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Matt wasn’t one for the tabloids — in fact, he actively avoided any news that wasn’t related to Hell’s Kitchen — but even he had heard of Tony Stark’s trophy husband.
“Why didn’t you tell me you know the Starks?” Karen hisses at him, in lieu of a greeting. She meets him at the office front door, rather unlike herself, bouncing in her heels.
“Because I don’t?” he answers easily. Matt can smell coffee and sticks his hand out optimistically. Karen must be in a great mood if she actually remembered to make him some.
“Well, they seem to know you — at least Peter does,” she says, settling his regular cup in his hand. “He says he has an appointment, but I have nothing in the books. I put him in your office.”
Matt takes a sip, considering. It wasn’t like weird things never happened to him — quite the opposite — but those weird things rarely involved Page 6 superhero spouses.
“He’s just as cute as he is in all the photos, though he seems older in person, if that makes any sense,” Karen continues, walking down their short hallway alongside him, her practiced step keeping clear of his cane. “He wouldn’t say what the appointment is for. Seemed a bit nervous about it, if anything. Why is he here?”
Lord knows. Matt considers what he’s heard about the young man apparently waiting in his office, trying to think of any reason the Starks might want to see him.
(Please, don’t let this be my Avengers call-up.)
About two months after the Thanos scare, Tony Stark made headlines for a reason unrelated to saving the world: his breakup with Pepper Potts. Matt had actually missed that bit of news because he, per his earlier assertion, does not seek out tabloid fodder. But the subsequent revelation that, just a few months after breaking up with his longtime partner, Tony Stark was dating a teenager from Queens? Yeah, even he had heard about that.
Back to his old ways, everyone had said. Space travel must have knocked a few screws loose in the old superhero.
As for the unremarkable Peter Parker? The kid who was, rather remarkably, attached to Earth’s greatest hero? Clearly just a clever spotlight seeker. Even Foggy had made some rather skeptical comments at the time.
“No idea,” Matt says, making a bee-line for her desk rather than heading straight for his office. “Is Foggy with him? Did he bring anyone else?”
“No. I think there’s a driver downstairs, but he came up by himself. Foggy’s court slot moved up to this morning. He was just heading out the door when Peter came in. Minor miracle he didn’t spill his coffee all over the guy. I think he would have skipped the court appearance altogether if it hadn’t been Mr. Castle’s case.”
That sounds about right. Foggy wasn’t a die-hard Stark fan, but he had followed the story with the same fascination as the rest of the planet — relaying it all (quite unnecessarily) to Matt, despite his many protests.
While the tabloid dating discourse had been easy enough to avoid, not even Matt could've ignored the world’s collective meltdown when Tony Stark announced he was marrying the teenage social climber. Stark Industries PR must have insisted Peter turn 18 first, because the ostentatious engagement announcement came out on the kid’s birthday.
(As if exposing someone to all that tabloid and social media scrutiny was some sort of gift.)
To make matters even worse, the idiots decided to throw the most ornate public spectacle of a wedding the city had ever seen. It was like someone had watched a British royal wedding and said “let’s do that, but super-sized for America”. Every aspect of the event invited public discussion, from the location and catering to the guest list.
Especially the guest list, which was so high profile the city was locked down even up to his neck of the woods. Members of the Wakanda Royal family made an appearance — their first official US event, much to the annoyance of Washington — and so too did Pepper Potts.
People had many thoughts about that.
And the coverage hadn’t stopped after the wedding, much to Matt’s chagrin. Instead, it reset Peter Stark-née-Parker’s image, taking him from scandal to beloved socialite. New York’s very own gay Cinderella story. The world (or at least, the press) seemed to obsess over his every action, desperate to find out exactly how he had hooked Tony Stark and whether those tricks could work for them too.
(Matt didn’t care what the secret was — other than, he was told, a great ass — he just wanted to stop hearing about it.)
(Though admittedly, when Peter’s corny science t-shirts became a thing, he and Foggy had bought Karen one for her birthday. She’d teared up, hugging them both, saying “How did you know?” on a loop.)
But the wedding was, what, two years ago now? Matt wonders if the kid has reached drinking age yet.
“Let me see what he wants,” he says to Karen. “Hold my calls for now, and if Mr. Clark gets in touch again, please remind him about that outstanding bill.”
Matt can hear the soft sigh she makes when she rolls her eyes, and is glad she doesn’t insist on joining the meeting.
Walking into his office, Matt makes sure to put on his most expensive smile. He doesn’t think this is Daredevil related, and he and Foggy could really use the money.
