the little girl to like me."

 "…You're not." Daredevil echoes, a bit of puzzlement in his voice. "So then, what, you and Stark are just friends?"

 Beats me, Peter thinks instantly, bitterly. Because, of course, Tony hadn't talked to him since he had turned down his offer. And by 'turned down', he means totally told Tony what he thought the man wanted to hear. Of course he'd love to be an Avenger.

 Or, he did.

 "…I-...do not know." He replies, sounding lame and knowing it. "I guess he just...saw that I needed an upgrade, and gave it to me."

 "…What, like a sponsor?" There appears to be amusement in Daredevil’s voice. But there's a hint of something else there, an edge. Peter can tell it isn't a good edge either.

 "Uh-yeah, yeah…like…like a sponsor. Something like that." Peter feels a little deflated. Daredevil is totally judging him right now, isn't he? Damnit. Once, just once, he'd like someone to take him seriously.

 "Well, if it's all the same to you, I left a good buddy of mine alone with a another buddy of mine and I'm pretty sure they are going to maul each other so-"

 "Look, kid-"

 "I'm not a -"

 "Spider-Man. This job? The one here, on the ground? A lot harder than you think. Muggers and bank robbers ain't the half of it." Daredevil says firmly.

 "I know-" Peter starts defensively.

"You walk in with little to no experience and you're bound to get yourself killed."

"Look, sir, I know what you're trying to do, and I appreciate it, but I don't need you trying to convince me to stop." 

"I'm not." 

Peter blinks. Oh?

"I'd be a hypocrite if I did," Daredevil said, shrugging. "Plus, I have a sneaking suspicion that you wouldn't listen to me." 

Peter smirks underneath his mask. "Probably not."

Daredevil mirrors that smirk, his stance becoming a little more relaxed as he leans up against the rusted supports for the water tower. Peter can tell something changed. Maybe Daredevil has made up his mind about Peter not being a threat, or maybe he's decided to write Peter off. He really wishes he could be taken seriously by at least, well, someone. 

There's a bit of silence between them, one that Peter thinks should be a comfortable one, but to him? It just feels awkward. It's cold, the heater is still working, but Peter can feel the slight breeze flow through the fabric of his suit. In the distance, a church bell tolls the top of the hour. Peter can see the time on the lower right corner of his lens display, but he counts the chimes anyways.

"On the off chance that I did, though - try to stop you -" Daredevil starts. 

Peter narrows his eye lenses at the man. 

"Why wouldn't you?" 

"Come again?" 

Daredevil unfolds his arms and lets them fan out, gesturing in a way that invites Peter to answer. "Why wouldn't you stop? What reason do you have for being out here, besides, well, the fact that you think you're some hotshot with super powers?" 

That hits a nerve and Peter is immediately agitated. "I don't think I'm some 'hotshot'." 

"Coulda fooled me." 

"I-" 

"Just give me an honest answer." Daredevil cuts the teenager off. 

This time, Peter actually thinks about it. He gets...well, he gets the impression Daredevil is testing him. Of course he's testing him, everyone is always testing him. And while Peter is pretty tired of all the tests and the "two cents", he doesn't want to blow the man off. He's asking for an honest answer. Peter should give him one. 

"Because it's the right thing to do." 

"Why?" Daredevil asks immediately, like he anticipated the answer. Peter sighs.

He doesn't want to get in to this. He knows why he does this, but explaining it to others is...tiring. "...Because if I don't, people can get hurt." 

"People get hurt every day," Daredevil reasons, his tone casual, nonchalant. It pricks another nerve. "Why do you have to dress up in a showy suit and run around catching bad guys?"

"Probably the same reason you do," Peter retorts. 

Daredevil chuckles, though it's a little dark. "....Ah, touché." 

There's another moment of strange silence between them. Peter feels a little numb, admitting it to someone else. He hasn't done that yet. Sure, people at school heard about it. Ned actually heard before Peter could tell him. It's been a long time, almost a year, but when he thinks about it it's still as fresh as the day it happened. 

"I can handle myself," Peter feels like he needs to say this. Needs to defend himself. "I've handled a lot already."  

"Have you, now?" Daredevil asks, and Peter could swear he is raising a brow under the cowl, but he could never be sure. 

"Yes!" 

"Have you dealt with the mob yet?" 

"Uh-...." No. Definitely not. "No, but I've-"

"Have you stumbled across a human trafficking ring?" 

Peter bites his lips. He doesn't even know what he'd do if he stumbled across something that...terrible. "...No." 

"Seen anyone die?" 

"Yes." Peter answers automatically, not needing to hesitate on that one. He snaps his jaw shut at the end of the word, gritting his teeth together. His tone is clipped. "Once."

Daredevil pauses, taking a moment to assess Peter. The teenage can feel his eyes boring a hole right through him, taking his words for what they are and assessing their meaning. 

"...I'm sorry to hear that." 

For once, Peter doesn't answer. He stays quiet. Suddenly he doesn't feel like talking, he's a little too busy trying to keep his throat from closing up and the tears from falling from his face. Yeah, no, he's not going to break down in front of a super hero he barely knows. But he hadn't expected to talk about...that night, tonight. He likes to stuff it somewhere in the back of his brain and compartmentalize the crap out of that night. 

He hears Daredevil shake his head and sigh.

 Then chuckle.

 "He's right, I am insane," the man mutters to himself as Peter tenses, narrowing his lenses.

 "What?" Peter snaps.

 "You-…Look, I like to think I can read people pretty well. This is important to you, you don't seem like you're doing this for the Hell of it. You're definitely too young, but-" Daredevil takes a moment to pause, as if he's re-assessing his next words. "…Well..."

 Confusion filters across Peter's brain.

 "What're you doing tomorrow night?" Daredevil asks, instead of giving Peter an explanation.

 "Uh-" Peter doesn't even know what to say to that. "…Are you asking me as a professional or are you asking me on a date?" Witty. Yes, witty is good when confused.

 "A date," Daredevil quips back without missing a beat. "Tomorrow. 11pm. Right Here. Wear your best."

 "Are you paying?" Peter asks, he can't help it.

 Daredevil only smiles.

 "Just this once? On me. Welcome to the Big Leagues, kid."

Chapter Text

"Holy. Shit. I can't believe it. This is literally going to be the greatest day of our lives."

"Cool it," Peter warns over the phone, finishing off the rest of a Fruit Roll Up and crumpling the paper between his fingers. He definitely hasn’t eaten like five of them on the way over from his apartment. Nope, definitely not.

Except he totally has, and he's about to reach in to his pocket for a sixth.

"Okay, but for real: we are ordering two or three pizzas tonight."

"You are a human garbage disposal and I don't even care because we're going on a mission with Daredevil." Ned says excitedly. Peter rolls his eyes as the iron gates appear before him. He takes a cursory glance around the area, before deciding it's safe and leaping over the twelve-foot barrier with ease. Much easier than walking all the way around the field…

"I'm going on a mission with Daredevil," He says, though it might as well be the two of them. That's what he's here to do, right? Clear a path for Ned for tonight?

Midtown Tech has more than one auditorium. It has two, actually. A larger one, the one they use for graduations and more elaborate assemblies. Then there's the smaller one used for practices by Band, Speech and Debate, Mock trial, the Academic Decathlon.

The small auditorium has a trick side door that is…well, relatively easy to get in to and has a tendency to already be open when they go to practice. This leads Mr. Harrington to constantly remind them to check the door before they leave, because from the small auditorium, you can get directly in to the computer lab.

Which, in addition to a mass of expensive equipment, has…well, killer internet. Much better than the one he and his Aunt have. And, with nobody around during the late weekend hours, it's a perfect place to set up and connect to Karen's feed.

"Don't ruin my day, man."

The door is actually locked today, much to Peter's chagrin, but the hatch on top of the auditorium roof is never locked, since, well, all the theater kids like to go up there and smoke joints between the end of school and practice. Nobody really checks the hatch due to that fact that it’s impossible to reach from the outside of the building.

After all, you’d have to be able to climb walls to get up there.

Peter pulls off his shoes one at a time and sets them down behind the dumpster, before gingerly attaching his fingers to the wall. He takes one last look around before he brings his feet off the ground and begins scaling. He goes quickly, conscious of the fact that someone could show up at any point. Janitors…admin staff…

"Alright, alright, we are going on a mission with Daredevil," he says in to the microphone on his headphones, grinning.

"Yeah, you’re damn right we are.” Ned seems even more excited for this than Peter is.

To be fair, Peter isn’t exactly sure it’s a mission he’s going on. Daredevil hadn’t given him any specifics. Just a time and place. The “Wear your best”, he assumed, was his suit. Obviously it was his suit, they both had secret identities to protect, after all, and it's not like Daredevil knew him in any other garb.

So in that respect, it has to be a mission, right? What else could it be?

Peter reaches the top of the auditorium and swings himself over the edge, landing lightly in the beige gravel and grimacing as the rough pebbles poke at the pads of his feet. He locates the trap door immediately.

Yeah…he would be lying if he said he hadn't done this before. Countless nights were spent experimenting in the chem lab in the dead of night, towards the beginning of his 'career'. Now, he can do his experiments at home, since Aunt May knows now. He pushes the tiny speck of guilt that threatens to turn in to something bigger down. He promised he wasn't going to do anything crazy this weekend.

But what was he going to do? Tell Daredevil he can't team up because his Aunt wasn't home and he wasn't allowed?

“I’m on the roof,” He says in to the phone, as he pulls the hatch open. It creaks loudly, and Peter pauses for a moment, biting his lip, hoping nobody is in the auditorium. Nobody should be there.

“Of the auditorium? Awesome…” There’s the sounds of clattering and metal in the background. Peter can only assume Ned is fixing up a snack as the teenager lowers himself in through the hatch and on to the ceiling of the building. He shuts the hatch carefully behind him and is plunged in to darkness.

“Let me know if you see the ghost Betty’s been talking about,” Ned chimes in, as Peter transitions from ceiling to wall, crawling head-first down in to the building. He rolls his eyes.

“Will do.”

Thankfully, no one is in the building, and Peter makes quick work checking the door to the computer lab, then carefully sticking the crash bar of the auditorium door to itself so it stays unlocked. In the very back of his head, he tells himself he’s going to feel very bad if someone breaks in, but honestly…the likelihood of that happening and it not being him or Ned is…small.

“Alright, we’re all set for tonight,” Peter says, grinning in to his microphone as he opens the door to test his handiwork. He lets it close and skips down the stairs, heading across campus towards the soccer field. "Door’s all webbed up.”

“Won’t it dissolve?”

“Nah, I used a different batch. It takes longer,” Peter answers offhandedly, before slowing down a little. “Hey Ned, hang on.”

“Is someone there?”

Over the slight breeze and the static in his ear from talking to Ned, Peter can hear another voice. Pretty distinctly, actually. He frowns, about to round the corner to where the bleachers and the benches are situated. The conversation sounds pretty one-sided, there’s only one voice so Peter guesses someone is talking on the phone.

Wait. He recognizes that voice.

Peter very carefully peeks his head out from around the corner and confirms his own suspicions. Standing on the asphalt, walking in a circular motion with one hand on her phone and the other on her hip, is Michelle.

She…does not look happy.

“I told you where I left it -“ She says in to the phone, irritation evident in her voice. “Well maybe if you were around once in a while you’d know where it is!”

Peter frowns, biting his lip and shrinking back a little.

“Actually, you know what? It’s not my responsibility,” She continues, and pauses, listening to the phone. Peter can hear it from here, not exactly the words, but the loud, unpleasant tone coming from the speaker in her phone. Michelle throws her arm up. “Seriously? Are you serious?”

Another pause.

“Well then how come I feel like I’m the only one acting like an adult around here?”

Peter starts pushing himself back from the wall, suddenly feeling like he shouldn’t be listening in to whatever…whatever this is. “Hey, uh…Ned…I gotta go-“

“Everything okay?”

Peter nods, then remembers Ned can’t see him and covers his mouth and the microphone with his hand. “Yeah, it’s fine, I just -“

Michelle’s voice cuts him off, and it's louder than he has ever heard it. “FINE! I WASN’T PLANNING ON IT!”

A second later the phone Peter saw her holding crashes on to the asphalt and breaks in to a million pieces.

Right next to where he’s standing.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit. Peter hangs up on Ned quickly and instantly panics. He hears the shallow sound of boots scuffing across the pavement towards him, and there is nowhere to go.

So he climbs.

Michelle walks around the corner and stares at the mess of phone scattered across the asphalt, her arms folded tightly over her chest. From above, crammed in a small indent of brick and trying very hard not to make any sudden movements, Peter watches her shoulders tense, hitched up almost to her ears.

She’s wearing black, ripped jeans and a larger, copycat army jacket. The way she has her arms wrapped around herself, the jacket buries her. She just…stands there, staring at the ground. For a second, Peter thinks she’s going to cry.

Instead, she reaches out with one boot and kicks the side of the wall half-heartedly, then shakes her head and stoops down, picking up the pieces of her phone. Battery, cover…a few more pieces. It’s obvious the thing is no longer operational.

Then…she tilts her head up.

FUCK- Peter dashes around the corner of the building before he can form a coherent thought, heart hammering in his chest as he silently climbs the other side of the building. The rare profanity is the only word he can muster as his brain scrambles, realizing what just happened. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

He lays there, breathes hard on his back for a few moments. Waiting for the inevitable. He's so screwed…

……

But nothing happens.

Nobody says anything. Nobody calls up to him and Peter can’t hear any footsteps.

Did she see him?

She had to have seen him.

…Did she though?

Peter doesn’t even want to know, to be honest.

But he needs to know.

So he pushes himself up slowly, crawling to the edge of the roof again, and peers over slowly.

Michelle is still kneeled down in the same spot, but her head is down this time, messing with the broken pieces of her phone idly. Peter watches from atop the building, feeling more and more creepy by the second.

She doesn’t look up again.

Instead, after a few agonizing seconds, she stands, stuffing her hands in to her pockets and trudging off down the sidewalk, heading for the small gate across the soccer field. The way Peter normally walks from to get to school.

He lets out a breath and sinks down onto the roof again.

He doesn’t think she saw him.

But he doesn’t know for sure.

~~

Peter is a creeper.

A really creepy creeper, if he's being honest with himself. It's not that he totally spied on an obviously personal conversation one of his friends was having, or that he silently hid up on the rooftop, no. All that, to his defense, was an accident (it was!).

No, the thing that makes him a creeper is that he is currently booking it around the perimeter of the school at an inhuman pace so that he can catch Michelle before she gets to the other side of the soccer field. So that he can…what? Figure out if she knows?

His plan isn't very solid. Run in to her, act like it's some big coincidence and judge her reaction.

Peter makes it around the outward perimeter way before Michelle, which gives him time to sit and wait. He watches through the gate, hidden by a pair of portable goal posts that had been stashed on this end of the field.

Yeah. Definitely a creeper.

Peter grimaces. Michelle has a neutral face on most days, but right now is a different story. Her shoulders are hunched, her head is down, and her face is set in to what seems like a permanent grimace. Peter feels a little bad.

Who had that been on the other end of the phone, and what had happened that had made MJ lose her cool like that? She wasn't generally known for emoting…like, at all. So it must have been something bad…

Peter crouches slightly as Michelle pushes the gate open to the soccer field and turns towards the pedestrian bridge that leads to the train station above them. For a second, he hesitates on following her. But then…the paranoia of her possibly knowing his secret settles in and he ends up walking behind her, at a fair distance.

He hangs back and lets her stand on the station platform for a bit before walking up, pretending to be casual. She's standing with her hands in the pockets of that army jacket, once again, swallowed by it as well as her hair, the upper half tied back loosely and cascading down in uncontrolled curls. Hiding her face. Her headphones are in and she's staring at the ground.

Everything about her screams, "Don't fucking talk to me".

"Oh, Hey, MJ!" He says, despite his better judgement, as he strides up to her, keeping slightly in front of her to make sure she sees him.

She does, glancing up at him indifferently. There's no surprise, at least, nothing that says, "I just saw you clinging to the side of a building". Instead there's an almost imperceptible furrow of her brow as she reaches up and takes out her earbuds one at a time.

"Peter." She states, glancing around, before giving him a little bit of a suspicious stare. "What're you doing here? You live in Queens."

"Uh-yeah, yeah, I do," Peter says, realizing she wasn't searching for a confirmation, duh. She was at his apartment literally last night. Relief floods through his veins. He doesn't think she saw. "Ned and I were craving Little Italy, and I left some stuff at school I need for homework this weekend. So I thought, if I did both, it would make the trip out here worth it.

At least he's better at lying this time…kind of.

"All the way from Queens for pizza?" Michelle asks. Her tone sounds flatter than usual.

"…and homework." Peter says, shrugging. "Worth it. Well, I thought it would be, but the door was locked."

"Bummer." Michelle replies, glancing off to the side. Her usual bluntness, with a hint of sass, is completely gone. She glances off down the tracks.

"…So what're you doing here?" Peter finally asks.

Michelle turns back to look at him, and opens her mouth for a moment, before closing it. Peter can see her change her mind mid-thought. "Nothing. Just hangin' out…Might hit up a bookstore."

"Oh," Peter doesn't know if she was lying or not, but based on what he heard from her phone conversation, he feels like 'just hanging out' was not the reason she was out and about today. And if it was, perhaps not anymore. She didn't look like she was going anywhere, and if he remembered the way she walked after school most days, she wasn't going home. She never took the train.

"Yep." Michelle responds dully, popping the "P" as she glances away from Peter. She sighs heavily.

Peter does a mental calculation in his head, counting the hours he has before he has to realistically suit up and go meet Daredevil.

He has time…loads of time.

"…Bookoff is right next to Little Italy," He says, finally. "Do you wanna come get some pizza with me?"

Michelle stiffens slightly next to him. He watches her slowly glance at him. "…Aren't you bringing it back for Ned?"

"Yeah, but it's for later, and Ned made himself some snacks when I left. He's doing homework, he's got more than me." That's honestly the truth, Ned was doing homework, and for once in his life, Peter barely had any this weekend.

Michelle doesn't look convinced. Or rather, she looks hesitant, but there's something, Peter doesn't know…something in her expression, that Peter cannot place. Surprised isn't exactly the word…neither is hesitant…

"Seriously, I could totally go for a slice. And comics." The young hero pushes.

"…Sure." Michelle finally says. She bunches up her shoulders a bit, looking off to the side for a moment, but Peter can detect the curve of a small smile on the side of her cheek.

~~

They take the train a stop or two before hopping off and walking the rest of the way. Neither of them really talk on the ride. They're smooshed together and standing in the crowded car. Conversation feels a bit awkward with the huge construction worker next to them that's breathing down their necks. Plus, the whole ride, MJ is pointedly not looking at him. He can't decide if it's because they are awkwardly smooshed together, or if it's because she's still upset from the phone conversation she'd had.

It's ten times better walking down the street, their hands shoved in pockets to keep the biting cold from reducing their fingers to claws. Peter can still detect a sort of stiffness in Michelle, but it seems to have gotten a lot better since he invited her along.

"Are you a pizza person?" He asks, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Is there such a thing as someone who isn't?" She shoots back, glancing at him.

"I dunno, I don't think so, but honestly…?" Peter shrugs. "I can never tell, with…uhm, you."

Peter kicks himself for saying that, but Michelle actually snorts. "Good."

"Good? You want that?"

Michelle nods. "I like keeping people on their toes."

"…" Peter doesn't really know what to say to that, but it does fall in line with, well, everything about Michelle and her very…strange attitude towards everything.

"Okay, so, I guess here's the more important question: Pineapple." He tries instead, looking at Michelle expectantly.

"Delicious, has no business being on Pizza," she answers.

"Oh Thank God," Peter places his hand over his chest dramatically. "I was afraid I was going to have to leave you here. Ned likes Pineapple on his pizza. It nearly ended our friendship."

Michelle frowns at him, looking completely serious, and like she's judging the crap out of him. "You'd end a friendship over a pizza topping choice?"

"Uh---" Peter blanches, backtracking. "I mean, no…It doesn't-"

"Dude, I'm fucking with you," She says, reaching out and pushing him lightly on the shoulder.

"Oh. Oh. Right." Peter rolls his eyes at himself, feeling his cheeks heat up. Of course she was joking. "Like I said: I can never tell. You've got a great neutral face."

"All the better to confuse nerds with." Michelle gives him as smirk as they come up towards the black signage for the pizza joint. "Place the order then go look at books?"

"Sure."

Peter places an order for three large pizzas, one pepperoni, one Hawaiian, and one Supreme, getting a look from Michelle. He takes his receipt and is instructed to come back in about twenty minutes.

"Are you planning to live off that pizza for the rest of the month?" Michelle asks, as they walk over to the bookstore.

Peter grabs the door and holds it open for her. "Well, you and I are gonna have some, and Ned and I will eat it for the rest of the weekend. Then my Aunt can have some-…plus I eat a lot."

"Planning ahead," She says, nodding her thanks as she slips in to the store, glancing at the best sellers before passing them up. "Smart."

"And cost-efficient," Peter adds, following her, since he honestly can't think of what he would want to pick out. Plus…he's low on cash, after ordering those pizzas. He's planning to just say he doesn't see anything he likes after flipping through the comic section, to be honest. Stuff in print is, well…expensive these days.

For that reason, and the fact that the comic section is towards the front of the store (MJ heads straight for the back), Peter hovers, and feels a little weird about it, especially since he and MJ don't exchange any words while she looks through the books.

…But to be fair, it is fascinating, watching Michelle pass through the aisles and look at the selections. Her process seems random to Peter, the way she glances through the titles quickly, every once in a while plucking one from its shelf to give the synopsis a cursory glance.

And for every book she picks up, she flips to the last page, scanning the last couple of paragraphs.

"…Why do you do that?" Peter finally asks.

Michelle looks up from a particularly thick hardback, blinking at him. "Huh?"

"…Why do you always read the ending first? Doesn't that, I don't know, ruin it?"

Michelle tilts her head at Peter, then looks down at the book in front of her, as if turning the question around in her head. "Nah," She finally says. "Book's gonna end that way no matter what."

Peter raises an eyebrow at her. "Okay, I mean, true…but still, why read the end?"

"…Well, I guess…" MJ hands him the book unceremoniously. "I do it because when you read the last page, if it really grabs you? Then you're hooked in a way that you can't be if you start from the beginning. It's not, "How does it end". It's "How do you get there"."

Peter holds her gaze, the book in his hands, opened to the last page. It's the most Michelle has ever said to him in one breath. He thinks, actually, that it's the most he's ever heard her say period.

Michelle bites her lip, her cheeks tinging slightly red as she tries to shrug as casually as she can. "It's a different kind of investment in the story."

"…I never thought about it like that." He says, looking down at the last page of the book she handed him. He starts scanning the text.

Michelle watches him for a couple of seconds, before moving on down the aisle, plucking up another book and peeling apart the virgin pages.

The pizza is freaking delicious, especially fresh, and the two of them dig in to a slice each as soon as Peter drops the three boxes on the small table inside the shop.

And by a slice, Peter really means that he takes two slices and stacks them before shoving them in his mouth, carefully avoiding dropping his toppings on the giant hardback he ended up buying in the bookstore. Lack of cash be-damned.

Michelle shakes her head at him. "Does your Aunt starve you or something?"

"No, I just have a bottomless pit for a stomach," Peter says, trying to cover his mouth. His speech is a little muffled as he speaks.

Michelle snorts. "If you choke, I'm not giving you the Heimlich."

Peter scoffs at her. "I thought we were friends."

Michelle smirks at him, or at least, Peter thinks it started out as a smirk, but it's a bit warmer than her usual, sarcastic-by-default facial expressions. "Not if you keep embarrassing me with your horrific eating face."

Peter would stick his tongue out at her if he could.

But then MJ, in her classic, contradictory fashion, proceeds to take a humungous bite of her pepperoni pizza, so much so that she can't close her mouth all the way, and chews deliberately, slowly, levelling him with an even stare the entire time.

Peter chokes on his food when he laughs, instantly embarrassed when some of it dribbles down his chin and on to his freaking book. He lets out a muffled shriek and brushes it off before it can ruin the cover, then buries his face in his hands because wow. Classic Parker.

