Chapter Text
The snow gently fluttered around him, a few stray flakes finding their way to his eyelashes. Against his best effort, Peter shivered, curling up tighter and adjusting his feet so they stuck to the pole better.
You know, Peter 3 had been right. The view from the Empire State was way better than the Chrysler. It was sort of comforting, knowing that he wasn't the only one anywhere who could experience this sort of thing. That others had dumb opinions about the best views in the city or something that was just as cool and innocuous.
But honestly, it was a very cold comfort. Especially at 6:30 in the morning in the middle of February. And after that dream this morning…
The massive LEGO Millennium Falcon set Peter and Ned had been working on split in two, and half shattered on the ground. They had saved up for ages to get this one, nearly the entire time since the Blip. Seeing it on the ground probably should’ve upset Peter, but oddly enough, it didn’t. Looking at the shattered pieces made him feel… warm? Content? It made him feel whole in a way he couldn’t explain. The same couldn’t be said for Ned, who was overdramatically groaning, clearly frustrated at what happened.
He pulled his arms tighter around himself. Even the mere image of his friends in his head burned him up inside, an fiery torrent of anger and grief and sadness and regret resurfacing. He hated it. He hated it a lot. But what could he do about it?
The few times he tried to see Ned, Peter ended up running like some scared kid. Seeing Ned laughing along with Betty or joking with Flash just buried something sharp in Peter’s chest. He and Ned had been through practically everything together. Ned was his guy-in-the-chair, the first person in his actual, real life to find out about Spider-Man.
And, God, that wasn't even all…
MJ walked through the door with her copy of the key, shutting it with her foot. Once her eyes landed on Peter, her face fell. She looked down and anxiously tucked some hair behind her ear. Peter smiled even wider; even with everything they've gone through together, she was still nervous about their relationship. It was endearing. She’d hate that so much. MJ blushed and walked further into the apartment, setting the coffees she was carrying on the part of the table that used to be occupied by an almost complete LEGO spaceship.
He could barely think about MJ without his thoughts descending into a black abyss. He just couldn’t.
But that wasn’t even the worst of it.
The worst part was that he was almost grateful that May was gone. Peter wouldn’t have been able to survive at all if she didn’t know who he was. She was all he knew, the only constant for most of his life. Everything else just wouldn’t stop changing. Of course she couldn’t stay forever.
Peter plucked his coffee out of the tray, then another. He handed it to May, hoping it was the right one. She sipped it, and her face puckered in disgust. MJ noticed and snagged what was clearly her coffee from May; for some reason, MJ loved a dark roast with no cream and only a little sugar. On the other end of the spectrum, May loved cream and sugar. When she could afford it, she would buy fancy lattes with vanilla or some other expensive flavor. “You’re supposed to like what you drink.” She would always say. “You’re not supposed to drink battery acid, yet here we are.” MJ would always reply. She hated that Peter had the same idea of coffee as May did, but can you blame him? Spiders are drawn to sweetness.
The sun began to peek out over the Hudson. Peter sucked in a cold, clear, grounding breath.
It wasn’t like his life was all bad. He had FEAST, still one of the head volunteers somehow. He was trying to be friends with Gwen again, and it was kinda going well. And he was getting friendly with a few of the others in his GED class. And he had a proper job interview today. Soon enough he might be able to stopping relying on Jameson’s ever-shrinking sympathy to pay his bills. Things were looking up.
That’s what he needed to tell himself, at least. That idea kept him from totally sinking into nothingness again.
Back in the beginning, he’d stay in bed all day, only leaving to eat, use the bathroom, and on a rare occasion, do the whole Spider-Man thing. For a brief moment of weakness, Peter almost gave up the life. But he risked everything - absolutely everything - for Spider-Man, so he may as well put on the mask.
It actually ended up helping him grieve a bit. Beating up muggers got his aggression out, almost a little too much at times. There was a couple times in the field where he needed to stop himself from going just a little too far. Remind himself that he wasn't fighting the Goblin.
But he also helped a lot of people; he caught someone falling from a building, stopped a couple dozen tourists from being robbed, saved a couple cats from trees (cause that stereotype actually exists, apparently), helped with some directions. You know, the whole ‘Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man’ thing. And, yeah, it helped him move on from the Battle of Lady Liberty. “If you help someone, you help everyone,” after all. Didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt.
Peter was drawn to MJ in a way he’s never been to anyone else; he’d be happy to live his life simply gazing into her eyes. As he looked at her, MJ snuck her hand into his, interlocking their fingers. Peter startled and looked at their conjoined hands. MJ looked at him, unsure. It’s like she was asking if this is okay, or if she should pull away. Peter squeezed her hand, and she let out a shaky breath.