The young man sitting in his office is still wearing his coat. He’s slight but well built, with a cautious smile on his face.
It's an extremely symmetric face, Matt can admit. Karen was right that he seemed older in person.
“Thanks so much for seeing me, Mr. Murdock.” Peter stands, grabbing Matt’s hand and shaking it vigorously. “Sorry to drop in unannounced, but I kinda urgently need a divorce lawyer.”
“Nice to–” Matt begins before Peter’s words catch up with him. “I’m sorry, a divorce lawyer?”
“Yeah. A divorce lawyer. That’d be you.” Peter’s grip is tighter than Matt would have imagined from someone so compact, and Matt doesn’t even know where to begin.
“I’m afraid there has been a misunderstanding. Murdock & Nelson is not a full-service firm. I’d be happy to pass you along–”
“No other attorney will take me,” Peter interrupts. “Iron Man has made his feelings on the matter pretty clear and I don’t have the time to pass the bar myself. You’re my only hope, as it were.”
Matt feels something twist in his gut — his senses warning him of… something. Peter still hasn’t let go of his hand, and Matt forces his grip to go slack, freeing it.
He’s oddly relieved when the kid lets go.
“That sounds very difficult.” Matt walks carefully behind his desk, taking a seat and propping his walking stick up beside him. “But I’m still not the right choice for you. A divorce on your scale requires a full team; we’re a two person firm. I promise you my colleagues at–”
“Trust me, whoever you’re thinking of, I’ve already seen them. My husband has blackballed me from every legal firm on the continent. He’s buying them out as soon as I get past the first meeting. Yours is not the first door I’ve tried.”
Lord, Tony Stark sounds like an asshole. An asshole that Matt is suddenly tempted to take on but… no, he can’t risk this level of media attention. Not as Daredevil. The thought passes as quickly as it came.
(See Foggy, he thinks a bit petulantly, I can be responsible.)
(As if not picking a fight with Iron Man deserves an award.)
“It sounds like you are in an extremely difficult situation, and I empathize. I really do. But I am sure I can find you someone, on reference. I have a friend at–”
“Let me start again,” Peter interrupts. “I need to divorce Iron Man, and the only lawyer that can help me is you, Mr. Murdock.”
“My reputation is hardly that good.”
“Maybe not. But your reputation as Daredevil is pretty solid.”
(Well–
Shit.)
Matt takes a closer study of the young man sitting in front of him. He doesn’t seem to be reveling in his threat of blackmail, but there’s no sign of nervousness about him. Matt can already tell that playing dumb won’t work, but feels obliged to put up a token fight nonetheless.
“Well, that’s a first.” He forces a laugh and gestures to his cane. “Last time I checked, Daredevil had no need for a walking stick.”
Peter sighs, shaking his head and opening his coat to pull out what appears to be a slim hard drive.
“I know this is a real asshole move, Mr. Murdock, but this is hundreds of hours of Daredevil footage cross-referenced to your voice, size, and shape. Plus several clips of you climbing into your apartment window at night wearing the suit. Oh, and a few dozen conversations you had with Mr. Foggy Nelson in diners about how no one can know your secret identity. Pro tip: always assume someone is listening, especially if that someone has access to Stark Tech. I’d also recommend just taking my money and my high-profile case, and I’ll keep these details to myself rather than sharing them with the muckrakers at the Daily Bugle.”
Matt gives himself a moment to fantasize about punching Peter in the face, tossing himself out the window, and going on the run for the rest of his life. Maybe he and Foggy can move to the mountains. A nice little cabin. Somewhere remote, where the name Stark means nothing.
And then he buzzes the intercom. “Karen, get me a new client agreement for Peter to sign. And make sure to increase our hourly rate by 5000% before you print it.”
———
An hour later, Matt is still angry.
(He’s fuming, really, but what’s he going to do? Hit a man who is desperate for a divorce?)
Instead, he tries focusing his anger on the case he’s suddenly managing. Reminding himself that Foggy will be thrilled at their new celebrity client.
(No he won’t. Foggy would deny it, but he was rooting for this particular celebrity couple. Matt had heard his breath catch while watching the shaky, leaked phone video of their wedding vows.)
That said, for someone desperate enough to blackmail for a divorce, Peter isn’t giving him much to work with. A copy of his marriage license and his passport are literally all he has with him.
“Don’t you have a copy of your prenup?”
“We didn’t make one.”
