Chapter Text
Mister Stark is going to kill him. That’s the first words that come to his mind when he wakes up in a strange apartment he’s never seen before with a neon building shining brightly directly into his still covered up eyes. The second thing he realises when he wakes up is that whoever brought him here and laid him down on the couch — and bandaged up his injuries — has kept his mask on.
He’s never met the person, but that at least gives them one good point in his book.
Peter gets up as slowly as he can. He doesn’t remember much of the night he had before waking up here, but based on the pounding pain in his head, he can guess it wasn’t good. His chest expands and contracts as slowly as he can make it, not wanting to alert whoever had brought him here in case they were dangerous. As his breathing gets more stable and his lungs don’t feel like they’ll collapse in on him, he sits up to take in his surroundings.
His spider sense still isn’t going off as he looks around the room, so he guesses it's safe. There’s a massive wall of windows directly facing a massive neon sign. That’s what he notices first, that and the fact that whoever lives here better have cheap rent.
There’s a coffee table right in front of him and a trunk hidden in the corner. He doesn’t focus much on those and instead turns around as slowly as he can to look behind him. That’s when he sees him: a man, average height, brown hair, standing by the kitchen counter making food.
What kind of guy makes food while he has a literal injured vigilante sitting on his couch?
Peter ends up staring at the man for what is probably a creepily long amount of time. He watches him grab for each part of the counter as he moves, sees as he moves his hand vaguely around for something before grabbing it, and he waits for something to set off his spider sense. To tell him that the man is dangerous, and he has to run.
The moment never comes.
"Morning," Peter basically shouts as soon as he gathers up the courage. Strangely, the man doesn’t even flinch. He just turns around and waves like this is a regular, everyday occurrence. That's when Peter sees it. The glasses, tinted and obscuring for a normal person's eyesight. As well as the cane hung up on the wall and then suddenly the fumbling around makes a lot more sense.
Did Spider-Man get dragged into a blind guy's apartment? How did he even notice him?
Well, now he knows why the neon sign doesn't affect the guy living here.
Eventually, the man catches onto his panic and finishes up whatever he's cooking — bacon and eggs, Peter can smell it — so he can walk over to the couch. "Sorry, I’m Matt. My boyfriend found you in the alleyway." Matt smiles and stands in front of the couch. Peter shuffles along so he has room to sit down, but then he sits in the chairs opposite and really he's just embarrassing himself at this point. "Are you okay?"
Peter nods, then bursts out with a yes because he can't fucking see what he does, man! He is completely and utterly choosing to blame all of his stupidity throughout this whole interaction on the fact that he's just waking up and that his side is still screaming at him. Has he been drugged? As much as Peter doesn't want to deal with the fallout of that, he really wants an excuse right about now.
The stitches feel as though they're supposed to, at least. If someone shoved a tracking chip or something into him, he won't know until he gets Mister Stark to check, but it looks good enough for now. "You stitched me up?" he asks as he runs his finger up each stitch on his side.
Peter doesn't remember what attacked him, but he knows there were muggers or something. They ganged up on him with knives, and he got them all down with no one getting too hurt. Something that the size of his stab wound must've begged to differ. What happened after that, or even how long he's been out, is a mystery to him.
A mystery that Matt has the answers to.
"I used to do it for my dad, besides couldn’t very well have you bleeding out on my couch," Matt laughs, adjusts his glasses and winces ever so slightly as his fingers brush past his bruise. He hides it well, and barely even makes a sound, but Peter notices it. The bruise isn't massive by any means, but it's substantial enough that it stands out when his glasses stop hiding it. It's purple and yellowing around the edges, and it looks bad, so he's probably had it a while. Peter has had to deal with plenty of bruises like that in his time as Spider-Man, but this is just a regular guy.
A regular, really nice blind guy who has apparently made him food.
"Don’t worry, I had my boyfriend check if they were straight," he says, probably mistaking his silence for worry over his own stitches rather than worry for the man's bruises.
"Ironic," Peter snorts because apparently he can't bloody help himself.
"Yes, I guess it is." Matt laughs as well, so he supposes his joke isn't so horribly outrageous. "Breakfast?" he jumps up onto his feet, each step being with a slight limp now that he's paying close attention to it, and walks over to the kitchen.
