Casual conversation
"So might I ask what brings you here?"
"Huh?" The simple question presented itself as more of a fracas than it should be. Not in the way that its complexity had Peter struggling, more so the fact that Peter couldn't grab ahold of the sudden social interaction that was happening right now. The words fell through his ears and tumbled around in his head before he had enough sense to elaborate. "Oh. My aunt was helping out the blood bank earlier today. There's a shortage or something."
"I'd assume there is in Hell's Kitchen. The people in this area are no stranger to injury, unfortunately."
"Yeah, well at least they have Daredevil."
"Oh?" He perks up. "You think so?" The question played on his tongue but was muted by its course and subtle tonation. Peter wondered what was so interesting, it wasn't like Daredevil being an unspoken hero was a shock to anyone. Sure, there were a few that suspected that he may be too violent, but some criminals need to be roughed up a little to scare them from the streets.
"Usually people your age are itching for one of the avengers to swoop in and save the day."
"What? No! Dareveil's the original vigilante. Before him, Hell's Kitchen was all crime syndicates, drug cartels and that mafia stuff. It might still need some work here and there but at least now it's the kind of place my aunt will let me walk through. And plus, the avengers never bother with things below their pay grade, trust me."
A small silence remenated before Matt spoke again. "Well, I guess I will." Matt twiddled with the handle of the cane, now lightly placed in his left palm. "You sound like you know quite a bit about how safe the streets are for such a young person."
"Yeah I guess I do. I mean... with all the news these days it's hard to miss anything."
"Are you sure that's where you get your information?" His head was ever so slightly turned towards Peter as his glasses fell closer to the tip of his nose, playfully inching to the edge. Blank eyes met shaking ones, and Peter froze.
What kinda question was that?
"Uh-"
"Peter?" The shout emanated through the abbey and gave breathe to Peter's lungs. He had to stop freezing like that. Being a deer in headlights wasn't exactly a green flag when it came to being questioned.
"Over here, May!"
"Okay hun, we're all wrapped up. What do you say about some grub?" May's footsteps grew closer on the adjacent side of the wall, cascading strides speeding up to make up for the lost time.
Aunt May swivelled the corner from the side entrance to be met with the two sitting side by side in silence. A blush gave colour to her ashen face and graced her exposed neck with the same hue.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't realise Peter had company. Am I interrupting?"
Matt's face contorted before placating into a practised, polite smile. Peter thought he even went as far as looking discontent, but it could be a mistake on his part. After all, the look barely lasted a second before vanishing.
"Of course not. Your nephew here was kind enough to entertain me with some conversation while he waited. You should be proud, he seems like a very nice young man."
May's eyes squinted before lighting up with understanding. "I am. Very proud of him I mean. He takes after his Uncle in that way." May took a couple of steps forward and rubbed Peter's shoulder when she said it. The words were bittersweet, melting his heart with fondness, that then poured into the very much still open wound the Uncle Ben had left behind.
It was so easy to have these feelings hitch in his throat.
It was a good thing he was so used to hiding them.
Matt raised his eyebrows, creasing his smooth skin and seemed to turn slightly in Peter's direction before reverting to the listless hover from before. The movement was so subtle that anyone shifting by wouldn't blink twice. But something about these consistent reactions were giving Peter an ominous feeling. One that sunk through his stomach and faintly into his gut. Yet despite this, his spidey sense was silent.
So in his supernatural instinct he trusts.
A ringing erupted suddenly in his right ear, springing from May's pocket. She fuddled quickly to reach it, and frowned as she saw the familiar contact name.
"I am so sorry Peter, I have to take this, it's work. We can leave after the call, ok? Say goodbye to..."
Taking the trail off as a hint, the new acquaintance replied. "Matt Murdock"
"...Mr Murdock here before you leave." May pivoted closer to Matt and raised her voice to make clear who she was speaking to. "It was lovely meeting you."
A real smile translated onto his lips, crinkling his eyes just enough to see the few signs of ageing he bore. "Likewise."
May trotted sideways closer towards the shallow gate that did anything but guard the front of the church. With her less than elegant flux of movement, she turned to mouth "two seconds" to Peter before fully turning her back to him.
"Well thank you for talking with me Peter. Though it was brief, I want you to know it was appreciated."
"Oh, it was no problem, sir. I'm sorry I didn't have anything interesting to say."
"I would have to disagree, this conversation was as pleasant as conversations I have go."
That sounded... disappointing. This guy really needed to talk to more people if this was the most riveting tête-à-tête he's had recently. But maybe he didn't have a lot of friends. It might be difficult to get out often and mingle when... well when you can't see, to put it extremely bluntly. Peter wasn't one to judge on that front. Hell, he had no one to talk to either before Mr Murdock sat beside him, and he had no major debilitating factor other than his crippling awkwardness.
The quiet must have stretched on for too long while Peter sifted through his thoughts, as Matt spoke again.
"Does your Aunt work often?"
Peter's mind landed back in the conversation. "Uh, yeah. But how did you know that?"
