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The timing of it all is kind of funny. Peter meeting Matt. Spiderman meeting Daredevil. When he thinks back, it was bound to happen.
To be fair, Matt figures it out pretty quickly and just doesn’t say anything. That’s the respectable thing to do, he supposes, when you’re representing a 17-year-old in a lease-agreement battle, who also just so happens to be a masked superhero. If roles were reversed, Peter wouldn’t have said anything either.
But roles aren’t reversed, and life is tricky enough as it is, so he hopes Peter doesn’t resent him for leaving him to figure it out for himself, completely on his own.
“Um, Mr. Murdock—“
“Matt.”
“—you have, uh, a bruise? Just, on your chin. Did you notice that?”
In this professional relationship, Peter’s ignorance about Matt’s blindness is apparent and well discussed. Matt kindly answers Peter’s questions without making him feel like he’s offending anyone, or that his questions are dumb. ”How else will you learn?” Matt had said to him once, and then opened the dialog for him to ask away.
So yes, Matt knew he had a bruise, because it hurt. But frequently he does bump or scratch something and not notice. If he can’t feel it, or hear it tear, or smell it bleed, he can’t tell. That’s just how it is. But Matt is kind before all, and always gives Peter the benefit of a doubt.
“Oh. No, I hadn’t. Will you touch it?” He says, playing along to see how Peter will react. He juts his chin forward so he can better reach across the desk.
Which he does. Peter leans over and gently pokes the sore bruise on the left side of his chin. If he thinks about it, he can even remember the guy’s ring just barely connecting, the sound swishing past his face.
“It even looks like a little cut…” Peter mentions.
“Ah. Well, it doesn’t hurt.” He can feel Peter staring at him. “I do run into things, at my worst of times.”
They both know that’s not true.
“Of course!” Peter says loudly, hands shaking in front of him to prove his innocence, “me too. I’m super clumsy.”
They both know that, also, is not true.
They smile at each other awkwardly.
—
Daredevil knew he moment he heard Spiderman’s voice.
Spiderman had been making his way further and further from Queens, according to news and also to Daredevil’s encounters with him. He’s not sure why that may be happening, but now knows that it has to be due to the downturn in Peter’s life, and his need to put physical distance between himself and his past. Or something like that.
“Wow! Daredevil. Wow.” He extends his hand. “I’m a big fan.”
Matt tips is head in that way he does, the way Peter considers bird-like. Foggy has always said this about him (many people have) but something about this familiar tic being his first and immediate reaction to the sound of Spiderman’s voice sets him slightly on edge. He suddenly feels self conscious of his movements around the other.
“Uh. Sorry, do you… Can you hear me?” Spiderman shakes himself — that ignorance again. He corrects himself by rotating his pointer-fingers around each other, “I can sign a little. Do you sign?”
This. This does it. It’s solid now. The realization hits him square in the chest: Spiderman is Peter Parker and Peter Parker is his 17-year-old client from Queens who recently lost his last family member and his school career and his friends and he knows this because Peter told him so. That was one of the first things the boy told him about himself, that he could sign. Matt thought this was a way for Peter to try and prove he could get down with his lawyer’s blindness. Similar to how others inform Matt of their great uncle or long lost friends who also had a disability. Matt, mostly, found it charming and harmless. Peter had explained his internship at Stark Enterprises over a summer, where he learned to sign in order to communicate with a friend named Clint. This evidence is so concrete Matt felt the need to sit down.
“I… Just, winded,” says Daredevil. He deepens his voice and looks down. He tries to do that thing sighted people do, where they follow the sounds with their eyes, not their ears. When Spiderman speaks next, he looks straight at him.
“Are you hurt?”
“No. No,” Daredevil replies. “You should get out of here.”
Spiderman seems shocked, for a second, then chuckles. “Oh, yeah no. You’re right, this is your turf. I’m way out of bounds.”
When Daredevil doesn’t react, Spiderman wipes his hands on the front of his thighs, and straightens his back. “Well, see yah.”
Daredevil turns his head to follow him. He feels horrible, all of a sudden, for how strangely he acted. “Hey,” he calls just before the kids gets to the edge of the building, “good to meet you.”