“Tony Stark, the richest man on the planet, didn’t make you sign a prenup?” Peter shakes his head, and Matt has no idea where to go from here. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.” Peter rolls his eyes, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “And of course he didn’t. It’s not like we planned on getting divorced.”
“No one plans on getting divorced.” Matt sighs, mentally reviewing other legal paths with a prenup off the table. “I just can’t believe his lawyers let him get away with it. But, well, that changes everything. Infidelity clauses in New York law are significantly tighter, if that’s what we are looking at.”
“I never said–”
“If he wants to avoid the press coverage that would bring, we may even settle out of court. Do you–”
“Stop. No. God, no. It is nothing like that. Tony- Tony would never do that.”
“Really?” The idea of Tony Stark staying faithful seems like the most far-fetched idea he’s heard yet.
“Yes, really,” Peter says, copying his intonation mockingly.
(It’s something about your face, Foggy had told him once. Clients can just tell when you think they’re idiots. So please, for me, just stop thinking it?)
“Fine. I’ll believe you,” Matt relents. “Then the question remains — why do you want a divorce?”
Peter is on his feet, almost pacing up the walls of Matt’s tiny office. “Why does that matter? Can’t I just get a divorce without going into the reason? Like no contest or something?”
“Uncontested,” Matt corrects. “And no. If he is fighting the divorce, which based on your earlier assertions is very much the case, you are going to end up in front of a judge. And trust me, that judge is going to want to know why you’re there.”
Peter quiets, and the sound of his pacing fills the room. He’s shaking his arms out nervously, as if trying to dislodge something.
(When Matt had clerked with Foggy, the divorcees had always been ready and eager to share dirt on their spouses. How had Tony Stark managed to find the one person who wasn’t?)
“I just- I don’t want people to get the wrong idea. Like you did, just now,” Peter says, at last. “I just need- I just want to end the marriage.”
Matt shakes his head. “The state of New York is going to need something — right or wrong — Mr. Parker.”
For some reason, that stops Peter in his tracks. “People... that is- when I took the Stark name, people were… difficult. Not that it bothered me, but it used to make Tony so angry. But, yeah, Parker. I guess I will have to go back to Parker. I mean, I can’t even be Peter Parker-Stark, can I? Do people keep their married names? What am I saying, of course some people do, but- but not Stark, right? That must be copyrighted or something? God, maybe we should have had a prenup. That would have settled this. But even if Tony lets me keep it, couldn’t the SI board sue for, like, trademark infringement or something? That’s a thing, right?”
(This. This is why Matt isn’t a divorce lawyer.)
Matt doesn’t answer immediately. He doesn’t have much (good) experience dealing with upset clients, but even he can spot the rising panic in Peter’s voice. Hear his rapid heartbeats. His quickening breaths. All the familiar red flags of someone sad, afraid, and desperate to get out of a relationship.
(Of course you recognize the signs, a cruel voice in Matt’s brain tells him, they are usually about you.)
Yet Matt is growing more convinced that Peter may not actually want the out he’s desperately asking for.
“The Stark name is the least of your concerns, Peter. I’m sorry I brought it up. But I have to ask again: why do you want to get a divorce?”
Whatever answer Peter may have given is cut off by an unfamiliar voice.
“Trust me,” Tony Stark interrupts, standing in the office doorway with a frantic Karen behind him. “If there’s one question Peter won’t answer, it’s that one. Though not for a lack of trying.”
“I’m sorry, Matt, he just came right in,” Karen says from over Stark’s shoulder, trying to push her way forward.
“Yeah, thanks sweetheart,” Stark cuts her off, closing the door before she can get in.
Of all the times to ignore his senses. Matt had heard someone at reception, but it’s a busy building and his client-by-blackmail had been having a breakdown.
Peter, however, doesn’t look surprised by Stark’s appearance — just resigned.
“What are you doing here, Tony?” Peter says, not looking up. He sounds like a man who has said the same line a million times over, and isn’t expecting an answer.
Not that Tony Stark seems inclined to give him one. He ignores Peter, turning his full attention to Matt instead. Stark’s wearing a suit that likely costs more than Matt’s entire wardrobe. He’s polished and confident in the same way he’d been the few times Matt had interacted with him as Iron Man. Like any suit he wears could kill you, just because he is in it.
He sets off every one of Matt’s alarm bells.
“Whatever Peter is offering you to represent him, I will quadruple it for you to do nothing.” He looks around Matt’s small office, assessing. “I’ll throw in some decorators for free, while I’m at it. Let’s just say it’s a good thing you can’t see your wallpaper.”
