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Look, he gets it. This looks really bad.
When you see a random kid basically hanging off the edge of the roof of some random apartment building, you jump to conclusions. Peter has been in the hero's shoes in this situation plenty of times.
Therefore, he knows how difficult it's going to be to convince Daredevil that he isn't trying to kill himself.
"Hey, kid." Daredevil walks towards him slowly, announcing his presence and stepping much louder than Peter knows he's capable of. He's seen the guy in action, he can literally move like a ghost when he wants to.
Peter grips the ledge of the building, angling his body to face the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. Shit, okay, what's the move here? "Hello, Mr. Devil, Sir." Oh, God. That was not the move. Peter winces. "I mean, um..."
Daredevil's lip twitches slightly. "You can call me Daredevil. Or Mike, if you'd prefer."
Oh,shit. An actual name. This guy really thinks I'm about to jump.
"Mike... okay... I'm just hanging out here. Nothing to worry about. I'm a-okay." Peter swings his legs a bit to really punctuate how a-okay he is.
Daredevil--Mike?--steps closer, still seemingly hesitant to make sudden moves. This would be perfect and very much appreciated if Peter were planning to jump, which he isn't.
"Is there something I can call you? Other than a-okay?" Mike drops to one knee beside Peter, almost within arms reach, but far enough that Peter doesn't feel threatened--or wouldn't. If this was necessary.
Right. Name. Should he lie? Daredevil probably lied. However, Peter has never been particularly good at naming things, and the only fake name that immediately pops to mind is Ben and he is not doing that to himself, so he decides to be honest. "Uh, I'm Peter."
Daredevil smiles more visibly and seems relieved. "Well, Peter, why did you choose the edge of this roof to just 'hang out' tonight. It's pretty late."
That makes sense. Peter finished patrol, like, an hour ago. He stashed his suit then just... started wandering. He felt kind of strange on patrol. Not like, drugged or anything. Just off. He wasn't too much more tired than normal, but he also didn't really trust himself to give crime-fighting his all when he felt so odd. And he really didn't want to go back to his empty apartment and sit in the weirdness. So he stashed his suit and just started walking. At some point he must've ended up in Hell's Kitchen and climbed a fire escape. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn't really remember making it here. That kind of freaks him out, actually.
"Hey, kid. Peter. Breathe." Mike says, which confuses Peter because he is breathing. Maybe a little bit too much. Okay now that he's noticed, he's definitely breathing too much. And the cool September night air is starting to feel very cold.
"Peter, can I come closer?" Peter vaguely registers himself nodding, but that whole sensation is really being drowned out by the fact that he has pins and needles in his entire body and all of that breathing he was doing seems to have stopped working. Did he forget how to breathe? Is he dying? Is he going to die?
"You're alright, Peter. You aren't dying. Match my breathing, okay?" What? Peter doesn't think he can do that. He's never going to breathe again, actually. There's something buzzing under his skin and his chest feels like there's a building on it again and nobody is coming to save him this time and his vision is going spotty and oh God this is how he's going to die and-
There's a hand on his shoulder and Mike is right in front of him. "Peter. Look at me. You're on a roof in Hell's Kitchen. You're not dying. Feel the concrete under your hand. Look at my chest rise and fall. Copy me, okay?" Mike takes a slow, deep breath, and Peter, somehow, latches on to this and begins to copy him.
The oxygen doesn't want to come, at first. Its slowgoing, his breaths stutter and he almost loses it again when he feels like he isn't getting enough air, but eventually he reaches a point where he can breathe on his own. His limbs still feel fuzzy and his head hurts and, God, he hasn't felt this tired since... Since. But he's breathing again and he's on a rooftop in Hell's Kitchen and he knows that, so. Progress.
"Sorry." Peter croaks out before coughing somewhat violently. Oh, yeah. He's thirsty too. Was he crying?
"No need to apologize, kid. I'm glad I was here." Mike's hand is still on his shoulder but then it's gone. Peter feels a bit pathetic for being sad about that, but nobody has really touched him without trying to hurt him since he said goodbye to MJ, so.
"I wasn't, like. Gonna jump. Just... just FYI." Peter feels the need to clarify this. Even if he's not totally sure at this point. Daredevil is like, really cool. Peter doesn't want him to think he's gonna jump off a roof. Besides, even if he did, his spidey-sense would catch him. Reflexes are powerful things.
Mike nods silently. "Well, in that case, do you think you could move a bit further from the ledge? Just so you don't fall on accident."
Peter doesn't feel like arguing. He's really too tired at this point, so he just moves.
Mike smiles. "Thank you." He tilts his head slightly. "So, Peter. How did you end up here tonight?"