Michelle covers her mouth and turns away, her shoulders bouncing as she snickers. Peter sees it through the cracks in his fingers, and refuses to come out because he can tell he's as red as his freaking suit.

"Smooth, Urkel," She comments, and Peter groans, still set on hiding here 'til the next century.

"I'm choosing to blame you," He mumbles, dragging his hands down his hot skin so that just his eyes are peeking out. Michelle is back facing front, her arms crossed on the table in front of her. A smile lingers on her face from her laughing fit. 

It's a nice smile.

"That's fine, I'll happily take credit for that whole mess that just happened," She says, lifting her hand and waving it towards Peter in a circular motion. Peter snorts, finally letting his hands fall to the table as Michelle grabs her slice of pizza and tears in to it again. She seems so much more relaxed than she did at the train station. He can't help but wonder, once again, what the phone call was all about.

But he doesn't ask. Even if he could somehow bring it up without mentioning that he was there, he doesn't want to ruin the better mood that she seems to be in and he honestly doesn't think she would tell him, anyways.

He gets that…wanting to keep some things private.

They finish their pizza quickly, mostly because Peter glances at the clock on his phone, and Michelle comments that if they spend too much time eating, the rest of the pizza will get gross on the way home, which would be a pretty crappy investment on so much food. Peter hesitates on agreeing to leave so soon. He'd enjoyed her company, he really had. It felt sort of like…what, a breakthrough? Even if it was small. MJ had been hard to talk to, or hang out with, up until now. There was always this awkward…sort of barrier.

He doesn't know why today, of all days, chipped away at that.

He wants to invite her to come hang out with them a second time, but ultimately it isn't possible. He couldn't explain away needing her to abruptly leave by ten o'clock, because to be honest, anything he and Ned could believably have planned, he could invite her to, and then he's just being rude if he didn't.

So they walk back to the station and go their separate ways instead.

"I guess I'll see you on Monday," Peter says, clutching the pizza boxes in his hand, the book he bought above the top box.

"Yep…" Michelle nods, stuffing her hands in her pockets. Peter is about to turn away when she suddenly blurts, "Uhm-"

Peter pauses, looking back at her. "Yeah?"

"Hey, look…" She mumbles, scuffing her shoe lightly across the cement. "Thanks for inviting me along. I was having kind of a shitty day, and…it helped a lot."

Peter feels a smile spread across his face. "Yeah, anytime…I'm, uh…sorry you were having a shitty day, before."

Michelle laughs a little hollowly. "Yeah…well, more like a shitty week. Which is why I was a little…" She waves her hand vaguely. "…Yesterday- …but it was nice, to get out of my house for a bit, even if I didn't get to taste the smores."

Peter is starting to think he was right on the money about it being one of her parents on the phone earlier. He feels a small pang in his chest. "I guess you'll just have to come back some time. It's sort of a weekly ritual for my Aunt and I."

"You eat smores every week?" Michelle asks, incredulously. "You live in a whole 'nother world, Parker."

"That's the only weird thing!" Peter defends. "And it's only because our neighbor sort of forced us to take all the leftover stuff she had from her summer camp thing. Anyways, the point is-" He sighs, looking at her. "You can come over whenever you want. If you ever…feel like you need to get out of the house."

He says this with a bit of pointedness, and thankfully, Michelle picks up on it. Her face softens slightly, and she nods. "…Thanks."

They linger for only a moment, the sounds of Manhattan swallowing any awkwardness in their silence, and then MJ moves, throwing up her hand in a sign of goodbye and turning on her heels. "Later, nerd." She says, with all her usual don't-give-a-care attitude, but…with something extra. A hint of endearment, maybe.

Peter grins all the way back to Queens.

~~

The rest of the afternoon passes slowly, the clock crawling towards eleven o'clock as if time itself were chained down to a few thousand cinderblocks. As it always does when you are waiting for something with anticipation.

Ned is ridiculously excited for whatever is about to happen, and Peter? Well, Peter just hopes Ned doesn't crash and pass out for all the hype he's letting himself be consumed with.

Peter is anxious. Excited, yes, but anxious.

He has no idea what he is about to get himself in to. He's never done anything with Daredevil before, and let's be honest: what Daredevil gets in to and what the Avengers get in to are very different. Daredevil does a lot of crime underworld type stuff…the stuff that can get really brutal, really fast. More, well…serious stuff. Above Peter's level, but below the Avengers. It's not as grand, but Peter…thinks that, perhaps more often than the Avengers, it may be more messy.

Well, who knows? Maybe the Avengers do some crazy, dark stuff too. But it all seems very…high-fantasy-esque, compared to, well, taking down the underground crime lords and stuff.

Man, this hierarchy stuff is getting a little complicated.

Peter wonders in circles what they will be doing, or if they will be doing anything at all, to be honest. He could wonder his head off, he realizes, and it wouldn't matter. He would figure it out when he got there tonight.

They cram pizza in their mouths and play videogames, make plans for the upcoming week, and then Peter just watches Ned play as he fills his web cartridges with fluid.

"I think I'll head over at about ten? Give me time to get there, set up, and you know, arrange snacks, water, pre-mission bathroom break. You could potentially be out, like, all night."

"Just don't let the janitor find you. I don't think they're there on Saturday nights, but-…" Peter shrugs, pushing down the handle on his cartridge loader, before pulling out the small, metal container and examining the seal. "…just be careful."

"Don't worry, I've done it before," Ned says, smirking at Peter, before turning back towards the TV and shouting, "NO!! Go RIGHT, RIGHT!"

Ah…this would go swell.

"Plus," Ned continues, his fingers flying on the controller. "If we're at the school we will actually be alone. No sudden interruptions."

Ned's implication leaves a sour feeling in Peter's stomach, as he slips the cartridge in to his web shooter. "I don't think Michelle is actually that bad, I think she might have just been having a bad day."

He doesn't know why he isn't telling Ned he ran in to MJ while out and about today. It's no big secret, really. But something about their meeting felt…private? Maybe it was because he saw something he shouldn't have…something that not even Michelle knows he saw. Ugh…

"I think she might actually be that bad." Ned replies, shrugging as his character turns the corner and takes out the unsuspecting player on the other team. "It's been a couple months since DC and she still barely talks to us."

"I mean…I was super quiet when you met me."

"Yeah, but you were a nice quiet, and you didn't take 5 years to warm up to me."

"That's an exaggeration."

"But only slightly."

"I dunno Ned…" Peter says softly. He wants to just tell Ned what he saw earlier, but-…the thought of doing so feels like gossip in the worst way. "…I think it's just cause…well, she doesn't know, and half of what we talk about is Spider-Man stuff."

"Eh, true…" Ned admits, pumping his fist in the air as he gets another kill. He immediately dies, and Peter cackles.

"Shut up, man, you were distracting me with your devil's advocate speech." Ned doesn't log right back in and instead turns in his seat, frowning at Peter as he lets his hand rest idly in his lap. "Okay, see though, that isn't the problem. The Spider-Man stuff, I mean. She acts like she's way too cool for us. And man? I'm just…not down with that. We already get enough of it from Flash and half the other people in school. So why's she gotta act like that? If she wants to hang out, she should want to hang out. Also? I want to talk, not solve a cryptex."

Peter chuckles a little, biting his lip. "Okay, yeah, she can be a little…uh, enigmatic."

"Understatement," Ned mutters.

Peter…understands where his friend is coming from. Michelle did…well, her remarks up until today could definitely be taken the wrong way. Peter and Ned were particularly tortured when it came to bullying. In a school full of 'nerds', they had still never really managed to find their niche. Not until they had found each other.

But a pair against the world is never as glorious as it sounds, and it's hard to defend yourself from an onslaught of embarrassing comments when they come from both the cheerleading squad and the chess team.

Peter has dealt with it for so long that he just sort of ignores it these days. There used to be a time where he really let it get under his skin…the addition of secret super powers had definitely helped. He just imagined stringing Flash up by his ankles every once in a while to the tippity top of the flag pole and considered himself the better man for taking the heat instead. Ned, however, had no such luxury, and had never gotten past the letting it get under your skin part.

In that regard, Peter can definitely see how someone pretending to make fun of you could be more annoying than actually making fun of you. Because, well, what's the point?

"Well, maybe you should just tell her it bugs you." Peter says.

"Bugs us." Ned pushes back, eyeing the young hero. "I'm not crazy, right? You aren't bugged by it?"

"I mean, I get your point. I'm just more…confused by it than annoyed. But I'll jump on the 'us' train if it makes you feel better."

"Oh ha-ha, but really, I'm serious."

"No, I know." Peter pulls the lever on the final cartridge and takes it out of the loader. He glances at the clock. "But guess what?"

"That's future Ned and Peter's problem," Ned answers as soon as he glances over and sees the time. Nine o'clock. "Let those guys worry about it. Because we gotta get ready for…" He does a double fist pump. "The mission!"

Peter shakes his head and laughs.

~~

Things seem to go smoothly.

Peter gives Ned his apartment key, mostly because the odds of Peter getting back before Ned are slim, and there's the fact that Peter can always climb in through his bedroom window if need be.

They take the train together in to Manhattan, sitting side-by-side on the M line with Ned's backpack stuffed in between their legs. Peter pulls at his collar the whole time, annoyed at the humidity in the car. The suit doesn't exactly breathe well when covered up by an extra layer of clothing. And though it's cold in Manhattan these days, there's always a certain mugginess to the subway. As a consequence, the minutes tick by magnificently slow.

They are mostly silent, because the only thing either of them can think to talk about is the mission at hand, and it just isn't safe to talk about such things on the crowded car. People are nosy, and because of all the increased enhanced human activity lately, people are also paranoid. Peter has seen police called on more than a few harmless situations that quickly (unnecessarily) escalated.

The train drops them off near the overpass that leads to school.

The platform is actually empty this time of night, so Peter changes underneath the stairs as Ned keeps a look out, then hands off his backpack to his friend.

As always, despite his excitement, Ned gives Peter a serious nod right before they part. "Be careful."

"Always," Peter says lightheartedly, before pulling the mask on over his face and leaping across the rails, his feet barely touching the other side before he's up in the air, and catching himself on a web line.

Ned takes a minute to stare in awe for a moment, because it really never gets old, before hurrying down the walkway towards the school. It's ridiculously dark out, though Ned has been here late before, but there’s a couple street lamps out overhead. He shuffles along quickly, pulling his jacket tightly against the cold, night air.

He trudges across the soccer field, scoffing at the squelch in his shoes as the freshly-watered grass soaks past the soles and in to the cloth. Not that he’s complaining too much. After all, the greatest thing is about to happen: Well, maybe not as great as seeing a fight first-Hand with the Avengers or anything (he'd nearly fainted when Peter showed him his phone's footage from Germany), but still pretty badass, nonetheless.

Daredevil.

Ned had always kept track of superheroes in a way Peter never really had. At least, Ned had a wider scope. His imagination always ran a little more rampant. Peter had been obsessed with Mr. Stark and Bruce Banner for their scientific achievements in addition to their status as superheroes. Course, Peter was smart on a level that sometimes scared Ned. He was smart himself, but he was more a techie. Computers, coding, that kind of stuff. Peter built things but in the end, was a true chem and bio nerd. He had a more…eh, practical mind? Whereas Ned was all about coding and building tech.

Together, it totally worked out for them. Ned always joked that if they teamed up they could take over the world, but when Peter got powers?

Well, Ned never expected his life to be like this. A dream come true. Even though he didn’t have powers - he wasn’t petty like that - it was amazing. Being a part of something he always dreamed about. It made up for all the years he was teased for having his head in the clouds all the time. For the years he and Peter were teased together. Ha! Now, he and Peter can share a satisfied grin every time Flash murmurs something about Spider-Man at decathlon practice or science olympiad. Whenever he hassles them for being clumsy, or late.

He’d not seen Daredevil get as much news coverage as the Avengers, obviously, but the man had been in the paper a lot. Had showed up on local news a lot. Daredevil was efficient and brutal, and from accounts Ned had read online of people who had come in to contact with him (there were, unsurprisingly, not very many), the man was dark, mysterious, and fearless. Crazy fighter, too. No real signs of enhanced strength. The guy was just a fantastic hand-to-hand combatant. Left a pile of unconscious guys wherever he went, but never killed anyone.

Well, tonight Ned would see it for himself. Ish. Through a video screen, yes, but an HD video screen and live at that.

He huffs it up the stairs and across the campus as quick as possible, mentally calculating how long it would take Peter to swing from Midtown High to Hell’s Kitchen. Chances were, not long. He had to get set up and get situated as fast as possible.

Ned slips his hand in to the handle on the side door of the small auditorium and grins when it slides open effortlessly, glancing at the thin veil of webbing covering the crash bar. It’s just starting to dissolve, looking rigid and a few strands snap gently as Ned lets the door slide closed behind him.

He quickly makes his way across the laminated floor, heading straight for the door that leads to the hallway - the computer lab-

“…What are you doing here?”

Ned freezes. For a second, panic short circuits all thought and he doesn’t know what to do. So he just stands there, frozen, a grimace on his face. Apparently, it makes whoever is in the room impatient.

“Ned.”

Oh. Oh. They know who he is. Shit! He forces himself back in to motion, turning towards the location of the voice. There, laying down on the edge of the stage, one leg hanging down freely while the other foot is planted firmly on the wood, knee bent, is MJ.

You’ve got to be kidding.

She’s laying on her back and her head is turned towards Ned, raising an eyebrow at the teenager. Expecting an answer.

“…Me? What are you doing here?” He manages, though there is no mistaking the tremor in his voice, because he’d been caught and is rapidly going through a series of emotions right now. Relief, for one, that it is Michelle instead of a staff member, who would have called his parents or the cops, in no particular order. Either way, he would have been busted.

But then there’s annoyance, because why the Hell was MJ here? Again? How does this keep happening?

“Door was unlocked.” She says simply, and the expression on her face and the way she says it seems pointed, like she was amused and it's a crazy coincidence. Like she knows.

Ned swallows abruptly, forgetting about the door. Had she seen the webbing? She’d had to have seen the webbing, right? “That-Th…That doesn’t answer my question!”

“I asked first,” Michelle replies easily. The hands that were previously folded at her stomach now part and she pushes herself in to a sitting position, one arm lifting to rest on her bent knee. Beside her, sits a new book (different from last night) and a paper plate with leftover pizza crust on it. Ned furrows his brows. He knows Little Italy pizza anywhere.

Wait…

“…I left some stuff here.” Ned murmurs, shrugging. “So I wanted to grab it.”

Michelle visibly looks confused at that explanation, and Ned can see the suspicion in her eyes as she says, “If you left your stuff here, why didn’t you just ask Peter to grab it when he came by earlier?”

Fuck. What?

What?

“Huh?”

“I ran in to him earlier. He gave me the same, lame-ass excuse for being here that you’re giving me now.”

The pizza plate makes sense now, and so does the new book Peter randomly brought back to the apartment and the way he defended Michelle when Ned started complaining about her. And suddenly Ned is a little annoyed. Okay, a lot annoyed. Why didn’t Peter just tell him he’d run in to Michelle at school? Didn’t he think that piece of information was important considering Ned would be coming back here?!?

“Uh-…Yeah, I…thought I had it, I should’ve checked my bag. Stupid me.” Ned says quickly, tacking on a little laugh on the end of it for good measure.

“You’re a bad liar.”

Michelle swivels on the stage so both her legs are dangling off the edge, her hands resting on the side, and she’s wearing a face that is a little annoyed, but that also distinctively feels like it’s saying, “Checkmate”.

Ned is panicking, and Ned is also aware that he doesn’t have a lot of time before he can sign on safely and have Peter talk to him. Once he’s with Daredevil Ned has to be mostly quiet. He doesn’t want to sign on halfway through a mission and distract Peter. He’s aware he has to get Michelle to leave, like, now.

He’s also thoroughly annoyed.

“Why does it matter?” Ned asks, his voice clipped.

“I’m captain of the decathlon team.” Michelle replies cooly. And Ned feels suspiciously like she's toying with him.  "Two members doing stuff that can get them kicked off the team? It matters."

“You’re breaking in too!” Ned immediately exclaims, waving his hand around. “I - I mean, not breaking in! I’m not breaking in, I’m just picking stuff up. Why are you here? Are you following us or something?”

“I’m just chilling out,” Michelle says flippantly, grimacing. There's something dark in her voice, but she's already moved past it, pointing at Ned. “But you, you my friend, you look like someone on a mission. You were all twitchy and sweaty when you walked in.”

In retrospect, Ned regrets what he does next. But-…well, but he’s panicked. He doesn’t have a lot of time, and he’s afraid of Michelle’s suspicions. At the least, they can get him sent to the principle’s office or suspended. At the worst….she could figure it out. And if she figures it out…everyone will.

“We’re not friends.”

Michelle blinks. “Excuse me?”

“We’re not friends!” Ned snaps. “Friends don’t accuse other friends of breaking in to schools-“

“-It’s what you’re doing-“ Michelle interjects, throwing her hands up.

“-When they’re doing the same thing, and friends don’t act the way you act!” Ned bulldozes right through Michelle, continuing and ignoring the way she tenses up. “You just stroll on up whenever you want, say something vague and usually insulting, then walk away. When you hang out with us, you don’t make any attempt to even talk to us you just-…read your stupid books!”

Michelle holds his gaze with a neutral, slightly intimidating stare, but Ned is on a roll.

“You’re always showing up at the worst times and just sticking your nose in our business, which would be fine if you were our friend, but you’re not. We’re just the weird placeholder group you attached yourself to so you can act like you’ve got friends and don’t have to deal with anyone, cause you hate everyone and everything.” Ned snaps.

Oh...shit.

As soon as he says it, he realizes how freaking mean it is.

Not that he didn’t mean it, he did. Just-…well, it had been building up for a while. A few months, really.

Michelle doesn’t say anything. Just holds his gaze with that stare. After a moment, her eyes slide to the side, and she clicks her tongue a bit, acting like someone who is sitting in a rather awkward position. She doesn’t…act like she’s hurt, or angry, which is what Ned expected.

Instead, she pushes herself off of the stage and swipes her book from behind her.

She shrugs. “Guess you caught me.”

Ned lets his mouth drop a little bit. She really didn’t care? Or was she lying? Or what?

No, she…she cared. She had to care. As she turns, Ned sees the stiffness in her posture. He grimaces. "…MJ…"

"Michelle." She corrects, turning to look at Ned. "And you're right. I don't want to deal with anyone."

Ned sighs heavily.

“Don’t do anything that’s gonna get you kicked off the team.” She says neutrally, her boots scuffing across the floor as she leans in against the side door. It opens, and just like that, Michelle is gone.

“……damnit…” Ned mumbles, letting his eyes hit the floor. His heart is pounding in his chest, loud in his ears, and after the soft clank of the door closing, it’s all he can hear for a moment.

Part of him wants to run after the girl and apologize, but that would mean the possibility of her following him back inside, and him missing the mission with Peter and Daredevil. Of course, Ned realizes, that really shouldn't matter. Ned had…he'd really screwed up. He should go fix it. He should go apologize, at the very least.

But also? He doesn’t want to apologize. Call him an asshole, okay?

So he stomps across the rest of the auditorium and in to the computer lab, sitting down heavily and plugging his laptop in to one of the monitors.

~~

Peter is starting to get a little worried that things didn’t go according to plan, when his feet and hands hit the side of the water tower with a dull, hollow thud and Ned hasn’t logged on yet.

“…Hey….Ned?” He whispers in to his mask as he glances around the surrounding area. “Ned…where are you?”

No response. Shit.

A sense of dread fills Peter's chest because maybe…maybe Ned had gotten caught. It was completely possible that the wifi just wasn't working or something, but when were their lives ever that simple? Peter contemplates going back-…

“Spider-Man.”

His name, well, made-up name, is said in greeting and Peter curses to himself as he looks down. He’d gotten here a little early, so he hoped…well, he had hoped he'd have time to maybe dash, seeing as Ned wasn’t on yet. Worry spiked a little in the back of his head, dripping down his neck like cold, viscous fluid.

Daredevil was below, once again stepping out from underneath the protective cover of the tower.

“Greetings, long-time-no-see.” Peter says. He points awkwardly back in the direction of Midtown. “You know what? I just realized…I left my good webs back at my secret lair and-“

He is interrupted by Karen pinging in Ned and a very annoying, high pitched whine as Ned adjusts his headset. Peter squints and one of his hands flies up to his ear. “Ow-“

“PETER!! - Peter. I’m here. I’m sorry. Did it start? Am I late?”

“….Something the matter?” Daredevil asks, his voice seems a little darker in tone than it had before. He glances down and Peter can’t read the expression on the lower half of his face. His mouth is open slightly, then sets a little grimly.

“Uh- No. No…I’m I’m good.” Peter stutters out, turning his head in towards the water tower and hissing, quietly, at Ned, “Okay, Fine! Shhhh!!!....what even took you so long?”

“Sorry, the internet connection was being weird…And there was a…janitor…that I had to duck past.”

”Did you say you needed something?” Daredevil asks, for clarification probably, but he seems a little annoyed. Peter realizes he doesn’t get to answer Ned. Hopefully his friend gets it.

“No, Nevermind. I’m good.” He jumps down from the side of the tower, landing in front of Daredevil and giving him a mock salute. When he speaks next his voice is a happy chirp. “So! Where do we start?”

A small smirk appears on the maroon man’s only exposed flesh. “I didn’t tell you what we were doing yet.”

“Yeah! But I mean…it’s a mission, right?” Peter asks, and though his tone is excited, he is starting to feel a little bit unsure.

“A ‘mission’?”

“Yeah, like…a job…an…objective? Or just…patrol? That’s cool too.” Peter droops a little as Daredevil crosses his arms. “…Aw, man, is this just another lecture?”

“There’s a lecture.” Daredevil answers, tilting his head in amusement. Peter groans, turning and walking away from the man. He pulls his gloved hands to his faces and drags them over his eye lenses, fingernails catching on the aperture blades. Dragging his hands down his face. “…then there’s a ‘mission’.”

The excitement rears its head. “Really?” Peter asks, turning around.

“Yesss!!!!” Comes Ned’s voice on the other end of the open line. Good thing Peter has a mask because it’s hard to cover the grimace from his friend's outburst. Not loud enough for someone else to hear, thankfully. Hopefully.

Daredevil huffs slightly. “First off, let’s get a couple questions out of the way, okay?”

“Right.” Peter nods.

“Have you dealt with guns before? People with guns?”

“Yeah,” Peter answers, nodding immediately. “Loads of times.” He grins.

“Not funny, that was bad,” Daredevil says, smirking, “How many people have you fought at once?”

“Uh….” Peter does a mental count in his head, recalling the various situations he’d been in over the years. “…Seven? Eight?”

“With guns?”

“Uh…They didn’t all have guns.” Peter says carefully.

Daredevil frowns, glancing off to the side. He looks like he’s reconsidering. No! Shit. “Is that suit of yours bulletproof? Stark made it, right?”

“Uhhhh….I don’t know?” Peter tries.

“Jeez, Kid,” The vigilante raises his hand to the bridge of his nose and turns his head to the side as Karen pipes up.

{My material is bullet resistant, but does not offer then same protection against force of impact as Kevlar. A close range hit from a shotgun, for example, would not breach the suit, but the impact would still cause considerable trauma.}

“You know what, maybe this wasn’t a good idea-“

“It’s bulletproof, it’s bulletproof,” Peter says, raising his hands as Ned murmurs something he doesn’t pay attention to, concern in his friend's tone. “Look, Daredevil, I can handle myself, okay?”

“Uh-Huh.”

“Seriously, I can handle a bunch of guys with guns. I’ve fought Captain America.” Peter presses, shrugging.

“Did you win?”

“Uh…We never got to finish. His friend distracted us by growing like…a hundred feet tall or whatever.”

 “…You know what…I don’t want to know.” Daredevil finally says. He holds up on hand, his index finger extended. “Just-…listen kid, I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt here, alright? Tonight should be fairly simple, just do me a favor, and follow my lead. I know these guys, alright? Remember that you aren’t on your home turf.”

“Yes. Absolutely.” Peter says, nodding, because he isn’t going to argue. Not after the close call. And Hell…Daredevil is right, sort of…it’s his world he’s bringing Peter in to, so it makes sense to follow the man’s lead at first. Peter waits expectantly for Daredevil to continue for a moment, and when nothing happens, Peter clears his throat a little. "So uh…was that the-uh…lecture?"