"I’d hate to put you out."
"Nonsense, you almost died, and I’ve been told your a superhero, Spider-Kid." Matt places a plate onto his lap and it smells so goddamn heavenly that he doesn't even care to question if this is one whole big master plan to drug him before he starts eating.
"Spider-Man," he corrects, before he pulls his mask up to his nose and shovels the food into his mouth. "But thanks for saying the hyphen," he finishes after swallowing his food because his aunt raised him better than that.
"You got it, Spider-Man."
Matt sits back in his chair, looking off at, well, nothing, as Peter scoffs down the food he'd made. Honestly, and no one tell Aunt May, but this is the best food he's ever tasted. If this shit is drugged, then he can just deal with the side-effects because he could eat that portion ten times over and still have room for more.
Even when his plate is completely clear of any trace of food, he can still feel his stomach calling out for more. Whether it's because he's been unconscious for so long, or his enhanced metabolism, or the food is just that good, he doesn't know, but Peter's body definitely wants more. He doesn't ask, obviously. He's not an awful guest, but he makes a mental note to get some food before going home.
While he's thinking over where to go, Matt takes away his plate and reappears with another full one within seconds.
The thought that he's sitting in a room with a blind psychic crosses his mind. So, logically, he thinks of as many swear words as he can manage and frowns when he doesn't see a reaction from the man.
"Thank you," Peter says, tapping his fork on the edge of the plate. He takes his time debating whether to ask about the bruise. "For helping me and stitching me up. As well for not taking the mask off, that's a fear of mine."
"I wouldn't do that to you. Besides, it wouldn't help me much." Matt taps on his glasses, and Peter is embarrassed to say how badly he laughed at that.
"You're funny, mister…"
"Murdock. You can call me Matthew, though kid."
"I do have manners, Mister Murdock." Peter then shovels the food into his mouth as fast as he can without making a mess.
Peter decides to actually ask the question. After spending far too much time deliberating over it. It's the right thing to do, after all. What if he needs help? The guy made him food. The least he can do is enquire about his wellbeing.
Between bites of food, of course, so he's not expected to reply immediately.
Even though Matt can't see his attempts to stall at all.
"So, how did you get that bruise?" He says before filling his mouth with all the food left on his plate.
"Oh yes, I've been told it looks bad by my coworkers. It's embarrassing, really. There was construction on the stairs of this building I was visiting the other week, and I did not see it. Fell down an entire floor, and I am currently holding back my friends from suing them."
"You should sue them. Unless you can't afford a lawyer, then I get that, but I can get you a lawyer—"
"I am a lawyer, Spider-Man," Matt interrupts him, his smile he's had on this whole interaction melting into something more genuine. "I just don't want to make a whole thing of it. It was a mistake. They happen, and the construction workers would be the only ones to get into trouble."
Peter nods along. He gets it, really. The want to not get others in trouble for something that only affects you. Except that this is a nice blind guy with nasty bruises on his face — and presumably even more if he fell down an entire floor — who just isn't doing anything about it. Put a barrier up at least! What if other people fall through as well? Not everyone actually reads signs!
From the way Matt sits back, Peter doesn't think that he's up for much discussion. So he just looks down and lets the pain from his side wash over his body.
He needs some ibuprofen, or maybe some of those better pain meds that May got for him. Shit, May. She must be so worried about him! He can see daylight outside the row of windows the apartment has, which means she'll definitely be up. Which means she'll be looking for him because she always does that after he goes out as Spider-man and he won't bloody be there!
"What time is it?" he asks, already jumping up onto his feet to put his plate away.
"About nine fifteen."
Shit.
"Thanks again for the food and the first aid, and the couch, but I really have to get going!" Peter scrambles over to the window to get out. Like a bug caught in a trap.
"See you later, Mister Murdock!"
"You're always welcome here, okay, kid?"
Peter smiles and thanks him again before jumping out of the window. With a small thanks to whoever is listening up there, he continues swinging with web cartridges that are magically not empty. After a mis-swing that almost ends up with him splatted on the concrete, he swings with only his left hand to not aggravate his side. May will be even more mad at him if he shows up with pulled stitches rather than just regular stitches
He's still smiling as he lands onto his own rooftop, because Peter made a friend.