"Just... y'know. Wandering."
Mike nods. "Onto a roof in Hell's Kitchen at 4am?"
Peter worries his lip. "I have insomnia."
"Well, do you have a place to stay tonight?"
Embarrassingly, Peter almost feels like crying again. "Yeah."
Mike grows very serious. "Do you have a... safe place to stay tonight."
Ohhh no. Peter has to nip this in the bud. "Yeah, yeah, of course. I live in an apartment in Queens. Alone."
Peter, for some reason, isn't expecting Mike to ask, "Would you be safe alone tonight?"
And he really isn't expecting his answer to be, "I dont know." Yes. Yes, Peter. Yes is the answer. What the hell?
Mike exhales. "Okay."
This is it. This is where Peter has to run because Mike is going to tell him he needs to go to the hospital and Peter is going to have to tell him he can't go to the hospital and Mike is going to try to take him anyway because that's what people do when they think someone's going to hurt themselves and Peter is going to have to find a way to run without tipping Daredevil off to the fact that he's superhuman and shit, shit, shit.
Mike interrupts Peter's second panic spiral of the night with, "Are you hungry?"
Huh. That's a lot better than "I'm going to have you involuntarily committed." Cool. And yes, of course he's hungry. He's always hungry.
"Yeah."
"Let me buy you a burger. There's a 24-hour diner open a block away. They've also got surprisingly good coffee." Mike stands and offers a hand.
Okay, two options here. Option A: Book it and pray he gets far enough away to use his webshooters without being seen by Daredevil so he can preserve his secret identity and not risk being 5150'd. Option B: Let Mike buy him a burger. He's been nice so far and he hasn't said a word about hospitals. Peter is also really, really hungry. Okay, option B it is.
Peter grabs Mike's hand and Mike pulls him up. "Um, let me grab my bag real quick." Peter scurries over to the fire escape and grabs the bag with his suit and spare webshooters. He can't just leave it, obviously.
Mike purses his lips almost imperceptibly. "Alright, kid. Let's go."
As they climb down the fire escape, some of the ridiculousness of the situation dawns on Peter. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen is about to buy Spider-Man a burger without even knowing that he's Spider-Man. Talk about a team-up.
Peter's stomach grumbles. Maybe he'd rather talk about a burger right now.
Matt rarely finds himself at a loss for what to do.
He's extremely resourceful, and he can thank law school and natural charisma for his ability to talk himself out of just about any situation (though, when in costume, he prefers to speak with his fists.) He also has so much experience watching over Hell's Kitchen that there's very few problems he can encounter that he hasn't dealt with in some capacity.
Talking Spider-Man off a ledge, though? That's new.
He knew the kid was Spider-Man the moment Matt set foot on the roof. Spider-Man has a very distinct scent--a very strong chemical smell that almost burns his nostrils. That's not a smell that Matt would quickly forget, even if he can't quite remember the last time he interacted with the vigilante.
Matt wasn't dumb enough to let the kid know that he knew, though. Spider-Man was out of costume--hair and clothes flapping in the wind rather loudly--and he was sitting stock still and uncharacteristically silent on the ledge of a very tall apartment building. It's clear he was going through something, so Matt approached gently. Clearly not gently enough, considering the kid had a panic attack so bad Matt worried he might have to physically pull him back from the ledge.
He managed to get the kid's real name, though, which he feels a bit bad about considering the kid thinks his name is Mike. It's only partially a lie, really. His middle name is Michael.
Anyway, Peter is clearly going through something, and Matt feels unusually responsible for figuring out what. Maybe it's that Peter is young, no older than 18 or 19. Maybe it's that he's a vigilante himself, and he feels some strange kinship with the kid. In any case, he's buying Peter a burger at Becky's Diner.
It's pretty awkward, actually. He can tell that Peter is too scared to say anything--whether he's scared of exposing his secret identity or revealing the reason he was on the roof, Matt isn't sure. Well, if the kid won't start the discussion, Matt has to.
"So, do you come to Hell's Kitchen a lot?" Matt starts.
The kid pauses mid-bite then continues chewing very slowly, clearly stalling. "No."
Matt stifles a sigh. So that's how it's going to be. "Well, what brings you here tonight?"
Peter bites the inside of his cheek so hard that Matt smells iron. "I dunno."
Matt tilts his head, trying to make his seriously? look read through the cowl. "Earlier you said you were just wandering. You said your apartment is in Queens, that's quite a trek." Ok, Matt, ease off. Don't come on too strong.
Peter tenses. "I was... working. I was near Hell's Kitchen when I got off work." A half-truth. Fair enough. He can read between the lines.
