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He could hear the quick, scared heart beat of the kid across the warehouse room. He takes a cautious step forward to help the sound, not sure what reaction he’s going to get. The long, uncoordinated body startles and jerks back. Thin but muscular arms pull the body back gracelessly. Matt pauses and lowers himself to a crouched position, hoping to look less imposing. He clears his throat, consciously losing the deeper, raspier voice that he takes on when he’s ‘Daredevil-ing’.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, kid. I just need to get a look at you, okay?”
Spider-Man flinches away from him.
Daredevil has worked with Spider-Man occasionally in the past, but it’s never been planned. Sometimes they just stumble upon the same gang or perp. They’ve never talked beyond calling out warnings or tips to each other. A professional relationship.
The kid slowly moves into a more comfortable position, pulling gangly limbs in toward his body. It reminds Matt or when a spider dies and its legs pull in toward its body. How fitting.
“Sorry, Daredevil, but how do I know you’re not,” Spider-Man flinches, “not gonna hurt me?” His voice trembles slightly, though he makes a good effort to prevent it. Pressing a gloved hand against his right side he lets out a quiet hiss of pain.
“I’m not here to hurt you. I need you to trust me on this.” Matt slowly inches a little closer to the teenager. (17, he thinks; maybe 18 years old.) “I know you’re hurt. And I know you can’t get home on your own the way you are now. So I just need to let me see.” He moves a little closer. And suddenly the kid springs up into a fighting position. His wound forgotten, and unruly limbs tamed. And, geez, this kid has a great sense of balance.
Matt stands up slightly, still crouched lower than the kid who’s only a few inches shorter than Matt himself. He shuffles forward, palms toward the kid in a placating gesture. The kid lets him get a few steps away before tightening his stance, pulling his fists up toward his face. Matt cautiously moves his hands toward the boy’s arms. He’s close enough to feel the kid’s quick breath across his arms.
Matt rests his hands on the kid’s upper arms and holds him at an arm’s length, deliberately moving his head as if looking him over. He can feel Spider-Man’s muscles relaxing as he accepts that Matt doesn’t mean to hurt him. Matt reaches toward the kid’s side. Spider-Man stiffen in anticipation of pain, but Matt is careful to move his finger along the outside of the cut and not prod at the wound itself. He bites down on the tip of the first finger of his right glove, pulling it off his hand in a fluid, practiced motion and dropping the glove to the ground. Then, with careful fingers, he runs his gloveless fingers around the wound to determine how much it’s bleeding.
“Sorry to say it, kid, but this is gonna need a few stitches,” Matt says under his breath. A few blocks down from the warehouse, a police siren goes zooming by, and Spider-Man flinches violently at the sound. Matt ignores the sound, used to tuning out the extra input. “And we’re not going to do it in this dirty warehouse. Come on.”
Matt pulls Spider-Man’s left arm over his shoulder and wraps his right arm around his side, careful to avoid the cut. He starts moving toward the door, but Spider-Man stands stock still. Matt gives his arm another tug, and this time the kid flinches back from him. Matt is starting to wonder if the kid has a head wound too. He’s acting strangely detached and out of it.
“I just need you to come with me, okay? It’s not far from here and then you can lie down and rest.” Spider-Man sighs in defeat, recognizing that he’s going to need help, whether or not he wants it. Spider-Man reluctantly moves with Matt.
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Matt supposes that they must make an odd sight: Daredevil and Spider-Man, two red-clad vigilantes, stumbling through alleys and back roads in the middle of the night; leaning on and staggering into to one another every few seconds. Hopefully there’s no one there to see them. Normally he’d be more careful about making sure there’s no one around, but he’s distracted by the kid he’s dragging along beside him.
After what seemed like hours (but was really nowhere close to that), Matt drags Spider-Man through roof access door to his apartment. The fire escape stairs were murder.
He’s becoming more concerned about Spider-Man the longer he’s with him. The kid flinches suddenly and without any reason that Matt can find. At first he had thought it was a sensory thing; enhanced senses like his own. But then the kid started flinching and drawing back without provocation.
Matt pushes aside his thought, focusing on getting Spider-Man on the couch and wrestling him out of the upper-half of his costume while leaving his mask intact. It might have to come off eventually, especially if the kid has a head wound after all. But for now it’ll stay.
Matt quickly pulls the gloves off his hands, and then goes for his mask. As he tugs it off, he hears Spider-Man’s breath hitch. “Don’t worry, kid. I’m not asking you to do the same.”
Dragging his giant, fully-stocked first aid kit (courtesy of Claire) out from under the kitchen sink and over to the coffee table, Matt quietly informs Spider-Man that he’s going to clean his wound and then stitch it up for him. Spider-Man seems pretty unconcerned with this plan, so Matt gets on with it, pulling out the necessary supplies.
“You planning on doing it in the dark?” Spider-Man asks breathlessly, shifting on the couch to find a more comfortable position. Matt just smiles and continues what he’s doing. He can tell Spider-Man is confused about it, but he doesn’t respond, concentrating on finding what he needs from inside the kit.
Once he’s located all of the needed supplies, he sets about cleaning the wound. Once done with that, Matt prepares sutures to start the stitches.
“So, kid,” he starts in an attempt to distract Spider-Man from the needle that’s about to pass through his skin. Not completely successfully if the tense muscles are anything to go by. “How old are you?”
“Nineteen,” comes from between clenched teeth. “Almost twenty.”
Matt raises his eyebrows in surprise. He was a little off. But still, definitely too young to be doing this kind of shit. Then again, it’s not like there’s an ideal age to start.
“You in school?” he asks as another stitch goes in.