And Mister Stark might just not kill him.
"You little shit!"
Spider-Man webs up the mugger without so much of a struggle. Well, on his end at least, that guy is very much struggling to get out of his webs. However, he doesn't struggle anywhere near close enough to get out, and after a minute, he gives up and slumps against the net holding him in the air.
"This is why we don't rob innocent people!" Peter chastises as he takes the wallet the guy had stolen and his gun out of his pocket. After leaving one of his post-it notes on the mugger's forehead, he webs the gun onto the wall and leaves another post it on it for the police to handle. Guns have never been his forte.
"Now say sorry."
"Oh, fuck off!"
He sighs, crossing his arms and engaging in the criminal's very lackluster attempt at a staring contest. Well, it is hard to know when he blinks with the mask and all. That was how he cheated that time with Mister Stark and got free ice cream for three months.
"It appears this man is being unnecessarily rude," he says, turning back to the victim he really hopes hasn't run away in the commotion. Their wallet is still sitting in his hand after all, and getting it back to them through the police is such a hassle.
A smile bursts onto his face underneath the mask when he turns back and finds Matt dusting himself off. He looks the same as he did last time. The only thing that's really changed is his bruise. Where there was once deep purple has been replaced by a yellowing, almost invisible blemish if he doesn't look closely.
But his face isn't bruise free. Now he's just got another bruise peeking out from behind his glasses.
His stomach turns inside out at the sight of it.
"Thanks for the help, Spider-Man." Matt reaches his hand out for the wallet, grabbing aimlessly at the air until Peter realises he has to hand it to him. Since he cannot see — God, how does he keep forgetting that?
The man's other hand is empty, and his cane is nowhere in sight. Can he go out without that?
Instead of asking that perhaps offensive question, he asks every other question that hits itself against the corners of his brain. "Mister Murdock! How have you been? Is your day going okay? Have you sued that company yet, because that bruise still looks bad? Wait, is that a different bruise? Where is your cane anyway?"
"I lost it in the commotion, but I'm doing good. This is a different bruise. I walked into a door," Matt laughs. Brushing off the injury like it's something common.
The first one maybe, but multiple sends off alarm bells in his head. It's like when he started coming home injured from being Spider-Man and Aunt May was worried sick. She thought he was being bullied, or he'd joined a gang or something. The fingerprint bruises around his neck and the black eyes he got from fights gone wrong only worried her more.
For her, being Spider-Man was the best possible outcome from that. Even if she isn't the biggest fan of it, he's not out somewhere getting beaten for no reason. One silver lining, at least.
Peter doesn't have that with Matt. Nor does he have the close relationship he needs to actually check up on the guy. Follow up on his bruises or other injuries he's gotten.
It all feels so unfair. He's close enough to worry, but not close enough to do anything about it.
"Well then, we will have to find that cane so you don't walk into anymore doors!" His energy isn't in it, but Peter attempts to keep up his cheerful, friendly Spider-Man tone. It wouldn't do him very well to tip Matt off to his worry, especially if it is nothing. God, he hopes it's nothing.
"If you wouldn't mind. I'm supposed to be home by now, so my boyfriend is going to be worried sick if I come back without it."
"Well, at least you're uninjured. That's what matters," Peter kneels down on the ground when he says it, but he still sees the slump in Matt's shoulders when he says that.
"He knows I can handle myself, but thanks, Spider-Man."
Maybe he can't if he's constantly getting injured or mugged, but who is Peter to judge? There's a chance this guy is in the most loving relationship ever, and he's just looking too far into things.
But isn't it always better to be overly cautious than to be wrong? Especially about things like this?
That's what Miss Romanoff says, and she's never been wrong before.
"Just doing my friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man duties." When he finally finds the cane — discarded in a dumpster, like, seriously, man? That's just rude — Peter jumps back up onto his feet and hands it to Matt. "Speaking of which—let me walk you home. This guy should be good for the police to get."
