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At lunch the next day Peter slid in next to Ned with an ‘I have news’ look on his face.
“Daredevil.”
“Go on.”
"He’s actually really nice. We went to take out this warehouse full of goons together and I rescued him after he was stabbed in the leg and I met someone who I think was his law partner and his nurse friend and there was an alien and scientists and he told me ‘good work’!”
“Woah. Sorry. Law partner?”
“Oh yeah! Sorry. I know his secret identity now. It was an accident. I can’t tell you, obviously, that would be a huge breach of trust. But he’s cool, and way less scary than all the stories. He’s just tired and old. And he guessed how old I am right the first time. I’m going to try and get him to train me!”
“That is so cool! Like Mr. Miyagi!”
“Yeah!”
“Uh... how exactly are you going to get him to train you?”
“I’m going to pester him until he gives in!” Peter said happily.
Ned thought this idea could use some workshopping, but if Peter was sure, then who was Ned to get in the way?
Phase 1 of Plan Learn Kung Fu: Pestering the Devil
Peter knew where Daredevil lived now. He wouldn’t go there, obviously. He didn’t want to die. So he decided the best way to ingratiate himself with the Devil was to chase crooks just a little too far over the border from Midtown, then leave them webbed up in an alley somewhere. Gifts. Like a cat. Ned thought this was hilarious.
It worked, too. After the third time, the Devil came to find him. Or rather, the Devil was cosplaying a gargoyle on the roof Peter was about to land on on his way out of the Kitchen.
“What are you doing, kid?”
“Train me?”
“How about no?”
“Aww, come on!”
“I can assure you, there are better gifts than bicycle thieves if you’re trying to court someone. Kids these days...”
With that he was gone. Ninja.
Next time, Peter brought him a mugger.
Then it was a would-be rapist.
“When I said better gifts, I meant like coffee or chocolate or something. I fear for whatever sweetheart catches your eye. Although me, I can work with these.”
Ned couldn’t believe this was actually working. “I get it now. You people really are like cats. Territorial, mostly nocturnal, great balance, violent...” He counted them off on his fingers. “Am I missing anything?”
Peter punched him lightly in the arm.
“Ow! Hey! Knock it off with the super strength!”
Peter apologised profusely, and slunk around him for the rest of the day as if he actually felt guilty. Ned rested his case.
Phase 2 of Plan Learn Kung Fu: Coffee and Chocolates
Peter kept turning the card over and over in his fingers, trying to pluck up the courage. It was one thing to face the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen as Spider-Man, quite another to do it in his place of work as Peter Parker. So he bought the nicest coffee he could afford, and made May help him bake brownies “for school”. He did most of the baking. She would burn water, if given half a chance.
He actually took the subway for once. Like a normal person. Mostly because he didn’t want the brownies to get all messed up with the swinging. He was wearing the suit under his clothes, obviously. He might need to bolt.
A creepy drunk guy kept crooning off-key Paul Simon at him. Weird.
The Kitchen looked different from the ground and during the day. He could have whipped out Google Maps, but that felt wrong here, somehow. It had old timey energy. He asked an old lady for directions instead.
There was a cardboard sign on the inner door. Someone had scribbled out the word Attorneys and written Avocados over it in red crayon. The entrance room, which doubled as a reception and waiting room, had an actual live chicken in it. Peter fell in love.
The blonde woman sitting at the desk asked how she could help. Before he could answer, there was a “Hell, no!” from the office belonging to Murdock (another cardboard sign).
“I’d like to talk to Mr. Nelson. He gave me his card,” Peter said, showing it to her.
“He’s with a client now but I think we can fit you in after,” she said. “Make yourself at home until then. Pull up a… stack. Excuse me for a minute.”
She stood and walked around her desk, moving a large tupperware box out the way, and opened the door that said Murdock. She poked her head in. “Matt? Are you alright?”
“Yeah, fine, thanks Kare. Just dropped the stapler.” Peter could almost see him holding it up triumphantly, proud little horns and all. Hmmmph.
She sat back down and the chicken took that moment to climb a pile of boxes on a- was that a fax machine?- and hop onto her desk. She glared at it, then picked it up and placed it in an empty cardboard box that looked like it should have held files. It clucked at her. She gave Peter a shrug. “I don’t know how much you know about us, but we apparently now take the concept of getting paid in chickens seriously. I miss the days of stewed plums and chocolate cake.”