Daredevil narrows his eyes slightly. "Uh. Yes. Why."

"I thought it would be…longer."

"As I said before, I like simplicity. Just don't screw up and you'll be fine." 

“Man, he’s really uptight, you know? Dude…I wonder how many guys there’ll be. Like twenty? A hundred? Dude, bring me a souvenir. Like a…chain or a bullet or a finger! No- wait…don't bring me a finger-”

Peter rolls his eyes in his mask. “Okay, so what’s the mission?”

~~

Peter follows Daredevil to a seedy-looking building tucked away in a rather decrepit part of town. Half the lights around this place have either burned out, or been purposely extinguished. Peter thinks it’s probably the latter. There’s a back to this building, a shallow alley that leads to a thick, metal door with no outside handle on it.

Daredevil leads him here.

“You think you can open this?” He asks softly, tilting his head towards the door after he throws his billy club up and extinguishes the light. Peter nods, placing his hand on the door and willing his fingers to stick. In a short, quick movement, he pulls, hearing the lock snap under his strength. The door swings open, freely.

Daredevil looks impressed, and Peter would be lying if he didn't feel a bit of self-pride swell in his chest.

They enter the building swiftly, and quietly. There is nobody on the other side, something Peter is relieved of, but this seems to be something Daredevil expected. Peter wonders briefly how, but doesn’t feel like talking is the best thing he should be doing right about now. This is, after all, sort of the stealthy part…

“Oh man…this place is creepy…” He hears Ned’s voice as they descend into a hallway, instantly plunged in to darkness. Peter reaches out blindly and feels for the wall before Karen registers the change in environment. Then the view in his lenses fades to green and he sees the glowy, almost negative image of Daredevil. Creepy. Also: Sweet. Night vision.

"Sweet, night vision!"

“There’s nobody ahead…” The older man whispers. “Stay close to me. You good?”

“Yeah,” Peter responds, hopping on to the wall and crawling alongside the man as he walks forward, as if the dark didn’t bother him at all. Peter wonders if Daredevil has night vision, too.

At the end of the hallway is another door, one that isn’t locked, and light floods in to the space as Daredevil opens it. Peter switches to the ceiling, hovering overhead, before crawling in to the room upside down.

It’s big, the building has a sort of skeletal structure. There are tables and chairs folded and placed at once end of the room, but otherwise the place is pretty bare. Scaffolding, metal ladders and stairs lead up to secondary platform that encircles the room. There aren’t that many lights, a few bulbs near the center, where a group of men sit on a couple crates.

Daredevil immediately scales the ladder near the door, taking him up and to the next level, and Peter follows on the wall. They are protected from sight by a few barriers: pipes attached to a large, load-bearing beam, as they climb to the next level and crouch down behind the bottom, solid half of the platform railing.

“The Irish mob…” Daredevil explains softly. “The dynamics of the crime underworld have changed in the last few years, especially since Fisk made his mark. Used to be everybody was out for themselves, and now-…well…the introduction of a few new players has sparked more collaboration between neighbors." Daredevil tilts his head in the direction of the Irish crowded down below them.  "They’re especially vulnerable, as they’re rebuilding…most of the different mobs are. They were massacred some time back…”

Peter blinks through the explanation, glancing down. Right…he had heard about that on TV. His Aunt had a mini heart attack and turned the thing off, then called around in private seeing as Hell’s Kitchen was sort of close to Midtown. Well. Ish.

 They all look like they are waiting. Oh…waiting to make a deal, with another group. The crates, whatever they have, must be in trade for something else.

“Who are the new players?” Peter asks softly.

“…Let’s just say they’re forcing everyone else to step it up.” Daredevil replies. “Which means a more dangerous situation for the inhabitants of this city.”

“So you’re trying to catch them red-handed.”

“It’s hard enough to convict these guys, they’re so well-connected. It's more difficult, taking them out this way, with more people in the room…but, well, the evidence is right there, and it’s pretty damning.”

Peter glances at the crates one more time. “What’s in the boxes?”

Daredevil tilts his head to the side for a moment, and Peter furrows his brows when he sees the man actually sniff. Really, truly inhale, flare of the nostrils and everything. “…If I had to bet, chemicals, can’t place what kind though. Stolen. And a lot of it.”

Peter blinks at the man, as Ned says softly, “Did that guy just smell what was in the crates, or was that some weird coincidence?”

Yeah, it appeared that he did.

“Come on, this way, there’s a better vantage point on the south side.”

Peter battles with himself a little, mouthing ‘What the hell?’ As he follows the man around the corner of the warehouse. He wonders what the Hell Daredevil's powers are. He'd never really read anything about Daredevil's powers, just knew he was a decent fighter. He wants to respond to Ned desperately, wrack each other's brains for the answer, but knows he can't at the moment. He makes a mental note to put a pin in that thought for later.

Nobody bothered to place any guards around this platform, which seems like a pretty stupid move to Peter. There’s gotta be at least fifteen guys down there, there’s no way they couldn’t spare like one or two, and it has left them miserably exposed. Peter knows enough, from all the movies he's seen, and now, all the experience he's gathered as Spider-Man. He's starting to notice more strategic things like that now: people's weaknesses, points of vulnerability.

Not that he's complaining. The mob's lack of thinking is Spider-Man and Daredevil's gain.

Or is it? Peter feels a little on edge, he realizes, as he rounds the corner and follows the crouched man in maroon. Like a low tingling thrumming through him. Must be adrenaline, keeping him sharp.

Daredevil stops and turns towards Peter suddenly. “Alright, so…here’s what we do. We wait until both parties are on the scene, and we wait until the crates are opened. During the trade, that’s when we make our move. Their guard will be up, but only towards each other. They’ll be too on edge to react properly when we drop down. Secure the crates, secure as many of the members as possible, with as little casualties as possible.”

“I’m not gonna kill anyone…” Peter starts.

“I know. But they’ll kill each other.”

“Oh, Right.” Peter nods. “Okay. Crates open. Web people up. No casualties. Got it.”

Daredevil nods once. Before a commotion from down below causes him to turn his head.

“Oye! Where’s Mikhailov?”

“Something’s wrong.” Daredevil tenses suddenly, and the tingling  feeling Peter had before multiples suddenly, his heart starting to pound.

“What do you mean?” Peter asks, as he peers over the barrier. The members of the Irish mob are all standing now, arms at the ready. All facing the same side of the building, where it seems there is another entrance. Based on the name one of the men called out, Peter was expecting the Russians to be at the door but-…

Yeah, no, those are definitely not the Russians.

“Dude, are those ninjas?” Comes Ned’s voice, as Peter watches the confusion bubble over in to yelling from the Irish leader. Indeed, the two people who had just entered are clad in black robes, carrying swords, their faces covered. "Awesome!"

But Peter gets a feeling it is anything but awesome.

“…Who is that?”

“The new players I mentioned,” Daredevil responds grimly. He tilts his head sharply up, then to the sides, as if he had noticed something that Peter can't see. Suddenly he curses under his breath. Peter can see the man's grip tighten on the edge of the railing, his movements getting twitchy.

“…Do you have experience in hand-to-hand?” He asks suddenly. Peter blinks.

“What?”

“Can you fight?”

“Uh, backtracking: define ‘experience’.”

Daredevil gives Peter a grim look. Peter can tell it's a grim look even though he can't see most of the man's face, and it is more than a little off-putting. “…I’m sorry, I should never have brought you here.”

“Wh-“ Peter doesn’t finish his sentence, because a sudden pop pop pop, rings through the building, loud, and when Peter turns his head, two Irish men have their guns trained in wild directions as they fall to the ground, gurgling noises escaping their mouths. Peter watches in horror as their bodies tilt awkwardly, in a way that bodies shouldn't be able to tilt, and realizes they've been sliced across the middle. A dark red liquid spreads across the floor quickly, much faster than Peter remembers seeing in the movies.

There are also like four more of the men in black in the room.

“Holy Shit!!!” Comes Ned’s gasp, as Peter backs up, eyes wide.

Then all Hell breaks loose.

“Get out of here, now!!!”  Daredevil yells, as gunfire from pretty much every member of the Irish mob erupts in to the building. Peter backs the Hell up as a stray bullet ricochets off the railing.

“What? No!” Peter cries, as Daredevil starts to move away. “What about you?”

Daredevil turns his head towards Peter and grits his teeth. “Listen to me: You are not equipped to fight these people. Okay?”

“And you are?”

“I am, I’ve been trained.”

“But-“

“I’m not going to say this again-“ Daredevil says, his tone taking on something…different. Chilling. “Leave, Peter.”

Peter’s jaw drops, the floor feeling like it’s been cut out from under him, as Daredevil grips the railing and vaults over it, jumping in to the fray. Peter backs up in to the corner, crouching and breathing fast.

How did he know?

How did he know?

“Holy Crap! He knows who you are?!?”

Peter opens his mouth to respond, to say some half-thought-out combination of words, when there’s a thud next to him. Small, barely heard over the gunfire, but there. Peter looks up just in time to see a man in black, running and wielding a sword, down the platform.

Running towards him.

Shit.

“Oh SHIT LOOK OUT!” Ned’s voice screams as Peter rolls to the side, barely dodging a blade and hearing the metal clang against the railing. He leaps up, going for the wall, but he feels a hand wrap around his foot. Crap-

He slams in to the ground, astounded. Peter is fast, how did anyone manage to-

He rolls again, narrowly avoiding getting shish-kabobbed, and tries to jump to his feet, but feels a jab in his side that instantly has him veering to the left, crashing in to the wall. Ow, what the Hell was that? He turns, barely getting a glimpse of the ninja (a NINJA, by the way. Have we established this properly yet?)  retracting their fist. Peter's side feels weird and sluggish.

Oh, and he's being attacked again-

Peter makes a very undignified screech, and leaps back just as the tip of the ninja's sword swipes diagonally at him, ripping through the fabric of his suit. He yelps as he feels the flesh in his chest tear.

“Holy crap, Peter!!! You okay?”

“Yeah-!” Peter yells in to the mask, staggering back. The man is still coming at him, not giving him a single second to breathe. Peter ignores the sting as he twists, narrowly avoiding a kick that would have taken out his leg.

“Dude! Get out of there!”

Peter tucks his feet in to his chest and leaps in to a backwards roll, reaching out his arms and legs and adhering to the wall. Apparently, Peter's strange, sticking ability is jarring enough to give the man below him pause, staring up at him in surprise. In what Peter thinks is just blind luck, he manages to take advantage of the split-second opportunity, kicking off and planting both feet square in the man’s chest. It sends him flying backwards over the railing.

Peter lands back on the platform, panting, adrenaline and fear rushing and making him almost dizzy. Holy crap.

He glances down and sees the rest of the room. Almost hysterically, he hears himself narrate, mentally, Meanwhile, down below-

Gunfire is everywhere, but there’s a significant amount of Irish mob members gone. By gone, Peter means they are laying in puddles of their own blood. The rest, though, had gotten a break it seems, because the ninjas have converged on Daredevil.

But God…look at him move.

Say what they want about Daredevil. He may not be an Avenger, but the man can fight, Peter thinks, as he watches the maroon vigilante twist and dive and hold off all the damn ninjas that seem to be after him. Holy crap, it’s multiplied again. There’s about seven of them in play. Maybe eight Irish left, and the rest…

Peter’s never seen this many dead people before.

And he certainly hasn’t seen someone get slaughtered like he had a couple minutes ago…he backs away from the railing slightly. Fear grips him his chest as he realizes that the ninja's swords can cut clean through his bulletproof suit.

“…Dude, Peter, are you okay? Why are you sitting there?”

He doesn’t want to leave Daredevil. But the man is right. Peter was having trouble with one of these guys. How was he supposed to fight like seven of them while also dodging random gunfire?

“Uh, I…do not know. Shit. Ned, What do I do?” He asks, biting his lip. ”I can’t fight these guys up close!”

“Uh….Uh!....Oh! Oh! Dude, Stealth take out!”

“What?” Peter asks, before it clicks in his brain. “Oh, wait, Oh!”

Like in their games. At least, well, hopefully like in their games. Peter is bad at stealth games, he always gets impatient and ends up just blowing through everyone. But…for his own sake, he hopes he can re-enact here what all those game developers were going for. Peter sets his webshooters to the appropriate settings, before crawling along the side of the railing and glancing at the nearest man. Irish. Aiming his gun towards Daredevil-

And Peter’s right above him. He pokes out from behind the railing, aiming down, and extends his palm. The man lets out a brief shout before being pulled up, enveloped in the webbing. Like a cocoon. Struggling, but out of play.

Okay. Okay. Peter could do this.

“Excellent! Holy crap, that was awesome."

Now armed with a plan, and a more stable frame of mind, Peter makes his way across the platform, keeping an eye out for more of those ninja guys, waiting until he gets close enough to someone below, then webbing them up, quickly pulling, hauling the struggling bundle across the railing on to the platform. A ninja! He bagged a ninja!

“Dude…dude, this is the best day of my life.” Ned chimes in, a phrase that, to be fair, is something his friend says often.

The third time around, he isn’t so lucky. He plucks another mob guy from the ground, grimacing when he hears,

“What the fuck was that?”

Peter curses when he sees heads turn towards him, including Daredevil’s, who yells. “I told you to get the Hell out of here!”

Well, too late.

Peter panics as a gun is turned on him and he presses himself flat to the platform. Whatever it is, it’s automatic, and a spray of bullets fly overhead. Shit. Shit.

“Holy shit! Peter!! You good?!? Peter?!?!?”

“Yeah, Yeah, I think…” Peter pants, waiting for the bullets to stop. He hears a sudden cry and then the pop pop pop and clang of bullets hitting the concrete above him is gone. Peter pushes himself up slowly, peeking over the side.

The Irish man who shot at his is dead, a bloody heap on the concrete floor.

“Ned, he can’t handle them all-“ Peter says.

Daredevil is starting to get overwhelmed. There are more people, now. More ninjas, and Peter hears it, the clang of boots against the platform. They are coming up here, now, coming for him. But there’s something else.

Someone walks in to the building. Dressed like the rest of them, but walking. Slow. It catches Peter’s attention, as it’s the only movement not fast and chaotic. They’re carrying something…it’s about the size of small fire extinguisher, the same shape too, and is glowing. Glowing blue. Peter can’t help but watch, as the ninja reaches up, almost as if in slow motion, and places something in their ear. Headphones? They look like headphones, ear buds, and they are also glowing blue.

The ninja is placing the device on the ground. Peter glances around frantically, suddenly realizing…that on every other ninja…there appears to be the same headphones on all their ears.

In the same instant, someone gets a lucky shot and kicks out Daredevil’s leg from behind. He goes down to a knee, and Peter jumps up just in time to watch as someone puts a sword right through the meat of his thigh.

“Daredevil!!!” Peter yells, grabbing the railing without thinking and vaulting over the edge, landing on the ground. The man in the center of the room is completely forgotten. Peter lashes out with his webs and pulls two of the ninjas back and away from Daredevil, who is yelling in pain, but somehow pushing through it, getting up on one knee to club another attacker in the side. The two ninjas smash against the support beam and Peter can hear the crack of bone, jarring him slightly.

Did he kill them?

Did it matter? They were going to kill Daredevil…

Of course it mattered. But-

Speaking of-…Peter steels himself, for a fleeting moment it registers in his mind that Ned has been weirdly silent, before he realizes he can’t afford to care,-about any of it (there's no time!)- and jumps, flipping in mid-air to avoid a blade and webbing Daredevil as he does so. There’s a muffled, “Oof!” And a grunt as the man skids towards Peter, avoiding the clash of a sword. Daredevil collides with Peter and they go down behind one of the crates.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Daredevil pants, leaning up against the wood. A second later he is scooting away, aware of the bullet holes in the crates and the unknown chemicals leaking on to the floor slowly…

“Uh, Saving you!” Peter exclaims, grabbing on to the crate and peeking out over the edge. He's panting something fierce, adrenaline sky-high and he thinks his heart might beat out of his chest.

It seemed like an eternity, but maybe two or three seconds have passed since he’d been standing there, watching the man set down that device. Peter remembers it with a jolt as he sees ninja over the edge of the crate. He’s still crouched down next to it, tilting his head up. Peter can’t see his expression, not from the cloth draped across the lower half of his face, but he can see the smile in his eyes. Uh oh…

“I don’t need your he-“

The man flips the switch, and Peter’s world goes white.

~~

You know, through all the years of watching movies and shows, fighting a bunch of ninjas seemed like the most dope thing ever. Like, Ned super secretly hoped that one day he would be caught in the middle of an alley in the desert so he could whip out his pistol from his hip and shoot a ninja with the badass, don't-give-a-crap attitude that Harrison Ford natural radiates.

He starts to get his doubts the second one of them slices through the fabric of his best friend's suit. After all, he’d just heard that it was supposed to be bullet proof. He gasps as the small readout on the side of the screen, a model of a human, flashes red across the chest region, alerting Ned to the injury.

“Holy crap, Peter! You okay?” He shouts in to the mic. He’d thought Peter had jumped free of the sword, but his best friend’s yelp begs to differ. Ned stands up from his chair and watches the big monitor his laptop is hooked up to with his hands over his mouth as the camera jostles wildly.

“Yeah-!” Comes the reply, and Ned runs his hand through his hair, nearly knocking off the headset.

“Dude! Get out of there!” He says instantly.

Ned loves this, nerds out on it. Loves that Peter is a superhero. But he cares about Peter being alive more than anything else. And he’s still freaking out.

Those ninjas had just…carved right through those mob guys. Like, really, actually did it. Sliced them right in half. No doubt they would do the same to his friend. Ned would rather spend the rest of his life building lego versions of places he’d rather be than lose his friend in the reality of it.

He watches Peter regain himself and take the guy out, pushing him over the edge, and sighs, relief flooding through him. But Peter isn’t moving. He seems like he’s frozen.

“…Dude, Peter, are you okay? Why are you sitting there?”

“Uh, I…do not know. Shit. Ned, What do I do? I can’t fight these guys up close!”

Peter doesn’t want to leave Daredevil, and Ned can sympathize but this is crazy, he thinks. Peter’s right. Those guys are nuts. He wracks his brain for any type of suggestion, and that’s where…well, that’s where years of video games end up paying off. “Uh….Uh!....Oh! Oh! Dude, Stealth take out!”

“What? Oh, wait, Oh!”

“Dude…dude, this is the best day of my life.” Ned says, mesmerized, as he watches Peter crawl along the side of the railing, and web up guys from the ground like the freaking claw in Toy Story. Only much faster and more badass.

A second later bullets are flying, and the camera face plants.

Ned’s blood runs cold.  For half a second he's frozen, because he's pretty certain he just watched his friend get shot to death-

-wait no - no, the little monitor on the side isn't screeching at him that his friend is dead, so-

“Holy shit! Peter!! You good?!? Peter?!?!?” ” He yells, slamming his hands on the table, staring at the monitor. When he hears Peter’s voice, he calms. His heart, racing, threatens to beat out of his chest, and Ned makes a strangled noise in the back of throat. Holy crap, how do these guy-in-the-chair types do this stuff? Their blood pressure must be through the roof…

“Ned, he can’t handle them-“

“What is that?”

Ned whips around staring at the voice that was definitely not his own. In the lab, standing not five feet away from him, is Michelle.

She looks disheveled. She looks-…She looks like she’d been crying, honestly. She didn’t wear much makeup, only eyeliner, but the little bit that Ned had ever noticed on her is now smudge under her eyes slightly. Ned wonders, strangely in this tense moment, if she knows. None of it seems to matter to her though, because she’s staring.

Right at the screen.

“Daredevil!!!”

Ned reaches back and turns off the screen, muting his headset at the same time so Peter can’t hear the conversation. He can’t distract his best friend, who is currently fighting ninjas, with the news that one of their classmates may have discovered their secret.

And oh shit, one of their classmates may have discovered their secret.

Instantly, a million questions and possibilities run through his head. It's always been his greatest strength, and his greatest weakness, how quickly his brain thinks. What did he do? Did he disconnect from Peter? Did he come up with a wild excuse? If he threw his water bottle at the circuit breaker a couple feet away would the power go out and allow him to make a run for it? How fast could Michelle run?

“What are you doing here?!?!?!?” Is what comes out of Ned's mouth, instead of him acting on any of those thoughts.

“What are you doing?” Michelle challenges.

“Video game!” Ned yells, pointing at his headset. And it's much too high-pitched for even himself to believe it.

“God, you’re such a shitty liar.” Michelle spits. “You’ve been lying the whole time, both of you!"

Gone is the playfulness in her voice. In fact, she sounds pretty…hurt. And pissed. Probably mostly pissed, to be honest, but there's no mistaking the hurt. And it's the hurt that burns Ned to his core, bringing sharply to the front the fact that he had totally chewed her out earlier. He bites his lip.

"I- …yeah, okay, yeah I was lying and being an overall terrible person and I know I said some really terrible stuff but I swear, Michelle, I swear, I'm just playing videogames, okay?" Ned suddenly is word-vomiting all over everything.

Michelle looks even more mad, to her credit. Ned swallows.

"Michelle-"

"Don't! Jesus! Just-, stop, Ned. Please. For your own sake." Michelle interrupts, extending her hand in a gesture for Ned to halt. With a very dramatic, very angry eye roll, his classmate continues. "It's just embarrassing at this point. Look: I Know. Alright? Everything."

Ned blinks at her. “W-…what?”

You know, normally, in the movies, there’d be this awkward silence. Right? Like when Daredevil yelled out Peter’s name, something Ned had forgotten about until right this moment. Or there’d be some really moving music, right? It’d be on a hilltop or on top of a building or someone would be about to die. That’s what happens when identities get revealed.

Yeah, that doesn’t happen. Michelle just plows right on, saying more in one breath than Ned has ever heard her say in his life.

“I’d have to be stupid not to know, Ned. Peter was home sick from school for like a week, and after that Spider-Man showed up. Peter shows up late to class all the time. Oh, hey! Look! Spider-Man stuff on the news. He quits all these school activities, magically gets the “Stark Internship”,” She puts the internship in air quotes, emphasizing it with her voice, “-and Spider-Man gets a new suit. He disappears at Liz’s party, disappears at D.C., And Spider-Man shows up. He disappears at Homecoming, and the next day Liz’s dad gets arrested for being a super villain?” She throws her hands up, giving him an incredulous look.

Ned stays frozen to his spot, the sound of gunfire and Peter’s involuntary noises of exertion filtering through his headset. Background noise with teeth, gnawing at him to get back to what he is doing, but he is trapped in this moment, literally and mentally. Still trying to get past the fact that Michelle has known all this time and…

…and never said anything?

“You weren't my placeholder friends. I wasn’t talking to you because what the Hell do I say?” She yells. “And Yeah-Maybe…Maybe….I’m really bad at this, okay? But it isn’t because I didn’t want to be your friend. And you know, before you said anything, I was gonna leave you alone to do your…” She saves her hand at the computer vaguely. “Secret Super Hero Thing, but you know what? No. Screw that. I'm not gonna take the fall for being a crappy friend when I was the only one in the group who didn't know what was going on. So don’t try to tell me that’s a video game.”

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” Daredevil's voice is loud over the comms, suddenly very close, and Ned jumps slightly.

“That’s Peter on that screen, isn’t it?”

“Uh, Saving you!”

Ned doesn’t know what to do, he has no idea what to say, or how to deny or how to say something, anything that will get her to believe him. He can’t show her the monitor. It is obviously Spider-Man and Daredevil. He’s…he’s…he’s stuck.

“…H…how did you even, why do you keep track of all that?” Ned asks, flabbergasted. Going on the defensive is all he can think to do, and even then, it is only half-hearted. “About us? I thought we were losers.”

Apparently it still manages to catch Michelle off guard, because she blinks suddenly, and she glances away, her cheeks flushing. “Uh-“

“I don’t need your he-“

A high-pitched sound, worse than anything Ned has ever heard, worse than a thousand nails scratching on chalkboards, suddenly assaults his ear drums, and Ned yells, reaching up and yanking the headset off of him and dropping it to the floor.

"What?" Michelle asks, startled by the sudden action.

 “Oh My God!”  Ned covers his ears and has to walk a couple of steps away from the console, his hearing going out for a second, then coming back in slowly with a dull ringing.