"Lucky guess. That and she sounded quite disappointed to pick up that call."
"Oh, that makes sense. Yeah, I guess she does work a lot. There are not enough nurses anymore so they look for anyone willing to put in the time."
"I see. That must be pretty difficult for a young person such as yourself to handle things on the family front. Do you live with her?"
"Yup." He said, popping the p. "It's just me and her now. The last ones standing." The sentence slowed down and the words tumbled from his tongue with no thought behind them. Words were left unsaid after the comment was made and they slumped into an uncomfortable silence. Peter noticed the dampner mood and sprung back up. He'd just met the guy for Christ sake and he was already souring the ambience.
Trust Parker to fuck up.
A smile was forced onto his face and his hands sprung up in defence. "Not that I mind though! She's great. The best. Brings me up n' out of my down days, and watches my back. There's nothing more I can really ask for."
"There's truly nothing?" The question seemed more probing than the ones before. A stressing press in his voice barely etched through but it was picked up by Peter's hearing nonetheless.
"Maybe more money, if I had to pick something. It'd be nice, but it's not gonna happen. That stuff doesn't grow on trees you know." A chuckle grew from his throat at the end. A hollow void sound that covered the seering displeasure he felt every time the topic of money came up. This, luckily, went ignored for the most part by the man sitting next to him, as he chose in favour to reply kindly.
"That's good. I've known a lot of people in my day who have been through similar things and don't have half as much positivity as that."
"Yeah, well, when there's not a lot to go around you're good with what you get. You know that saying, the happiest people don’t have the best of everything, they just make the best of what they have."
"I do. And it's a great saying to live by. You're very mature for your age Peter."
This time it was Peter's turn to burn rouge. "Oh. Thank you, sir. I get that a lot."
He most definitely didn't.
Matt abruptly raised himself from his seat, leaning on his cane to regain balance. "I'm sorry to cut this short, but I have a meeting to go to." He dug his hand through the inside pocket of his suit jacket and extended his hand with a card slotted between his index and middle finger. "My card. In case any issues arise and you need a friend."
He turned and walked near the front entrance of the church. Just before he entered the threshold he rolled his head to his side in Peter's direction. "Once again, it was lovely to meet you. I hope we cross paths soon."
Before an answer could be delivered. Matt walked into the building with no indication of looking back. Peter sat there, slightly befuddled to the whole experience, but with his aunt still on the phone and his chatting partner now gone, he elected to instead look down to the finely printed business card in his hands. The paper was cheap, but of good enough quality to still count as an official card, and it was compact in size, to the point where it seemed nearly too small in the centre of Peter's palm.
And in elegant Sans serif unfurled across the entirety of its span, it read Nelson, Murdock & Page - Associates In Law.
-------
"-eter? Peter? Peter!"
"Huh?"
Peter returned the conversation from weeks before to the back burner of his brain, resisting the urge to go over it once more. He suddenly became more aware of the sun in his eyes and the distinct smell of books and air conditioning that surrounded him. His attention was fully recouped with a jostle of his shoulder. He followed the hand by his side and found it attached to MJ, who held herself with the usual chiefly manner she tended to when decathlon training swung by in its weekly way.
"Decathlons over. Stop spacing out, nerd."
Peter looked around and found that it was, in fact, most definitely over. His peers had hoisted their bags from underneath the table, and had already begun to talk to one another, no longer bound by the dedication it took to keep up in the highly competitive climate that was high school spod contests.
With the chatter subtle and the air inside the insulated study room an encapsulating, homely warm, it was easy to fall into another peaceful lull.
That was until Flash opened his mouth, of course.
"What the hell were you even thinking about to be so out of it, Parker? Bet it's something creepy to go with your freak hobbies." A smug grin and downwards look was accompanied by his unsurprising unoriginal quip. Like he's had before; give Flash an overnight thought period and he'd think up some creative stuff. Unfortunately, if it was anything remotely on the fly he reverted back to the default poorly executed scorn.
The regular teasing garnered some of the others attention. Though it was common, it didn't make any of the interactions any less amusing.
Betty decided to jump in with her own opinion, as one who didn't really appreciate Flash's incessant ennobling of himself and the attempted trampling of his peers' egos (namely Peters). "He literally collects legos, Flash. Sounds way better than party hopping to try and find girls so sad and self-depreciative enough to give you the time of day."
With Betty's instigation, Cindy backed her friend up. "Yeah, c'mon Flash. Pete's obviously out of it so give him a break."
With a slight look of embarrassment, Flash huffed. "Whatever. But you all know what I'm actually talking about."
Now everyone was listening, previous conversations put on hold in favour for a more interesting display. Dire facial expressions began to appear as the topic of choice caught on, an impression that looked as if they were asking for someone to speak and be quiet at the same time.
And it made Peter itch.
"What's that mean?" He looked around, trying to uncharacteristically make eye contact with someone, but no one would look directly at him. If Ned didn't take a sick day today, maybe he'd have at least one person in his corner.