Spiderman springs up, like this was a personal complement. (Matt did think to say, I’m a fan of yours, too, mostly because it’s true, but decided against it; he thought this might have the same affect.)
Spiderman nods once, in thanks, and takes off like a rocket. He shoots a web into the sky and shouts, “you too!”
Daredevil sits down.
—
If he treats Peter differently from that point onward, neither of them mention it.
He obviously doesn’t let him go back to that wretched apartment. It smells so horribly of mould he’s surprised Peter himself can’t smell it. Or the whole damn block.
Peter doesn’t take well to leaving and actually gets a little teary-eyed on the cab ride down to Hell’s Kitchen. It’s for the best, Matt reminds them both, and rubs his arm comfortingly.
They make good roommates, since Matt’s never home, and Peter never leaves. He’s knee-deep in studying for his GED, although Matt tries to remind him he could probably write it blind. Peter calls him out on the blind joke and makes Matt think they might actually be related, like brothers in another life.
They fall into a nice routine, and Matt tries to ignore the fact that each night Peter sleeps on his couch is another night without a Spiderman sighting.
Matt’s is pretty good at sharing his space, he did so with Foggy for many years, but he wasn’t entirely prepared for what it’s like to live with a teenager.
Peter is an emotional wreck the first couple days away from home. He sleeps a lot, then he’s up for hours and hours, then sleeps for the whole day. “Have you moved since I left?” Matt had asked after a decent day at work, and Peter didn’t even have an answer.
So he ensures the fridge is full and some change is left on the counter beside the spare key he urges the kid to use, to get out for a bit. But he also doesn’t push, and gives him space when he wants it. And lately, space is all he wants.
One night Matt stays late at the office to get some scanning done, and Peter seems to have waited patiently and worriedly at the door like a puppy until he got home. “Sorry I didn’t call. I didn’t think.”
“No, no. It’s okay! I just, y’know, wondered and stuff…”
So they have a lame dinner of soup and grilled cheese and it gets late very quickly. After dishes, Matt’s ready to retire to his room, to lock the door and pull out his suit, but Peter stops him.
“Matt,” he starts —he’s getting much better at address him as such— and rubs his eye with the back of his palm like a sleepy toddler. “I think you should stay in tonight.”
At first, Matt doesn’t know what to think. He’s surprised Peter would use this tone with him; he didn’t stutter or worry his words, he said straight-up what he felt. Sure, Matt’s stomach turns with the thought that Peter is onto him. And sure, it’s possible Peter’s noticed him missing once or twice, but lately he hasn’t been out for long, no longer than an obnoxious smoke break. That could be his cover. But Peter also has heightened senses, maybe not the same as his own, but still. That excuse wouldn’t fly. Maybe his senses are telling him to stay in tonight. Matt can respect that, even if his own itch and pull at him until he puts the suit on. Or maybe…
He’s not asking where you go, Matt reminds himself, taking in the boy before him, he’s just asking you not to leave. The silence that falls between them is not tight, nor unpleasant. Peter isn’t accusing him of anything. Peter isn’t scared of him, or for him. Peter is simply asking him to stay with him tonight. Like, maybe, he needs a friend right now.
Matt can do that.
“You’re right,” he puts his hands on the small of his back and leans, cracking his spine and sighing. “It’s cold out, anyways.”
Matt has a TV, or, well, Foggy has TV that lives here at Matt’s, and it’s time is now. Peter settles on the couch under a blanket and flicks through the channels idly while Matt makes them both a hot chocolate with the Tim Horton’s chocolate powder that he hoards every time he gets over the boarder.
“There’s The Big Bang, Friends, uhh…. Family… guy?” Peter reports from the couch, as if Matt’s the kind of person to watch Family Guy.
“Whatever you want, Bud.”
“Well… There’s a— ooh! Top Gun!”
Matt chuckles, carrying their mugs to the back of the couch and placing one above Peter’s shoulder until he takes it. “That’s a good one.”
“Have you seen it?!”
“I think so. I am an ‘80s baby.”
