Late Night
The room was small by any office standards.
A good majority of the windows had cracked panes and thinned corners, looking ready to cascade onto the road below with one last harsh bellow of a breeze. Files were stacked high on top of each other in the world's most daring game of Jenga, balancing in a crooked format. The chairs were falling apart, the door creaked no matter which way it rocked and the heater whirred to the point where Peter was concerned for his safety by sitting so close to it. But that's where he was. Sitting next to a heater on its last leg in a stranger's disintegrating law firm, waiting patiently for tea.
He really had to stop following strangers.
"So-" The kettle began to whistle in a painfully high pitched screech, and the indicator released with a light pop. "-What brings someone so young to wander the streets in the middle of the night?"
Matt stood up from his seat by Peter and unhinged the kettle from its electric base, pouring the boiling water into two mugs, one stating someone in this office was 'The world's best blind lawyer' and another saying someone 'should've been a butcher'. Not exactly a match-for-match career-wise, but Peter could only assume it was some kind of poorly made gag gift.
Or it was just his luck lumping him with another weirdo. Peter internally mumbled a prayer for Mr Murdock to hopefully not be a crazy stalker or mass murderer. Wade was more than enough in that department.
"One; I don't really think it's the middle of the night, it's like, 7:30. And two; alot of stuff. The never-ending curiosity of a young individual. The compelling need for adventure and danger. Snacks. A buncha stuff."
The comment raised an amused huff out of the lawyer's chest, jogging him just enough that the spoon he was using to stir the teas clinked against the dark ceramic. Mr Murdock was still in what Peter assumed to be his work clothes, a smart navy blue suit with a slightly worn white shirt. The tie seemed to have long discarded if the wildness of his collar was anything to go by, but his general appearance still seemed elegant.
As Peter stared at the back of Murdock a little longer, he could safely say it wasn't the suit that made him so graceful, but his movement. He was smooth, like he had no worries, yet held the world on his shoulders. Every motion was deliberate, every twitch thought out. No effort of unnecessary space was wasted, at any given moment. Perfect to the point where Peter's nape began to vaguely hum in that dreadingly recognizable way. A way that was so different from the way he felt when they first met. Tense.
Safe to say Peter was getting a little freaked out.
"That does sound like a lot. Anything more specific though? I don't mean to pry, but it's quite difficult to get here when someone's fully conscious, let alone in the daze you were in kid, the streets are a maze. I was calling after you for quite a while Peter." He muttered the end, slowing through the syllables as he thought them out himself.
"Oh... sorry." Peter was going to have to be careful if he wanted to get through this conversation. Especially with the building pressure in his chest, wanting to burst out and confide everything in someone, anyone, for a straight opinion. No matter how conflicted he feels there are certain things you can't disclose to a random man of the law. Things along the lines of 'murderous mercenaries trying to get you to join their gun club' or 'people think the reason you're always running out of school and getting into unordered taxis is to get freaky with cougars'. He'd keep it short, he'd keep it vague, and under all circumstances, he'd keep the important stuff to himself.
Not that he's ever been good at that, but hey, there's a first time for everything.
"Yeah, I guess it's something. Loads has been going on recently so I guess I just felt, I don't know, overwhelmed? Like life's moving too quick but I'm the only one getting left behind." If he had it his way he didn't want it to move along at all. A short break where nothing happened, and he didn't have to do anything for it. Peter knew it was selfish to blow off all his responsibilities, so he never did, but the idea of idling just for a short while was a dream. Going to school with no rumours, being able to decide on what he wanted to do with no fretting, feeling like he had control. It would be an appreciated change of pace, not constantly being thrown headfirst into the deep end. And violently sinking, he might add.
Matt smiled as he laid the two mugs down, one in front of him and the other in front of Peter. "I'm sorry to say, but life feels like that no matter how old you get. There's no growing out of it, you can just get used to it," His hand flittered over his own mug cautiously with hesitance. "-or you can let it drown you out."
"...Do- Do you ever feel like that? Drowned out I mean."
"Take a look around Peter. Every day. It's not the worst thing to feel, but I can understand how overpowering it can be. If you take it in stride it'll get better, trust me." His glasses slipped slightly down his nose, creating leeway for Peter to spot distant, dark brown eyes staring down at the table. For eyes so detached, they were an honest type of kind, a jarring look of caring. "One day at a time."
"One day at a time." Peter echoed under his breath, taking the mug up to his lips and taking a sip. The tea was mellow and warm and made him realise just how broken the heater was as his cold hands clenched the cup a little too tightly, instinctively clasping for the newfound warmth.