It doesn't take more than a second for Michelle to recover from the start. She's almost instantly moving forward, walking up to the monitor and turning it on, then yanking out the headset.

The sound is deafening.

“Shit!” She cries out, covering her ears as she leans forward, using her elbow to jam at the “volume down” key on the keyboard. Ned grimaces and comes back to the monitor as the sound becomes tolerable and the icon for the built-in computer mic flashes across the screen.

The camera feed is distorted, fizzling in and out, likely by whatever the Hell is causing that noise. Ned sees the readings Karen normally feeds back to him look like hieroglyphics. The only thing that is even remotely readable is the small diagram of a human body, a diagram of the suit where Karen sends back info on injuries, with red flashing near the head area.

But through the haze, he can see the world tilted on it’s side, and the red covering the corners of the feed alert Ned to Peter’s arms covering his head. In the corner, you can make out the distorted form of Daredevil, curled up on the floor with his hands over his ears.

“Oh my God. Peter? PETER!!!!” Ned shouts, throwing the idea of his friend’s secret identity out the window, because by now, Michelle has seen it. She knows. She’s staring at the screen with wide eyes.

“I don’t think they can hear you,” She says, her voice panicked. “What the Hell is that?”

“Some sort of sonic weapon?” Ned suggests. “Karen, what is that?”

“Who’s Karen?”

“The Artificial intelligence in the suit.”

{M- se-ors—- deteri— ca— pro-ss req-st}

The jarbled mess that returns makes the panic in Ned’s chest skyrocket. “Crap, crap, crap crap…I don’t know what to do.” He runs his hands through his hair. “Maybe it took out all the ninjas too.”

Michelle snaps her head to Ned. “Ninjas???!?”

“Yeah! I dunno! It was just the Irish mob and then a bunch of ninjas showed up!!”

“…Ne-…-ed!”

They both turn back towards the screen when Peter’s jarbled voice comes through the coms, distorted, but Ned can obviously tell that his friend is in pain. He still isn’t moving. Shit. Shit…

The little diagram of his friend’s health on the side starts flashing, a distorted warning label coming up on the screen.

“…Can we call Tony Stark? Is that a thing?” Michelle asks.

“He like, never picks up. And I don’t have his number, Peter does.”

“What the Hell good does that do?”

“I don’t know! It was poorly thought out!” Ned yells, panic overtaking him.

“Okay, okay, okay, we gotta think of a plan okay, you’re a tech guy right?” Michelle asks, grabbing the mouse and running through the programs on the computer.

“Yes. Yes.”

“Okay maybe we can shut it down? That device? Like track it or, or—-“ She snaps her fingers. “Jesus Christ, I don’t know, go deliver him some noise cancelling headphones or something” She suggests, a little hysterically.

“HOLY SHIT-“ Ned screams, pushing her out of the way. Michelle nearly collides with the ground. And stares at him with a look that would scream murder if not for the wild fear underneath it. It's scary, seeing Michelle scared. But then again, it's scary seeing your best friend about to be kabobbed by ninjas. “You’re a genius. Holy crap, go-go-…go open that other computer next to us, do it, do it.”

Michelle doesn’t question the teenage tech wiz, just turns on the computer next to his station, thankful that it is newer and boots up quick. She logs in with her student I.D., damn the consequences if this somehow bites them in the ass down the road. “What next?”

“Turn on the microphone and record the sound, okay?” Ned is typing on his computer when he freezes. “Oh my god, NO!”

Michelle turns just in time to see the camera feed shift and a blade coming down towards the lens.

~

Peter is screaming.

At least, he thinks he’s screaming.

He can’t hear or see or anything right now.

There’s just this…blinding, scratching pain in the back of his head.

He vaguely notices himself grab his head and fall to the ground, gagging from the pain. It's like…whiteout. Or when you accidentally pour boiling water on you. Those first few seconds where you can't comprehend that it's hot. For a second, the shock is too much, and he feels nothing.

But then his senses, holy crap, they’d been dialed to eleven when he first got his powers. The problem was…while he got used to them, he hadn’t figured out a way to control them yet. To make everything die down if he wanted. He honestly didn’t even know if he could control them.

It makes loud noises terrible on a good day.

And this is decidedly not a good day.

He’s rendered pretty much useless, his mind in overload, and all he can think is to call for help. He yells Ned’s name, once, twice, before his words become a garbled mess. He feels like his head is full of pressure, ready to explode-, he feels-

Wait…he feels-

In the haze, there’s a feeling. In the back of his head. A humming, or a tingling, like before on the platform, but a lot stronger. At first he didn’t notice but now it’s definitely distinguishable.

Then, all at once, it sharpens to a point, a feeling, a tingle that cuts through everything else and overrides his senses. Every atom of his being focuses on its message.

And it’s message is-

MOVE!!!!

Peter turns and rolls immediately, his eyes looking up, and seeing the tip of a blade scratch across the surface of his eye lens as it barely misses him, colliding with the crate and spilling more of the chemicals to the ground. Peter groans as he rolls away, letting momentum carry him, only barely able to register how close that was over the agony in his brain. Holy shit.

He reaches up and pulls back his mask, gagging on to the concrete as the wretched sound from that device threatens to take him down again.

Once again, that tingle, that urge to move, is all that saves him.

JUMP!!!

Peter jumps, or rather, he reacts to the feeling, and the result is a jump. But he’s met instantly with an elbow to the jaw and goes sprawling across the concrete.

Another jolt, a tingle, but this one feels different. It pulls him towards Daredevil, and on instinct he reaches out blindly, webbing the man and pulling him towards him. A half a second later, another ninja plunges a sword where the older vigilante was laying.

Daredevil is in agony. Peter barely registers this, only pushes them back, scrambling as this- this- this…whatever the Hell this feeling is, guides him to the right. He ducks, and someone sails over him. Immediately he feels the tingle again, directing him to some unknown danger above him, but, holding onto Daredevil, Peter doesn’t have time to get out of the way.

So he reaches up as the sword comes down and grabs the blade without thinking, crying out when the sharp edge splits the sturdy fabric and sinks in to his palms. But his sticking fingers keep it from slicing his hands right in half, and suddenly Peter is in a death match with a ninja, desperately holding the sword above he and Daredevil, as the shrieking noise threatens to make him black out. His super strength feels completely gone, he can’t find it in himself to push the blade up and back…and if this weird, new tingling feeling is trustworthy, he’s about to be skewered from the side-

Another noise filters in to the mix- scattered, patchy, coming from his headphones in the suit. At first it sounds as bad as the other sound, and Peter groans. But then, the more it plays, the less patchy it gets.

The sound in the room, the terrible, screechy sound, starts fading in and out, then fades.

Enough that everything else comes back in to clarity and Peter can move. 

But he can't see that well.

Peter pushes up with all his strength, throwing the ninja back, turning just in time to avoid another sword, and punching the attacker in the face. His hand screams in pain, and Peter groans as he grabs Dredevil by the collar and half runs, Half crawls behind another set of boxes, still recovering from the assault on his ears.

He tries to suss out his vision problem, hitting his head slightly and hoping that his eye lenses, if malfunctioning, get their shit together pronto. But then his brain catches up, and he realizes, suddenly, that nothing is distorted. No, it's smoky. This weird, greenish smoke. It's then he notices the assaulting smell of chemicals in the air.

The building is on fire.

There's still gunfire, though it's infrequent, and Peter faintly recalls the bullet holes in the crates filled with chemicals. Holy crap-, in the time they were laying on the floor, something must have happened. Stray ammunition, maybe, must have ignited the chemicals.

It's getting harder to breathe, that's for sure.

“Daredevil- Daredevil!” Peter yells, scrambling to get the other man upright. He’s still in agony, and Peter notices with horror, that there’s a steady stream of blood coming from his leg where the sword pierced it. The teenager braces himself against the box, not quite himself yet either. The world spins slightly, then re-rights itself. But he isn't in agony like the vigilante next to him seems to be.

How come Daredevil can still hear the noise?

“Pe-er, It’s -ed, -ou hear- e?”

“Ned!” Peter exclaims over the headset. “Karen, what’s going on-“

{…Compe-s-ing for a-dio - tur-ance-}

“Shit-…” Peter’s screen is basically useless, any readings he’s getting look messed up, like some foreign language. Whatever the heck that device was, a sonic weapon, perhaps, it must pack a powerful punch to knock out Karen's sensors. It's just dumb luck his visual feed is still working.

“Daredevil!” Peter yells, picking himself up and staring across the room. He can see the small device on the ground, barely visible from the layer of smoke, but that blue glow manages to find its way to Peter's eyes. It's still on-…

Peter has no idea how, but somehow…he isn't hearing whatever the heck is happening.

Yeah, screw this.

A ninja appears on his left. Unlike before, the tingling feeling doesn't actually alert him, but Peter sees it in time to dart out of the way, pulling Daredevil with him. He slings the man over his shoulder and fires a web line, jumping up in the air and swinging in an arc, over the head of another ninja, mostly concealed by the smoke.

He doesn’t touch down. He knows he can’t continue to fight these guys.

Instead, he reaches out and webs the device, carrying it with him and hurling it against the nearest wall.

It smashes in to a million pieces.

Peter lets go and tumbles across the floor on the other side of the room, Daredevil rolling with him. The effects of the sound haven’t quite worn off yet, he realizes with certainty now, blinking away the dizziness.

{Disturbance neutralized, rebooting audio feed—}

“Peter! Peter, holy crap, can you hear me?”

“Ned!” Peter calls out, as he crawls up to Daredevil. The man is laying on his side, and Peter can see the blood trickling from his wound. “Daredevil, come on.”

“Shit-….” Daredevil groans.

"Holy crap, that was so scary. W-..I thought you were dead when that ninja got you in the eye, how the Hell did you dodge that- holy Crap is that fire?"

“Get up, come on! We need to get out.” Peter pulls at Daredevil and glances up, and can see that they are out of time. From his new position, he can easily see the flames licking up the walls of the building, grabbing on to everything that isn't brick or metal. Fueled by the boxes of chemicals like a giant island bonfire. Peter coughs roughly, the stink of chemicals burning his nose.

While the smoke of the fire had concealed them, buying them a bit of time, they have seemed to figure out Peter's new location, and are rushing across the room. The exit, the way they came, is on the other side of the room, blocked by their enemies and the roar of flames. There’s no way they are making it. Peter glances around desperately, looking for any sign of the Irish, any life signs. But sees none…even the cocoon of the man he had wrapped is gone from the rafters. With a horrific amount of dread, he realizes the ninjas probably cut him down and gutted him.

Peter feels heavy, like he can barely stand. ”I need to know how to get out of here. Where’s the best exit?!?”

{My scanners are malfunctioning, I can’t get a read-out of the building.}

Daredevil is pushing himself to his feet, his hands spread out in front of him. He wobbles, barely able to stand, and turns his head around frantically. “Shit. Shit…”

“Come on.” Peter yells, grabbing the man’s arm and pulling it around his own. “Tell me where the exit is.”

“Building…has three lower floors, there’s a door and a shaft...”

“Okay, where is it?”

"…I-" Daredevil shifts his head around, breath coming fast, before coughing violently against the smoke. "I don't know."

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t know, I can’t…” Daredevil reaches up to put a hand over his head. “I can’t tell where it is.”

“Look around!”

“I can’t!”

“What-“ Peter has been pulling them forward anyways, running from the hoard of people currently after them. There’s a hallway, a hallway, that isn’t the one they came through, but he can only hope it leads somewhere…

“I’m…I’m blind,” Daredevil says, panting.

“What?”

“What?” Comes a dual response on his comms, and Peter doesn’t have time to ask who the second voice is, his brain short-circuiting suddenly from all the stress. He can't, just can't- have to focus. Focus Peter, focus on getting out. 

“I’m Blind. I use my other senses, but right now they’re-…it’s disorienting..” Daredevil shakes his head. “It was a Metal door, larger than normal. Ten feet by four feet, three bolts on the side, sticking out-“

"Blind. Blind!" Peter shouts hysterically.

Peter’s head is reeling with the information he’s been handed but he can’t think about it because they are two seconds away from becoming a Cubist installation piece. So he just runs, and runs, dragging Daredevil and ignoring the groans of pain from the man as they step.

“Holy shit Peter, hurry, hurry.” Ned says, as Peter throws his head around to look and sees they are right on their tail. Panic spikes in him but he has to stop, noticing the vigilante leaning on him is slowing down. Peter can feel the warmth of blood sinking in to his suit leg as the man’s leg brushes against his. He bends and pulls Daredevil on to his shoulder without asking, hearing a groan as he starts running with the man in a fireman carry.

He yelps a second later when he feels something sharp embed itself in his leg. Shit. He stumbles, nearly dropping Daredevil and taking them both down, but doesn't stop, because stopping definitely means death.

Of course, they’re hurling throwing stars at him now! “Of COURSE!” he yells in to the comms, as he runs, grimacing. He finds that he can't bring himself to be scared right now. He is, oh he is, but-…but the adrenaline, the need to get out is overriding it. “Please let this door be down here.”

And for once, the Parker Luck, as his Aunt calls it, doesn’t decide to cash in. There it is…a brick-colored metal door that is large and wide. Peter skids to a stop in front of it and pries it open like it’s nothing, revealing the long, dark passage below. It must be an elevator shaft, or at least it was, at some point.

“Peter-!“

Peter doesn’t wait. He just jumps.

Chapter Text

The fall can’t be more than a couple stories, something that Peter has experienced many times before, but usually, those falls are in the light of day, or at the very least, surrounded by buildings and markers that can guide him. He’s not used to falling in complete darkness, blackness that swallows up his vision and scrambles his senses. His brain can’t quite catch up to the sudden change in environment, the swift plunge from overwhelming chaos in to absolutely nothing.  

Usually people are supposed to keep their cool in these situations, right? But Peter, disoriented, high strung, and in pain, doesn’t feel very cool at all.

He has no idea when he’s going to hit the ground, with an injured vigilante on his shoulder no less, and Karen is unhelpfully silent.

All this whips through his head in a matter of milliseconds, and Peter does the first thing he can think of, which is to stretch out his hand and shoot a strand of webbing at random.

He cries out as he grabs the end of his line and it catches, tightening against the slashes in his palm and yanking his arm at the same time. Peter goes from free-fall to careening in to the side of the elevator shaft in an instant, only barely managing to turn in time so that his back takes the brunt of the impact, rather than Daredevil’s head or legs. Peter groans slightly, then pants as he dangles, his sticky fingers the only thing keeping him from letting go of the webbing.

“Peter! Holy crap, are you dead? Hello? Answer me!”

“I-…” Peter huffs against the strain in his arm and tries to twist himself around without dropping the vigilante on his shoulder, who is…unnervingly quiet. The young hero twists, and finally gets himself so he’s facing the wall, placing his feet on the concrete. One hand still around Daredevil, Peter lets go of the webbing and attaches his hand to the side in one swift motion, before he can fall backwards.

He lets out a heavy, shaky sigh, resting his forehead against the wall. “I-I’m okay.”

A relieved sound comes through the comms, followed by a string of hybrid Chinese-English curses Peter recognizes from Firefly.

Peter’s senses still feel like they are on the fritz, some things feel muffled while other sounds are clear and sharp. Above him, he can hear the distant shouts of the ninjas, in a language he can’t understand and also can’t place the origin of at the moment. But when he glances up, all he can see is a thick layer of green smoke filtering in from the opening they fell from. His brain reminds him that they are not out of the woods yet. They will probably be followed.

Ignoring the sharp pain in his hands, Peter starts taking tentative steps down the shaft, hoping the wall isn’t slippery from water and the resulting slime that usually builds up. It’s common down here, in these old buildings, and Peter’s encountered it once or twice before on his outings.

He takes all of ten steps before he reaches his foot down and feels solid ground. Peter sighs in relief, realizing how close he’d been to splatting against the ground. Yeah that…would’ve been a bad end to a bad day. He blinks, turning his head around, not seeing much of anything. His eyes are starting to adjust, though Karen hasn’t given him his night vision. When he asks her for it, she responds that the feature is unavailable.

That weapon really must have scrambled the suit. What was that thing?

“Peter, you should probably get out of there while you can.”

“I know-“ Peter says softly, but doesn’t make any attempt to do so immediately. Instead he kneels down, letting Daredevil off of his shoulder and on to the ground below.

“Hey, uh…Mr…..Daredevil sir?” Peter asks. He receives nothing, no reply, and starts fiddling with the webshooter on his right wrist, hearing the setting click in to place for his red light. He shines it, the shaft lighting up around them, revealing that they are standing on top of the elevator car that was once in service. The cables are gone, leaving the car stranded at the bottom.

Daredevil is eerily still below him.

“………..Oh God, is he dead?” Comes the reply over the comms.

“…I don’t know.” Peter says with realization, his heart thudding rapidly in his chest. He glances down at the wound in the man’s leg, still bleeding sluggishly. Would he still be bleeding if he was dead? The padding on his suit's chest is so thick, Peter can’t tell if man is breathing or not.

Peter sucks in a breath and realizes how hard it is to do so. But not because it’s smoky down here, he doesn’t think. Suddenly…he’s just…aware. Aware of how tired and strung out he is. Aware of the sharp pain in his hands, the sting across his chest, the ache in his hip where that stupid ninja star had hit him. Aware of the ache in his lungs from the smoke and the pounding headache and…and…how many close calls had happened just now.

The images of the Irish men falling, sliced to ribbons, one by one in quick succession, runs through his mind.

Boxes open. Web people up. No casualties.

No casualties.

Peter is pretty sure that every single one of the Irish mob members that had been in that building were dead. If anyone had survived those ninja people, they were dying from smoke inhalation and likely, poisoned from whatever fumes those chemicals had released in to the air. Spider-Man and Daredevil had come to save people from getting killed and make the city safe, and instead they had a toxic fire and a load of dead bodies to show for it.

Because they weren’t prepared.

Peter wasn’t prepared…it’s his fault…

His breath is quick and shaky now, his hands on his knees as he stares down at Daredevil and tries his best not to go down this spiral, but it’s a little too late. He’s panicking. People were dead and maybe Daredevil was dead and who even knew if there was a way out of this shaft? Eventually the fire would catch up with them, or the ninjas, and then Peter would be dead.

“-eter. PETER!”

The voice that cuts through the comms and in to his panic is not Ned’s. It is distinctly female. Peter furrows his brow and tilts his head to the side, trying to get his lungs and his throat and his tongue to work. “Who- who’s that?”

“It’s Michelle.”

“What?!?” Peter squeaks, straightening up, the terror of his situation suddenly overcome with the terror that Michelle is speaking to him over the comms on his suit. Not his phone, his suit. “Michelle?!?!? Wha-“

“Calm your tits, Ned didn’t out you.”

“How- how-“

“Peter.” His name is sharp and pointed through the comms, said with an air of authority that instantly gets his attention, tells him to get a grip and listen. “I think we can agree that right now isn’t the best time to have this conversation, yeah?”

Peter glances around the elevator shaft, down at the vigilante, silent at his feet, and the smoke that seems to be slowly, but surely, pushing its way down the shaft, as Peter realizes, that the fire is sucking up all the air as it burns above them. Peter can now distinctly smell the chemicals, stronger than before.

Michelle knows…she knows his secret. She has to, there’s no way she’s talking to him over the comms without knowing what they are for, but…

Right. But that isn’t as important as the fact that he’s likely going to suffocate or get shredded by ninjas in a couple minutes.

“….right…” He says faintly, like his voice is getting carried away by a breeze.

“Okay, then listen up: You gotta get your shit together. Right. Now.”

Peter nods slightly, forcing himself to take slower breaths, even though it feels like he’s breathing through a small straw. Like one of those coffee straws you get that's half a stir and half a straw. He chews on the inside of his lip.

“Great, awesome. Keep doing that.”

It takes him about a minute, mostly because it’s all he can afford, but Peter manages to center himself enough to at least be able to think again. To start compartmentalizing. Right. Mission. Get out alive. He’s Spider-Man. He can do this.

“Okay, now the-…” Michelle’s voice is more distant and Peter can tell from the way she speaks that she’s turning and asking Ned, “…Daredevil? That his name?”

Her voice comes back strong and loud. “Can you tell if Daredevil is dead for real?”

Peter blinks down at Daredevil, and steels himself, before crouching down and wincing slightly, placing his hand against the man’s chest. He can feel a slight, slight…rise and fall. Hopeful, Peter reaches up and feels around the man’s neck. His suit is thinner there, with a strange black netting that Peter can get his fingers under to check for a pul-

Daredevil wakes with a gasp and reaches up, grabbing Peter’s arm and yanking it back with an aggressive cry. Much the opposite of Peter’s surprised screech as he’s temporarily pushed back, but not for long. Daredevil isn’t nearly as strong as Spider-Man and Peter isn’t moved easily.

“Whoa!!! Whoa whoa whoa it’s Me! It’s me.” Peter yells, grabbing Daredevil’s wrists as the man gets his bearings, his head pitching wildly in different directions. There’s a tense moment, and a lot of heavy breathing, before Daredevil groans and lets his head fall back down against the shaft.

“-….F…-…Fuck…” He groans, a sentiment that Peter wholeheartedly agrees with. “…Kid, where are we?”

“…Down an elevator shaft.” Peter supplies breathlessly. He glances back up. “I don’t know where the ninjas are. I think maybe they gave up and bounced.”

“….N….N….No….” It takes Daredevil three tries to get out the word, in between his harsh breaths. He's suddenly trying to push himself up. Peter grimaces, unsure whether to push him back down or help. After a moment’s hesitation, he throws out his hands and helps the man in to a sitting position. “No, they didn’t.”

“….How do you know?”

“They never give up.” Daredevil responds simply.

“That’s eerie and foreboding…” Michelle’s sarcastic tone says over the comms.

“We gotta go,” Daredevil adds, glancing, or rather, listening around the shaft. At least, that’s what Peter thinks the man is doing. The man groans slightly, letting his head hang and his hand goes up to cradle his ears.

“Are they coming?”

“I don’t know, I can’t tell for sure…” Peter can tell by Daredevil’s voice that the man is barely with him, and the chances that he’ll pass out again are probably high. His heart rate spikes again, and Peter tries to calm himself down.

“…Don’t lose it on me, kid..” Daredevil says faintly, like he can smell the anxiety coming off of the teenager, and Peter realizes that, maybe he actually can. “You…gotta….get us out of here….”

Peter anticipates it when Daredevil passes out. Maybe it’s the slow tilt, or the way Daredevil seems to crumple in on himself, but Peter manages to catch the man when he slumps, nearly falling backwards and hitting his head against the shaft.

“Hey, Hello? Daredevil?” Peter asks frantically, trying to hold the man up. But Daredevil just responds with an incoherent grunt.

“…crap.”

“…He’s really messed up.”

“Is he dead? Did he die? Holy-“

Now Peter can hear Ned’s voice through the comms as well. It's distracting, yes, but a welcome distraction. Peter doesn't exactly like the idea of being alone with his thoughts down in the middle of this elevator shaft.

Right…so. Escaping. Quickly escaping.

"Karen, are your sensors still not functioning?" Peter asks, gently guiding Daredevil's torso so that he is leaning against the wall and will not fall. He crouches down and inspects the wound again.

{I'm sorry, Peter. That is correct. I cannot gather any information from the surrounding area…}

"That's okay." Peter says, knowing that it isn't, and that Karen probably doesn't care whether or not it's okay, but he feels like he at least has to tell himself that. You know, to keep from freaking the Hell out again.

He has to buy himself some time. He isn't sure how long it takes to bleed out from a wound like Daredevil's, but he's sure that passing out from blood loss (hopefully that weapon had something to do with it as well, hopefully it’s not all from the blood loss…) when you're a vigilante who is…well, experienced with injuries probably isn't a good sign. He needs a tourniquet, or something to pack the wound. He…well, he learned that from watching a lot of youtube videos and M*A*S*H, if he’s honest.

…His webbing, he realizes, may be able to do both those things.

"Ned…" He says, tapping his fingers to his palm with a hiss, noting how wet his palms feel. "Remember how you were complaining about how you never get to do anything?"

"Yeah?"