Peter huffs, but Matt doesn’t say a word. He hadn’t taken Peter on for the money and if, by some miracle, Iron Man doesn’t know his secret identity, he won’t be the one to bring it up.
“He didn’t take me on for the payout, Tony. I’m threatening to out him as Daredevil.”
(Well, there goes that last thread of hope.)
“You’re doing what now?” Stark finally turns his attention to his husband.
Peter has moved himself to the other side of the office, as far as he can get from the billionaire without leaving the room.
“Well, I wouldn’t have to stoop to blackmail if someone would just let me use our regular lawyers,” he says, crossing his arms tight around himself. “Or any lawyer on this darn planet — or off-planet, for that matter.”
Stark continues staring at him incredulously. “I can’t believe you, of all people, would threaten to out someone to the press.”
That seems to trigger something in Peter, and the sudden anger that comes off him is intense. There’s a smell in the air that Matt has only ever picked up on before a fist fight.
Adrenaline.
“Again,” Peter finally turns to look at Stark, glaring, “if you would just let me go, we wouldn’t be in this situation–”
“‘Let you go?’ Let you go where?”
“That’s not what I mean and you know–”
“I know a lot of things, kid, and I know there’s no way you’re doing this without–”
“Just stop it,” Peter snaps, slamming his fist into his own chest, the hard impact sending a shock-wave through his bones that Matt can hear. “You swore we’d only do this as long as I wanted it. Well, that’s now. I need it over with now, Tony. I know you have always been too much, and I know I said that’s what I wanted, but that’s enough now. You need to let me go, Mr. Stark.”
(Hearing Tony Stark’s breath hitch with heartbreak was not, Matt mused, something he would have ever wished for himself. Like there wasn’t enough misery in his own life, he’s getting emotionally attached to a celebrity relationship just as it comes to an end.)
(Typical.)
The room is silent for a beat, and then another. The only sound the deafening rush of blood going through the couple in front of him.
But after another moment, Stark seems to harden, regaining control of himself. “I will let you go when I goddamn feel like it, Mr. Stark,” he twists the title almost maliciously, “and that’s not going to be any time soon.”
Peter turns away, and Stark’s voice softens slightly. “This isn’t you, kid. You don’t give up on things without a fight, and you know I sure as hell don’t either. I don’t understand how you ever imagined this going differently. I just don’t understand.”
And now the kid — the man — is crying. Just standing there, quietly crying. Stark moves towards him, but stops when Peter sticks up a hand between them. Keeping him at a distance.
As they remain in silence, two men miserable, Matt thinks about all the things he is not. He is not a divorce lawyer. And he is certainly not a marriage counselor.
But he is Daredevil. And a pretty good litigator, if he says so himself. And he has a feeling that something about this case might call out for his… unique skill set.
———
Matt has to promise to consider Stark’s offer before the man agrees to leave the office.
(That Peter is still silently crying in the corner, staring out Matt’s window with dead eyes, probably helped.)
But even once Stark is out of the room, Peter doesn’t stir. Matt decides to give the guy a few minutes to pull himself together.
(He hears Stark complaining about their coffee to Karen, followed by the sound of something electronic whirring into action.
Great. Matt hopes that whatever chaos is going on out there, Karen can handle it.)
After a while, the salty scent of Peter’s tears lessens and his breathing returns to near-normal.
It’s time.
“I’m not dropping you as a client, Peter,” Matt says, putting the guy out of his misery. “I hate being told what to do and, as much as I didn’t want to be your lawyer, you’re stuck with me now.”
Peter’s head jerks up. “Seriously? I mean, I don’t think Tony will out you, but he might get you disbarred. Or arrested. Or both.”
“That sounds like future-Matt’s problem,” Matt smiles sardonically. “I’ve always hated that guy.”
Peter snorts softly, and nods. “That- that’s- thank you, Mr. Murdock,” he says, and then tries to pull himself together, brushing away tears on his coat sleeves. “God, I’m so sick of crying.”
“Yeah, I can imagine it’s hard to divorce someone you’re still in love with.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Peter huffs, then freezes at the admission. He looks away from Matt, turning his attention to his hands with faux nonchalance.
Matt leans forward and tries for a sympathetic tone. “Why don’t you tell me, then?”