"Easier said than done, but worth it." Matt readjusted his hair behind his ear so that it wasn't so tangled in the leg of his glasses. It was slightly more dishevelled than Peter remembered it being last time. Maybe he was a casual hat wearer outside office hours? The image didn't fit in with Peter's perception of him so far, but who knows, it could be a quirky quality of his. "It might help if you talk about what you're going through more. That always helped me even when I didn't necessarily want to talk about myself at all."
Talk about it? Where would Peter even think to begin. The situation wasn't exactly... safe for a 15-year old to be in the middle in from an outsider's point of view. Especially when that outsider had no passing clue on how he spent his nights on the streets doing what he did. But this? This circumstance specifically? Peter knew it was messy. Even if Wade likes to cut it down to yes and nos', deep down it confused him more than he liked to admit.
And to finish it all off with a cherry on top, the fact that he was paradoxically thinking about it, considering it. It's what ate his stomach whole and twisted his gut.
"...What if I really don't want to talk about it?" He stilled watching Murdock pause. The man had been still before but now it was more noticeable to Peter, not a single twitch in his hand or shake of his head. It was... irking, to say the least.
"Then don't."
"Just, don't?"
"Yes. Just don't." Matt blew on his tea and took a serene sip, lacing his fingers even more around the handle obviously enjoying the precious warmth as much as Peter had. "Though I would like to say it's what I'd recommend. Despite not following the advice myself from time to time, reaching out is good. To a loved one, a friend. Whether you think so or not, there are always people who want to help. And having someone there? Who just gets it? It can make a world of difference."
Peter so wished it was that easy.
"And I may not be the most ideal person, however, a lawyer's job is completely based on privacy. This isn't a one time offer, the office is open from 5 to 6, so don't be shy. With the way this area can be, I practically live here anyways."
Peter hoped it was a joke but from the worn mattress haphazardly thrown underneath the desk and the filled to the brim trashcan puking takeout boxes, he couldn't draw a laugh.
"But wouldn't that interrupt you or something? I thought Lawyers were always busy. Famously busy actually. The busiest." Peter didn't think getting in the way of important work, real important work and not whatever stalking Wade's doing right now, would help his current state at all. In fact, he could see the guilt tripling his already on the edge emotions.
"Well, I find ways to make time for what I deem important. And that's where you've landed Peter. On my list of important things to keep an eye on."
"Thanks, but I'd feel too guilty to intrude. This is like, a real workplace and stuff. You know, if I knocked something over, or- or spilt a drink on important papers I'd-"
"Work it off."
"-feel really-, what?"
"I said you could also work it off if you made a big mistake. Scan the room, Peter, I might not be able to see but even I know this place is a mess. It's good and honest work, but that doesn't mean it's neat. Having an extra pair of hands to search through documents and organise would be a godsend. And it's not like we're an official firm without an intern."
Peter's eyes widened. "Are- are you offering me an internship? Is that what that was?" He put the cup down on the table, most of it gone by now just from sipping it throughout the conversation. Peter thought it was just going to be a weak attempt to get him to open up. Another empty promise that things will get better and they're there to help as long as it's convenient. But- but an internship?
"Yes, I guess I am. Though there's no guarantee it would be long term. But hey, anything's good as long as you can put it in a college essay right? Write something about morality and dedication and other teenage mumbo jumbo on it"
Peter's mouth went dry and the whole situation played back as a twisted interview in his head. He went through what he wanted to say and only mustered one word that summed it up pretty nicely.
"Why?"
"You're a good kid. We need more of those. Not much else to say."
There was actually a lot else to say. So so so much more.
But the night was getting late now. Peter had no idea how long he'd sat here but his cup ran dry and the light from the moon spilt through the cheap, probably-dumpster-recycled curtains and right onto the crickety table in front of him.
It was too much today. Too many emotions, too many hard choices, just- too much.
And his body was starting to show it, his arms were heavier than they should ever be and that pain in his left leg from the last training session with Wade had chosen now of all times to do its worst.
So here Peter sat, with a throbbing head and a throbbing leg and not much else.
"Yeah, I wasn't expecting an answer tonight anyways. How about we call it, huh? Your aunt would probably want you back home safe as soon as possible, regardless of her work schedule." Matt stood up gracefully pulling the chair from beneath himself so it wouldn't drag across the floor (which is great because Peter didn't feel like having throbbing ears as well).
"I- I didn't give you an answer though" Peter hurried to follow suit and rose from his chair much less elegantly, stumbling to follow Murdock to where he was already opening the door.