"Okay," Peter says, pulling a strand of webbing from his cartridge and breaking it off when he feels he has enough. He sets to wrapping it around Daredevil's leg, around his thigh, above the wound, hoping that he's doing this correctly. He wraps the strand around a couple times, then pulls tight, grimacing as the man groans against the pressure. "…Remember the first conversation we ever had about the guy in the chair? In gym?"

"Like what if you were trapped in a burning building, and I had screens all around me, and I could tell you where to go? - Oh. Oh! Right, okay. Hang on."

Peter ties off the makeshift tourniquet and then, not even knowing if it will help, aims directly at Daredevil's wound and sprays a fat patch of webbing over it. Hopefully…that will…do something. At the very least, it will keep them from leaving a trail of blood wherever they go and the ninjas won't be able to follow them.

He thinks.

"Ned's looking for a map of the buildling…one of those fancy electrical maps, he says it has a better chance of showing any service ways out." Michelle's voice is there this time.

Peter nods. "Okay. Okay…"

Okay. Time to assess. Now that Daredevil is taken care of, at least, as much as possible, Peter turns around and looks for any way out of here. There's only one shaft, and Peter doesn't see any other doors to floors above them. Maybe this was some express elevator. Made only to go between the top and bottom floor. For taking inventory up and down or something…

Peter looks down and starts kicking debris away from the platform they stand on, feeling his way around the floor, because the red light from his suit, while good enough to see with, doesn't allow Peter to make out much detail. Finally, his fingers brush against a crease in the metal, and Peter uses his sticky pads to pull up the service hatch with a hiss of pain. It creaks and groans, metal chipping from rust and years of just sitting down here. Peter glances down in to the old car, listening to the frantic chirp and scurry of rats whose home had been disturbed for the first time in ages. Below, the elevator floor is littered with old debris, the walls covered in strange writing and the doors dented and crooked. Peter swallows. This is not The Last of Us. This is not Dead Space. This is not Alien: Isolation. "Down we go."

It takes a bit of maneuvering to get Daredevil back on to his shoulders, who protests with a groan and a shift in and out of consciousness, then down the hatch and in to the elevator with his hands in the state that they are in, but Peter manages, huffing slightly as he pries open the doors with a sickening, loud series of creaks and groans.

He grimaces as the sound of the world cuts in and out again, making him feel slightly dizzy.

"Ow…"

"You good?"

"Yeah, just…my hearing is still messed up," Peter laments, holding on to the door as he steps in to what appears to be a long hallway. He can't see very far in either direction. "…And I'm pretty sure I'm in a horror movie."

"Oh, hey Ned, do you think we should- Sorry, sorry, Peter. We didn't turn off the thing. Hang on-"

"Turn off what- ow!" Peter turns in to the wall, cringing as the sound in the comms warps, giving him an instant headache. Everything cuts in and out like some misbehaving speaker, then there's a ringing, and then-

Everything goes back to normal.

And by normal, Peter means it's loud.

Well, relatively loud. It wouldn't be that loud to anyone else. He startles slightly, crouching as the roar of the fire and the destruction of the building above him comes in to full volume. He can hear a constant hum and whir, something like a generator. Something electric. And there's water, too. "What the Hell?"

"Sorry, we…when that siren thing went off, and we realized Karen wasn't working, we decided to try something. We recorded the siren and played it back at itself-"

Suddenly Ned's voice chimes in. "Actually, we were actively recording your live audio feed and feeding it back to itself on a loop, but we ran it through a program that put the soundwaves 180 degree out of phase with the incoming signal. Karen should be smart enough to do this on her own, but that weapon basically was scrambling her sensors."

Huh. Just like noise-cancelling headphones.

"The audio feed was coming in and out, but luckily, very very luckily-" MJ chimes back in, "We got a connection for long enough for the sound to cancel out. That's not even the best part."

Peter picks a direction and starts walking, towards the sound of running water that he can faintly hear. The weight of Daredevil is not exactly heavy, but a constant reminder that Peter doesn't have a lot of time.

"So it wasn't going to work because the weapon was affecting like…everything. Not just you. The suit, too, so. What's cool is there's actually some vibranium components in your suit, right? So if I made it loud enough, I could actually get the vibranium to reverberate those out of phase waves throughout the whole suit. Thus. Cancelling out its effects, but yeah, it could still be a little disorienting, not hearing anything but still having everything feel loud. I-…forgot to turn it off."

"Ned's a genius, basically."

"Really? Uh, thank you. It was totally your idea though."

"We're also dumbasses."

"True. Sorry. When you jumped we just sort of…forgot about it. Do you feel better?"

Peter does. He doesn't feel dizzy or weird anymore. He'd thought the in and out feeling, the disorientation, was left over from the weapon. Like Daredevil. Peter guesses he just recovers faster.

Or maybe Daredevil's senses are just more susceptible to it than Peter. He did say that he relied on them to "see"…

"I do, thank you." Peter answers, thinking it through. "You know, that seems like such a specialized weapon…"

"It is…and…I mean I'm no detective but that seems like a pretty big coincidence, bringing a weapon that's designed to scramble the senses, when the vigilante in the room just so happens to rely on them…"

"Right?" Comes Ned's voice. "Also, are we ever going to talk about the fact that he's blind? Or is that tabled until the obligatory burrito run if you survive…"

"You think they made that weapon just for Daredevil?" Peter asks, eyes wide.

"I'm just saying I read a lot of books," Michelle says.

"It would make total sense, I mean, if this was a comic or something," Ned adds on. "At least, if I was a super villain, and had a super hero problem, that's what I'd do."

The thought of that is a little scary. Because it means they were expecting Daredevil to show up. Maybe both of them, depending on where they got their information. Two super-sensed super heroes and they bring the one weapon that can reduce both of them to useless puddles on the ground.

Who were these people?

Peter is now a little frustrated that Daredevil hadn't told him. Of course, he instantly reasons with himself, Daredevil hadn't known they were going to show up. They were expecting someone else. Or at least, it had seemed that way. As if to remind him, said man groans slightly against him, lifting his head just barely.

"…Ned, how's our way out coming along?"

"I got the blueprints up, I'm just trying to suss it all out…uhm…" There's a pause for a moment, then a nervous laugh. "Dude, remember Jurassic Park?"

"Yeah?"

"So like…look up. Do you see the pipes and cables?"

Peter does look up, and he does see the pipes and cables. Black, cylindrical pipes in rows, most likely metal, but also plastic pipes as well as the metal, ringed cabling Peter recognizes as a housing for electrical wire.

"Follow that?"

"Follow that."

"Watch out for velociraptors and stray arms."

"Not funny." Peter says to Michelle, as he decides to start in to a jog. His limbs protest the movement, but he knows he doesn't have a lot of time. "Uh…Mr.Daredevil, are you alive down there?"

He feels the small shift against his back, then another groan. "…don't…'preciate being upside-down."

"Sorry, you're kind of…big…and hard to carry any other way."

"Turn left here…I think- No no nono Right,"

"What are you guys doing?"

"Arguing."

Peter hears the distinctive noise of a car horn, which prompts him to ask them if they are driving, because it sounds like they are driving. Or in a car? When had that happened?

But he doesn't get the chance to ask. Because that…thing…that sense, that tingling feeling... Peter stops dead in the center of the corridor, every sense on high alert.

"…What is it…" Daredevil asks faintly.

It's back, except Peter doesn't know what it means. He just knows this impending sense of dread is filling his chest. He just knows every fiber of his being wants to not be in this corridor right now. 

"…I think we're in trouble."

"What?" Comes the dual response from the comms.

He can't hear anything…but…

"…Peter, the ceiling. Now." The voice is strained, but Daredevil sounds urgent enough, certain enough that Peter doesn't hesitate except for the slight jolt at remembering that Daredevil somehow knows his name.

"Can you hold on to my- crap-" Peter whispers frantically, kneeling so that he can maneuver Daredevil on to his good leg. The man wobbles dangerously, grabbing on to Peter’s shoulders to steady himself. "Grab me like a bear hug."

"-…Ridiculous-" Daredevil mutters as he wraps his shaky arms around Peter's front and Peter shoots a web upwards, pulling them both up to the ceiling. Peter knows just from looking at the man that he couldn't hold on from Peter's back, but…having Daredevil lying flat against him, stomach to stomach, as the teenager latches on to the ceiling with his fingertips and toes is…awkward as hell. Peter cringes as the man's hot breath ghosts across his ear.

"If I just…comment on how awkward this is can we both agree that it's a thing and never speak of it again?" Peter asks.

"…I'd be okay with that…" Daredevil agrees, his breath a little ragged, Peter can hear it much more clearly now that it's right up against his ear, and the teenager feels bad, seeing how hard the vigilante is trying just to keep his head up.

"Darede-"

"SHHHH…"

Daredevil is tense on top of him, his head whipping to the side, but Peter can still sense that lack of certainty. The man's senses probably aren't all there yet, but he still knows something is up. Can still perceive something Peter cannot. "Don't move."

Peter nods slightly, resisting the urge not to gulp like a cartoon character.

"Turn everything off."

"What?"

"Your suit. Your radio. Turn it off now."

Peter balks a little, wondering what the Hell Daredevil is asking because his suit doesn't emit any lights, but the clarity with which the man, who was previously barely conscious, commands this scares him in to doing it without question. He lets go with one hand just long enough to press the spider emblem on his suit twice and watches the lights and readings on his display dim, then vanish. As does the low hum and comforting presence of the comm link with Ned and MJ on the other line. Gone. Disconnected.

He blinks in the darkness, and the silence, just the distant sound of water, fire, and the two of them.

The tingling feeling rises, making his head buzz with it. Daredevil tenses on top of him.

"…don't even breathe."

Peter sucks in a breath, holds it, and looks down.

For a moment there is nothing. Not a God damn thing. But then…Peter can barely make out a shadowy figure moving underneath them. It's so dark down here, but Peter's unassisted vision was made better due to the spider bite. Not quite night vision, but enough that he can tell the ninjas are right below them. They’re moving differently than they did in the warehouse…and…

They aren't making a sound.

It's scary, terrifying. Yes, there's the faint noise of the water to possibly block them, but Peter knows his own senses. The water and the building fire above shouldn't be enough for him to not hear footsteps. They simply aren't making noise.

Peter doesn't move. Peter doesn't breathe, he just focuses on staying as calm as humanly possible, because if they are found they are screwed. Peter can't fight a ton of ninjas in this tiny space and Daredevil can barely stand. He wishes he was home, to be honest. He wishes he'd just stayed and played videogames with Ned this weekend. Listened to his Aunt.

He can't tell what they are doing, he can't tell how many there are. He can just see the slight shift in the darkness every now and then, telling him that they are not alone, and the constant buzzing in his head that he’s starting to understand means he isn't safe yet. He silently thanks that stupid spider for giving him, among other things, the ability to hold his breath for an inhuman amount of time. His pre-spider-bite, asthmatic lungs never would have been able to achieve this feat.

Daredevil is a rock above him, squeezing on to his arm tightly, what Peter realizes is supposed to be a reassurance, but also a warning that they aren't alone.

Peter's hands are screaming at him, and his fingers start to tremble a little. The appendages are finally starting to give up, strained too much from being sliced to ribbons. Peter scrunches up his face, the urge to breathe and the urge to let go starting to become unbearable. Please don’t let my hand cramp up.

Daredevil squeezes his arm a little tighter. An almost imperceptible tightening of his fingers. The man doesn't speak but Peter can hear the words in that gesture: Stay strong. Don't let up. You can do this. Push through the pain.

Peter doesn't know if he can…

And just like that, the buzzing dissipates. Daredevil's head twitches slightly, and his grip disappears from Peter's, shakily retracting his hand as he lets out a strained breath and his head dips involuntarily, hitting Peter's shoulder.

Peter exhales and a whimper he can't control escapes his lips as he lets go with one hand, wrapping the arm around Daredevil's back and letting them fall to the ground. Daredevil grunts softly, nearly going down, but Peter catches him by hooking his forearms under the man's armpits.

"…The-….They'll be back…" Daredevil huffs, and Peter nods, trying to pull the man along, but his leg is basically dead weight at this point. Daredevil reaches up, then, feeling gently across Peter’s wrist, stopping just short of the wounds that makes Peter want to scream. The teenager can hear the unhappy huff in the other man, as he shakily hauls Daredevil up to his feet as much as he can so he can resume the fireman carry.

He’s tired. He’s in pain. He’s scared, scared they will get lost in this dark maze, or that they will run in to someone else and have to fight, which Peter is certain he cannot do at the moment.

He grunts as he adjusts the man on his back and forces himself forward.

"…I'm sorry I put you through this, kid…" Daredevil says roughly.

And Peter, like his Aunt and Uncle raised him to, replies, "It's okay."

~~

The suit must haven damaged more than he thought, because, much to Peter's chagrin, he can't get it to reboot after shutting it down. This means he can't call Ned and MJ back to let them know he's okay. It also means he doesn’t know how to get out of this place…

So he follows the cables, as Ned told him to.

He goes as fast as he can so as not to jostle Daredevil, who is in and out of consciousness on his shoulders, making small grunts of pain every now and then. Peter bites back all the "Sorry"s that want to escape his lips as he darts through the corridor.

The cables turn down another corridor a short way down from where they hid, one that is more narrow and forces Peter to take the route sideways, since Daredevil is on his shoulders. It slows him down, but Peter can't do anything about it, so he grins and bears it. Slowly, but surely, the roar of the fire recedes and is replaced by the loud rush of water as Peter feels the solid ground turn to a grated texture under his thin soles.

He refuses to think about what would happen if they got cornered down here.

This is by far the worst situation he's ever been in as a Spider-Man so far. People are dead, he's pretty sure Daredevil is dying. Peter himself is injured, maybe not as injured as after he fought the Vulture…(those gashes in his chest had been pretty bad, and he's pretty sure him stealing some antibiotics from his Aunt's medicine cabinet was the only thing that kept him from getting an infection), but overall the situation just feels…worse.

He's sure he's gonna have nightmares about ninjas for the rest of his life. He can also probably go for the rest of his life without watching any ninja-themed movies or shows, too. Worse than clowns, ninjas were. At least until Peter fought an evil clown.

The thought makes him shudder and look over his shoulder. This is not the movie It.

At long last, he comes across an access hatch. A Hatch!!! He nearly cries with relief when he sees the ladder, then groans when he realizes he's going to have to climb it. The small amount of light that filters down from the cracks in the hatch above might as well be the sun. Peter's vision allows him to see the rungs perfectly, and he winces at the bloody handprints he leaves as he climbs, hopping a hand from one rung to the other as the other balances Daredevil on his shoulder.

Pushing open the hatch feels like that scene in The Descent where the girl finally breaks out of the cave.

Damn, he's gotta stop watching scary movies.

Peter groans as he pulls himself on to the barren streets of Hell's Kitchen, the two vigilantes lit up by one of the few street lights surrounding the buildings. In the distance there's sirens, and the distinct smell of that chemical smoke still fills the air. Peter has no idea where he is, neither does he particularly care right now. All there is, is an immense sense of relief that he's out of there.

…He takes a moment to just breathe.

But only a moment. Peter knows he must act quickly, has got to get them out of the public eye. To a rooftop, somewhere safe-

"Spider-Man!!!"

A car horn beeps a couple of times lightly, in quick succession, and Peter whips his head around as a small, red car turns around the corner, old and boxy in its design. Peter can't place the make or model and doesn't try to, because he's too busy gaping as it pulls up to the side of the road where Peter stands with Daredevil.

The window rolls down and Ned stares at him with wide-eyes from the passenger seat. In the driver's side, Michelle leans forward and says, in that scary, authoritative tone, "Get in."

But Peter, apparently, still has the sense to waste time, because suddenly he's very mad. "What are you guys doing here?!?!"

"I know, I'm sorry, but we thought the ninjas were coming for you and didn’t know if you’d be able to move him and then you cut out on the radio and-“ Ned starts blabbering, pointing at his laptop, where Peter can see the red dot that indicates what he assumes was his last known location.

"Shut up and get in." Michelle says, cutting both of them off. "We can talk about it later."

"I can't- You- You can't just-" Peter is sputtering, even as he runs forward. Ned is reaching behind the passenger seat and unlocking and opening the back door, so all Peter has to do is bend over and plop Daredevil down in the back seat. The young hero jumps in awkwardly, situating himself in the footwell, and slams the door shut.

Michelle floors it and they take off down the street in the opposite direction of the fire. Peter can see it now, as they go, watching the smoke and seeing a point of origin, though the flames and the building itself are obstructed by other buildings in the area.

The whole thing suddenly feels so surreal. All Peter can do is stare as the billowing plumes shrink in the rear windshield.

For a second, there is silence. Just the shallow breathing of Daredevil in the back seat and the disruption in the constant hum of the car's motor as Michelle shifts gears.

Peter slowly reaches up and pulls off his mask.

"…Holy crap…"

Peter blinks and turns his head towards Ned. His friend is half-turned around in his seat, staring at Daredevil with wide eyes. Peter glances up at the rearview mirror and sees Michelle's eyes glance back, staring at the older vigilante, before flickering over and meeting his own.

"Sit down Ned, I can't afford to get pulled over." Michelle says calmly, though Peter can see the white-knuckle grip she has on the steering wheel.

"Right. Right…sorry." Ned says, turning back around in his seat. Peter hears the click of the seatbelt.

"Are you okay?"

Peter rests his head against the fabric on the back of the passenger seat, closing his eyes.

"Peter. Are you okay?"

The teenager tilts his head up, staring. Michelle turns her head back for a second, but he can see that she sees the damage when her eyes glance over his chest. He reaches up idly and feels the torn fabric and the slight sting of ripped flesh. It’s not too bad, it’ll probably heal in an hour or two, as opposed to his hands. He glances down at the sliced palms.

"I'm okay." He affirms. "…Whose car is this?"

"My sister's." Michelle says.

"…Can you drive?"

"Are you asking if I know how, or if I have a license?"

"…Uh…both."

"In order: Yes. No. Hence why I can't get pulled over, Ned turn the fuck around."

"Sorry. Just, he looks really bad."

Peter turns his head back to Daredevil and grimaces. Yeah, he does. The man’s face is mostly covered but Peter can see the grimace and the sweat pouring off of the guy’s skin, and he can also see the red patch on the glob of webbing he'd put in the wound.

Michelle turns down another street, one that is just as empty but that has more cars littered down the side. Peter sways slightly with the motion of the car, not really paying attention to where they are going. He does notice, however, when the car slows to a stop and the engine shuts off. Peter glances up and around. They’re up against the curb, parked in one of the few empty spots on the street.  

"…Um." Peter starts. Ned turns to stare at Michelle, who sits at the wheel, tapping her thumbs rapidly against the geometric-printed steering wheel cover.

"…I don't know what to do." Michelle admits, staring straight ahead.

That simple statement. That…simple statement, is well…it's enough. It's enough to illuminate the situation they are currently in at the moment.

…shit.

They had been operating in the very surreal aftermath of a very intense situation. All of them acting on instinct, all of them trying to get to a certain point. And that point was, make sure Peter and Daredevil didn't die. Get out of the burning building. Find their friends.

Now they had achieved that. They were out. And that simple statement brought to light the next, very real, even more terrifying question:

Now what?

Where do they go?

"…Hospital?" Michelle asks, in a tone that implies she already knows the answer.

"We can't…" Peter says in a defeated tone. "I-…they would unmask him. He'd get arrested. He's violating the Sokovia Accords…at least, I think he's violating the Sokovia Accords."

"Do you know anything about him? Is there somewhere we could go? Someone you know in your…super-secret superhero club that also knows him?" Michelle ventures, and Ned bites his lip, his eyes growing wider.

"We don't know anybody, we just met him yesterday…" Ned says, when Peter's brain comes up empty. "I mean, there's other vigilantes but we don't know if they know him."

Peter bounces his leg up and down in the footwell, staring at Daredevil, then pushes himself up and sits on the edge of the center seat, so he can look at both Michelle and Ned. Ned turns around and sees Peter for the first time, his eyes widening and going straight to Peter's ripped suit.

"I'm fine-" Peter says, though Ned doesn't look convinced in the slightest, then dips his head. "There isn't anyone else."

"…What about Tony Stark?"

Peter and Ned both look at Michelle, who is turned in her seat, one arm resting over the steering wheel.

"He doesn't know Daredevil." Peter says quickly.

"But he's a superhero. Who runs the Avengers. He's probably got some suped up super hero hospital," Michelle says, rolling her eyes at herself. "Or…something. Right?"

"I mean, yeah, but-"

Michelle lifts her arms in an exasperated gesture. "But what?"

"We…well…we don't exactly…talk." Peter says, shrugging. "Anymore."

Ned nods frantically. "Plus…if we call him, he's totally gonna take away the suit again."

Peter swallows. He hadn’t really thought about that. Really, all he had been thinking about was the radio silence between them. To be completely honest, he's a little afraid…maybe Tony wouldn't even pick up. Peter hadn't really tried to contact Mr. Stark. He'd talked to Happy every once in a while, but it was obvious the guy wasn't keeping tabs on him as much. In fact, he'd messaged Peter twice in the last three months. Both were just a, "Hey Kid, everything going good"? A short text message conversation was all that had transpired, then when Peter asked about Mr. Stark, he'd gotten a, "He's busy". 

Peter doesn't know why. Doesn’t know if he did something wrong or…or what.

He'd thought things would be different or something after the Vulture. When they weren't…well.

"Okay, look:" Michelle says, shaking her head like what Peter and Ned have said is the most idiotic thing she has ever heard in her life. "I know I'm "new", but there's a guy bleeding out in the back seat of my sister's car, that I stole by the way, and you guys don't want to call Tony Stark because you would rather deal with figuring out how to get rid of a body than getting your Spider-Man suit taken away? Because if we don't call him, that's exactly what we are going to be doing. Dumping a body in the Hudson. You understand this, right?"

Ned and Peter just stare at her.

Well, when you put it that way…

"Ned, give me your phone." Peter says.

Ned hands it over without a word.

Peter punches Happy's number in to the phone. He'd memorized it the second he got it, of course. Because who wouldn't memorize the phone number that allowed you to talk to Mr. Stark's personal head of security? And then possibly Tony Stark?

Peter taps his fingers on the arm rest of the car as it rings…his two friends watching him intently.

"….You've reached the voice mailbox of……..Happy Hogan…."

"No…no, no, no, come on." Peter says, ending the call, then immediately dialing again. He taps his hand against the fake leather armrest as he's again put through to voicemail. "Happy, pick up the phone."

"He probably doesn't recognize the number." Ned says lamely.

And Peter left his phone at his apartment because he's an absolute dumbass.

"Happy! Happy." Peter says on the third try, when the voicemail tone beeps. "It's Peter. Parker. Please, pick up. I need to talk to you right now. It's-" He opens his mouth to spill out the events, but at the last second, stares at Daredevil, lying there in the back seat. Peter…can't just tell them what happened. He doesn't know how Tony would react to another vigilante. He doesn't know the…protocol for stuff like that. Would Daredevil get locked away?

"It's-It's…It's an emergency. Okay? And it's time sensitive. Very time sensitive, please pick up okay?"

He hangs up. He looks down, fingers flying and he shoots out a about a dozen texts to Happy. Hoping that if the man has his phone on him, and it isn't on silent or something, Peter can annoy him in to checking it. He glances up to look at Ned and Michelle, who both look a little panicked by now.

Seeing panic on Michelle's face is a strange and weirdly terrifying thing.

"Can you call Mr. Stark?" Michelle asks, her voice smaller.

The next realization is a little dizzying.

"……He never gave me his number……" Peter says faintly. "…Only Karen can call him, and the suit's…not powering up."

Everyone in the car is still.

"He never gave me his number." Peter repeats dully, turning to look at Daredevil.

Michelle suddenly bangs the steering wheel with the palm of her hand, cursing. "What kind of shithole doesn't give their superhero prodigy a way to fucking contact them?"

"Oh my God…" Ned says softly from the passenger seat. "We're going to jail, aren't we? For like, arson. And possibly murder. If we don’t take him to a hospital and he dies, does that mean we killed him?"

"We've got to go to the hospital." Michelle says finally.

"They won't let us leave if we bring in Daredevil." Ned exclaims.

"Then we dump him at the ambulance entrance." Michelle counters.

"No. We can't do that. We can't…out him like that," Peter says.