"Huh? Oh, nothing." Flash, was once again grinning, the high-and-mighty-ness regained in his posture. The usual glint in his eye sharper than usual, as he leant back and crossed his arms, all-round pleased with himself.
Whatever. It was probably another bullshit rumour he'd made up to get under Peter's skin again. He's heard everything in the book so far. From "Peter is allergic to rain" to "Peter's in a blood cult", he's been subject to whatever deviations Flash felt the need to gossip about. And like the rest of them, Peter knew it was best to leave it until people got bored and targeted some other poor soul.
"Sure. This was nice and all, but I have to get going anyways." He made way to push himself away from the table but he was met with another question before he even stood up.
"Where do you have to rush off to?" Abe sped. The inquiry was quick and rushed, and felt near strained, like he didn't want to ask in fear of the answer.
Not that it wasn't a fair fear. If Peter told them the truth they would try to get him mentally checked out. And, of course, this sudden quiz on him popped up on the day he was off to meet again with Deadpool.
Lying skills activate.
"Uh, to meet up with a friend?"
The looks people braced turned sour and whispers sprouted. Despite there only being eight of them, the sound carried weight and started to make Peter nervous.
Lying skills reverse. Please, god, reverse.
He definitely answered incorrectly.
"Why? What's wrong." His brow crease was growing deeper and the anticipation was making his head light. He's had a lot of rumours and talk around him but nothing enough to warrant that reaction. Maybe, just maybe, from the rest of the school it was reasonable. But this was his team. His comrades in scholarships and tacky yellow jackets. They may not know him well, but they knew him better than to fall for baseless buzz.
"I said it's nothing Penis. Now run along to meet your 'frien-"
"Shut up Flash." MJ's snark cut through his sentence and held his tongue. She changed her focus to Peter after she was satisfied the Flash would be quiet.
"We need to ask you a question, Peter."
-------
"What the hell is up with the kid?"
"I think it's puberty shifting around in his brain."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Your face doesn't make sense."
"A male escort."
This drew the attention of his two counterparts back to him, both swivelling their head to the side to look at him with varying levels of concern.
"Woah, kid. I don't know how you think this arrangement works but we're not doing you those kinda favours, got it?"
"What? No- I meant that's what people at school think I am. They think I'm a male escort." Peter played with his glass of orange juice, swirling it around by shifting the bottom of the glass on its edge.
Weasel didn't stop writing in his account books as he began to speak. "Yeesh. Tough luck. Back in my day people used to think I was a stoner. I was, but that's beside the point. I know rumours can hurt kid, but don't let them drag you down. Then you're just giving in to what people want to see."
A whistle broke from Wade's lips. "Someone's been listening to my Swiftie playlist, cause what the hell was that frump dump of reasonable wellbeing advice. Woof. Pants me now, while I'm still moist." With a disgusted look from Weasel granted, Wade turned back to Peter, his own drink in hand on the opposite side of the counter next to Peter. "But seriously, are they hurting your feelings? Cause I will not allow my child to be bullied on the playground. Break it to me, do I need to smash some gob nosed Alfalfa into the monkey bars?"
Peter sighed. "No, nothing like that. It's just, I thought my teammates thought more of me, you know? An unspoken trust or something. But hey, the second Susan Yang says something everyone goes with it! They don't even ask me about it until I found out from someone else!"
"Well in their defence you are spending your spare time in a hit for hire bar."
"And you hang out with us."
"And you hang out with him."
"Aww, Wease! You're part of the official hang group too! Don't downplay our intimacy, the chemistry is too strong! The fans will cry."
Weasel elected to ignore Wade, his eyes trained down and the scratching of his pen on paper consistent. "What we're trying to say kid, is if you say the word we'll 'deal with it'. Don't worry. Nothing serious. Just some standard intimidation."
"Hell yeah we will! I'll do it personally, free of charge as a besties for life discount. Honestly, it would be my greatest honour. Kid's jabber so much, sometimes you just want to lollipop their throat in with a glitter-gel pen."
Peter dropped the glass to a halt on the bar counter, making a soft thunk. "Sounds like a hoot, but I'm going to have to pass. One, it's wrong, and two, an organised harassment case in such close relation to me would be fishy. People at school already have their eyes on me. Albeit for a completely different equally annoying thing."
Weasel's eyes widened. "Jesus kid, looks like the idiot of the century can teach. You finally said something that makes sense."
Wade thumped his own pint of unidentifiable alcohol on the table. Peter had no clue what it was, but it smelt just as vile as the rest. "Of course I can. I'm the Bob Ross of homicide and law evasion. My guiding hand is too, steady and constantly drenched in paint thinner."
Peter snorted. "Let's just forget about it. It'll sort itself out."
Hopefully.
It didn't really matter what they said, as long as Aunt May didn't find out.
"What did you guys want me for anyway? You said you wanted to talk. Even had Dopinder pick me up to make sure I got here before open hour."
The chatter halted again and the two adults gazed at each other for a split second. And then they spoke.
"We want you t-"
"We want you to buy a gun!"