“Perfect!” Peter exclaims, nearly buzzing with excitement. He makes room on the couch for Matt before he settles in with his cup and his blanket, and Matt thinks he must be the cutest thing ever. He sinks down beside him, not minding that their hips nearly touch, and grins when Peter throws the blanket over his lap. “I think it’s pretty much the beginning!”
Matt looks to him. “You’ll tell me what’s happening?” He requests.
“Duh,” Peter says, and all but snuggles down into Matt’s side.
“Then, yes. Perfect.” Matt concludes.
Peter, of course, doesn’t last long. Matt’s only slightly sad about his wasted Tim Horton’s hot-cocoa, but Peter’s cheek smooshed on his shoulder and his hair tickling his nose is enough to make him forgive and forget. He knows the general plot of Top Gun and finds he’s not all that into it. He actually doesn’t mind when he slips off, even if his muscle memory is telling him to get up and get out. He tips his head back to the couch and decides to rest for a while, before Peter ultimately wakes and gets totally embarrassed.
It’s actually quite nice to have a night in.
—
He somehow convinced Peter to come to out with him to run some errands. He’s getting worried about him being holed up inside all day, especially since he hasn’t even see him outside since he started staying here. And Matt’s not one to fret; he understands this is a hard transition for the kid and he’s willing to give him the time, but c’mon. Some air will do him some good.
So, reluctantly, Peter showers and puts on fresh clothes and double-knots his sneakers and fishes around for his wallet. Matt told him they needed to hit the grocery store and a department store, since Peter has about 3 pairs of pants to his name, and that’s including his PJ pants.
He walks cowardly behind Matt like a vampire afraid of the sun. Matt’s fine with protecting him, he’s glad that Peter trusts the blind guy enough to let him lead. The thought makes him chuckle.
They find themselves at the corner grocer with a basket on Peter’s arm and a imaginary list in Matt’s hand. Once they have the basics, they sort through snacks, “do you want anything from here?”
Peter paws at some of the bags, but Matt can smell his favourite lime flavoured chips from a mile away. He grabs them and throws them in Peter’s basket before walking off.
“Um, Matt,” Peter starts, and comically enough, he can tell what he’s going to ask before he even does. “How can you tell these are the ones you want?”
“I have my ways.” Matt chuckles and then promptly trips over the basket of another customer, left precariously on the floor in front of him.
“Oh! Sorry, man,” the guy says, reaching out a hand to steady Matt from falling.
Immediately, Matt can feel Peter at his back, grabbing him and holding him up right. Peter knocks the guy’s hand off him. “Jeez, dude. Did it get too heavy for you or something?”
“Peter, it’s alright, I wasn’t—“
“Hey now, I said I was sorry—“
“No, seriously, be aware of your surroundings.” Peter criticizes, and Matt can now tell the guy was on his phone, oblivious to the world. Peter kicks his basket over to him and fixes Matt’s cane so it’s straight. “C’mon.”
They get out of the chip aisle silently, although he can feel Peter’s upset steaming off him. He puts a hand on his back to stop him, and turns to him. “Hey. Thank you, but it’s alright.”
“No, you didn’t see his face. He was an asshole.”
“Maybe, yes,” Matt shrugs, then laughs, “I thought you might hit him.”
“I would have,” Peter admits, “I feel so, bottled up lately, I would hit anyone. Honestly.”
Matt smiles at him, then turns him and fits his hand into the crook of Peter’s elbow. “Maybe we should do some yoga together.”
“Or kickboxing.”
They laugh about it, and Peter guides him through the rest of the store without another issue. He tries to explain how this kind of thing just happens, but Peter doesn’t wanna hear it. Peter locks a hand over his on his elbow and takes his job as guide very seriously, from that point on.
—
With a lawyer like Matt Murdock, he gets out of his lease agreement pretty easily. The fact that the place is covered in asbestos and violating several health codes —not to mention the fact they leased to a minor— may have something to do with it, but in Peter’s eyes, it was all Matt.
“I really can’t thank you enough. Like, seriously. I think that place could have killed me.”
“It would have.” Matt concludes, tipping the sandwich-lady and grabbing their subs. He passes them to Peter to hold, and Peter holds them in one hand and grabs Matt’s hand with the other, pushing it into the crook of his arm.