Spider-Man squirms slightly under Matt’s ministrations and grits out, “I guess so. College.” He lets out a long breath when Matt finishes the stitch. “Working too. Gotta a family to think about and all that.” His heart-rate picks up as he realizes what he said, and he quickly closes his mouth. “What about you?” probably trying to distract Matt from what he let slip. Another stitch goes in.
Matt laughs quietly. “Yeah, I’m a real family man. Can’t you tell?” He gestures around the sparse apartment. Starting the last stitch he adds, “I work here in Hell’s Kitchen. I grew up here. This is my city. There, done. Good as new.” Matt tapes a bandage down over the neat row of stitches. “It might not even scar.”
Spider-Man flinches again.
“Do you have a head injury?” Matt asks. “You keep doing that.”
“Doing what?” Spider-Man asks, his voice defensively pitched slightly higher. “I’m not doing anything.” He jumps up from where he’s sitting on Matt’s couch, immediately stumbling. Probably dizzy from blood loss. “Well,” he says with fake cheerfulness in his voice as he regains his balance. “I should be going. Thanks for everything you’ve done.” He winces again.
“Something’s not right with you, kid. You sure it’s not a head wound?”
“Positive. And I’m not a kid.”
Matt sighs, pushing himself up from where he was crouched on the floor. “You’re not going home tonight.” Spider-Man starts to protest, and Matt holds up a hand to silence him. “No, there’s no way you’ll make it. Not after all that blood loss, and whatever else you’ve got going on that you won’t tell me-”
“Spider-sense,” the kid blurts out.
“What?”
“Spider-sense. That’s what I call it anyway. When I got my… powers, it came with the package. It warns me when I’m in danger. Only it’s acting up. I don’t know why. I mean, I got hit in the head earlier, so that might be it, but I don’t really know. It didn’t come with an instruction manual or any-”
Matt cuts him off before he can continue rambling. “I thought you said you didn’t have a head wound,” he says dryly.
Spider-Man lets out an indignant sound. “I don’t. It’s not a head wound. It’s just a head… hit.”
Matt raises his eyebrows, hoping it conveys how unimpressed he is. But then, maybe it’s too dark in here for Spider-Man to tell. Unless that’s one of his powers too. “Okay, I’m going to let that one slide, I guess. But you’re definitely staying here overnight. Or whatever’s left of it. No arguments, okay?”
“Fine,” Spider-Man sighs.
Matt smiles in victory and moves toward his bedroom. “This way.” Spider-Man follows him. “You’ll sleep in here.”
“And you’ll sleep where?” Spider-Man asks.
“Couch. Don’t worry about it. You need the bed more than me tonight anyway.” Matt can tell that Spider-Man wants to protest this, but after a moment he lets it go, flopping face-first onto the bed.
Matt snorts. “Graceful.” And then turns and head to the glass door. “Take your mask off before you fall asleep so you don’t choke on it in your sleep,” Matt adds before closing the door. He hears Spider-Man grumbling and moving around on the bed before dragging his mask off and throwing it onto the floor.
Shaking his head at the kid’s antics (not actually a kid), Matt pulls extra blankets out of the closet and then settles himself on the couch. He can hear Spider-Man’s breath slowing and evening out into a rhythm of sleep.
Before closing his eyes, Matt shoots a text to Foggy. Might not be in first thing in the morning. I’ve got a great excuse.
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Matt wakes to the blare of his phone alarm that he doesn’t remember setting. He drags himself off the couch and to the kitchen where he finds a hot pot of coffee waiting with a note next to it. Suddenly alert, Matt focuses his senses on his bedroom trying to find his guest from the night before. But Spider-Man is definitely gone. He must have been feeling better if he managed to get out of the apartment so quietly. Not to mention rummaging through an unfamiliar kitchen to make coffee. And he left Matt a note that he can’t read. Evidently in the dark last night he didn’t realize Matt’s blind.
Matt pours himself a cup of the coffee and takes a sip and - Wow. It’s really strong coffee. Definitely made by a coffee-fueled college student.
After he’s showered and dressed for work, Matt slips the note in his pocket with his phone. Grabbing his cane from next to the door, Matt heads out his door and toward Nelson and Murdock .
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Matt makes good time to the office, and actually slips in a half hour before any of their scheduled appointments. He manages to avoid Karen who is in the conference room going over some papers, but Foggy slips into his office after him, closing the door behind him.
“So, buddy,” Foggy starts. “You had an interesting night, then?”
“You could say that. I brought someone home with me,” Matt smirks.
“That’s your excuse?” Matt can hear the disbelief in Foggy’s voice as he draws his own conclusion.
“Hey. It’s not everyday you get to invite Spider-Man over,” he counters.
“What!” Foggy exclaims, then turns to make sure Karen didn’t hear. He lowers his voice. “You know Spider-Man?! And you didn’t tell me! How could you?!”
“Calm down, Foggy. We just met last night. Well, we’d already met, but not formally. By the way, he left this for me.” Matt pulls the note from his pocket and holds it out toward Foggy. “I can’t read it.”
Foggy snatches it from his hand eagerly. “‘Thanks for last night. Can’t be late for class. Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.’ You do not get to be friends with Spider-Man and not introduce me, Matthew Murdock. Are we clear?”
“Sure, Foggy. Whatever you say,” Matt chuckles as he starts up his computer. Foggy sighs in a put upon manner and leaves Matt’s office mumbling to himself about ‘stupid friends and their stupid hobbies’.
After a few minutes, Matt’s phone announces, “New message. Unknown number.” Matt taps it to open the message. The computerized voice announces, “Senses cleared up overnight. Must have been that head hit. Give me a call if you need me. I added myself to your burner too. S-M.”