Peter II
And so Peter stood before a nondescript rowhouse in a line of nondescript rowhouses. The wrought iron railing was warm under his hand, a reminder that it was daylight and he should be panicking instead of standing calmly in front of a lawyer’s office. Small mercies, but at least his extremely recognizable suit was hidden except for the boots, which barely peaked out from under the slightly too-long pants. He took a deep breath, a small sign in the worn but clean window confirming he was in the right place.
Franklin Nelson, attorney at law
Wade Wilson, private investigator
Peter hesitantly opened the door and found himself being given the once-over by a young girl behind a well-worn wooden desk. She reminded him disturbingly of Michelle. And shut that thought down, Peter gritted his teeth. MJ was smart, resourceful, didn’t take shit. She could take care of herself, right? He hoped she was okay, and he mentally shoved that out of his mind with three dozen other things he couldn’t think about right now.
Brown eyes met his own and the girl at the desk gave the most exaggerated sigh.
“Foggy, Matt’s sending us strays again!” Peter frowned. A stray? So rude. But probably accurate, he admitted to himself with only some bitterness. An unimpressed man in suit with a blond top knot and a neatly trimmed beard appeared in the doorway to the only other room in the office. He also gave Peter the once-over and didn’t look any more impressed. No one spoke, so Peter broke the silence.
“I need a lawyer?” he said, and wished himself a merciful and immediate death when his voice cracked on “lawyer.”
“Oh, do you?” obviously-a-lawyer said, raising an eyebrow in a disconcerting imitation of Daredevil. “I don’t take emancipation cases. Unless you have a trust hidden in that hoodie that isn’t even yours, it’s never approved.”
“Uh, no it’s not anything like that,” Peter stammered, “I guess it’s more like murder? I mean like defense! I didn’t do it! Not...not really.” Peter wilted under the piercing stare that followed his declaration. He glanced at the girl at the desk, who was looking at him like he was a particularly interesting zoo specimen. Peter was ready to bolt when obviously-a-lawyer spoke.
“Alright, get in here,” he sighed. It was a Daredevil sigh, too, but this guy wasn’t Daredevil. Just his - lawyer? He disappeared into the back office. Peter’s spidey sense was quiet, and this guy wasn’t Daredevil, and apparently not particularly dangerous? So Peter should follow him, right? “Today!” obviously-a-lawyer snapped from the other room.
Peter rushed in and closed the door behind him so he could press his back against it and try to melt into the wood. Maybe he could just become part of the building. He could live with that. Any building, really, as long as he didn’t have human responsibilities anymore. Peter finally focused his attention back to the man in front of him.
Franklin Nelson, according to the nameplate, was sitting on the edge of his desk and looking expectantly at Peter. In the corner of the room, a guy with a blue rhinestone-adorned hoodie pulled over his face was polishing what were definitely katanas. He did not acknowledge Peter at all, so Peter stopped staring at the katanas and took a deep breath.
“Mr. Nelson,” he started, “Mr. Daredevil gave me-“ And then a number of things all happened all at once.
Rhinestone hoodie jumped up and shrieked, “Oh my god SPIDEY!” as the katanas clattered loudly to the floor. Peter, overwhelmed and sleep deprived, could suddenly hear everything from everywhere. A tv on the floor above was screaming, “Spider-Man: still in the city? Spider-Man: murderer and delinquent teen? Could he really be a 17 year old from Queens? More Spider-Man news at noon!” Dozens of people were ordering lunch in the surrounding shops, and he could smell every single pizza slice, smear of lox and flavored coffee. So much talking, to each other and one-sided phone conversations. The sour odor of trash that hadn’t been picked up yet, and exhaust from thousands of cars.
Peter’s spidey sense was screaming and he grabbed at his chest because he was going to suffocate, right now. He was back with Beck, the train barreling toward him, Tony burned in the iron man suit crawling out of his grave and pointing an accusing finger at Peter, and he was trapped under the building and concrete pillars and he sobbed wordlessly. A hand closed around his wrist by his chest, and Peter froze.
“Spidey,” barely a whisper. “Breathe, Spidey.” Peter took one shaky breath before his lungs crushed under the pressure and he frantically shook his head no. He couldn’t breathe again. “Shh, shh, don’t do that. Just my voice.” Peter honed in on the voice. It was a regular guy voice, not really what Peter would have expected from katana guy. The fingers slipped from his wrist to stroke the back of his hand, and Peter stilled. Touch brought him back quicker. It was easier to focus on one sensation at a time, and touch was easier to filter out from everything else. It brought Peter back into Hell’s Kitchen, back into the lawyers office, back into himself. He glanced up at mister rhinestone hoodie.
His face was scarred, the same texture that Peter had felt on his wrist. He was a head taller than Peter, built like a brick house and just recently in possession of multiple katanas. Peter’s completely stupid spidey sense was absolutely silent. Instead, it practically purred.
“Wade Wilson,” rhinestone hoodie said, taking Peter’s hand to shake when he realized Peter was not going to offer. His eyes were kind and his voice friendly, in spite of being some kind of sword-wielding bodybuilder.
Peter swayed on his feet, belatedly realizing that Daredevil had given him the cash for food. It was still tucked into his suit, save for $2 for a coffee from a street vendor earlier. Peter could still smell the garbage outside, still hear the shrill tv news, and his stomach roiled.
“I-“ Peter started weakly, and Wade shoved a trash can at him as Peter vomited up bitter coffee and stomach acid. He dropped to his knees, dry heaving while Wade rubbed circles lightly on his back.