But Peter just shakes his head and, after a few more beats of silence, Matt takes a different tack. “Alright then, let me tell you what I’ve deduced so far. You want to divorce your husband. You want it enough to blackmail a stranger, which is a pretty shitty thing to do, and yet you don’t seem like a shitty person. So you must be desperate. You still seem to care about your husband’s reputation, his well-being and, well, him — despite the fact he’s an overbearing asshole.” Peter’s mouth twitches, repressing a smile (or a grimace). “So while I say you want a divorce, I’m not sure that’s an accurate description. I think you need a divorce.”
Matt pauses for effect, leaning back in his chair and assessing his client’s body language. Peter is still staring at his hands but is clearly listening carefully.
“I’m your lawyer, Peter,” Matt continues. “Yours. Attorney-client privilege is in full effect and, if you need a divorce, I’ll get you one. But what do you want?”
Peter breaks.
“It really doesn’t matter what I want, Mr. Murdock,” he says, the words rushing out of him. “If I don’t get a divorce, Mephisto is going to take Tony off to hell or make him destroy the world or something. I don’t actually know, and it doesn’t matter because I won’t let it happen. I just need to get out of his life so that he’s free of Howard’s selfish deal with the actual devil — only Howard-fucking-Stark could manage to reach out from the grave to ruin his son’s life. Or at least try to, because, yeah, no. Not on my watch and, wow, I didn’t actually expect to be able to say any of that.” Peter jerks his head up. “Can you- you did hear me, didn’t you, Mr. Murdock? Please tell me you did?”
Mephisto. Of course.
“For the record, Mephisto isn’t the devil,” Matt says dryly. “He’s just a demon with delusions of grandeur.”
Peter stares, mouth agape in shock. “Oh my god, you actually understood me.”
And then he bursts into tears.
Again.
This time, Matt just shoves the box of kleenex at him with his walking stick.
———
“So let me get this straight,” Matt says, pacing his office. “Howard Stark injected himself with a version of the super-serum that gave him radiation poisoning instead of powers. To save his own life, he made a deal with Mephisto, promising future servitude for an immediate cure. But then he went out and got himself killed before the debt could be collected, so it instead fell on his son. You managed to intercept Mephisto before he could collect and made your own deal to get your husband out of his. Am I right so far?”
Peter nods enthusiastically, swiveling in Matt’s desk chair. He’d transformed into a happy person once he could finally talk about the nightmare he’d been living through.
(It was almost adorable, though Matt would never admit that aloud.)
“Okay. And in exchange for forgiving the Stark debt, Mephisto made you promise to break up with Stark. Physically, legally, and forever. You have to do it before the end of the month, or face the original deal applying to you both.” Matt sighs. “That sounds like Mephisto’s typical M.O..”
“Really?” Peter asks. “Because I’d been expecting something more, like, directly evil? Not that this doesn’t suck — for me, at least. Maybe he just knew I wouldn’t be able to get Tony to divorce me?”
“Not necessarily. Mephisto gets plenty of joy just from emotional misery — trust me.” Matt taps his walking stick, thinking. “Did the deal forbid you from speaking about it?”
“Yeah, that’s why I was so surprised I could tell you,” Peter says. “I hadn’t been able to say anything about it — or even hint at it. I went to Dr. Strange first thing and every time I tried to explain, my words would just change into useless chit chat. Like, about the weather or his cloak or his hair. He kicked me out after just 10 minutes and never even noticed something was wrong. I don’t understand why I can talk about it now. I guess it’s because you already know about Mephisto? I mean, I can’t give up the game if you saw it coming?”
“Perhaps.” Unlikely. “I wonder though… Did you get this deal down in writing?”
Peter rolls his eyes. “I mean, obviously. The contract is always hovering by me, though no one seems to see it. Not sure you’ll be able to.”
“Seeing has never been my strong suit. Try passing it over to me?”
Peter moves a hand out over his head. The space above him flickers in Matt’s perception, and he makes the motion of laying something across Matt's desk.
Matt shoos Peter away from his chair, leaning down to inspect the space in front of him. He can’t sense the document with his ‘vision’, but when he runs his hands along the desk, he can feel the swoops and swirls of a handwritten contract.
Now we’re getting somewhere.
“You can read like that?” Peter says, awestruck. “Will this help? Is there anything I can do?”
“When it comes to contract law, the devil is in the details,” Matt smiles, fingers running along the paper. “But as I told you — Mephisto is no devil.”
———
It takes an hour for him to review Peter’s contract, Howard’s original deal and the amendments made after Howard’s death. At one point, Peter leaves the office — probably to calm down the controlling asshole he’d married — but he returns soon enough.