"Maybe he can heal and break out or something. He's a freaking superhero," Michelle says.

"No."

Michelle and Ned turn back to look at him. Peter is gripping the meat of his thighs hard, nails poking his skin painfully, an unhelpful and terrible distraction from his palms.

"No." He repeats. "You guys don't have to be a part of this. Okay? But…I'm not taking him there. It's as good as turning him in. And I can't do that. So." He breathes shakily. "So MJ, just…drop me off at my apartment. And then you and Ned leave. I'll make sure it was like you were never there." Peter shrugs. "Happy could still call. And if not…I'll…I'll…I'll deal with it." 

Ned bites his lip. "Peter…"

"No, that's stupid." Michelle counters.

Peter shrugs. "I-…There's nothing else I can do. But my Aunt at least has some medical supplies, so-…"

Michelle and Ned both share a look, a look Peter didn't know they could share, because…well, he was pretty sure up until tonight that they hated each other. Or at least, Ned hated Michelle, but this look…

…well, it looks suspiciously like a "gang up on Peter" look.

"We're not gonna let you do that." Michelle says.

"Alone." Ned adds.

"I- …" Peter blinks, before shaking his head. "Guys-"

"We're either all in, or all out." Ned says.

Michelle nods, pointing at Ned. "Ditto."

Peter stares at his friends, dumbfounded, as Michelle turns in her seat and starts the car. She shakes her head and lets out a rueful laugh. "Felon at fifteen. Dad was right, I'll give him that."

~~~

"…One…Two…Three…"

 The trio lifts in unison, strain etched on their faces as they try to jostle their cargo as little as possible. There are moans and grunts as they deposit the load onto the couch, taking care not to pull off the thick white sheets or the makeshift plastic tarp stitched together from garbage bags and duct tape…

 When they are done, they stand back.

 Ned is panting, bending over and placing his hands on his knees, sweat dripping down from his forehead.

 There is an odd silence between them, staring down at the maroon and black armor that adorns the unconscious man now occupying, and bleeding all over, Aunt May's couch. Their eyes land on the intertwined, double D's carved into his chest plate.

 "…So…" Michelle finally says, straightening up and looking over at Peter, who is wiping his bloody hands across his thighs. "…This is why you quit marching band. I gotta hand it to you: sneaking a nearly dead dude up seven flights of stairs at 3 in the morning definitely supplies me with the excitement I never quite got on the field."

Peter sighs dramatically.

"It's like I'm living one of my books." Michelle adds, as Ned just stands there, shaking his head and looking around at the apartment.

"This is bad, this is very bad."

"Ned, what?"

"Peter: He's gonna know where you live."

"I-…I know…I mean, does it matter? He already knows who I am." Peter says, the panic welling up in him once again.

"Yeah, but he didn't know your last name. Or your address. Or…well, you know. Anything else besides your first name." Michelle says bluntly.

Oh God, Peter thinks, turning around and looking at his place. Aunt May. What was he thinking?

"He's a good guy, right? He'd never-" Peter cuts himself off because he doesn't really know this guy. Right? He doesn't. And he'd brought him to the place he sleeps. Where his family sleeps.

"Should we like…cover everything with white sheets?" Ned asks.

Michelle turns at him and raises her eyebrows. "He's blind, Ned."

"He says he's blind! I still don't know if I believe it."

The webbing is starting to dissolve on Daredevil's leg and Peter kneels down to check the wound. It's still…kind of bleeding, but it seems to have slowed down. Even with the loosening of the tourniquet some of the webbing strands have naturally snapped in the dissolving process.

“…Well…there’s nothing we can do about it now,” Michelle says, clearly trying to keep the room from dissolving in to chaos. She grimaces at the older vigilante. “Hopefully he’s…not as bad as he looks. Both in the physical department and the moral compass department.”

Peter walks over to the living room table where he had his webshooter cartridge loader, and grabs another cartridge, filling it only slightly with webbing. Michelle silently walks to the kitchen as Peter does this, grabbing a knife from the block on the kitchen counter and following Peter when he goes back to Daredevil.

Ned hovers, keeping an eye on the unconscious man as Peter readies himself to hold him down should he wake up. Peter is surprised when Michelle, with no real hesitation, grabs the fabric of the man's suit where the blade had entered and slides the knife under and in between the padding, slicing a hole big enough so that Peter can crush the cartridge, and shove the mess of fluid up against the already dissolving webbing. He takes his hand away and watches as it expands.

Michelle pulls her hands away, wiping the blood-stained fingertips on her black pants. "You know I read this article about how they have this expandable adhesive to help stop the bleeding while they get wounded soldiers back to the medics. And actually, some soldiers carry tampons with them because they work for packing wounds. They expand when they get wet and fill up the opening they're packed in to."

"…" Peter stares at Michelle, who shrugs.

"I guess…I mean that's what they were designed for so I guess that makes sense?" He says awkwardly, as Ned sighs and sits down on one of the chairs at the kitchen table. He slides over the med kit that Peter's Aunt keeps stashed away and examines everything inside. He whistles lowly.

"Your Aunt…keeps a ton of stuff in here."

"…Yeah, I think she uh…added a few things after she found out…" Peter admits. Ned turns his head towards Peter grimly, his expression knowing, and a little sympathetic. Ned knows everything that happened after May found out. Peter had talked to him about it at length.

Michelle sits across from them, pushing her lips to the side in an expression of awkwardness.

"…So now what?" Ned asks.

"I…I guess we just…wait for him to wake up, if he wakes up, and ask him who we can call." Peter says softly. He stares down at his hands in his lap, looking at the bloody gashes. They look fresh and angry. Normally, they'd look a lot better by now. His healing factor is pretty good, but he had been using his hands, so they kept tearing open. 

"It's the best plan we got," Michelle agrees, watching Peter closely, before lifting her arm and placing a hand gently on his shoulder. "…C'mon, I'll help you clean that out."

"I'm fine." Peter says automatically.

"Bullshit," Michelle says lightheartedly, but once again, in what Peter thinks may be some weird special power, her tone carries that second, underlying emotion. This time it’s frustration. "C'mon. Your suit's covered in blood dude, you're making us nervous."

"Yeah, plus-…I can work on it, try to get it working so we can call Mr. Stark directly," Ned pushes. He nods his head towards Daredevil. "I'll…uh…watch him, I guess."

Michelle is already grabbing Peter by the arm and hauling him to his feet, walking past Ned, who closes the med kit and hands it to Michelle on the way. Peter doesn't miss the worried look Ned gives him as Michelle drags him in to the bathroom.

"Sit," She says, pointing to the closed toilet seat. Peter presses his lips in to a thin line, but sits, sighing as Michelle busts open the Med kit and balances it on the edge of the tub, then sits herself down on it as well. The way the bathroom is situated, Peter can sit sort of sideways on the toilet and she can sit sideways on the wide tub edge, and they can face each other.

Michelle reaches out and takes Peter’s hand in hers, almost hesitantly. There’s a slight pause in her movements, and Peter glances up to look at her expression. She’s worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Peter sucks in a breath, feeling awkward about breathing in to the small space between them. Finally, she flips his palm up to reveal the damage.

"…So: just grabbing your things from school, huh?" Mj says, hissing to herself sympathetically. "I'm assuming that you weren't just going to get food, either, on friday night."

"…No…I wasn't." Peter admits, letting his eyes fall to the ground. His hand twitches slightly and he nearly pulls it back when she spreads his fingers slightly.

“Sorry,” She says, but glances up at him, assessing his expression. She doesn’t press about Friday. Doesn’t ask him what exactly he had been doing. Just…accepts the answer for what it is. Spider-Man stuff.

"…How did you find out?" Peter asks.

Michelle actually laughs. Laughs, and Peter is taken aback. "Parker, I've known forever."

"What?!?"

"Peter you're a terrible liar. You and Ned both. Also, you guys don't whisper as quietly as you think you do." Michelle answers, shrugging. "The only reason nobody thinks it's you is because nobody can imagine Spider-Man as some fifteen-year-old high school kid."

Peter huffs a little indignantly. "I mean- Ned didn't figure it out. My Aunt didn't figure it out."

"And how is my point any less valid?" Michelle asks, quirking an eyebrow. Peter opens his mouth to retort, then shuts it.

She nods as if to say "Yeah, see?", before hovering around his webshooters hesitantly. It takes a moment for Peter to realize that she’s trying to figure out how to take them off.

"Oh, uh…you press that…thing right there…" Peter says, gesturing with his other hand, trying not to move it too much.

"Got it," Michelle says, pressing the button under his wrist and unclipping the black band from his suit. She does the same to the other hand. She takes the black bands and carefully places them on the tub. Peter blinks at how gently she treats them, even though he's sure it's evident that they can take a beating at this point…

God, he realizes. If that blade had hit half an inch in the wrong direction, the depressor for his webshooters would have been severed. They wouldn't have worked at all. He'd have been totally screwed.

Michelle reaches up and peels the fabric of his gloves down gently, wincing with Peter when the torn parts stick to his wounds. But she manages to get both off, discarding the ripped fabric in to the tub. Peter looks down at his bare hands.

"It looks a lot worse without the gloves," Michelle comments, reaching for the Isopropyl Alcohol.

"It always does, but I heal really quick." Peter says. "…But…seriously, how long did you know?"

Michelle looks at him seriously for a moment, holding the bottle of alcohol in her lap. "…I started getting suspicious after you went to that "internship retreat" with Tony Stark in Germany. Then the airport footage showed up on Youtube like a day later. But I wasn't one-hundred percent sure until D.C."

"Did you recognize my voice?" Peter remembers standing not five feet from her at the Washington Monument.

My friends are up there!

The memory of that day, how close it had been, to losing his classmates, sends shivers down his spine.

"I mean, your voice is kind of unmistakable. It gets all high-pitched and squeaky when you're nervous." Michelle smiles a little, then she blinks and looks down, scrunching up her expression in something that looks a little like regret. The girl clears her throat, and Peter, the awkward and non-confrontational person that he is, decides to pretend not to see it, or acknowledge what just happened. "Uh-, but no. It was just one too many coincidences, dude. I mean, you just randomly disappeared. Spider-Man appeared. In Washington, three hundred miles away from where he normally is. So."

"…Right…" Peter sighs, kicking himself for being…well, so careless with his secret identity. After all…when he really thought about it…a lot of people knew. A lot.

So…if Michelle knew…and had known…

"…Why didn't you say anything?" Peter asks, giving MJ a curious expression.

Michelle shrugs. "…I guess…I didn't want you guys to think I was just butting in to your lives because you were a superhero. I'm not like that. I don't care what you do. If you have powers or not. If I'm gonna be friends with someone it's because I think they're a decent human being, you know?"

"So you…sitting with us at lunch…"

Michelle sighs, and it's a sigh that sounds slightly annoyed. She punctuates it with a roll of her eyes. "I am told that I do this thing where when I want to be friends with people, I treat them like an asshole."

Peter feels himself smiling. "So you calling us losers…"

"Is 'Michelle' for 'Hey, let's be friends'. Yes."

Peter is laughing, and Michelle raises an eyebrow at him before pouring the alcohol over his hands unceremoniously.

"HOLY SHIT-Ow. Ow….Ffffff------uck." Peter bites down on his lip and Michelle gives him a satisfied smirk. “Warning!”

"…It doesn't mean I'm still not an asshole." She supplies, when Peter gives her an incredulous expression.

"…I will…keep that in mind." Peter says distantly, hissing at the burning in his hands.

Michelle is there a second later, her hands back to their gentle touch, wrapping his left palm with gauze. "You said you heal? So this won't need stitches?"

Peter shakes his head. "No, it should be fine. I…think."

"Try not to stretch out your fingers for…I dunno…however long it takes you to do your thing then." Michelle replies, switching to the other hand after applying some medical tape to the end of the first strand. "What about that nasty-ass cut on your chest?"

"It wasn't that deep so I think-" Peter reaches down to pull at the top of his suit, but Michelle stops him before he can grab it.

"You're really an idiot," She mutters. "What did I just say about your hands?"

"Oh," Peter says dumbly. "Right. What I mean is, it's probably mostly healed by now."

Michelle reaches out and picks at the torn fabric at his chest, stretching it just a bit so she can see the cut. She whistles low.

"...Wow. It's…-poof-…gone." She says, a bit of awe in her voice. "That's a pretty handy power to have."

"Yeah, it's uh…pretty convenient."

Michelle retracts her hand slowly. "Well, I'm done, unless - Oh, wait."

Michelle gets up and grabs some toilet paper from the roll, wadding it up and running it under the sink, before leaning over and brushing it across the back of the young hero's jaw. Peter almost pulls back, not expecting the action and feeling the closeness like a prickling at his skin. "Your ears were bleeding."

Peter faintly reaches up and feels the crusted blood on the side she hasn't cleaned yet. "Oh…must've been from the sound."

Michelle nods, leaning to the side and getting his other ear. Peter bites his lip, glancing down and cursing at himself inwardly, when he feels his cheeks heating up. When Michelle finally pulls back, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

"I'll shower and figure that all out after our friend is off my Aunt's couch…" Peter says, groaning towards the end of the sentence. “This sounds terrible, but he better not die, because then I am so grounded.”

Michelle lets out an amused huff. "At the least. Anywhere else?" MJ asks, looking him over.

"No…I got hit by a ninja star but I'm pretty sure that's also almost healed by now," He admits. "…Uh, Thanks. For everything, MJ. And…I'm sorry…"

"Sorry for what?"

"That we got you in to this, and that we uh…didn't tell you." Peter says, grimacing. "I'm sorry if you felt left out or anything."

He doesn’t know, really, if she felt left out, but she doesn’t seem too bothered by it in this moment. She simply shrugs at him. "Eh. It all worked out in the end, I guess."

"So then…" Peter really doesn't want to accidentally alert MJ to the fact that Ned has a problem with her, mostly because he doesn't know if Ned still has a problem with her after tonight. "…we're all good?"

"Yeah, Peter. We're all good." Michelle points at him suddenly. "I'm on the super team now, though."

Peter nods quickly. "Definitely."

"Good. Just so we're clear. And-also, just so we're clear-" Michelle closes the med kit, and as if making a point, shows him the wad of bloody toilet paper before throwing it in the trash. "Your secret's safe with me."

Peter smiles at Michelle, nodding slightly. "…Thanks, MJ."

God…how did he have such good friends?

~~~

Happy doesn't call Peter back that night.

Peter tries again a couple of times, using his own cell phone.

But by the tenth call and twentieth text, he gives up.

So the three of them are resigned to waiting.

After Peter invests in a change of clothes, the young hero and Ned try to fix the suit, with MJ snacking on popcorn and asking questions along the way.

"I'm gonna have to learn how this thing works eventually, right? What if Ned's on a coffee break or has a serious case of the runs?" Michelle asks. Peter laughs and Ned shakes his head, but lets out a small chuckle.

The atmosphere is tense, but as the hours tick by, and Daredevil doesn't, well, die, they start to fall in to this weird sense of normalcy of waiting. They add another layer of webbing to the man's wound when the latest one starts to dissolve, noting that the bleeding has seemed to stop. Since Daredevil's leg doesn't look…swollen or anything, they can only hope that it really has and nothing bad is happening internally. That being said…the strange, anxious giddiness of waiting forces them to at least try to be normal.

And, being teenagers strung out on coffee and sugary snacks, none of them can keep their mouths shut in what should be a respectful silence for long. So…they just sit at the table, passing snacks and talking with one another.

The proverbial "ice" seems to be broken between the three of them. Even though there's a bit of awkwardness between Ned and Michelle (Peter feels like maybe something went down between them that he wasn't aware of), they seem to be ignoring it, with the attitude that the life or death situation that had happened tonight sort of trumped whatever drama had gone on. It was…at least for now, unimportant. Peter appreciates this because…he's sure if he was alone with his thoughts right now, he'd probably spiral in to a panic, thinking through what had happened tonight.

Michelle talks a lot, Peter realizes, when she feels more comfortable. She isn't as chatty as Peter, and nobody is as chatty as Ned, but she talks. She gives her input, she throws in her sarcastic two cents. Peter finds that he loves it. She's like…the missing link in their duo that they didn't know was missing in the first place. Her attitude kind of completes their whole "thing".

"So…" Ned is saying, looking at the table with a giant pair of magnifying glasses on. His eyes look huge, and Michelle is busy tossing popcorn at them. "If we took over the world. I could take over the internet. And Peter can like…summon an army of spiders."

"Can you do that? That would be so rad." Michelle asks casually, tossing up a piece of popcorn and trying to catch it in her mouth.

"No, for the last time no, I can't do that, but go on-" Peter says, bouncing his leg up and down under his seat. Michelle aims at Peter this time and the teenager catches the popcorn piece in his mouth when she tosses it. She gives him an impressed nod.

"And I'll handle PR." Michelle says resolutely. Ned raises an eyebrow.

"We need a PR person." Ned finally says, pointing his soldering iron at Michelle. Peter gingerly dusts some popcorn dust off of the suit. "She's scary enough for people to take her seriously. And you can argue with the smart people and just talk in riddles to the dumb people."

Peter shakes his head. "God, you're terrible."

"I love talking to dumb people." Michelle agrees. Peter buries his face in the crook of his arm.

"-…it can be quite entertaining…"

Everyone straightens at the voice that comes from the couch, groggy and slightly annoyed.

"Serpentine…! Evasive maneuvers!" Ned whispers, pushing himself from the counter as Michelle stands and edges away from the view of the couch.

Peter grabs his mask and pulls it on, feeling stupid, because he is in pajamas, and he’s pretty sure…that Daredevil is…blind.

"…Uh…Hello?" He asks, getting up slowly, tiptoeing from his place at the table towards the couch.

Michelle and Ned stay in the corner of the room, as silent as they can be.

"…You don't have to hide…" Daredevil says finally, and his voice sounds scratchy. Drained. "Ned. Michelle…I know that you're…there…"

"How the Hell does he know who we are?" Ned exclaims. Michelle smacks her hand to her head.

“Well, now he knows, dumbass.”

"I heard you…" Peter walks up to the man on the couch, who turns his head slightly in Peter's directly. He looks exhausted, his features drained but he's…alive. Pale, but alive. "…over the radio in your mask."

Daredevil's face is pointed directly toward him, but Peter still feels the need to…what, check? Verify the man’s story? So, stupidly, he sticks his hand out in front of the man's face, keeping it a respectful distance away, and waves slightly.

"I really am blind." Daredevil says in response, and Peter jumps a little, taking a step back. "Like I told you. So you don't have to wear the mask. It's useless to me. I can pick you out of a crowd from your heartbeat and voice anyways."

Peter blinks, glancing at the other two, who are looking at him with wide eyes. Gingerly, Peter reaches up and pulls off his mask.

"I'm…" Daredevil takes a moment to suck in a breath. "I'm not going to tell anyone." And with that, his arms come up, trying to sit himself upright.

"Uh, Please don't, I mean- Mr….Daredevil, that's not a good idea. We've got your leg all elevated and-" Peter reaches forward to try and keep the man down. Daredevil does pause, tilting his head to the side.

"…Bleeding stopped, what is that stuff, your webbing?" He asks.

Damn. Are his senses that good?

"Damn, how can you even tell?" Ned asks, parroting Peter's internal question. His friends start to come from the corner now, slowly making their way towards the couch, caution in their steps.

"I can smell it. It has a very distinct smell…" Daredevil answers carefully.

"So, are like, all your senses super? Or just your hearing and smell? Or are they actually…super? Like, Super Super? Or did you just train really hard?" Ned asks. He gasps. "Did you train here or did you train in a super secret mountain city somewhere?"

"Ned-" Peter warns, and Michelle snickers as the vigilante turns his head towards the pair.

“Sorry-…I probably should have said first, we’re like...super glad you’re not dead by the way-“

"…You patched me up." Daredevil finally says, ignoring all of Ned's questions, but seeming sincere. "You brought me back to your apartment."

"It's not my apartment." Peter says.

"It smells like you."

"Uhm."

"That's weird." Michelle comments, just as Ned says, "That's so cool."

Daredevil sighs, bringing up his hand and pressing it to his head. Whether it's in pain or exasperation, Peter doesn't know. "You don't even know me."

"…Uhm…Okay, Mr. Daredevil, sir, uhm, before you possibly pass out again, we're really glad that you're okay but-…" Peter sighs a little. "Is there…someone you can call? Because…I would prefer it if you weren't here…"

"Yes, of course."

"Not that we don't think you're awesome-" Ned chimes in.

"It’s alright. I get the feeling-" Daredevil says, turning his head between the three of them. "-That my presence would not be appreciated should any of your parents come home."

The awkward silence between the three of them all but confirms that's sort of exactly what they are hinting at.

"Jeez, wow." Daredevil says softly, more to himself than them, Peter thinks. "…kids, for pete’s sake…Yeah…hang on."

Daredevil reaches in a small pouch on his suit and pulls out a small, brick phone. A burner, Peter realizes. He feels for the first button, holds it for a few seconds, and pulls the phone up to his ear.

Peter blinks.

"Was that phone there the whole time?" Michelle asks, pointing. She looks at Peter.

"…Why the Hell didn't we think of that?" Ned asks distantly.

"You didn't check his pockets?" Michelle asks, a little louder.

Peter opens his mouth to respond, sputtering, "N-n…Well, neither did you!"

"I assumed you had already done it!" Michelle says incredulously. "That's the first thing you do!"

Daredevil still has his head turned towards all of them from his spot, half-sat on the couch and shakes his head.

"…Yeah. Claire…Sorry, I know you said you were done, but…I need a big favor."

~~

After another barrage of questions from Ned, Peter manages to get an oversized hoodie that belonged to Ben over Daredevil's costume so that no one notices them as they head out of the apartment. It's early…6am on a Sunday morning, but Peter knows plenty of people who are awake around that time. They can't take any chances.

"You gotta bring it back though," Peter says seriously.

"Of course…" Daredevil replies tiredly, arm swung over Peter's shoulder, as they make their way towards the elevator. "When I can…Ungh, walk again. It will find its way to your door. I promise."

Peter doesn't want whoever the Hell is picking up Daredevil to know where he lives (Understandably so, Daredevil agrees), so the vigilante gave his friend a corner to meet them at. Peter manages to walk Daredevil there, despite the man's extreme limp and lack of energy. Peter feels kind of bad for making him walk at all, to be honest…

But he cares about May's security more.

"…Know that I'm not going to tell anyone, Peter." Daredevil says, as Peter helps him sit down on the stoop covered mostly in shadow, not too far from the road, but not directly in view of it either. "Your name. Or where you live. I don't operate that way."

"Thanks…uh, sir." Peter says softly, sitting down next to him. "I really appreciate that."

Daredevil nods slightly, sighing as he lets himself lean to the side and in to the railing a little bit. Peter grimaces, feeling for the guy.

“…Do you have a healing factor?”

The vigilante chuckles slightly, his teeth showing beneath his lips, a sort of eerie looking expression with the mask, illuminated by the orange glow of the street light not a couple yards away. “Not so much. But don’t worry, I’ll be good.”

Damn…Peter nods barely, not even imagining having to go through what they did tonight and not having a healing factor. He glances down at his bandaged hands. They would be closed by the end of the day, and by Monday they’d probably just be scars. End the end of the week? Like it never happened.

Peter can’t quite help but feel partially responsible. This is a different feeling than he is used to. Usually, he’s way too busy trying to convince others he is capable. Tonight…he was shown just how…well, unprepared he was. “…I’m sorry that happened to you. Maybe if I’d been quicker-“

“No, don’t apologize.” Daredevil says instantly, turning his head in Peter’s direction. “Not for tonight.”

“But I-“

“Peter, the fault lies with me.” Daredevil says strongly, cutting the teenager off. “I never should have brought you to that deal, knowing you hadn’t dealt with anything like that before. I wasn’t exactly expecting the Hand to show up, but even so-“

If that’s supposed to make Peter feel better, it doesn’t. It just makes him feel worse. That he shouldn’t have been there at all. He hangs his head slightly, and sighs. "I guess..."

“What I mean to say, is, I should have considered the possibility they might show up, considering they’ve been around lately. And I should have ascertained what kind of experience you had before taking you with me. It doesn’t mean I think you are incapable. Those people, they-…have a different level of skill. Years of training.”

“…Who are they?” Peter asks.