Peter has taken to extending his elbow to him, especially when it’s snowy or wet outside. They never formally addressed it which leads Matt to think this is one way Peter feels like he’s helping. (He did say, at one point, you don’t have to lead me, Pete, to which the kid blushed fiercely and placed his hand snuggly in his elbow.) He, of course, doesn’t need a lead, but finds it helpful in certain situations… He mostly allows it for selfish reasons; he likes to hold Karen because she warms his hands, he likes to hold Foggy because he walks too fast, but mostly because that’s how they’ve always done it, and Matt is a romantic. He finds he likes to hold Peter because Peter wants to lead him.
And Peter is quite the gentleman. He holds the door for him, warns him when there’s a step. He steers Matt away from puddles (like a good guy would, but after years with Foggy Nelson, you’d be surprised how sweet Matt found that.)
Today Peter gestures loudly in front of them, waving his sandwich around as he explains the story of the burst pipe in his first apartment with his Aunt. His story is so distracting that Matt’s actually glad Peter was guiding him, especially through the crowds. While stood at the platform, Peter makes faces at a baby in a stroller, who excitedly throws her rattle. Matt claps at her rebellion and, not thinking much of it, reaches down to pick it up and pass it back to her.
Peter seems surprised he was able to locate the rattle without help. It makes them both pause.
Not for long, of course, but those few seconds give Matt that familiar feeling; the one where he thinks people think he’s faking. He’s long gotten over that, but Peter is extremely perceptive, and having him around 24/7 sometimes sets Matt on edge.
After lunch, while discussing the future of Peter’s living arrangements, Peter lightly tosses Matt the dongle for his laptop.
He lets it hit him square in the chest.
—
Peter has his books spread around him but it’s clear he’s no longer studying. He’s lost interest, it seems, and is poking away at a game on his phone. He made dinner for Matt, chicken and rice hot and ready on the stove, veggies soft in the oven, and has cleaned up and packed them both lunches for tomorrow. The evening seems right. Soft, and just, right.
Matt comes to sit on the couch, feeling for where Peter’s shoulder in the space in front of him. “Pete.”
“Hm?”
“Can we talk?”
The mood shifts, slightly, and Peter turns around slowly, as if he thinks he’s in trouble.
“You’re not in trouble, I shouldn’t—“ Matt pauses. He never imagined he’d be the grown up in a conversation like this. Always the child. “I shouldn’t have started like that, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t scare me,” Peter says, even though he’ is scared. He turns himself around so he’s sitting square in front of him, “I can talk.”
Matt breathes in, desperately wishing for his glasses to cover his eyes. He can feel Peter looking into his soul. “I feel like you’ve… noticed something about me, and I fear I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”
The boy tilts his head in question and Matt simply wants to scoop him up and keep him forever, noticing that he’s picking up on his weird quirks.
“I think you’ve noticed that I… see, pretty well for a blind guy.”
Peter pulls his mouth to the side.
“Am I right?” Matt presses.
“… I have noticed that, yes.”
“And I would like to tell you why that is, but I first want to tell you how I became blind in the first place.” Matt shifts on the couch, already tired of his conversation. “It’s a sad story, or so I’ve been told, because I was quite young when it happened.”
For a moment, Peter doesn’t respond, and Matt doesn’t want to burden him with the knowledge of his past and the weight of his story. It’s heavy, and Peter carries enough.
Peter looks down and plays with a loose string on his sock. “I only want to know, if you want to tell me.”
So Matt tells him. First, he gathers Peter up onto the couch so they can sit together. Peter’s toes slide under Matt’s thigh and he holds around his bent knees, not too close but not far. It’s not a long story; it’s quite simple, actually. He hasn’t told this story to many people before, since it typically brings more questions. But Peter understands, Matt knows that, and he feels this is a good place to start.
“Because of that, my other senses are heightened. Which is normal, to some degree, with most blind people, but I think I can sense more than the average person.”
“You can’t see… anything?”
Matt shakes his head. “It’s pretty dark in here.”
Peter nods.
“So, like, I can tell you just nodded, because I can hear your hair moving on your neck.”
This stuns the kid.
Matt chuckles. “And, see I can tell you’re shocked because I can hear your heart-beat change.”