Matt picks up a fry from his plate and takes a bite. He isn't getting anywhere with this tactic, but he doesn't want to scare the kid off. What to do, what to do?
Sometimes honesty is the best policy. Well as honest as he can be while hiding behind a fake name and a mask. And being a lawyer. "Look, kid. I won't bullshit you. I was concerned by what I saw on the roof, okay? I'm not going to make you go to a hospital, but I need you to help me out here. What's going on?"
Peter almost immediately begins to tear up, and, oddly enough, he chokes out a laugh. "Um, no offense, but I don't think you'd believe me."
Well. "Try me, kid."
Peter swallows hard, clearly engaging in a heated internal debate. He practically collapses inwards as he comes to a decision. "I can't really talk about it. I-" He's gripping his knees so hard his hands shake. "I'm scared it would mess everything up if I told you."
What the hell has this kid gotten himself into? There are so many possibilities, and each one makes Matt's blood run cold. "Peter, if you're being... hurt or, or exploited in some way, there are resources to help you."
Peter's heart rate spikes. "No! No no no. Nothing like that, honest." He is being honest, thank God. "It's... there's nothing that can help me." He winces. "That sounds worse, actually. Crap. I'm not saying any of this right, I'm sorry." Peter slumps down in the booth and digs his thumbnail into his now extremely sweaty palm underneath the table.
"Hey, Peter it's okay. Stop-stop doing that," Matt taps his own palm.
Peter furrows his brow and looks at his palm in his lap, thankfully separating his hands. "How..."
Nope. Redirect. "Kid, please. Let me help you, alright?"
Peter's posture somehow closes off even further. His crosses his arms firmly across his chest. "Look, why do you care so much, Mike? Why aren't you just dropping me off at a hospital and patting yourself on the back for a job well done? I mean, why are you doing all this? You keep asking me questions, but I'm just as confused as you."
Fair enough. Matt normally doesn't buy people burgers just because he caught them experiencing a mental health crisis. It also seems he may have clocked the fake name. This kid is very smart. Matt has to decide very quickly what he wants to do and how he wants to do it.
"Alright, Peter. I told you I wouldn't bullshit you. If I tell you the truth, will you tell me the truth? As much as you can?" Come on, kid.
Peter eyes him warily. He's clearly still nervous, but he offers a shaky nod.
"For one, my name isn't Mike. It's Matt. I'm not lying to you this time, I promise." Peter nods more steadily. He'd definitely clocked the fake name. Great catch. "And I have very enhanced senses. I pick up on sensory stimuli--smells, sounds, textures--that are completely imperceptible to the average person."
Peter's heart is pounding. "S-so?"
Matt sighs. Time to bite the bullet. "I know we've met before. At work. At least once."
Peter stops breathing. His fingers grip his arms so tightly Matt worries he's going to hurt himself, but before he can speak up, Peter whispers, "So... you know? Who I am?"
He's not running yet, which Matt thinks is a good sign, so he lowers his voice and answers honestly after double-checking that nobody is within earshot. "Yes, Peter. I know that you're Spider-Man. I won't tell anyone. I just want to make sure you're safe." He pauses. "Well, as safe as you can be in our line of work."
Peter's mouth contorts--not quite a smile, but not a frown--and he lets out a shuddering breath. "Crap. Um, I... I don't know if I can talk about everything here. It's, uh..." He looks around nervously. "It's not very private."
Matt nods. Well, he's already gone this far. "I have a place we can speak in private."
Oh, God. Peter Parker is in Daredevil's apartment. His apartment. He's sitting on Daredevil's couch. This would be really cool if Peter wasn't staving off his second panic attack of the night at the thought of telling the truth about what happened to him for the first time since... well, since it happened.
Daredevil--Matt, not Mike--heads to the kitchen island with practiced ease. The lights are off, but the giant neon billboard directly outside of Matt's window gives off enough light to comfortably navigate the space. Matt grabs a glass from one of the cabinets and asks, "Are you thirsty? Water?"
Peter had a cup of coffee at the diner, but he's still a bit parched from earlier. "Yes, please. Thank you."
Matt huffs a soft laugh. Clearly Peter's excessive politeness is amusing to him. He begins filling the glass and Peter fights the urge to snoop. Daredevil hasn't taken his cowl off, so Peter doesn't want to accidentally stumble upon an unmasked photograph of the other vigilante.
He focuses his eyes firmly on the billboard outside the window--Jeez if the brightness didn't bother him, the incessant buzzing certainly must. Matt confided in Peter about his enhanced senses, and from what he's picked up, they're much, much stronger than his. Peter has his own sensory strengths, but Matt recognized that he was Spider-Man by scent alone from who knows how far away. Peter certainly can't compete with that.