Peter wordlessly produced the brownies from his bag.
She started laughing.
Mr. Nelson’s client took that moment to leave his office. He was a youngish man wearing a suit that didn’t fit very well, and Peter recognised him from somewhere. The secretary stopped laughing abruptly and had the grace to look slightly ashamed, although her eyes still gave her away.
The man looked from her to Peter and back again, then at the chicken in the box, shrugged, thanked ‘Miss Page’ and left.
Miss Page walked over to the Nelson door and peered in. “There’s one last one for you, Foggy. He brought brownies and never told me his name, but he said you gave him your card.”
She nodded at Peter, who suddenly felt very nervous. He got this consuming urge to run through the other office door and leap out the window. He wondered how many times the Devil had done that. He held his ground.
Mr. Nelson’s office was the same as the reception but smaller, with somehow even more paperwork and a marked absence of chicken.
“Hi,” Peter tried, holding up a hand in an awkward wave at the man staring at him. Mr. Nelson seemed to remember himself and shook his head as if to clear cobwebs. His hair was a bit too long, which made the movement look like that of a dog after an unexpected bath. He stood and held out a hand to shake.
Foggy.
“Mr. Nelson, I’m Peter,” he said, shaking the hand.
“Matt!” Mr. Nelson yelled suddenly. He was wearing a suit with a bright green tie, and Peter was having a hard time reconciling that with blood and pyjama pants. Apart from the shouting, that was all Foggy. “I think this one’s one of yours!”
The man who walked in then, however, was absolutely, perfectly, terrifyingly Daredevil.
Apart from one thing.
“You’re blind.”
“You haven’t done your research. It’s pretty much the first thing that comes up if you google my name. Thanks for not doing that, by the way. Also, Fogs, you know you don’t need to shout.”
“Yes, I do. So, young Peter, what seems to be the trouble?”
Peter produced the coffee and handed it to the Devil. Matt. Mr. Murdock. Who took it with a gravity that it absolutely did not warrant.
“You do listen to some things, then,” he said.
“I brought brownies too, but I gave them to Miss Page.”
“I know,” a smile crinkled his eyes behind the dark red glasses. “This still doesn’t mean I’ll train you.”
“How do you know?” Peter asked, ignoring that last part.
“The Devil has to keep some secrets.”
Peter thought for a second.
“My guess is you have heightened senses that were probably caused by whatever made you blind, likely as a child or since birth since you’re so used to it. You could hear us talking and smell the brownies. You could probably also smell the coffee on me, and you’ve already told me you can hear my heartbeat.”
“I never confirmed that.”
“Uhuh.” Peter stood his ground.
Matt Murdock grinned at Foggy Nelson, who closed his eyes. “It’s not fair, he knew you as Daredevil first.”
“You did turn all the lights out as soon as you got into that warehouse which, thanks, by the way, you could have warned me.”
“Eh, you dealt with it fine.”
“And I’ve been studying vigilantes for a long time, for obvious reasons. My best friend’s obsessed with them. Mostly you, actually, which isn’t creepy at all come to think of it. Your first mask didn’t have eye holes. The blind-with-heightened-senses thing actually explains a whole lot.”
“I’m still not going to train you,” Daredevil said, although Peter could feel his resolve slipping. He thought Mr. Nelson was probably on his side. “Thanks for the coffee though. You will not believe how much caffeine I consume.”
Peter left, smiling at them both.
He heard Miss Page ask what all that was about once he’d gone. Two could play the listening game.
It was another week before Daredevil took him to Fogwell’s after an offering of a particularly beaten-up child molester. “You’re still a kid. I don’t like you going out, and I know I’ve not made much of a move to stop you, but I haven’t wanted the responsibility for you either. And my sensei was, well, let’s just say he had no kindness in him and leave it at that. I know you aren’t going to stop just because someone says you’re too young, I get it. I get it more than most. You need to know how to do this without hurting yourself.”
“You hurt yourself. More than I do.” It was true. He got stabbed way too often for someone without a healing factor.
“Yeah, well. I never said I didn’t have issues. You can leave at any time, I want to make this clear. I also want to make it absolutely clear that I won’t leave first unless I have no other choice. My sensei did that and I’m still healing from it. Now, let me see how you punch that bag.”