Work Text:
Peter walked into the office, slowly closing the door after him. It was a sunny day, the warm glow sitting on his skin, playing with the shadows of the room. Why is he in an office? Well look, he didn’t really know where to go to get a job after the spell Dr. Strange had to cast, as all of them required at least a previous place of education or experience, which he didn’t have anymore. Not on the record, at least.
So just a few months ago Peter was walking through the busy streets of New York, simply coming back to his little “apartment”, ( if you can call it that ), from the grocery store. At the road crossing he noticed a sheet of paper taped onto the metal pillar.
“ Looking for a job without previous experience or a degree? We got you! ‘Nelson & Murdock, Attorneys at law’ will welcome you with open arms, doesn’t matter if you’re looking for something casual or full time, just come visit us for an interview!
Hell’s Kitchen , 797 9th Avenue. +1 … … …. “
So for the past few months he’s been working at the office in hell’s kitchen. Of course, he still completed his duties as Spiderman every day or two at night, but having a proper job really mattered when no one remembered you anymore.
His life wasn’t easy, even if it seemed so. He continued being the “Friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man” on patrol, like everyone wanted him to be, he was pretty optimistic and strong willed at work and around other people, he was still the “ Spider - kid “ to Daredevil and some other vigilantes.
He still set a good impression on people, no matter what.
While he did manage to set a good example and impression on other people, he failed to do so to himself. Peter found himself falling into the bad habits he once picked up as a teenager, a kid even.
On his rest days, instead of going out to the shops or taking a walk with music, he laid in his bed , staring at the ceiling. He stopped trying to talk to The Devil of Hells Kitchen on missions, stopped reaching out to the Devil’s alter ego Matt Murdock, his boss, even though he was the only person that knew of his secret identity and what happened last year, what left him alone, without any proof that he ever existed.
He would grab everything he had in his fridge and stuff his mouth with food until it hurt to breathe, until he had to empty his insides into the toilet bowl again and again, just for the guilt to subside at least a little, to feel clean again.
Most importantly he would sit on the bathroom floor with a fresh new blade in his hand, the white tiles stained red underneath him, the wounds still bleeding. He never went deep enough for it to cause any major damage, just leaving slightly raised scars all over his thighs.
He doesn’t know why he started again, breaking his 4 year ‘clean streak’, but he did. When Peter ran out of good enough space on his thighs, he moved onto his ribs, hips, and shoulders, making one gaping wound after the other.
It didn’t hurt anymore, only the feeling of the cold metal and relief flooding his system, encouraging him to do more, make more. And he listened.
He’d find it comforting to see the white or the yellow inside the wounds slowly fill up with blood after each pass of the blade, to see it drip onto the floor underneath him. It felt comforting when the metallic smell of blood flooded his nostrils, overwhelming his senses at times.
At least he took care of it, right? Cleaning the cuts and making sure it was bandaged well, changing it twice a day. He couldn’t afford having an infection with his already small income,could he?
So once he stepped into the office, the boy’s number one mission was to hide everything. The way his clothes rubbed on the freshly made wounds, and the way his throat was still sore, tasting like vomit. Usually no one really suspected a thing.
“ Hey Ms Page, hey Mr Nelson”
He said with an upbeat tone and a smile, trying to hide the slight limp as he walked over to the coffee machine.
“ Peter, we’ve told you like a million times to just call us by our first names!”
Karen said with a slight annoyance, yet still smiling, knowing that it isn’t gonna happen, the boy is just too stubborn, too polite. Speaking of which, Peter was just pouring in some creamer into his coffee, seeing that both Karen and Foggy already got theirs, as Matt walked out of his office.
“ Oh hey Matt! Want some coffee? “ He asked the older man. At which he heard Foggy yelling from across the room, approaching Peter to grab some snacks from the kitchen.
“ Hey why does only Matt get the special first name treatment?!”
“ Because he smacks me with the stick if he doesn’t , but don’t tell him that i told you that” Peter just whispered into Foggy’s direction, smiling, knowing damn well Matt could hear that , seeing a smirk spread across his face.
“ Hey Peter. Nah, i’ve got my own. You see they make some pretty good discounts for specifically blind lawyers at the coffeeshop downstairs. Thanks though” Matt joked as he walked through to the table that Karen was sitting at, quietly discussing something about the new potential client they might get.
The spider boy just nodded as he finished making his coffee, now walking towards the blind man and Karen, wanting to know what the conversation was about. He was about to say something as he brushed past a corner, hitting his left thigh quite hard on it.
Happily the coffee hasn’t spilled, but it was clear that something else was definitely about to spill and stain his brand new bandages that he put on this morning.
Peter hissed as quietly as he possibly could, masking the grimace on his face.
“ You good? “
Matt asked, turning his head in the general direction of where Peter stood.
“ Yeah, yeah. Just uh, hit the wall on the way here.” The boy answered, still interested in what Matt and Karen were discussing previously.
“ Careful Matt, the kid’s gonna take over your blind role soon if you’re not too careful. ” Karen joked, chuckling slightly, which got her a little smile from both Peter and the Lawyer next to him.
But only Matt knew that his own smile wasn’t real. The joke was good, yeah, but there was a clear smell, and taste, of blood in the air, fresh blood, in the direction of Peter. And the kid, the kid looked like someone just stabbed him, his heart rate higher than it should be, rubbing his thigh slightly as he leaned on the table with one arm, putting the Coffee on a piece of tissue onto the table itself,
The blind man turned his head towards Peter, raising his eyebrow worriedly. The boy was just taking a sip of his drink, as Karen got back to whatever work she had to do on the computer.
“ What? “ Peter whispered, putting his mug down to raise his eyebrow back at Matt.
To which, the lawyer stood up, telling Peter to come with him and gently leading him to his own little office , giving Karen a smile as he walked away, seeing her confused stare, reassuring her. Matt closed the door , doing the same with the blinds on it, turning around to see Peter leaning against the desk, chewing on the skin around his thumb.
“ What was that?” Matt asked quietly.
“ What was what?” Peter tried to answer nonchalantly, continuing to chew on his thumb and nails.
“ You smell like a blood supply at the hospital, did you get injured while patrolling yesterday or something ?” The blind man said, worried, swatting Peter’s hand away from his mouth and taking a good feel at the boy’s head from both sides, in case there were any wounds. As he was about to feel for the same on the boy’s shoulders, he pushed Matt away, anger rising up his throat slowly.
“ No, i didn’t get injured on patrol, why are you always so worried!?” Peter said quite loudly.
“ Then what is it, did -did you somehow get an open wound by slamming into the wall earlier or what?” Matt blabbered, getting a bit annoyed at the kid’s altitude.
“ No it’s just … it’s nothing, okay? Just leave me alone, will you? You shouldn’t be worried about it!” Said peter, throwing his hands up into the air and heading towards the door, walking out angrily.
After a few seconds, Matt heard the front door slamming shut, the boy making his way down the stairs and sitting down for a moment.
The lawyer was in a stupor, never seeing the kid act like this before. As he stood there, in the middle of the room, the realisation came to him. The smell of blood, the way Peter wouldn’t let him touch his shoulders or anywhere on his arms, the way he had a slight limp, the way he rubbed his thigh. He should’ve figured it out earlier. Way earlier.
Matt felt stupid, putting hid head in his hands and groaning in frustration.
Well, for now he’ll let have to let the kid blow off some steam and then they’re going to have a talk. A big, long talk. In which, hopefully Peter agrees to get help.