His senses fail him once more when Matt manages to sneak up behind Peter to offer him the glass, startling Peter out of his stupor and nearly causing him to knock the glass out of Matt's hand.
"Sorry. I'm light-footed." Matt hands Peter the glass of ice-cold water and sits down a reasonable distance away on the couch.
Peter takes a sip. Refreshing. He takes another. He's only delaying the inevitable and he knows it.
Matt is devilishly (ha) patient. He sits silently, head angled away from Peter, posture open and relaxed, clearly waiting. Peter takes a deep breath.
He can't explain everything. That would be... impossible. He starts with Beck. The reveal. How it ruined his life and the lives of everyone he cared about. How he tried to fix it by playing with things he didn't understand. How he messed everything up more. How it got his aunt killed. How it almost got his friends killed. How he had to fix it. He pretends the whole time that it happened to someone else. He doesn't think he'd be able to get it out otherwise.
"I can't... I can't do anything to jeopardize the lives Ned and MJ have built. It would be selfish. I made my bed, right? I have to lie in it. Reap what I've sown, and all that."
Matt is deadly silent as he takes it all in. His posture shifts from relaxed to deeply focused. After a beat, he breaks the silence.
"Peter, you... please tell me you don't honestly believe that everything that happened was entirely your fault?"
Alright. Peter won't tell him.
Matt's shoulders slump. He makes a noise halfway between a scoff and a sigh. "You were trying to protect the people you cared about, Peter. You couldn't have known that all of that would happen."
Something twists angrily in Peter's chest. "Yeah, I couldn't have known. So I shouldn't have messed with it. I should've just... just told MJ and Ned not to associate with me. I should've just shouldered the consequences alone from the beginning instead of putting it on them."
Matt shakes his head. "You can't deal with that kind of thing on your own. You weren't doing anything wrong by accepting your friends' support."
"Well it screwed up their lives. And I tried to fix it but I didn't know what I was getting into. I got greedy and, and it--and I-" Peter puts his head in his hands. "If I hadn't... May, she..." His voice breaks. "It's my fault."
He hears Matt scoot closer. After a moment of hesitation, he puts a hand on Peter's back. "No, kid. You can't put that all on yourself. You were trying to do good. What happened to your aunt..." Matt swallows heavily. "There's no words I could say that would make you feel better about that. But I'm sure she loved you very much. And it sounds to me like she was proud of you, kid. To the end."
Peter lets the tears flow and he leans into Matt's touch. Matt curls an arm around Peter's shoulder. "It's alright, kid. You've done good." Peter buries his head in Matt's shoulder and cries.
Spider-Man is asleep on Matt's couch. Not the weirdest house guest he's ever had. Easily one of the most polite.
Matt paces around the kitchen, cowl finally off. He runs a hand through his hair as he thinks. He can't just let the kid go off on his own. He's only 18, completely alone, and carrying more guilt than Matt somehow. It is not easier to feel guiltier than a Catholic, that's for sure.
Peter stirs slightly and Matt pauses, but the kid's breaths even out again quickly. What is he going to do?
He can't really tell anyone. He trusts Foggy and Karen with his life, but Peter's secret isn't his to share. Peter won't reach out to his old friends any time soon, that much is clear, and he doesn't seem to have any other close connections. As far as Matt can tell, he might be Peter's only friend right now.
The thought breaks Matt's heart a little bit. This kid cares so much, and he's been through so much. If he's all Peter has, he'll make sure Peter has him. He knows what it's like to lose everyone you have, and he knows what can happen when you're alone and vulnerable like that. The kid even seems to have enhanced senses himself, only fueling the comparisons Matt's brain draws between a younger version of him and Peter.
Matt heads to his room to shower and change out of the Daredevil outfit. When Peter wakes up from his much needed sleep, Matt will talk to him, tell him his full identity, and make sure the kid knows he's there to help.
Peter wakes up warm, feeling shockingly well rested. It smells like coffee and eggs. Is May making breakfast? Peter opens his eyes. This isn't...?
His stomach drops. He's not home. He hasn't woken up thinking he's home in weeks. He's not even at his apartment. He panics for a split second before the events of the previous night rush back to him. Oh, God... he totally cried all over Daredevil then passed out on his couch. This is more embarrassing than the time Happy caught him renting an adult movie. What are the chances he's able to slip out before Matt notices he's awake?
"Good morning, Peter. Did you sleep well?" Well, there goes that dream.