He holds out his arm, and Matt takes it with a huff. It must be a strange sight. A blind man and Spider-Man walking out of an alleyway in Hell's Kitchen, arms linked. Well, it's not like Matt can see it, and Spider-Man has never cared much for being embarrassed. Why would he start now?
"You know, normally Daredevil leaves when the police are here."
"Well, I'm not Daredevil!" Even thinking of the guy scares him. Mister Stark has told him multiple times that the Devil of Hell's Kitchen isn't the actual Devil, and that he's checked. He trusts Mister Stark, so while that makes the guy slightly less scary, he's still absolutely terrifying. "He won't be mad I'm here, right? I just heard some commotion going on and came to help. He is helping people, but he's also really scary, you know that?"
"I have met the man. He's only scary when he's trying."
"I don't think I want to see him not trying either." Peter shivers at the thought, and Matthew must be able to feel it as he lets out a laugh.
Despite not being able to see, Matthew can give him instructions on how to get back to his home incredibly easily. He asks if they're near a certain building, and then he knows where to go from there. The path is stitched into his memory.
Matthew seems to know the entire city inside and out. He makes little quips every so often as they walk through the streets about how it used to be or where he got into trouble when he was younger. According to him, he has lived in Hell's kitchen basically his whole life and when he lost his sight at nine — a story he doesn't elaborate on which makes Peter think it's horribly tragic — he made it his mission to memorise the place so he wouldn't get lost without his vision.
Peter hasn't taken him through the entire city, but he thinks he's pretty much completed his goal. In the little time he's known the man, he doesn't seem like the kind to give up on something.
He's not the kind to take help either, and that scares Peter.
When they're going up the stairs to his apartment, he doesn't feel the need to hold on to the banister or his arm. No, he jumps up them without a worry. Sure, there isn't anything on them this time, but what if there were? What if he fell because he tripped on something someone hadn't meant to leave there, but he still couldn't see?
"Well, this is mine, Spider-Man. Thank you for your help."
Peter doesn't want to worry incessantly about a man who might not need him to, but the concern bubbles up anyway.
"Anytime, Mister Murdock."
"Please call me Matthew, kid. And come by anytime, alright?"
"You got it!" he smiles. Matthew can't see it, and he's wearing a mask anyway, but it's the thought that counts.
His hand sits on his doorknob, but he doesn't open it. He refuses to move it while Spider-Man is still there, Peter guesses. So he leaves. Goes far enough away for Matthew to consider him long gone.
Yet close enough for him to still hear if he strains his ears. A normal person couldn't hear them — there is definitely another person inside that apartment, Matthew's boyfriend if he had to guess — at this distance, but his senses have always been much more sensitive since the spider bite.
"You're late," the other voice says. It's a rough voice, but he doesn't sound all that angry, but he sounds vaguely annoyed.
"I got mugged, asshole." There's no proper bite behind Matthew's words. A light joke between boyfriends. Even if getting mugged shouldn't be a joke and he could've gotten seriously hurt.
"Seriously? You got mugged, Red?" He says it with such mockery in his tone that Peter's chest feels like it's on fire. People get mugged all the time! Spider-Man would save a lot fewer people if they didn't. It's nothing to make fun of someone about. Especially if it's a traumatising event.
He's not even met this guy yet, and he's already pissed at him.
"Attempted to get mugged," Matt corrects as he gets closer to the man. Well, that's his guess. There are sounds of footsteps from where Matt's voice was towards where his boyfriend's voice was. So he can make an educated guess. He's never been that good at listening to movements.
"Oh, of course," he laughs.
A random old lady comes by and asks if he's okay. Spider-Man nods, asks if she needs any help, and waves her away when she says no. He takes that moment to take a seat and take out his burner phone Mister Stark gave him. He must look a little suspicious standing in the middle of the street.
When he focuses back in on Matt after much struggle, the conversation has moved on a bit.
"Spider-Man came and saved me." Matt finishes a sentence. The rest of it is lost to Peter, but he catches that much.
"Wow, replacing me already?"
"Oh, shut it, he's like sixteen."
"Well, I guess you're stuck with me then, Altar Boy."
"Whatever will I do?"
There's a laugh in his throat, but Peter can't help but worry. Someone has to since his boyfriend obviously doesn't care about his blind boyfriend getting mugged. If his hands weren't fully covered by the suit, then he would've been biting down his nails at that point.