Awed, Peter smacks a hand over his chest. “No way,” he jumps up off the couch, suddenly, giving Matt a startle in return. “No way! You can hear my— my heart-beat!?”
As Peter comes to stand in front of him, Matt laughs and reaches out for him, “yeah, I—“
“Wait, wait. Wait. What am I doing. What am I doing right now?”
Grinning, Matt shrugs. “You have your hands above your head.”
The sound of them smacking down against his thigh in disbelief is answer enough.
“How many fingers am I holding up?”
Matt rolls his eyes. “Well, I can’t really tell that. You know, it’s more about—“
“Right. Duh. That was stupid.” Peter thinks for a moment. “Oh God, all the stupid stuff I’ve done in front of you, you knew!?”
“Wha— Peter, no, I… What stupid stuff?”
“I threw an adaptor at you just yesterday trying to see if you would catch it!” Peter sputters.
Matt bites his tongue.
Peter shifts his weight, dropping his arms in defeat. “You saw it coming, didn’t you…”
“Of course I did.”
They laugh, because it’s stupid. It’s all stupid. This part of himself makes Matt feel like everything he does is showmanship. Like he has to prove to others how capable or incapable he is at any given minute. It’s so stupid, and he thinks Peter gets it.
“Stupid.” Peter mutters, falling back onto the couch with him.
Yup. He gets it.
—
He stays in for a couple nights in a row, to take care of Peter. They’re preparing for his move and his GED is next week, so lots of extra stress in the Murdock(-Parker) household. Matt wishes Foggy were here. There’s been lots of thrift-stores and side of the road furniture; Matt can’t help but think of him and their law school days.
He’s surprised when he wakes and doesn’t sense Peter in the room next to him. Actually, he’s a little scared. He calls for him and gets no reply. He checks the roof and the fire escape. The window in the kitchen is closed, but not locked.
He gets his suit on and sets out. Lately he can sense Peter in a crowd of hundreds, and found it very helpful when they became sort of separated at the subway station the other day. He can hone in on him, and he uses this to find him.
Spiderman isn’t far.
He jumps when he sees him. “Oh, dude. Sorry. Look, I don’t mean no—“
“Spiderman. Right?” Daredevil asks in his deep voice, though he feels like he doesn’t need to hide.
“Right.” Spiderman says, coming to stand in front of him. “DD. Right?”
That makes him chuckle. “Yeah. I, uh, didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Nah,” Spiderman brushes him off, even though Daredevil did, in fact, startle him. “I sensed you coming. I’ve got super strong senses.”
That’s… kind of a weird thing to mention given that Matt had just explained his heightened senses to Peter the other day. He feels like Spiderman is trying to get a rise out of him.
“Oh.” He replies flatly.
“Yeah… Don’t you have something like that too?”
There it is. Matt fights the desire to roll his eyes, as he’s been told he often uses his entire body to do so. “Who told you that?”
Spiderman shifts from foot to foot. “No one, I just heard it somewhere.”
Daredevil shrugs. “Good to know that’s the word on the street.”
For a moment, silence stretches between them and it makes him feel like there’s eyes on him. He wants Peter back home, on the couch, safe and warm. He clearly got some fancy Stark-level suit, but it’s freezing out and his toes are already numb. He’s been staying in lately but that doesn’t mean he’s not keeping an ear out. He doesn’t want Pete—Spiderman mixed up in anything out here.
Plus, the more time they spend in the suit together, the more time the kid can spend analyzing him.
“Get out of here, kid. Shift’s over.”
Spiderman looks a bit too smug for his liking as he nods gracefully, hands up in surrender as he steps away from him. “Alright, alright.”
“I mean it, go home.” Daredevil says, authority in his tone. In the back of his mind, he can hear Foggy laughing at his dad voice.
That helps dissolve the smugness a little, at least; Spiderman looks like a kid caught skipping class. He thinks he even mutters something in rebellion, but he makes his way to the edge of the building a jumps.
Daredevil gives it 30 minutes before heading back himself.
Inside, Peter’s on his phone under his blankets. Matt can hear it muffle the sound from his speakers.