Peter attempts to speak but all that comes out is a dry squeak. He clears his throat and manages a very gravelly, "Yeah."
Matt lets out a soft chuckle. "Glad to hear it." He sounds much more chipper now that he's had some rest. Interesting. "Do you want coffee? Scrambled eggs?"
Peter picks at his nail. He's already imposing by crashing on Matt's couch. Would accepting breakfast be too far?
His stomach growls. Well, there's his answer. "Yes, please. Thanks."
He hears Matt shuffle around in the kitchen as he prepares a plate. Peter hasn't even bothered to sit up. God, he should at least get up and pour his own coffee. The moment he goes to sit up, Matt steps into his field of view. Peter's eyes land on the plate of eggs first, then they flit up to his face- "Mr. Murdock???" What the hell.
Matt's--Mr. Murdock's?? Daredevil's??--eyes widen in shock. "How do you know my name?"
Peter splutters "You-you were... crap, right, you don't remember. You were my lawyer. When I got detained by Damage Control, you got me acquitted." Matt's brows furrow. He isn't looking at Peter. Wait. "Aren't you blind?"
Matt looks like he wants to laugh. "Yes. I'm blind. I'm just... I was really your lawyer?"
Peter nods. "I think we're both hung up on different things right now."
Matt does laugh this time. "Yeah, yeah. Fair enough. You already explained the whole magic thing it's just... weird to experience it firsthand." He sits on the couch and hands the plate of eggs to Peter. God, they look delicious. Peter digs in.
Matt sets the coffee on the coffee table and clasps his hands in front of him. "I've been blind since I was a kid. Freak accident. Chemicals spilled in my eyes. I lost my sight, but my other senses were enhanced."
Peter has the courtesy to finish chewing before he speaks. "Woah, so you just, like, adapted? Your senses must be insane for you to be able to do the things you do without sight. My senses are just slightly enhanced and I can barely handle it sometimes. How did you learn to manage that?"
Matt grimaces. "It wasn't easy. I had... a teacher." He stops there, gritting his teeth. Peter really, really wants to know more, but he won't push it. He's already a guest in Matt's home. No need to make him uncomfortable.
They're both silent for a moment. Peter focuses on his eggs. Matt pipes up. "Well, now I don't have to explain who I am. That saves me some time."
Peter huffs a laugh. "Yeah, I guess so." He takes a long sip of coffee. He doesn't normally take it black, but there's no way in hell he's asking Matt to get up and get him cream and sugar.
Matt's expression grows more serious. "So, about last night." Here it comes. Peter tenses. "I think you've been dealing with a lot on your own. You need someone in your corner." He's going to tell him to go to the doctor--or, or get a therapist. Crap. He can't afford that. "I've been where you are, Peter. I know the kinds of things that can happen to people who feel like they have nobody. I don't want you to be on your own. You're not on your own."
Is the room getting blurry? "What do you mean?"
Matt reaches into his pocket and pulls out a burner phone. "Could you put your number into here? I'd like to keep in touch. I obviously can't just keep you here, you have your own life, but I'd like to be able to reach out, and I'd like for you to be able to reach out to me."
Peter hesitates. Once again, he has 2 options. Option A) Put in a fake number and never speak to Matt again after this, avoiding Hell's Kitchen like the plague forever. Option B) Put in his real number and risk... something? Having a friend? Okay, well, putting it like that, it sounds pathetic. Option B it is.
Peter grabs the phone and punches in his number, naming the contact SM for added privacy. He tells Matt as much. Even with enhanced senses, Peter imagines it'd be pretty hard to smell text on a screen.
Matt smiles. "Thank you, Peter."
Peter takes another sip of coffee to avoid having to respond. A truly revolutionary tactic.
Matt stands. "You can stay as long as you'd like. It's Saturday, so I don't have to go into the office."
That jolts Peter awake much more effectively than the coffee. He works Saturday afternoons at Delmar's! He has work in... crap, two hours--wow, he slept in late (coffee and eggs at 1pm? Interesting choice, Matt). He relays this to Matt, who looks disappointed, but takes Peter's word for it.
Peter grabs his bag and quickly throws on his shoes. He stands up and goes for the door, but he pauses at the last moment. He looks at Matt standing, faux-casual, a few feet away, and before he can talk himself out of it, he rushes over and hugs him.
Matt seemed to see this coming, somehow, so he hugs back briefly before Peter lets go.
"Um. Thank you, Matt. I..." Peter doesn't know what he wants to say. "Thank you."
Matt smiles a little sadly. "Of course, kid. I'm serious, please reach out."
Peter thinks for a moment. He's shocked to realize he isn't lying when he says, "I will," before he darts out of the door.