He almost wishes their conversation was worse. A bit more incriminating. Something scarier to give him a reason to barge back in there and stop all of this. But when it's just jokes, all scary undertones left only as subtext, he's got nothing to latch onto.
Peter is stuck in limbo, and God, does he hate it.
Peter has been working on his internship with mister Stark for about four months when the name "Matt Murdock" comes up. It's in a passing statement that he would've ignored if it wasn't for his previous encounters with the man. Peter likes Matt. He's only seen him here and there with his limited patrols into Hell's Kitchen, but from what he's seen, Matt is a good person.
A blind lawyer who puts away corrupt people and defends innocent people. He takes people's cases for free, and he goes to church every Sunday. Matt Murdock, by all means, has a beautiful life.
But then there are the bruises. Every time he sees the man, he's always got something — from a limp to a cut to a bruise, there's always something.
At first, there were excuses. "Fell through some under construction stairs." "Slipped on the ice." "Tripped and fell onto a door handle." "Dropped a knife while cooking."
They were practiced excuses at first. Ones he had ready on the fly. Then the excuses would get doubled up, or he'd mention something that contradicted something he had already said. Or he would just change the subject without even answering. It all leads to one answer that Peter doesn't like to think about. Matt is being hurt repeatedly, and he doesn't think he can tell anyone about it.
When he brings up the man to Mister Stark, it brings a maniacal grin to the man's face within seconds.
"Oh Murdock? Yeah, he's Steve's little church buddy. Don't let the nice little Catholic lawyer bit fool you. That man is a demon." Tony snorts, not even looking away from the circuit board he's messing with. Sparks fly off his tweezers as he prods at it, and it takes a lot out of Peter not to get mesmerised by it.
"He helped me when I passed out in an alleyway," he blurts out, trying his hardest to keep the conversation from flying away, as it so often does between the two of them.
Tony's head jumps up like a pigeon and knocks the light which was hanging above him out of the way. It falls onto the ground with a clang, and Tony doesn't even react to it. "When did you pass out in an alleyway?" he shouts, staring at Peter with worried eyes through his goggles.
"I thought you knew! Normally Karen tells you these things!" Peter shouts back. Tony doesn't wait another second as he stumbles over the boxes and pieces of metal strewn about on the ground to get to the computer.
"She's supposed to tell me these things!" he finally gets to his computer and begins typing away at a pace which is not conducive to good spelling. Thankfully, both Karen and Jarvis have been programmed to deal with his anagram-like spelling. "Apparently she considered Murdock "safe hands" and decided not to notify me."
Mister Stark looks oh so tired as he thinks about how to entirely change Karen's code. "You can't kill an AI, Mister Stark."
"No, but I can reprogram it."
"You're being dramatic."
"Of course I am!"
"He's a really good cook," Peter added, patting the man on his shoulder.
"I don't doubt that," he scoffs, and keeps on typing away. His mind is all too focused on that for Peter to drive it anywhere else.
He bites his lower lip and gets back to his homework. He barely gets through three questions before he's working on autopilot while thinking about Matt. Mister Murdock helped him, right? The stitches on his side show that and since he helped Spider-Man, well Spider-Man should probably help him too, right?
His pencil tapping resembles something of a beat as he thinks of what he can do. Peter knows where he lives, so going to his apartment wouldn't be that crazy. Maybe if he gets lucky, he can stumble upon a Matt who he can help and not a Matt taking a moment out of his busy day to talk to the superhero in the street.
After assuring himself for the seventh time that Matt said he could go back to his apartment, Peter finally left his own apartment, steaming hot pie in hand. It's one of Aunt May's. A pie she specifically made for Matt because he helped Peter, so really he has even more excuses to be there.
Of course, he's actually going there to check on him and any fresh injuries he may have, but it isn't like Matt knows when he's lying!
He swings through the sky, wind soaring past his ears as he goes by. The hotdog vendor waves at him. Some birds break out of formation. His arm aches at the extended use since he can't swap hands.
Peter sails over the top of New York, and the entire city feels like it can fit in his grasp. That he can let out a laugh and everyone there will hear it.
