Peter I
“There’s a camera up here, you know.” Peter nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice. He could usually sense someone approaching, but he was distracted and if he was being totally honest with himself, half asleep. And if he was being even more honest with himself, his spidey sense was fucked. A lot was fucked, honestly. He tried to sit up, but a hand gently pushed him back down into the prickly foliage. Peter couldn’t bring himself to resist. Maybe this was the end. He could live with that.
“Live feed, not monitored,” the voice continued, “But no reason to risk it, even at 4am.” Peter looked up into the - not eyes - black mask of the voice and blinked in surprise. A jolt of fear. Okay, yes, this was the end.
A head tilt to indicate Peter should follow, and what else was he going to do? He crawled, resigned and with only some dread, following Daredevil to avoid the camera and seriously, why is there even an online feed of a green roof? Daredevil stood up near the edge, his attention half on the city below and the rest on Peter. He struck an imposing figure with the moonlit city behind him.
“I didn’t kill Mysterio, or anything that they said!” Peter burst out suddenly. Oh hey, so there was his will to live, he thought bitterly. Can’t wait to go by Daredevil’s hand. “I know you’re pretty hard on murderers...” he squeaked out.
“Kid, it’s fine.” His voice was calm, his head cocked to the side like he was listening. To everything, probably. Peter had followed Daredevil sightings before the blip, and the guy must have seriously amazing senses. He could fight in total darkness. Kinda awesome, but he was also terrifying and tortured people, bad people sure, but Peter erred on the side of caution and generally avoided Hell’s Kitchen just in case.
“You’re really 17, though.”
“I - no, of course not,” Peter said, lowering his voice and immediately feeling stupid. He was pretty sure his heart was going to literally jump out of his chest. He wanted to bolt, swing off the roof, but Daredevil would probably follow him and kick his ass. And Peter wasn’t exactly in the best fighting shape. Maybe the lightheadedness was hunger. He’d chalked it up to fear and brain melting anxiety, but hunger maybe also? It had been a while since he’d eaten. Before his life had been totally fucked. Again.
“Kid...” Daredevil started, taking a hesitant step toward Peter and immediately halting as though he could feel the panic radiating off Peter. He pulled something out of his pocket and reached a hand out instead. Peter took the card, because what else was he going to do? He sighed unhappily and read it.
“A lawyer?” Peter questioned, reading Franklin Nelson, Attorney at Law. Somehow, Peter could tell that Daredevil raised an eyebrow.
“You don’t think Peter Parker needs an attorney?” he questioned.
“I’m not - Peter who?” He was met with the eyebrow again in response. “Okay, but, I just -“ This time, Peter cut himself off, at a loss for words among the rising panic of needing a lawyer for anything, ever. Oh god, he needed to talk to Aunt May, but how was he going to do that without putting her at risk? Is harboring a teenage vigilante a crime, he thought even as his panicked brain helpfully supplied, “Yes, almost definitely.”
“Peter,” Daredevil said sharply. Peter’s eyes snapped to him, automatically searching for his eyes. But nope, just a terrifying vigilante mask. “Stop panicking.” Daredevil’s voice was softer this time, and he was so, so still. Peter stopped spiraling into panic mode and sagged. He sat down on the roof, exhausted. He said nothing. Daredevil said nothing. At least he didn’t cut off his fingers, or something.
“Will you stay here, for just a few minutes?” Daredevil asked finally as Peter’s heart rate returned to normal after his tenth or so panic attack of the day. Peter nodded, and Daredevil disappeared to the fire escape below. Peter lay on the edge of the roof, his spine pressing into the cold stone. He watched through half open eyes as New York started to wake. A garbage truck rolling down the street, a baby crying faintly through an open window, the ever present traffic, and Peter dozed off again.
“Kid, you can’t sleep on the roof,” Daredevil admonished gently. He dropped something soft onto Peter’s middle. Peter pulled on the black hoodie and track pants without sitting up all the way and collapsed back onto the roof. He felt a deep exhaustion that was surely part of his DNA now. The sun would rise in less than two hours, and Peter couldn’t face another day.
“I can’t do this,” he whispered, mostly to himself.
“You can,” Daredevil said, black mask concealing his identity. From everyone. Unlike Peter.
“No offense, but as the vigilante with an intact secret identity, maybe that doesn’t mean shit coming from you?” Peter regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth, but Daredevil just sighed in that way that adults do when confronted by teen angst, and it grated against the Tony-sized hole in his heart. And now Peter was pissed again and he wanted to take out his anger on the closest living superhero. Vigilante. Whatever. Daredevil spoke before Peter could come up with a seething reply that he could immediately regret.
“You can come with me,” he said a bit hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure if Peter would web him to the wall for it. “Sleep a while, get some food in you.” Peter chewed his lip, considering. He was wanted, wrongly accused but still a fugitive, and a fallen superhero in the eyes the city he wanted to protect. He swiped at his eyes angrily. Peter had never been much of a crier, even as a child, but Beck betraying his trust did a number on his, well, everything, and he was barely holding on. He was a crier now, so that was great. Peter added it to his mental list of suck.
And he couldn’t go back with Daredevil. It was just too many dead dads, its own special subset on the list of suck, and Peter was done. Daredevil (who should’ve been terrifying!) tilted his head thoughtfully at Peter. He was so earnest, and Peter just couldn’t do it again. Peter, whose very presence murdered father figures. Well, not anymore. He swallowed a lump in his throat and shook his head. Daredevil kept silent and still for a long moment before acknowledging Peter.
“Mostly abandoned building that way,” Daredevil gestured. Peter was a little surprised that he hadn’t pushed, but maybe Daredevil didn't appreciate being pushed himself. The fact that he was being so kind caused Peter’s stomach to ache. Daredevil didn’t address Peter’s existential crisis. Instead, he pulled a water bottle out of nowhere and tossed it to Peter. It was one of those expensive square water bottles. A roll of bills was tucked into the wrapper.
“I can’t-“ Peter started, but Daredevil disappeared over the roof edge. Ninja, Peter sighed, kind of regretting letting him go, but he took a deep breath and shoved that way down. Maybe when he ended up in prison, he would be assigned a psychiatrist who could tell him why he keeps latching onto superheroes with limited lifespans. Maybe there’s a pill that can fix that, he thought bitterly.
“Go see the lawyer!” a voice floated up from the fire escape.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” Peter griped under his breath.
“Heard that.” Peter glared into the darkness and took a swig of the fancy water. It tasted like all water and Peter rolled his eyes. Tucking the money into his suit and the bottle into his newly acquired hoodie, he shot a web at the next building over and started heading to his new hiding spot. His plan was to sleep and clear his head, but he woke up to a too-noisy city and a clouded brain.
And he was sad. The anxiety had faded and now he was just plain miserable, and overwhelmed by guilt. He’d ditched MJ like a total asshole. He’d turned off his phone and disconnected his suit from FRIDAY. Pepper didn’t hover like Tony, but Peter knew his suit sent notifications to her personal phone. He’d been avoiding her (and Morgan, his brain helpfully added, and Peter felt that guilt to his core) since Beck, so that was one more thing to feel shitty about. And now they were all worried, and he was going to continue to worry them because it was better than the alternative, right? The guilt weighed on him anyway, and he decided going to Daredevil’s lawyer couldn’t make anything worse.