"I know. Do you still have that business card I gave you?" Matt was patient enough to wait until Peter realised his nodding was not going to convey anything to the lawyer. If he weren't so tired he'd feel more soul crunching embarrassment, but he thought he'd leave the memory of this interaction for another late-night stab to his heart.
"Ur, yeah. I think so."
"Then you know how to give me an answer. It's not a condition though. Swing by from time to time, Peter. It might help you with whatever it is you're going through. Sometimes helping others is just what someone needs." Peter sidestepped out of the doorway and into the short corridor that marked the end of the Nelson, Murdock & Page establishment and the beginning of a wearing building that would have been knocked down and renovated if it were anywhere else.
"...Sure." He thought about it, he really did. Hanging out at a law firm? It was definitely odd but at least it wasn't criminal. Not to mention the option for work experience. Actual work experience (instead of lousy half-hearted text replies and dead-end calls). And Peter could already imagine the look on MJ's face when he gets round to telling her. If he ever tells her, he wasn't fully sure what speaking terms they were on after his decathlon storm-out. "That'd be nice. Thanks for the tea, it was really good... and, thanks for listening, it means a lot. Seriously."
"No problem, Peter." With a flourish of his hand, he began to close the door behind him.
"See you soon."
-------
Matt listened as the strange boy slipped by him for a second time, slinking into the night with more relief than he walked in with. The internship proposal hadn't been planned. A last-ditch effort to try and reel the kid in (and he doesn't think Foggy would mind the free labour).
A second time. It was rare these days that Matt couldn't pin someone in their first interaction, let alone the second.
The heartbeat didn't change. Steady. Consistent. Deathly slow. Matt focused in on his lungs rather than his heart, but even then there were times were all he could hear was the ticking of the off-beat watch swathed around his wrist and the rustle of his clothes. At some times it was hard to tell he was even there.
For someone who made no noise, he had a domineering scent that hardly made up for it. And every hint clashed. Strawberry shampoo and gunpowder. Old library books and cigarette smoke. Musk from hand-me-down clothes and- was that paint thinner?
All in all, the boy spelt trouble. Except whenever Matt looked at him he found anything but the word. Impressionable, enthusiastic, nervous, naive, but never troublesome.
Not yet at least.
There was something severely wrong with the boy medically, but he was nice enough that Matt couldn't pinpoint where he was picking up these sensory hitchhikers. Peter most definitely did not seem the type to be hanging in alleyways, cohorting with the negative sorts.
Guess it didn't matter so much now.
From today onwards, Matt had more than enough time to figure out Peter Parker.
-------
Crap.
Peter forgot to ask for directions.
It would have been different if he walked back immediately to ask but he waltzed into the night full steam ahead, stuck in his thoughts about an internship, guns and school rumours. The amount of time between when he left and now was too long, Mr Murdock was most likely on his way home now. If he was super lucky today maybe he'd bump into him?
He doubted it, but the thought helped him as he wandered through the alleys. There weren't a whole lot of highstreets in Hell's kitchen, so it should be some reprieve that the labyrinth of narrow pathways were starting to thin out. The downside was that they were being replaced by shady establishment after shady establishment.
Drunks were flooding the cheap bars on street corners and basement clubs. The avenues were getting meaner as they grew wider, directly proportional.
But this was fine. This was good, even. Peter just had to wander around long enough to end up... somewhere, and then he'd head home. Hell, he'll just put his address in and this whole "lost" debacle will be sand under the rug. Peter's body pats got a little quicker with panic as he scoured his body for where it should be. He only has to- find... it.
...He's lost it.
Peter dropped his hands by his side and let them fall into a rhythmic swing as he fastened the pace, digging his bag further into the crevice in his shoulder. If he didn't have his phone he had to be faster, otherwise he'll be collapsing into bed while his alarm clock goes off. He can't think about where he could have left it. He didn't take it out with Mr Murdock, he didn't glance at it while he was walking away from the bar so...
Great. It was at the bar.
And he couldn't even shoot a text to Wade about it.
I'll throw you a ping later?
... What's another hour out and about at this point? He could spare the time. Run in, and run out, super quick and super undetectable, classic spiderman style.
With all the graffiti and dudes looking like they wanted to mug him, Peter would place his bets that he was pretty close. Plus, he's always been curious as to what it's like when it's open. Wade only calls him within a mile of it when the back's boarded up and the cabinets are still locked tight, and not another person in the area to be seen. He knows that it harbours people in the same career line as Wade and Mr Weasel, but that's about it. And if the folks there were anything like those two, he could handle them.
Easy.