Unfortunately, the terms of all the contracts are air tight. They do allow for legal representation, though, which explains how Matt could understand Peter in the first place.
(“You could have fixed this weeks ago, if Stark hadn’t blackballed you,” he’d mumbled, upon reading the clause.
“That’s not Tony’s fault–”)
But Howard’s contract… something about it just doesn’t make sense.
“‘If unfulfilled upon death, the burden of the aforementioned Bargain shall befall upon the Recipient’s first-born son or daughter, hereinafter referred to as ‘the Child’,’” Matt quotes. “The choice of ‘son or daughter’ is odd.”
“I guess the contract was drawn up sometime before Tony was born?”
“Seems likely, otherwise Mephisto would have named him explicitly. Which means we can date this to, what, at least fifty years ago?”
“Forty nine,” Peter corrects immediately.
“Right, right,” Matt sticks up a hand in the universal sign for mea culpa. “And Mr. Stark’s parents died when he was...”
Peter is silent for a beat before answering. “Seventeen. Tony was just seventeen.”
Matt supposes he had that information somewhere in his brain. The same way he is vaguely aware that Princess Diana’s kids were young when she died or that Captain America crashed into the ice when he was in his twenties. But he had never thought of those people as, well, people before.
(Having celebrity clients is weird.)
“Okay,” he says, after a suitably respectful moment has passed. “So we’re supposed to believe that Mephisto waited at least twenty years to collect Howard’s debt? And then another thirty to hold his son to it? I have trouble buying that.”
Peter hesitates before shaking his head. “I don’t know why he waited, but Howard definitely made the deal. Mephisto took me back to, like, olden times, so I could witness Howard sign it from his hospital bed. Mephisto may be a demon, but he can’t lie.”
“No, he’s unable to lie in his contracts.”
“What difference does it make? The contracts are what we're talking about, and you've already confirmed they’re air tight.”
Matt turns back to Peter’s contract, feeling for the wording that describes Mephisto’s commitment. “‘Shall not enforce upon Tony Stark the terms of any contract to which he may be subject.’ Again, that’s very broad. Did you ask for this wording?”
By this point, Peter is standing over Matt’s shoulder, looking down at the documents himself.
“Well, not exactly,” Peter admits. “There was a scribe demon drafting the language. I wanted to make sure that we didn’t end up in a deal loop if Tony managed to work it all out. With this, I thought Mephisto wouldn’t bother making a deal with Tony and, if he did, Tony would at least be able to get out of it.”
And then it clicks. Something so obvious and so exploitative, it’s clearly Mephisto’s work.
Matt smiles. “I’m sure that’s exactly what he wanted you to think.”
“What–?”
But Matt is already standing, scooping up the contracts and thrusting them at Peter. “Just a hunch. Hold these.”
He exits the office to find Stark has completely taken over Karen’s desk, transforming it into a workstation. He’s done something to their coffee machine — it now looks like it could transmit messages to space — and is in the process of disassembling their cheap security system. Karen hovers at Stark’s shoulder, holding something for him. When she spots Matt, she drops whatever it is and at least has the decency to look guilty.
“Mr. Stark, thanks for waiting.” Matt cuts straight to the chase. “Just a couple of questions: when did your father get into the weapons industry?”
“When did my dad what?” Stark says, distracted. His hands are still tinkering with the alarm. “Is this some kind of alimony thing? You said you’d consider my offer, Mr. Murdock. If you don’t like my carrot, I’m happy to introduce you to my stick.”
Charming.
(You can’t punch people because they’re entitled assholes, Foggy had berated him, just the other week, outside court. Some of those entitled assholes are our clients.
But Foggy hadn’t met Tony Stark.)
“No,” Matt says, trying to keep the annoyance from his tone. Still, he can’t bring himself to give Stark any more details. “Just answer the question.”
Stark shrugs, turning back to his makeshift workstation, putting away tools and closing up the security system. “It was the family business,” he says dismissively. “He always had military contracts.”
“But when did your father start selling guns to anyone who would pay?”
That gets Stark’s full attention. He gives Matt a long look, jaw tightening, before turning to Peter. “What did he say?”
“Tony, please.”
“Of course, babe, but what–”
“Can you just answer the question?”
Something in Peter’s expression must be enough because, after a moment, Stark just sighs and says, “Whatever. Fine.” He spares a quick glance at Karen, pulling out a small wad of folded bills and tossing them on the table. “Go take a walk, sweetheart. Pick out some new mugs for this beauty while you’re out. We need the office.”