The feeling doesn't leave him as he leaves the familiar Queens behind and swings into Hell's Kitchen. Spider-Man never spends much time in this part of New York — Daredevil is incredibly territorial — but in his little time he's spent recently, he's gotten used to the place. To its hidden corners and vantage points. Where he can swing and where the bricks crack under his weight.
It's like learning a whole new map, and he loves it. The people there have even begun to warm up to him. He only gets shouted at to go home three times! Major improvement in his opinion.
Peter hasn't actually seen the Devil yet, but he's completely ready for that day to come. Someday far, far away when he actually goes into Hell's Kitchen during the nighttime and not when the sun works as a cloak from the other vigilante's wrath.
Matt would put in a good word for him. He's sure of it. After he brings him pie, he better anyway.
He lands onto Matt's obnoxiously enormous wall of windows with a thud. Nothing breaks, he calculated the landing after all, but the sound is enough to alert the person inside of his presence. When he first saw the silhouette, Peter assumed it was Matt inside. On closer inspection, he decides he is horribly wrong.
"Who's there?" The voice shouts out. It's a familiar voice, not Matt's though. Far too gruff. Most likely his boyfriend's then. His boyfriend, who is rapidly getting closer to the windows which he is stuck to.
There are sounds of a commotion going on inside of the apartment, and more swears than he hears nightly, before the man actually gets to the windows. Peter sends him a wave, but the man just looks pissed as he barges open the window next to him. "Spider-Man?"
His face sticks out of the window, and his voice is even more gravelly without the barrier. Peter squints through his mask.
He looks familiar. Peter has never seen him in person before, but he looks like someone he's seen repeatedly. A passing face he never committed to memory. Maybe someone he saw on the news?
Before he can properly think through who the man is, he retreats into the apartment with another bundle of swear words. At least he left the window open.
"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Peter laughs, but his Spider-Man charm is weary at best.
The guy is massive. Squared shoulders and biceps the size of his head. He's pretty, he'll give him that, but the bruised knuckles and sneering glare don't do him any favours. Where did he bruise his knuckles? Peter's don't normally look that bad unless he gets into an actual fight. "Now who the hell are you, and what are you doing in Mister Murdock's apartment?"
He lets out a laugh. Breathy and almost painful based on the way he knocks his shoulders. He looks Peter up and down, from the pie in his hands to the lenses covering his eyes.
Peter stares right back. He looks so familiar! It's in his grasp, somewhere. In some far corner of his brain which he can get to if he keeps on looking.
"You're smaller than he said you were," the man says. Peter doesn't laugh. It takes a lot, but he keeps his indifference clear. "I'm Frank. His boyfriend, kid, calm it. He should be home soon."
He doesn't give Peter another glance as he sits back on Matt's couch. A beer in one hand and a book in the other.
The apartment looks nicer than the last time he was there. Cleaner maybe. Except it wasn't a mess before, but cluttered. Filled with files and abandoned coffee mugs. It looked lived in.
His spider sense brings him to the gun before his eyes do. It's not near his head, or even without its safety, it's just there. A breeze sweeps past him from the window, and Peter doesn't look away from the gun. They're lucky there are no kids in the apartment. Or having the safety off would be even more dangerous.
"Why do you have a gun?" It takes all his effort to stop his voice from shaking as he speaks.
"We live in Hell's Kitchen. Who doesn't?"
It's a vague statement. A workaround to not answer him. He grunts at the end of his statement, and that alone brings him back a few years prior.
To the trial of Frank Castle, the Punisher, on live TV. To his outbursts, and his silence, and his incredibly recognisable face, and how the fuck did he not notice this sooner.
"You're the Punisher," Peter says.
"Great observation, Sport," The Punisher replies without even turning around.
Matt is dating the Punisher. Holy fucking shit — sorry May — his civilian friend is dating a murderous vigilante! His kill count is literally longer than some of Peter's villains. Some of those people don't even hold back. They're all socially isolated losers or geniuses or Black Cat, and they all have more self control than this guy. Venom eats people, and even his kill count is lower!