“…They’re…an organization. An ancient one, and from what I’ve gathered, they seek immortality.” Daredevil says. “Don’t ask me if immortality really exists. I’m just trying to keep them out of my city.”

“That’s…um…intense,” Peter tries, not really knowing what to say to that. “…It was like they were expecting you.”

“They probably were. We’ve…tangled before, a couple of times. They know about my abilities.”

“…People died…a lot of people…” Peter hears himself say softly.

“Yeah, they did. But not because of you. Peter, believe it or not, those men were doomed way before we set foot in that building. The life they chose rarely has a happy ending.” Daredevil grunts, adjusting the way he’s sitting on the concrete, stretching his leg slightly. He hisses. “…Considering the circumstances, I would say you did very well.”

Peter turns his head towards Daredevil and raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“You survived the Hand. You managed to knock out the device, and you got my sorry ass out of that building.” Daredevil chuckles darkly. “I was pretty useless.”

“…”

“You can’t save everybody. Not all the time. We can try, but-…” Daredevil shakes his head, sighing. “It’s impossible. If you choose to continue with this life, that is something you have to learn to accept. People die. They do horrible things to one another, and some days, a lot of days, it feels pretty damn trivial, what we do. The difference we make. A bunch of bad people died this weekend.”

Peter exhales slightly, hanging his head.

“But there’s a little girl who is with her mother right now because of you, kid. And me-“ Daredevil places his hand on his own chest. “I wouldn’t be here right now if you hadn’t been there. I’d be dead. That’s a fact.”

Daredevil reaches out and places a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “You saved two people this weekend. Focus on that. Keep that. The rest? Well…try to throw it out.”

Peter lifts his head and watches Daredevil as he retracts his hand. “…is that what you do?”

Daredevil chuckles. “Oh, definitely not. I hold on to all my sins. I am…terrible at taking my own advice.”

Peter lets a small smirk spread across his face, and he chuckles a little himself. Yeah…that…seems to be a common theme among super people.

“Might wanna get Tony Stark to teach you some hand-to-hand though,” Daredevil adds, tilting his head to the side. “In addition to that fancy suit. And those web things of his will only get you so far in close quarters.”

“…I…made the webshooters…” Peter bites his lips, the sour note that accompanies Mr. Stark’s name hitting him square in the gut. He swallows slightly, looking down to the ground and scuffing the concrete with his foot lightly. “…As for the other stuff, yeah, I don’t…know…”

“What do you mean?” Daredevil smirks. “I thought he was your sponsor.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Yeah…I mean he made the suit, but yeah, I…” He doesn’t really know how to put in to words what he’s feeling. Really, though…what should he be feeling? He was the one who turned down being an Avenger, right? Why would Tony contact him, he didn’t have a reason…

Daredevil is silent, a rather strong, and solid frown adorning the exposed half of his face.

Peter feels his cheeks turn a little pink, and shrugs, fiddling with the hem of his sweatshirt between his fingers. ”I don’t think Mr. Stark is a “hand-to-hand” kinda guy,” He says lamely.

The older vigilante nods slightly, taking a moment as he assesses Peter. He shakes his head, chuckling softly. But it’s a very…empty chuckle, Peter thinks, like if a chuckle could carry hatred, Peter could bet his ass it would sound like that. Daredevil tilts his head down. “I see.”

There’s a silence between them that is…pretty…heavy, at least to Peter.

“Just for my own curiosity,” Daredevil continues, turning his head towards Peter again. He lifts his hand in a questioning gesture, before letting it drop back down beside himself in a flop. “What did Tony Stark teach you, before letting you loose on the streets?”

Peter feels his cheeks turn an even brighter shade of red, though this isn’t embarrassment. This is…shame, and a bit of, well, anger. “Uh, excuse me?”

“What did he teach you?” Daredevil asks, tilting his head. “He didn’t teach you how to fight. Okay, maybe he’s not a fighter. His suit allows him not to be, but what about the other stuff?”

Peter bites his lip. “…What other stuff?”

“What other stuff? Well, let’s see.” He holds up his hand, counting off on his fingers. It’s a gesture that isn’t performed in an exaggerated motion, but on the usually stoic vigilante in front of him, it still feels that way. “Did he teach you how to approach different situations? Basic strategy. How to find weaknesses in your opponents?”

“…I…Uh…No…” Peter says softly, biting his lip. “But I mean-“

“Did he teach you what to do if you’re ambushed?”

“I…Not exactly-“

“What about if you’re cornered by the police? What about weapons? The best way to stop a sword, for example.” Daredevil tilts his head towards Peter’s hands. “What about how to treat your own wounds, if you can’t get medical attention?”

“…It didn’t come up, but Mr. Stark is busy, and-“

“Jesus Kid, has he even gone out with you while you do this? At all?”

Peter suddenly feels…very small. His chest feels tight, his throat feels tight. His cheeks feel red and hot, and his eyes are stinging. He grits his teeth hard and can feel the stress in his jaw muscles. The headache from the siren weapon earlier that is flaring up. He can feel the anger.

But mostly, he can feel the weight. The embarrassment.

“…No.”

Daredevil, despite having half his face hidden, still looks blown away by that. “Not once?”

Peter blinks and pointedly doesn’t look at Daredevil. “No…I mean, there was that one time I got dropped in the lake, and the other time I…on the Staten Island Ferry, but…he just showed up to-“ Peter finds he can’t even finish his sentence. To clean up after me. “But- he asked me to join the Avengers. So.”

“Yet you aren’t an Avenger.” Man. He just doesn’t quit, does he?

“No- I…” Peter sighs. “I said no.”

“Why?”

“Because-….because…” Peter shrugs. “Because I wasn’t ready. I mean, I just…I didn’t really think he meant it, and I thought it was a test, like for me to tell him I wasn’t ready.” 

Daredevil leans forward, hissing slightly when it stretches his leg, but still pushes on. ”…And then…”

“And then nothing. I don’t know. I haven’t heard anything from him since.”

Daredevil’s features soften slightly, and Peter hates it. Hates it so much, because it means Daredevil feels bad, and it means Peter has something to feel bad about. It makes him feel…pathetic.

“…Can I give you some advice, Peter?”

Peter sighs. “Sure.”

”Don’t make the mistake of waiting for others to care.”

Peter blinks, and snaps his head up to the vigilante, who has his elbow leaning on his knees, his lips pressed in to a thin line. Agitation bubbles deep in Peter’s chest.

“Mr. Stark does care.”

“Does he?”

“Yes!” Peter exclaims angrily.

Daredevil sighs, a sigh that sounds like pity and the affirmation of Peter’s anxieties serves to anger the boy even more. “He took a kid with no experience in this life, shoved a fancy toy in your face, and then, for all intents and purposes, disappeared. That doesn’t sound like someone who cares.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Okay, fine, then. If not careless then incredibly ignorant,” Daredevil decides. “Maybe, distant, maybe he has issues with his father, I don’t know, I don’t care, but the point is, he left you with no skills to deal with what goes on down here.”

“I can handle myself.” Peter almost yells. “You said so yourself.”

“I said you did a good job back there,” Daredevil says. “That doesn’t mean you aren’t still woefully unprepared. You. We. Were lucky. You’ve got good instincts, and you’ve got a lot of potential, but if you think that means you can walk in to any situation and miraculously survive, you are sorely mistaken. Tony Stark is sorely mistaken. And he’s mistaken if he thinks you can choose to live this life in degrees.”

“Degrees?” Peter asks, “What the Hell does that mean?”

“It means in stages, steps, in levels of difficulty. Yes, the Avengers handle the bigger threats, but the threats down here can be just as nasty. You don’t get to just stop car chases and thieves. Not without getting caught up in the bigger picture. You stopped that father from taking his daughter. Yes, that was a win, but these things have consequences. Not everything is always easy, not everything is always cut and dry. Take that father, for example. Is he clean aside from the spousal abuse? Maybe he’s involved in something else, an organization perhaps. You’d be surprised how often those things overlap. Maybe he’s high up there.” Daredevil says. “Maybe his big brother’s the leader, right? Now, he’s not too happy about his little brother going back to jail, or the fact that he doesn’t get to see his niece, right? Now the entire crew’s out for Spider-Man’s blood.”

Peter hangs his head, not wanting to think about that.

“A group of shady guys hanging around a warehouse can lead to a human trafficking ring. A woman screaming for help can be an ambush. An in-and-out robbery can turn in to a hostage situation. And if you don’t know how to deal with those situations, if you don’t know the basics-“ Daredevil sighs. “You end up bleeding out in a dumpster somewhere.”

“…Hooray, another person who thinks I can’t do this…” Peter mumbles, turning his head to the side, looking away from Daredevil.

“I never said that.”

“You just did.”

“Did I ever, once, in the past few days, tell you to stop?”

Peter blinks, still not turning around.

“I’m saying, look at me-“ Daredevil reaches out and yanks Peter’s arm slightly, causing the boy to jump slightly and turn his head towards the man. “I’m saying…that it is dangerous out here. And to enable someone to just walk out here without even-“

Daredevil cuts himself off, shaking his head, and Peter realizes suddenly that he is pissed. But…not at Peter. No…not at Peter at all. The teenager doesn’t know how to react to that.

“…I’m saying you can’t afford to wait for someone above you to allow you to be great.” Daredevil finishes, releasing Peter’s arm. “You make yourself great. And you find people who are going to be there for you.”

He points, then, in the direction of Peter’s apartment. “It seems like you’re already off to a good start, too.”  He lets his face become grim again. “…But I wouldn’t count on Tony Stark.”

Peter can’t help the grimace that’s plastered on his face right now, as he stares at the vigilante. Part of him, the stubborn, childish part, is pissed off that he ever helped him. That he ever took this guy back to his apartment, and saved his life, only to have one of the people he looks up to the most be torn down right before his eyes. But then there’s the other part of him, the sad, bitter part of him, that agrees with everything the man has said. The part of him that is angry with Mr. Stark…for just…abandoning him.

No, not abandoning him. It was Peter’s choice.

…Mr. Stark had just punctuated it.

Peter hears the distant sound of a car engine, turning down the road, and as empty as it is out here, he knows that it must be the car that is coming to pick Daredevil up. Peter inhales a little shakily, glad to be rid of the vigilante for now because…well, he’s just tired and doesn’t want to continue this conversation.

“I think your friend is here, sir.”

“Right,” Daredevil says softly. He makes a movement as if to get up, and Peter, despite being angry and upset, gets up and extends his arms, wrapping them around the man’s torso to help him get to his feet. The older vigilante groans slightly, straining his way in to a standing position, but to his credit, he only sways slightly.

Across the hedges, Peter can see an older van pull up across the street. The engine doesn’t turn off, but someone does get out of the car. A woman, dark hair, bundled up in a large sweatshirt. A ball cap obscures most of her face.

“…That would be my friend.” Daredevil says, not looking in her direction, but by now Peter realizes he just knows these things. “…Hey, do you have your phone?”

Peter hesitates, surprised by the question, but eventually feels around his pants pockets and pulls out the device. By some miracle, he actually brought it with him from his apartment. “Yeah.”

“Bring up the keypad, dial when I tell you.”

“…okay…” Peter says, furrowing his brow and he unlocks his phone, and his thumbs hover over the keypad. “Go ahead.”

Daredevil rattles off a number and Peter dials it.

“Good, save that.”

“…What is it?” Peter asks.

“My number.” Daredevil replies. “I pick up most of the time, and I always return someone’s call. Just…shoot me a text and let me know it’s you at some point.”

Peter balks at the man.

Then realizes he’s being weirdly silent and that Daredevil probably has no idea how he’s reacting.

“Call if you need something,” Daredevil says. “Especially if it’s medical attention. I know a few people who can help in that arena. Good people.”

“…W-….why are you giving me this?” Is all Peter can think to ask, staring down at the number in his phone.

“Because…” Daredevil says, turning his head towards the woman who has made her way around the hedges and is walking up towards them. “…someone should have your back.”

Peter bites his lip.

“…So…” The woman, Claire, Peter supposes, says as she walks up to the two of them. Peter can see her face under the cap now. She looks…exasperated. “You end up bleeding on someone’s couch again?”

Daredevil snorts lightly. “Something like that.”

“Who’s this?” Claire asks, nodding towards Peter, who swallows slightly. Wondering if he should be here, if he should let yet another person see his face.

“A friend,” Daredevil says simply, and Peter turns his gaze back on the man, surprised that he said nothing. Will he continue to say nothing, after Peter is gone?

“So I guess I don’t get to know anything about this one, huh?” Claire asks, folding her arms. She sounds annoyed, but it’s an accepting kind of annoyed. Peter realizes she must be someone who has been with Daredevil a while.

“Sorry, Claire. Not this one.” Daredevil says, his tone apologetic, but final.

Claire inhales deeply. “Alright,” She says, shrugging, walking over to the man and grabbing the arm on the same side of his bad leg. She wraps it around her shoulders. “Let’s get this over with. Uh…nice to…well, see you.” She comments towards Peter.

The boy nods distantly. “Uh…yeah. You too.”

“Take care, kid.” Daredevil says. “And…what I said. Just…think about it.”

And he does. Peter thinks about it all the way home.

~~

"Anything eventful occur?" Michelle asks, when Peter opens the door to his apartment, thirty minutes later.  Not that it takes thirty minutes to walk to his apartment from where they were, but Peter may have taken a detour or two, just to get the cobwebs from his brain.

Peter stands in the doorway, phone still in his hand, turning it slightly in his hold as Ned looks up from his place working on the suit.

"Uh…Yeah…" Peter says distantly, looking up at his two friends. Ned and MJ exchange glances in their respective spots in the living room.

"Details?" Ned asks tentatively.

Peter raises his brows, holding up his phone and staring at his friends.

"He gave me his number."

~~

Peter wakes up to the sun dancing across his eyelids, and the very, very annoying feeling of his phone vibrating against the floor.

Very annoying, and very loud.

Peter picks his head slightly off of the - he cracks his eyelids open and turns to discover it’s Ned’s backpack -  , before fumbling around with his hands for the device. He swipes to answer the call without checking the cracked screen, holding it up to his ear and muttering a raspy, “Hello?”

“Jesus Christ…Thank God, You’re not dead-“ The voice sounds panicked and relieved at the same time. Peter closes his eyes, his face scrunched up as his body tries to drag him back down on the floor and back to sleeping.

“…Hello?” He says again.

“Wait, are you dead? Are you concussed? Kid, It’s Happy-“

“Happy-“ The realization dawns on Peter and in an instant the previous night comes flashing back. Peter’s eyes snap open and he sits upright, his mouth flapping open like a fish. “Happy. HAPPY! Oh-…oh no…”

“Kid, are you okay?” Happy’s voice is rushed. Peter’s never actually heard him sound like that before. “Shit, I - I dropped my phone in a freakin’ fountain last night, of all things, a fountain -I just got your messages -

“Ooooohhh, nooo…” Peter says lowly, grimacing because he…forgot to text Happy. He’d been so tired, after Daredevil had woken up he’d promptly forgot.

“All six thousand of them-“

“…Who’sthat?”

From his side, Michelle pushes herself up from the floor, her eyes closed and her hair exploding from a once neat, tied back style. She inhales dramatically as she raises her hand to her eyes and tries to rub them awake. She squints at Peter.

Ned is on his other side, laying on his stomach, his face smashed in to one of the cushions from the couch. They’re all sharing the big, queen sized quilt that used to lay along the back, but Peter’s legs are mostly tangled in it now.

“…Happy!” Peter whispers, placing his hand over the phone.

Michelle blinks at him tiredly, like she didn’t hear what he was saying. “…Got any coffee?”

“Happy, Happy, listen, I’m so sorry, but I’m uh…I’m fine.” Peter says in to the phone, narrowing his eyes at Michelle and turning away from her. She shrugs and slowly pushes herself up, padding to the kitchen on socked feet and shuffling around for any source of caffeine. ”I…I figured it out.”

“You figured it-….So you’re not dying.”

“No.”

“You’re good.”

“I’m good.” Peter affirms. He blinks as Ned lurches in to his view, his hair pointed up at odd angles, but his eyes wide. He points at the phone and mouths, “Is that Happy?”, to Peter.

Peter nods as the change in tone comes on over the line. “Jesus Christ, Kid, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. Are you sure you’re good? You didn’t sound good. What the Hell even happened?”

“I-…” Peter blinks for a moment, unsure of what to say. Should he tell Happy what had happened last night? Should he tell him about meeting Daredevil? Would Happy get mad? Would he tell Mr. Stark? Would Mr. Stark get mad?

Furthermore, what would come of Daredevil if Peter said something?

“…I…just…got in to a sticky situation last night, while on patrol. And kind of panicked. But…but I figured it out, I got out. Looking back, I feel kind of stupid, actually.” Peter lies.

“What number did you use? I didn’t recognize it…”

“Uh…Ned’s.” There’s no point in lying about that one. He’d probably look up the number. Or at least he could.

“Who the Hell is Ned?”

“A friend, look, Happy, seriously…I’m really sorry, but I swear, everything’s fine now. I’m at home, it’s all good.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the line, and Peter makes a pained expression as Ned stares, looking tense. They share a look of anxiety as Peter hears Michelle clanging around in the kitchen.

“…You’re sure you’re good?”

“Yes. I’m sure.” Peter says resolutely. “I didn’t meant to freak you out, or uh…bug you. I know you guys have got…stuff to do and all that.”

There’s a sigh on the other end of the line. “Peter…”

“Seriously. I’m fine.”

“So you don’t want to talk to Tony?”

Peter’s breath catches in his throat. “…uh…Mr. Stark?…”

“Yeah, I have a meeting with him right now. Lemme tell you, I’m glad you’re not dead, cause that would’ve been an awkward conversation.”

“R-….right.”

“Do you need to talk with him?” The voice on the other end of the line sounds slightly…concerned, Peter would guess. Peter doesn’t exactly blame Happy, he’s sure he sounded absolutely out of his mind last night.

Peter opens his mouth to throw out an emphatic Yes, but at the last second, he stops. Locking eyes with Ned, who is giving him a face that says the poor guy is dying to know what’s going on.

Peter thinks about Daredevil, sitting on the stoop with him last night.

Can I give you some advice, Peter?

Don’t make the mistake of waiting for others to care.

“Peter?”

Ned’s expression looks surprised, then falls slightly when Peter says in a neutral tone, “No. I don’t need to talk to Mr. Stark.”

“…Seriously? You sure?” The tone is slightly incredulous, and Peter can understand that, too. Peter pretty much asks to talk to Tony every time he and Happy interact.

Because Peter thought he needed Tony.

Tony, was, after all, the one who found him from the internet.

Tony took him to Germany.

Tony gave him this suit.

Peter had…had thus, assumed, that perhaps that made Tony his go-to. His mentor. His… Peter didn’t even know.

But Tony…was never around.

And Peter couldn’t exactly wait. After all, Peter was out here, down here, every day. Doing this stuff. Fighting bad guys, getting in to ridiculous situations. But…learning to be a better Spider-man. Without Mr. Stark. On his own.

“Pssst.” Peter glances back towards the kitchen. Michelle holds up the pot of coffee, nodding towards him. Peter glances back to Ned, who raises his hand and says, quietly, but excited, “Oooh! Me, Me! I need some.”

Well…not on his own, persay. He thinks about Daredevil’s number, the new contact in his phone.

The thought dawns on him very suddenly, very strangely.

He was good. Despite being in over his head…despite what happened this weekend, despite fearing for his life and being afraid they were all going to jail…He was okay.

He didn’t need to talk to Mr. Stark.

“Yeah, Happy. I’m sure.” He says. “I uh, gotta go. Thanks for checking in with me. I hope the meeting goes well.”

“…Sure thing kid.”

~~

Michelle Jones  is pretty sure that when she wakes up tomorrow, in her crummy bed that’s too stiff and too soft at the same time (the one she hates going a night without if she’s honest despite her love-hate relationship with it, with the ratty ass quilt she bought at a thrift store because it screamed sadness in a way that made her extremely happy), it will all have been a dream.

She’s not going to sit there and admit to herself that she’s a particularly strong-willed creature, who laughs in the face of danger and can handle anything thrown in her face.

That’s just naïve, and stupid, to be honest. To live that way. Nobody is without fear. Nobody truly doesn’t care.

Real character is doing shit anyway despite being weak as Hell on the inside. And she prides herself on being able to do that a lot.

So she’s, as a consequence, a person of True Grit, you catch my drift?

No. To be completely real, this weekend was…a lot.

A bit of everything.

Mostly…terrifying.

She stares at Peter Parker’s face as she tilts the coffee pot forward slightly, filling his cup with liquid life and she’s pissed at herself that she can’t help but stare. What can she say? She’s fascinated by fascinating people and Peter Parker, while considered as dull as a dollar-store flashlight by a lot of people at school, is sort of comparable to a bog of fireflies in her eyes.

And that was before the whole Spider-Man thing. Damn it all to Hell.

To be completely honest, she never anticipated actually getting involved. Just observing from afar, like she always does. A regular Jane Goodall in this concrete jungle, not quite belonging in the environment but still wouldn’t be anywhere else. She gets involved when she must, but she knows the importance of keeping your distance.

But then everyone almost died and she, sitting at the bottom of that beige, brick monument, realized maybe…she had been approaching this whole thing the wrong way.

“Thanks,” Peter says, smiling at her, and she nods once, placing the pot back down on its holder.

She likes reading about adventures, about human tales. About the hard stuff nobody likes to talk about. She just never thought’d she’d live something like it.

Or be a part of something so preposterous.

Peter and Ned are putting the finishing touches on the apartment, making it look the way it supposedly did when Peter’s Aunt was around, so that she wouldn’t suspect what happened here tonight. The whole thing is just…crazy, really. Michelle looks at the trash bags, caked in reddish brown, dried blood, and thinks…Man. That’s wild.

I cut open some random dude’s super suit while my friend used home made spider webs to save his life.

Just…preposterous.

She finds herself shaking her head. She was…exhausted. In the mental sense. In the physical sense. In the everything sense. There’s just too much brain stuff to unpack, so she isn’t gonna.

She’s just going to be glad everything worked out, in the end.

“May’s on her way from the station,” Peter says, looking at his phone, and glancing up at the two of them. Ned sighs, and Michelle lets herself look a little pouty, because she feels comfortable enough to be able to. She doesn’t want to leave.

Leaving means leaving this.

This crazy, ridiculous life that had terrified her and grabbed a hold of her, addicting her. Even temporarily, she’s loathe to be apart from it.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that. You know the real reason you don’t want to leave.

She watches Peter as he picks up the pace, grabbing all the things they’d collected for the trash and bundling them up in to one big ball. She looks at his hands, still bandaged, and clenches hers in to fists.

Damnit.

“I guess we should get out of here before she figures out something happened. Uh-…you good?” Ned asks, looking at Peter. Peter nods immediately, holding up the wad of trash.

“Yeah, I’m good, you mind taking this?”

“Yeah, I can take it.”

“…I’ll drive you home.” Michelle hears herself say, internally grimacing at the future shouting match between her and her sister.

Ned blinks at her, hesitating slightly, before nodding. “…Sure.”

“…Thank you guys, so much. Like, really-“ Peter says, worrying the tips of his index fingers together like he always does when he’s acting anxious, or guilty, or he’s lying. But Michelle knows this one is the former two, not the latter. It completely confounds her, how sincere someone who lies so much can be. It’s both enraging and endearing.

You’re doing it again.

Ugh.

“Don’t stress about it. You get to pay us back in meals and unlimited “I’ll cover you”s,” She says, as she rounds the kitchen counter to stand next to Peter and Ned. She reaches out and bumps his shoulder lightly with her fist.

“I mean-….I don’t have…any money, but I’ll definitely cover you…as long as it isn’t illegal?” Peter says/asks. What a ridiculous human being.

“We committed multiple felonies for you,” Michelle argues, and Ned chuckles as he grabs his bag. “Illegal, I’m sorry to say, must be a part of the package.”

“…I still can’t tell if you’re joking.” Peter says distantly.

“I never joke when it’s about illegal stuff.” Michelle answers, grabbing her shoes from near the couch and deciding to Hell with putting them on properly. She shoves the boots on and leaves them unzipped.