———
Matt’s next meeting with Tony Stark goes even worse than the first. After seeing Karen bundled out the door, Stark makes himself at home in Matt’s office, half-sitting on his desk, slamming shut the laptop and setting off a small security device. It emits a piercing, high-frequency sound that distorts Matt’s senses and he can’t hide his flinch. Even Peter twitches.
(Of course. Tony Stark’s husband is so much younger, his hearing is in a different range.)
(Lord.)
“I should probably make you sign an NDA first, but what difference would it make?” Stark says, giving Matt an impersonal once-over. “Peter already has you over a barrel.”
His words, his expression, his posture — they’re all meant to intimidate, but they just serve to piss Matt off.
“I like to think of it as mutually assured destruction,” Matt says, swinging his cane like it’s his billy club. “After all, it would just take one call to the Bugle to end this. It will be hard for you to blackball Peter once the world finds out he has come to his senses and left you.”
Stark steps into Matt’s personal space, pointing a finger at his chest. “Listen, pal–”
“Hey! Hey- can we just focus, please? This isn’t helping.” Peter inserts himself between them, grabbing Stark’s raised hand and bringing it down.
Matt hates walking away from a fight — especially one he’s bound to lose — but that sad, broken tone is back in Peter’s voice. And though Matt had literally been blackmailed into this case, he still considers himself (mostly, sometimes, often) a professional.
He sighs and takes a step back, giving the space and the win to Stark. “Of course. My apologies,” he says. If he doesn’t specify who he is apologizing to — well, he’ll cover that in confession.
But Stark’s focus has already been completely derailed — by Peter. He’s ignoring Matt, staring instead in wonder at the hand Peter still has grasped in his own. When Peter notices, he drops it and shuffles away, looking uncomfortable.
Matt clears his throat, trying to shift Stark’s attention away from Peter. “As I mentioned,” he continues, “we were hoping to know more about your father’s business practices. Were there any dramatic shifts in policy while he was in charge?”
Stark is still watching Peter intently, head tilted, when he answers Matt. “After I closed down our weapons manufacturing, we launched an internal investigation into the activities of my former business partner. Turns out, Obie was just carrying on the family business. My old man had been supplying every side of every major conflict since the second world war. Obie just got sloppy when he took over, setting things up directly under SI’s name instead of funneling the money through local shell companies.”
“Jesus, Tony,” Peter whispers.
“Yeah,” Stark huffs. “Obie wasn’t just an evil SOB, he was an idiot.”
“I meant about your Dad. That’s awful.”
Stark shrugs, looking away, almost self-conscious. “Is it though? I mean, yeah, of course it is. But once you’re in the weapons industry, you already have blood on your hands. Maybe he got that. Maybe it pushed him over the edge.”
“Maybe.” Peter moves to stand at Stark’s side. Matt can see the effort it takes him not to reach out. “Still, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
Stark lets out a harsh little laugh and shakes his head. “Of course you didn’t. I didn’t want you to. Besides, the damage is already done and I’m fixing it as much as I can. This isn’t your problem, Pete.”
“Of course it is, I–” But Peter stops himself, as if remembering that he’s divorcing the man he’s trying to comfort. “I- I mean–”
He turns, looking desperately at Matt for help.
“Would you say your father’s change of business strategies was uncharacteristic?” Matt says.
“What do I know?” Stark scoffs. “Clearly I never knew the man. He spent my whole life calling me unfit to serve, all the while lining the Stark coffers with American blood. Not that might makes right, or whatever America’s bullshit motto used to be, but he gave up the idea of patriotism long before I was born.”
“But do you know when exactly? Can you look it up?”
“No need — the date was pretty hard to forget. Pop set up SI’s first shell company on May 1st, 1946. The same day he joined the President in New York City’s victory parade.”
“That fits,” Matt says and turns to Peter. “I never felt a date, but there must be one somewhere. Take another look.”
“I dunno, Mr. Murdock,” Peter says, eyes scanning the space ahead of him, flicking from side to side. “And even if I did, you know I can only talk about, like, the weather.”
“Talk about what–?”
“Just try,” Matt interjects, cutting Stark off. “I’m still your lawyer and you aren’t sharing the exact terms. It should be fine. Look for anything I might not have been able to sense.”
Peter nods and continues his search. Eyes moving with almost supernatural speed, it takes just seconds for him to find something. “So, okay, there’s kinda glowy text at an angle? It’s not in regular ink, so it’s hard to make out. Does ‘vim cum ex lui’ mean anything to you? Did you even hear me?”