His breaths get shorter without him meaning them to. Weight floats away from his head, and it's taking all the strength in his neck to keep himself upright. He's thirsty. Incredibly so, he can taste yesterday's lunch crawling up his throat, but the thought of taking anything from the Punisher's home feels like a cardinal sin.
Isn't that technically theft? Wouldn't the Punisher kill him for stealing from the guy's home, even if his boyfriend likes him?
His boyfriend, who constantly has bruises. Oh shit.
He swallows the bile three more times before he hears the jingling of keys in the apartment door. He jumps at the sound before remembering why he actually came. To give a pie to Matt. And sort of question him about the bruises.
The second part of that plan has become near impossible with the freaking Punisher mere inches from him, but he can make do.
"We have a guest, Matthew!" Frank shouts as soon as the door is open. Without even getting up to greet him, he just throws his head back from where he was reading and announces it. Peter can't tell which part of that pisses him off.
Matthew spends a minute fumbling with his keys. Fingers tracing up and down the keychain to find the one he needs to lock the door. It's a meticulous process, one he's likely memorised, and it's fascinating to watch.
"Do we?" he asks once he's finally locked the door and hung up his cane.
"Hi Mister Murdock," Peter puts on his Spider-Man voice again. Loud and boisterous. Confident and totally not weirded out by the murderer inches away from him.
Peter can understand, sometimes, why people kill others. Only when it's incredibly evil people, and even then, he knows he'd find it incredibly hard to do himself. He wants to help his villains, and their normal mental instability only adds to that. He can understand, but he can never do.
It's like when he hangs out with Deadpool. That guy mostly kills bad people, and over an extended period of time, he's gotten used to that. The Punisher also kills bad people. Murderers, rapists, awful criminals who deserve to rot in jail. In some circles, he's seen as some necessary hero.
He can understand it on a base level, but he's still weary towards the guy. Peter doesn't know him. Neither does Spider-Man. All he knows is that he's violent, a convict, a guy with a really tragic backstory, and is dating a man with a lot of bruises on him all the time.
Peter really doesn't like how all those add up.
"Oh, Spider-Man! How are you? In need of anymore stitches?" Matt doesn't talk or move like he's hurt anymore. The bruise around his eye has cleared up, and his face looks uninjured for once.
"They're fine, Mister Murdock. I brought you a pie!"
"Oh, you shouldn't have. Frank, would you mind putting it away?"
Frank lets out something close to a groan as he gets up. His book slams on the coffee table, and he walks over to his boyfriend with a smile on his face. "Sure, Matty." He places a kiss on Matt's temples and then takes the pie into the kitchen. Far enough away from the two of them for Peter to drag Matt in.
"You know he's the Punisher, right?" he whispers right next to the man's ear and holds on, probably a bit too tight to Matt's shoulder. Something about the movement makes him flinch. A small flinch, it's barely there, really, but the bile comes back to his mouth like a hose.
Matt's face shifts. His smile gives way to something more real. More fragile. "I'm aware. While I don't approve of the lives he's taken, he's a good man under it all. I promise."
Peter's hand tightens around his shoulder. "You're safe, right?"
"Of course I am Spider-Man."
"I'm always around if you're not, okay?"
"I'm really okay, Spider-Man." Matt taps his hand, and he reluctantly takes it away. He steps back just as Frank comes back from the kitchen. Perfect timing.
His shoulders are hanging taut. Stressed. He's hiding it well, but Peter is better. Frank looks stressed out as well, but he's staring at him with the same blank face he used in his court hearing.
Peter takes the hint well enough, and after the silence stretches on far too long, he excuses himself. Even when he wants so badly to stay and make sure Matt is okay, he leaves. His feet stick to the ground, but his spider sense says nothing is horribly wrong. Even his powers can't decide on something to do.
"I'll see you around."
"I will keep an ear out," Matt quips. He taps the side of his head. The movement pulls his sleeve down, and a small, purple bruise around his wrist shows itself to the world for two seconds before he covers it again.
His heart drops at the sight alone, and while he hates it, he leaves the apartment. Questioning him directly obviously isn't helping. Peter needs outside help.
He thinks he knows just the guy. Who would be more willing to help than a fellow vigilante in Red who knows both The Punisher and Matthew?