“Alright, well, at the risk of sounding like an asshole, let’s get the Hell out of here before we have to explain ourselves to May…” Ned interrupts, looking at his watch. “It doesn’t take long to get back from the station. Peter, ditch the bandages.”

“Right-“ Peter says, frantically undoing the bandages on his hands and handing them to Ned. Michelle tilts her head to get a better look at the skin and, son of a bitch, would you look at that. Guy’s palms are still kinda messy, there’s definitely scabbing, but for the most part the wounds are healed over.

Wild.

“See you tomorrow at school,” Ned calls, as Michelle walks towards the door. They wave and say their goodbyes, and as they walk from the doorway and down the stairs, Michelle can’t help this strange, buzzing feeling throughout her entire body. Something absolutely crazy happened. And she’s acting so normal about it, but there’s that constant reminder that last night was anything but normal.

And now she’s in this group. With a secret superhero, who also happens to be someone she has a massive crush on. Who the Hell wrote her life?

The walk down the stairs, the trek to the car, and the first few blocks of the drive are…awkward, to say the least. Peter was sort of Ned and Michelle’s…buffer. Peter, and the bleeding vigilante, and the whole life and death ninja thing. Without Peter, just like last night as he lead Daredevil to go meet Claire, Ned and MJ fall in to an uncomfortable silence.

With all the…stuff hanging around in the air.

She’s angry. Hurt. And not willing to do anything about it, because she can hold a grudge. Really, truly. She’s also really good at making it seem like everything is fine. Exquisite at it, actually. She perfected the skill over years of acting like everything at home was fine.

It’ll be hard though, since they deal with each other so much.

“…Michelle.”

She presses her lips in to a thin line.

“Yeah?”

There’s silence from the other side of the car. Michelle finally gives in and looks over. Ned is sitting in the passenger seat, biting his lip, his hands threaded together.

“…Yes, Ned?” She asks again, her voice clipped.

Ned scrunches up his face slightly, looking like he’s battling with himself. Finally…

“…I’m sorry about what I said last night.”

Michelle’s fingers tighten slightly on the steering wheel. “…Uh huh.”

“It was totally uncool,” Ned blurts, looking over at her. “It was really mean. And…hurtful, and I shouldn’t have said it, but I was panicking, and I was really angry with you because I couldn’t figure you out, but that’s no excuse, and then Peter almost died and you totally came up with that idea that saved his ass, and you knew all this time but you didn’t say anything and I just-“

“Ned, it’s fine,” Michelle says, rolling her eyes, because Ned talks a lot…and to be honest, she really doesn’t want to hear it.

“No…it’s not.” Ned says quietly. Michelle blinks, glancing over at him.

“Look I just…I’m so used to people not wanting to be my friend, okay? Or people pretending to be my friend so they could get something. Like better grades, or free music or movies cause I know how to rip that stuff, or just…you know, all that. I was made fun of so much, and you like…hung around us but kind of…acted like you were only hanging around us because we were all losers at the loser table and…”

Michelle bites her lip slightly.

“And I finally felt good, like, great because Peter is Spider-Man and I was part of this cool super secret thing, and it was almost like, take that, to all the assholes who called us names and stuff, but you were…butting in, which sounds horrible now that I say it out loud, but I was frustrated. And to be honest, maybe a little worried that you’d…I dunno, steal my friend, So I just…blew up.”

“Steal your friend,” Michelle repeats, looking at Ned. “What, Peter?”

“It’s happened before to me, and I dunno, Peter didn’t tell me about running in to you at school so I…” Ned waved his hand around vaguely.

Huh. Interesting…

Michelle sighs, running her fingers over the steering wheel as the light turns green and she lurches forward.  At least the traffic in Queens isn’t as bad as other places here. It gives her something to think about now besides her…conflicting feelings.

“…Ned, I’m not trying to steal your friend.” Michelle says. “I ran in to Peter by accident, and I think…maybe he didn’t tell you about it because I was having a really bad day and I think he just took pity on me, to be honest. He’s kind of a nice guy, so maybe he didn’t want to say anything.”

“…Oh…” Ned says softly, glancing to the side. But it’s one of those “oh”s that doesn’t sound convincing. Michelle looks over from the road for a split second, before hitting the clutch, shifting up, feeling the car sink in to the new gear. Sure enough, Ned’s expression is uncertain and dark.

She sighs. “…My Dad is a train wreck, and my mom’s attempts to deal with it are like parking a Corolla on the tracks and hoping it will stop it.”

Ned lets his gaze slide over to her.

“It’s been one fight after another for as long as I can remember, and for as long as I can remember, Gayle has taken care of everything.” Michelle says, her hands tightening on the steering wheel again. She picks at a stray thread coming loose from the steering wheel cover. “My sister.”

“Anyways, she met a boy, fell head over heels for him, and she’s messing up. Bad. And she kept everything together so naturally, it’s all falling apart now. And I’m pissed at her because really, a guy? Really? How stupid and cliché can you get? I thought she was better than that-…but maybe I’m being a bit hard on her. I mean…she’s never really gotten a chance to live her own life, you know?”

Michelle sighs. “…She told me she wants to leave. Like, bail. Says she can’t deal anymore. So I’ve been sitting on that and…Hell I’m just counting down the days until I get in to college and get the hell out of there. So…that’s why I was kind of weird on Friday. And that’s why I was at school. Instead of my house.”

“…Well now I feel like an asshole,” Ned says, and Michelle does chuckle slightly.

“But I have been mean to you guys. I’m…sorry.” She says, wanting to roll her eyes. “I mean, you still suck, because none of what you said was true, but I…get it, I guess. How I could have come off that way. But I didn’t know where to stand with you guys. I was stuck between wanting to be friends, and not wanting to dive in to the whole Spider-Man thing.”

“…Because you knew. How long did you know?” Ned asks.

“D.C.” She replies simply, choosing to skip the whole explanation. Ned kind of already got it in the computer lab, anyways.

“…Yeah…I guess…we kind of messed up on that one.”

“Understatement.”

“…I’m sorry about your sister.” Ned says finally.

“I’m sorry people were so mean to you.” Michelle responds. She glances over to Ned. “You know…it’s probably bad if we hate each other.”

Ned nods. “Yeah, probably.”

“I mean, we have to keep Probie McGee alive. It’s like…our job. It’s like we’re the responsible keepers and he’s the dog in Marley and Me. Minus the sad parts.”

“…So much collateral damage…” Ned murmurs, as if remembering the movie.

“Someone’s gotta have his back. How’re we gonna do it if we’re not all right as rain?”

“I’ve never understood that saying.”

“Me neither. I guess what I’m saying is…I’ll stop being an asshole if you stop being an asshole.”

“…Honestly, being an asshole is tiring anyways. Do you know how stressed I was walking down those stairs with you? I was terrified.”

Michelle laughs.

Ned looks at her with a cautious expression. “…So… we good?”

Michelle glances over at her classmate. Eh…screw it. Friend.

“We good.”

Chapter Text

Two Weeks Later…

Peter doesn’t know how he managed to get this lucky, to be honest.

Why? Well, He isn’t grounded, for once in his life. He always, constantly feels like he’s on the verge of being grounded. But not today.

And he did it without lying. Sort of. He didn’t tell his Aunt about the uh…well, life-threatening weekend he and his friends went through. But he did tell her that he met Daredevil. “You know, just…ran in to him on patrol. Saving a little girl from getting run over by a car.”

May had been hesitant, of course, because she’d heard such crazy things about Daredevil, but after multiple assurances from Peter she finally let it go, stating that she was, well, a little relieved that he had another person out there that knew what they were doing, and that he could call for help if he needed.

Another reason he’s lucky? He has amazing friends. Amazing.

Hanging with Ned and MJ at school has been…pretty great. Ever since their weekend together with Daredevil, a whole different dynamic has settled between them. Peter still remembers that Monday, at lunch, when Michelle had walked right up to them in the lunch room and taken a seat across from them, instead of at the end of the table. She had acted like nothing different was going on, and concentrated on her food for about five minutes, ignoring the dual stares of Peter and Ned. The air had been a little tense, strained, but then she looked up, stared at them neutrally, and said with subtle amount of sarcasm, “So…do anything interesting over the weekend?”

They had gone from two friends and a loner who kept to themselves, to a group, not to mention that the tension of having to hide everything from one another was gone.

Peter felt bad that they had ever kept the secret from Michelle, but, looking back, it was…well, none of them had ever really had any way of breaking the ice.

Nothing like a life-and-death weekend extravaganza to pull everyone together.

“…Oh great, they’re organizing,” Flash had muttered when he saw the three of them walk in to the preliminary meeting for Science Olympiad in the upcoming semester. Michelle had simply laughed once and flipped the kid off, and Ned and Peter, with raised brows, silently praised the fact that they had someone in their group who wasn’t afraid to take anyone and everyone down.

Michelle was quickly and affectionately appointed “The Heavy” of the group. Ned was the Engineer, and Peter was the Spy.

They hang out together almost every day after school, mostly pre-occupied with the task of fixing the suit. Peter could have reached out to Tony, perhaps, to fix it, but seeing as he had already told Happy he didn't need anything, and the fact that he didn't want either of the men to know what had happened that weekend, they'd resolved to do it themselves. Between Ned and himself, they manage to recalibrate Karen's sensors and (Peter is stupidly proud to be able to say this), come up with some improvements. Mainly, installing a protocol that can anticipate sensory-targeted weapons, at least when it comes to sound. And with the help of Michelle (she is surprisingly, and ridiculously, crafty), they manage to make new gloves for the suit that look exactly the same as the old ones. They aren't the same bullet-proof, resistant-to-everything fabric, but Peter finds that with the thinner material, it's actually easier to cling to surfaces. He remembers hopping to the other side of the Washington Monument and sliding for a split second. Probably the two most terrifying seconds of his life.

The tear in the chest is a little more difficult, but Peter manages to adjust his web fluid to create an adhesive that can bond to porous surfaces permanently…and it…seems to do the trick. The fix won't be winning any beauty awards, but the web pattern mostly obscures the fact that there was a tear in the first place.

All in all? Peter thinks they've done a pretty good job and finally gets back out there among the skyscrapers.

Peter enjoys the strange dichotomy that exists now when going out on patrol. Some days Ned has been on with him, endlessly chatty, working on the systems in the suit and using Peter’s patrol as a test.

Other days Michelle, who was taught by Ned how to link in to the suit, will chill with him and be chatty only some of the time, almost perfectly in tune with when Peter needs the silence to concentrate, then asking him questions or bringing up interesting plots from whatever she’s reading when he’s bored.

They’re turning out to be quite the team.

Peter isn’t going to lie, it hasn’t been…all roses and dandelions though.

He’s had a few nightmares.

He’s been reminded on a few occasions of the fact that there’s a number of dead bodies in a burned out building in Hell’s Kitchen.

He's scared of the dark in a way he never has been before.  

But…but he’s dealing with it, he thinks. At least, dealing with it the best he can, by not dealing with it. It will probably bite him in the ass later on.

He’s thinking about Mr. Stark a lot more, and about whether or not he believes what Daredevil told him. Some days Peter tells himself that Mr. Stark could never be the kind of person the vigilante described. Peter stands in the shower and argues with himself, playing the part of Daredevil, on Mr. Stark’s behalf until his voice is gone.

Other days Peter believes him wholeheartedly, and wishes he could make a new Spider-Man suit just so he can throw the Stark suit out. He even, on one occasion, deletes Happy’s number from his phone, only to remember that he’s memorized it, so big help there.

Daredevil’s number sits like a giant weight in the back of his mind.

He doesn’t ignore it. He does use it, once. About two days after he received it, to let the man know who he was, and to ask if he was okay. After all, the man had almost bled out on his couch.

He’d gotten a response almost immediately, which startled him because…well…not many people respond to Peter immediately, if they respond at all.

DD: {All Good, kid. My friend patched me right up. How are you holding up?}

Peter had a brief conversation with the man over text, finding it weird how very grammatically correct everything was typed out, until he realized the man was probably voice typing and voice typing doesn’t do abbreviations very well.

But he'd let the conversation peter out, still having mixed feelings after their talk on the stoop the night of the incident.

Today, at school, two weeks later, Peter isn’t as mad anymore. He’s had a lot of time to think it over.

Daredevil has a point.

It doesn’t mean he’s right about Mr. Stark, but he does have a point. Peter needs to up his game.

“How it helps you, though, I don’t get-“ Michelle says, shrugging at Peter on the bleachers. It’s just after school, and they’re munching on Hostess cupcakes from the vending machine while they wait for Ned to get done working on a project he needs to finish for the metal shop presentation tomorrow. “Where the Hell are you supposed to learn Jujitsu or whatever? It’s not like you can just walk in to a classroom and join in. You’d have to hold back so much it wouldn’t even be worth it.”

“Yeah, I don’t know…” Peter agrees. His head is resting on his backpack, lying flat on the bleacher bench below Michelle, munching on his cupcake with the other hand.

Michelle has ripped her cupcake in half and is eating the filling out from each half. A rare, rather crude joke pops up in Peter’s head, but he isn’t the type to voice it and so he just stews on it and wishes he was a bolder person. Michelle would’ve said it in an instant.

“There’s an “eating out” joke in here somewhere,” Michelle says, and yep, there it is.

“I wasn’t gonna say it.”

“That’s because you’re an innocent muffin loaf.”

Peter scrunches up his face. “I’m not an innocent muffin loaf.”

Michelle nods, then devours the fillingless half of her cupcake as Peter forces himself to sit up.

“Take it back.”

Michelle laughs, an obviously fake, villain-y laugh. “Peter, Peter, you precious, sparkling insect.”

“Arachnid, and you started watching Parks and Rec, didn’t you?”

“It’s pretty good. I love April and Ron. Dunno why I put it off for so long.”

“Because everyone else was watching it.”

Michelle stares at him neutrally. “Yep. Probably.”

Thankfully, Peter’s phone vibrates at that point, and he doesn’t have to come up with a witty comment to Michelle’s dry answer. He’s the worst at that. He’s better at…well, cheesy humor. And puns. He grabs his phone off the bleachers and holds it up over his head, using his sticky fingers to keep from dropping it on his face.

He blinks.

DD: {Got any plans early this evening?}

Peter glances over at Michelle, who raises an eyebrow at him.

Sent: {No, just some homework, but it’s not due ‘til Friday.}

“Who dat?” Michelle asks, covering her mouth, which is full of the other half of the cupcake.

“Daredevil.” Peter says. Michelle raises an eyebrow and makes and “Aaaaahh” noise. Peter’s phone vibrates again.

DD: {Care to meet up?}

“He wants to meet.” Peter says.

“Do it.” Michelle replies, looking up and waving suddenly. Peter turns his head to see Ned walking their way. “Hey, Ned! Daredevil wants a round Three.”

“Shhhhh!” Peter almost yells, if it’s possible to yell and shoosh someone at the same time.

Michelle shrugs. “Nobody’s here.”

“Dude, seriously?” Ned climbs up the bleachers and plops himself down next to Michelle. “You gotta do it, but only if there aren’t ninjas. I don’t think I can handle more ninjas.”

Peter sighs.

Sent: {Sure.}

DD: {Good. I will text you the time and address.}

DD: {Wear sweats, a hoodie, and athletic shoes.}

Peter scrunches up his face. No suit?

Sent: {What?}

DD: {No suit. Don’t worry, nobody will see you.}

Peter holds up his phone for the others to read, his eyebrows knitted together.

“That’s…weird.” Ned says, scrunching up his face at Peter. “Are you going to go?”

"…I don't know…" Peter says softly, staring at the screen of his phone.

Michelle shrugs. "He already knows who you are, so it's not like the suit matters."

Sent: {Okay. I’ll be there.}

~~

Peter doesn’t know what he’s expecting from the address he is given, but this really isn’t it.

The worn brick shows the long life the place has had, and though slightly creepy in the fading light of the evening, it also gives the place character. Peter just doesn’t understand why Daredevil wanted to meet here.

It’s empty, that much is clear. The lights aren’t on from the look of the windows and the sign clearly indicates the place is closed. Peter waits around the outside of the building for a couple of moments, hugging himself in his black sweatpants and dark red hoodie, before deciding to scale the walls and see if Daredevil is waiting for him up there.

It isn’t until he finds the roof empty that he decides to go inside.

The door is surprisingly, or maybe unsurprisingly, unlocked, and Peter has no trouble getting inside. Either someone unlocked it, or doesn’t care to lock up in the first place, though Peter suspects it’s the former.

The street lights illuminate the inside of the moderate space, a boxing ring in the center, and the faded, backwards letters across the back windows that say, “Fogwell’s Gym”. Peter steps inside timidly, glancing around, feeling rather vulnerable in his civilian clothes.

It’s actually a pretty cool place, and Peter suspects he would find it extremely interesting with the lights on, inspecting the different posters that highlight fights from years and years ago. As it is now, though, Peter’s not a fan of the dark, and feels like he’s gonna be ambushed or something. If twenty ninjas dropped down from the ceiling right now, where was the best way to escape?

“Hello, Peter.”

Peter nearly jumps out of his skin, bouncing forward on his toes a little bit, before spinning around to see a man standing to his right, smirking. He’s dressed in black sweats as well, but only a dark tank top on his torso. He’s got his hands pulled out in front of him, with long strips of white fabric that he’s slowly wrapping down his wrist and across his palms.

His brownish-reddish hair is slightly messy, but you can tell that earlier in the day it was brushed and slicked back. There’s that stiff look to it that suggests the use of product, and then the guys eyes. They’re kind of wide by default, looking at Peter, ish, but kind of past him. Looking nowhere.

“…Uh…Hello.” Peter says, narrowing his eyes at the man. “…How do you-“

“It’s been a few weeks, thought it’d be nice to talk again.”

Peter stays still, watching as the man leans over to the small bench next to the lockers, grabbing a bundle of clothing that has been wrapped up on the bench. Unceremoniously, he tosses it towards Peter, who catches it without think. The teenager glances down at the fabric, unrolling it to reveal an old, worn hoodie. The words Stark Expo '10 stick out at him.

Uncle Ben's. The one he lent to-

Peter glances back up at the man, who goes back to wrapping up the other hand. When Peter doesn’t respond, for a second he furrows his brow, then tilts his head, like he’s listening for the young hero.

“…Daredevil?”

"Matt."

Peter blinks, turning towards the man. "What?"

"My name. It's Matt." The man looks at him with an unreadable expression. He pinches the strip of fabric with his thumb, saving his place, then extends his arms outwards a bit, as if to say with his hands, “Yep. This is me.” He then retracts them, going back to his previous task.

Peter is, to say the least, absolutely flabbergasted. “What…Why would-"

“Because…” the vigilante sighs, shaking his head. “Trust me, this isn’t something I would normally do. But…you need to understand the difference, between someone who just means well,  and someone who actually puts their foot forward."

“I…I…” Peter takes a second to glance around the space, before his eyes sit back on the man. ”I don’t get it…”

"I put you in a difficult spot, Peter." Daredevil-…Matt says, pressing his lips in to a thin line. Peter is fascinated by it, the expressions that he suddenly has to accompany the smirks, smiles, and frowns he'd been given. "I brought you in to a situation you weren't prepared for, neither of us were prepared for, and you got us both out. Then, you brought me to your home and patched me up. You made yourself vulnerable. And-"

Matt turns his head a little more towards him, a serious expression taking his feature. "You protected my identity, when you didn't have to. You could have dropped me off at a hospital or pulled off my mask. You didn't. After I already knew your name. So I think, it's only fair you know mine."

"…I…" Peter doesn't know what to say, so he just says, "Thank You…uh, Matt."

Matt nods his head once. "You saved my life, kid. You've got-…a lot of potential. If you get the right training, and have got the right people.

“I had a lot of time to think, when I got home. After all, I don’t heal as well as you, and honestly, listening to books and court reports can start to drive you nuts after a while. I…came to the conclusion, that, for me to say what I said to you that night, it wouldn’t hold weight if I wasn’t prepared to take action.” Matt presses his lips in to a thin line. “But my line of work is messy, and I prefer to work alone. For the safety of others.”

“I…still don’t get it.” Peter finally says, watching at Matt finishes wrapping his other hand. He continues to roll the idea of the man’s name around in his head. Matt. Short for Matthew? Or just Matt? Mathadeus? Is that a real name? It’s got to be Matthew then, right?

”I’m saying I’m not much of a teacher,” Matt replies. “But…I may be the most qualified.”

“A…teacher?” Peter asks distantly.

“Mentor. Supervising officer, whatever you want to call it,” Matt says, smirking slightly.

“So you’re…wait.” Peter glances around at the gym that they are now in and…and…suddenly, things are starting to make a little more sense. Something…strange shifts in his chest. He doesn’t quite even know what he’s feeling, but he’s feeling something.

“Offering,” Matt finishes Peter's thought for him. “To teach you. My specialty’s in martial arts, but I mix in some…” He smirks slightly, “…other stuff as well. Plus…you seem to have enhanced senses. Not like mine, persay, but…I could try to help you with that, as well.”

Martial arts. Daredevil is offering to teach him martial arts?!? Holy crap. “…Holy crap.”

Matt raises his eyebrows a little in amusement. “I can’t say this…whole…thing won’t be rocky at first. I’ve never had a student and you’ve never had a teacher, not like this anyways, so…” He shrugs. “I will warn you…the way I was taught, the way I know to teach…is not lenient. It’s not going to be a walk in the park. It’ll be hard. You’ll want to quit. You might hate me. Hell, you might deck me.”

Peter blinks, nodding slightly. ”…right…”

“But I won’t do the same things my teacher did. Some of it was…well, let’s just say it was…unorthodox, and leave it at that.” Matt admits.

Eerie and ominous, at best…

“And not just martial arts,” Matt says, holding up an index finger as he walks towards Peter. “There are other things, too. Like…the fact that you shouldn’t use your civilian name in the field.” He taps his ear with one finger. “Not even over the radio.”

“Oh…right.” Peter says dumbly.

“Granted you won’t always be with someone who has senses like me, but-…it’s a good precaution. You should probably give your friends, Ned and Michelle? Their own aliases.”

Peter manages to chuckle. “…Ned will have a field day with that one.”

Matt smirks slightly, placing his hands on his hips. “So…what do you say?”

Peter nods, then backtracks when he realizes he's smiling like a dufus and not speaking. "Oh…I just-"

"I know." Matt says, smirking. "I can tell a lot of things, just not...printed things, minute facial expressions, stuff like that."

Peter nods slightly, again, as Matt turns away from him and starts walking towards the center of the gym. The idea of Daredevil, teaching him how to fight, is an interesting one. On the one hand, he is nerding the Hell out. On the other hand, he is hesitant. He feels strange about it, almost as if accepting help from this man is like a betrayal to Mr. Stark.

But if he asked Mr. Stark to teach him something like this, would he?

Would he even know how? Peter doesn’t know anything about what kind of training Mr. Stark has, to be honest.

But Daredevil…well, Matt, he’s…kind of like Peter. They both fight using their bodies, they don’t really have anything really fancy they they use (okay, understatement with Peter’s suit, but really. He usually fights with his webs and…himself), and they both have enhanced senses. Maybe…maybe it would be a good idea to get training from him.

At the very least, it couldn’t hurt right? Peter thinks back to the way Daredevil had moved in the building, with the ninjas. His ability to keep up with them, and Daredevil was…well besides his senses he was a normal human. Imagine what Peter could do if he learned a thing or two from this guy?

It would be…stupid to pass up this opportunity.

 “…So…so If you’re my…teacher now,” Peter says, still tailing Matt, “Then…what do we do? Like…where do we start?”

The older man comes to the center of the gym, and turns towards Peter as he comes to a stop at the edge of the ring. He smirks, reaching up and grabbing the ropes and pulling himself up, through, and in to the center. He stands there, waving for Peter follow. “First, we find out what you’re made of. Then, we go from there.”

“…You know I can punch through a steel door, right?” Peter asks hesitantly, walking up to the edge of the platform.

“Right. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that, to me,” Matt says, smirking. “But I think you might find it harder to hit me than you think.”

Peter raises an eyebrow hesitantly. “…Is that a challenge?”

“I don’t know, do you think it’ll be?”

Peter finally allows himself a smirk, looking up at Matt as he waits for an answer. Peter reaches up to grab the ropes, and, pulling himself up smoothly, he steps in to the center of the ring.