“For fuck’s sake, why are you trying to pronounce roman numerals?” Stark says, exasperated. “And why wouldn’t we hear you?”
Peter’s eyes widen and he turns to look at Matt for confirmation.
(Okay, fine. Maybe Tony Stark was good for something. It would have taken Matt at least a minute to work that out.)
“He’s probably right,” Matt admits. “Spell it out for us.”
“Uh… it’s in the background but I think it’s V-I-M-C-M-X-L… U? Maybe a V? And then another I? Or maybe all those Ls are all Is? I dunno.”
Matt smiles. “It’s an I. Peter — that’s May 1946.”
Peter stares back, wide-eyed with shock. “Does that mean- that is, do you think-?”
“That this whole thing was a con? Yes. Yes, I do.” Matt leans back in his seat, enjoying the rush of a resolved case. (It’s almost as good as a fight.) “You didn’t just happen across Mephisto before he could speak to Stark — the demon sought to entrap you specifically. You can burn both contracts — one was based on your voluntary compliance, and the other has already been fulfilled. Mephisto collected his debt from Howard almost immediately.”
“Alright, back up,” Stark says, throwing up hands in frustration. “Howard’s what?“
“Your father made a deal with a demon to save his own life. It’s a long story.” Matt feels confident enough in his assessment to finally give up the game.
“But why? Why put me through this?” Peter asks.
“Countless possible reasons. Mephisto had a good thing going with Howard. Maybe he thought, with your breakup, Tony would go back to the family business. Or cause some sort of rift in the Avengers. Your misery alone could have been a win. But the why doesn’t matter. Mephisto can only make people suffer with their consent, so I strongly advise you to just stop consenting.”
“That’s it? Seriously?”
Matt grins. “As serious as radiation poisoning.”
“Who has radiation–” But Stark is interrupted by Peter throwing himself at him, kissing him hard. He freezes at the sudden onslaught, but recovers quickly enough. He clings to Peter, grip tight and desperate, hand moving under the younger man’s shirt to touch skin.
It is far too intimate for Matt’s comfort, so he turns his attention to the little electronic device in the corner. He takes great satisfaction from the crunching sound it makes under his cane.
“I love you, Tony,” Peter says, peppering kisses across Stark’s face. “The divorce is off. Let’s start a fire and then I’ll tell you all about it.”
He turns to Matt with a radiant smile, still clinging on to a shell-shocked Stark. “You’re an awesome lawyer, Mr. Murdock. But it looks like I’ll no longer be needing your services.”
Stark seems to wake at that, and turns his attention back to Matt. There's a light in his eyes, a smile on his face and, for the first time, he doesn’t seem like a domineering asshole.
“Right. What he said. Make sure you bleed us dry in your bill. Do you want to be put on retainer? Need a new Daredevil suit? Or a spot on the Avengers? How about–”
“How about you two get out of my office?” Matt interrupts.
“Or that. Sure, we can do that,” Peter says quickly, pushing Stark towards the door.
They’re almost out of the office when Peter pauses, turning back to Matt. “Uh- Mr. Murdock. I just wanted to say I’m sorry about the whole, uh, blackmail thing? Not that I regret it because this worked out great, but yeah. Sorry. I promise I’ll try not to do it again?”
“God, you’re as bad as me at apologizing.” Stark laughs, sliding an arm around Peter’s waist and looking incredibly fond. Peter moves a hand down to rest over Stark’s arm, pulling him even closer.
“Anyway, I think it’s only fair you should know–” A swishing sound comes from his direction and a web shoots across the room, latching onto Peter’s backpack. He swings it to the doorway, the web dissolving just as he slips his free arm through the strap.
Peter smirks, cocky and confident in a way Matt hadn’t seen before.
“I’m Spider-Man.”
(Foggy is going to be so pissed he missed this.)
———
“Matt.” Karen meets him at the door the next day, already sounding impatient and annoyed.
It is so much like the day before, it stops Matt in his tracks.
“If you tell me the Starks are back, I’m leaving,” he says, keeping one hand on the office door in case he needs to bolt.
“What– no? But why didn’t you tell me you hired decorators? Apparently our wallpaper violates some sort of decency code? They’ve taken all the furniture, the computers, everything. The only thing they let me keep is that darn coffee machine. They’re supposed to be back in an hour with new stuff, but the ADA will be here any minute and where exactly am I supposed to put her?”
Matt sighs.