He walks over and pulls the covers down, taking a moment before pushing a hand through his hair. “Why’re you awake?”
Peter‘s eyebrows shoot up. “Why’s your hand cold?”
Matt laughs. Touché
—
Matt got them a tub of ice cream to share after dinner. Peter moves into his new place tomorrow, and although this should be cause for celebration, they’re both a little distressed.
“You can always stay here. Anytime. Even tomorrow night.” Matt says around a spoonful of chocolate.
Peter shrugs. “I think I should try and spend at least one night there before I give up, right?”
“It’s a good place,” Matt reminds him, leaning in to make his point, “you’re gonna be safe. You’re gonna be close.”
Peter nods.
“And it’s a damn good price.”
Peter laughs. “Thanks to my lawyer.”
Matt shrugs. “There’s lots of recourses out there that people don’t know how to use. The government is literally giving out money if you can jump through enough hoops.”
“And hoops, I jumped,” Peter replies, a sleepy smile and dreamy eyes. They were both out late last night.
Matt gathers their dishes and puts them on the end table. “You should get some sleep.”
“Can you tell I’m tired?”
Matt looks at him. Feels for him. He reaches out and brushes the side of his face, thumbing at his hair and holding him. “Of course I can.”
He wants to kiss his forehead in goodnight, tuck him in and tell him everything will be okay. He wants to have him fall asleep on his shoulder again. He wants to keep him here forever. It feels silly, but it’s true.
He stands and fumbles for the light on the side table. He heard Peter turn it on earlier. “Go to sleep. For real.”
Peter chuckles and pulls his blankets up to his chin. Matt stands over him for a moment, assessing, but mostly just taking it in, his last night with the kid.
“Matt?”
“Hm?”
“I’m, uh, I’m reaching for you.”
Matt softens, stepping towards him until his hand pulls him to sit on the edge of the couch, in the space in front of Peter’s stomach. He brushes a hand over his shoulder and down his back, like his dad used to do to him. “You okay?”
“I—“ he tries, but he truly is tired, and just paws uselessly at Matt’s hand until he pulls it away. “I’m scared to live alone.”
“Oh,” Matt sighs. “Of course you are. It’s scary, but you’ve got this.”
“Yeah,” Peter mumbles. “And you’ll watch out for me?”
Always, Matt wants to say, letting his feelings get all sappy and soft, but then Peter puts his hands up to Matt’s face. He makes a circle with his thumb and index, and puts each around an eye. A playful imitation of his Daredevil mask.
Although Matt can feel both of their heart-beats are fast, he feels… okay. Surprisingly okay. His secret is out, but it’s okay. After last night he supposed it had. He’s happy Peter knows, actually, but it’s overwhelming regardless.
Matt pulls his hands away and smooths them down. He wants to hide, he wants to puts his face down into Peter’s mess of blankets and laugh. Instead, he reaches over brushes his hair off his forehead. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
Peter nods under his hand. “Okay.”
Ah, whatever, he thinks, before leaning down and kissing his forehead in goodnight. “You’re gonna be fine. Okay?”
Peter nods again. “Okay.”
Matt leaves him, now sensing he’s slightly less distressed. He’s asleep in minutes, utterly exhausted, and past his bed-time.
—
“I passed my GED.” Spiderman tells him after a moment of comfortable silence in the early hours of a weeknight.
“Of course you did.” Daredevil replies, not bothering to disguise his voice. Matt had seen Peter earlier this week, but hadn’t known how to bring the test up.
He kicks his feet against the edge of the building. “Feels good.”
“I’m glad,” he taps his lower back with the toe of his boot. “Good job.”
Spiderman looks at him and although he’s got his mask on, Daredevil can feel him smiling. He nods, like he’s proud of himself. He takes Daredevil’s hand when he extends it, and lets himself be hoisted up.
“Why don’t you lead tonight,” Daredevil suggests, hopeful.
“Yeah?” Spiderman looks apprehensive. “It’s your turf.”
“Sure,” he shrugs, “I’m not as territorial as everyone makes me out to be.”
That makes the kid laugh. “Okay. Well, try to keep up.”
Smug, Peter rushes off the edge of the building.
Matt goes right along with him.