“Shhh, it’s okay Petey, we’ll take care of you,” he cooed. Peter couldn’t even bring himself to deny that he was Peter Parker anymore. He let himself lean into the pressure from Wade’s hand on his back. “Ellie, grab us a water!” he called to the other room. Ellie-with-an-attitude brought in a water bottle and wrinkled her nose. And Peter thought he’d topped out on misery and embarrassment, but apparently not. “Thanks, baby!” Wade called, earning him an eyeroll from Ellie as she left Foggy's office.
“Whatever, dad."
“You really are a total dad,” said Mr. Nelson, still perched on the edge of his desk, unphased by the vomiting teenager on the floor of his office.
“I am quite literally her dad.” Wade’s eyeroll was identical to Ellie’s from seconds before.
Peter sipped the water and watched them bicker. It was the same expensive Daredevil water. Maybe Daredevil needed a lawyer a lot, but Peter wracked his brain and couldn’t come up with any reason why. He didn’t think he’d been caught vigilante-ing by the police before.
“But you’re going to take his case, right?” Wade questioned, snapping Peter out of his thoughts. He realized they had been taking over him for quite a while. Mr. Nelson visibly hesitated at Wade’s question, and Peter blinked slowly, gathering himself together.
“I’m...trouble,” Peter frowned. His heart hurt, but he understood. “You don’t - I don’t want to impose, I just can’t. I put everyone in danger, just, all the time,” he finished quietly, shoulders slumped. These were just more people to drag down with him. Parker luck was not the good kind of luck, lately.
“Oh honey,” Wade said, hauling Peter up off the floor and crushing him in a hug. “Foggy, you can’t say no to Red!” he admonished. Red being Daredevil, Peter assumed.
“I’ve been saying no to him my entire adult life,” Mr. Nelson (Foggy, really?) said. He tells Daredevil off? Who is this guy? Foggy looked resigned and turned to Peter. “You have a dollar in that ridiculous suit somewhere?”
“Um, yeah, sure,” Peter said, pulling a couple bills out. He handed them to Mr. Nelson.
“Great, now you’re my client. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tank your case on purpose, but it wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Mr. Nelson, sir, thank you for doing this,” Peter said, and to his horror started tearing up. Get a hold of yourself, Parker. His internal pep talk did not help at all, and he rubbed his eyes. Wade honest-to-god cooed at him, and Peter was sure he turned pink. He wasn’t a fucking baby, he thought as he buried his head into Wade’s rhinestone hoodie anyway. It was like snuggling the softest pillow on the hardest bed. Peter wondered if Wade was significantly less cuddly dad and more terrifying bodybuilder with swords during his day job.
“Please call me Foggy, and no more ‘sir,” he grumbled. “God, you people are a mess. Wade, go get this child some food. Peter, sit down and tell me everything. I mean it. Everything!” Wade gave a long suffering sigh and walked out the door, leaving the katanas behind in a pile on the floor.
“Not a child,” Peter grumbled, sinking into the chair in front of Foggy’s desk. He missed Wade already, which his brain screamed was ridiculous. But Peter was being lead only by his emotions now.
“When are you 18?” asked Foggy, ignoring Peter’s sulking. He watched Peter attentively over the legal pad he was scribbling on.
“In a month,” Peter answered. “But I was snapped, so...”
“So you’re also 22,” Foggy finished for him. “It’s been weird since everyone came back, if I’m going to be honest. The courts can’t figure out how to deal with teenagers who are kinda also in their 20s. I would obviously like to keep you out of adult court but, hey, it’s Spider-Man.”
Oh my God, court. He was going to be arrested. “I don’t think I can do this,” Peter said quietly, shrinking further into the chair. He balled his hands up in the hoodie sleeves and curled his arms around his knees. His senses were starting to act up again, he was still hungry, he felt rattled. Everything felt wrong. He missed May and he wanted to go home and sleep for days.
“Hey,” Foggy said, his voice gentle, without a trace of the earlier impatience. Peter looked up and met his eyes. “This is normal. You are normal. Everybody feels this way. At least I’m meeting you here and not at the police station, right?” Peter nodded. Foggy was right.
And so Peter talked. He talked while he ate the pizza that Wade returned with, and he told Foggy (and Wade) everything, admittedly glossing over the hallucinations with Beck. Foggy noticed, his eyes shrewdly focused on Peter, but he didn’t push.
“So,” Foggy said as Peter finished up his story with meeting Daredevil on the roof, “we can go about this a couple different ways. Do you want to clear Spider-Man’s name, or do you want to deny that Peter Parker is Spider-Man?”
“Both,” Peter said without hesitation. “But maybe the secret identity first?” He didn’t realize until the words were in the air, but severing the tie between Peter Parker and Spider-Man was his priority. Spider-Man would be proven innocent soon enough, he was sure of it. The truth will out, after all. But the secret identity was harder. Reconstructing a lie would be infinitely more difficult than revealing a truth.
Foggy nodded. “Right, give me some time to put something together. And go get some sleep.” He rattled off an address and added, “Matt’s not doing anything, so he’ll be happy to have someone to mommy for a minute.” Wade snorted. Peter gawped.
“I can’t just go to some stranger’s apartment!”
Foggy looked at Peter like he was an exceptional kind of idiot. “I realize stranger danger is an important part of today’s kindergarten curriculum, but I've seen you literally throw a car on YouTube, so maybe you’re past that particular risk?” Peter continued to stare at Foggy. He glanced at Wade, who shrugged. These people were insane, Peter was sure of it.
Foggy gave a long-suffering sigh. “He’s trustworthy, I swear!” He looked to Wade for back up. Wade nodded.
“Go on, baby spider. Matty’ll take care of you.” The spidey sense continued its Wade-induced nap, and the temptation of resting on an actual bed sent Peter back out onto the streets of Hell’s Kitchen.