His phone began buzzing obnoxiously in his pocket, his morning alarm ringing through the air. “When are you gonna come down? When are you going to land?”
Peter looked at his phone, his fist clenching around his mask.
“I should have stayed on the farm, should have listened to my old man…”
The whole thing still hurt. It always did, and Peter was sure the pain would never go away. But he could live with it. It’s what May would want him to do, so he would.
"You know you can't hold me forever..."
Speaking of living, Peter needed to hurry up and get home. He needed to look professional and business-y for his job interview.
Rather than swing to the interview, Peter took the subway. It was still totally freezing outside; no way did he want to deal with what it might do to his attempt at a professional outfit. His spider suit may be a memorable look, but it wasn't exactly normal-job appropriate. He would always be grateful to Mr. Stark for getting him a bunch of fancy, well-made business suits back during his internship.
During the ride, Peter popped his dollar store earbuds in and kept his head down. No need to waste his phone’s battery with a meaningless game, not when he needed the police scanner later that night. So he was content to listen to random songs and look out the window at the bland, black, concrete tunnel.
“Lost in the universe, we got the modern curse, but we try...”
There was a little buzzing in the back of his head as the train began to slow down. He scratched at his neck, somewhat confused. It felt like there was a little bug hovering just inside his skull.
Suddenly, someone behind Peter shoved him. He glanced back, and saw an utterly massive man looking down his nose at him. He was oddly familiar. Through his earbuds, he could hear the guy say something like “Pardon.” before stalking towards the door.
“I don’t want to go around the sun with anyone...”
Peter watched the guy until he disappeared into the sea of people in the train station. Something about him nagged at him. Was it his Peter Tingle?
Damn, he needed a better name for that. Didn’t Peter 2 call it something weird? It was like… spider sense? Yeah, it was his spider sense. That’s way better than what he had.
“With anyone but you babe...”
The train moved on from this station. Whoever that guy was, he set off Peter’s spider sense. Not in a ‘watch out, you’re about to die,’ way. More like a ‘this guy could probably kill you right now, but just doesn’t want to’ way.
And oh, that thought didn’t inspire a lot of confidence.
“Want a break from the ads? If you tap now…”
Stricken from his thoughts, Peter groaned. God, he missed mooching off of Happy's premium Spotify account.
West 44th and Bawdy Street, Hell’s Kitchen, New York. The email was specific, but they forgot to list a building or office number, so Peter spent the better part of 10 minutes looking for the right one. It was a shared building that sat towards the end of the block, its signage lost in a column of other generic business signs; Law Offices of Nelson, Murdock & Page. It looks a little run down, with all the bricks a different shade of brown the the windows looking like they've never been washed. There was a small halo on the front door that made it look like some had recently ripped down an eviction notice. Oh well, it’s none of his business.
Peter still had that weird buzz from the man on the train, as if something was getting ready to pounce on him. It freaked him out a bit, and he probably looked more than a little rattled if the looks passersby gave him are anything to go on. Before he went inside, he tried to take a moment to compose himself.
“Watching something interesting?”
Peter whipped around, nearly jumping out of his skin. His spider sense is making him more jittery than normal, and he was already pretty jumpy. He put one of his hands up, ready to go on the offensive if he needed to.
He immediately regretted it. He turned around to see Matt Murdock standing with his hands raised cautiously, cane wrapped around his wrist. He was casually chuckling, but his face looked a little nervous.
“Sorry, kid. Didn’t mean to scare you,” Mr. Murdock grinned at Peter.
Right, so not only did Peter just freak out on the guy he was supposed to meet (who was also the guy who saved his ass from being charged for murder in another life), he also just kind of threatened a blind man.
“Mr. Murdock!” Peter blurted out. “I am so sorry! I just-”
“It’s alright, kid.” Mr. Murdock interrupted. He put his hands down, returning his cane to the ground. His smile faltered. “You know who I am?”
“Oh yeah, um,” Chill out, Peter. This guy was blind, and he also didn’t remember a thing about the murder trial. He needed to play it cool, act like he’s never met the guy before. Because, technically, he hadn’t. “I’m, uh, I’m Peter Parker, I’m here to interview with you, Mr. Nelson and Ms. Page? For the, um, receptionist position?”
Mr. Murdock looked puzzled for a moment before it seemed to click. “Oh, Mr. Parker! I didn’t realize it was you. It’s good to meet you,” His smile returned, and he extended his hand. Peter shook it hard enough to seem professional, but not so hard as to break the guy's hand. “How about we go inside? It’s a little cold out, and I’m sure Foggy and Karen are eager to meet you, too.”
“Of course!” Peter said, probably a little too loudly. “Do you need any help, you know, getting inside?” It was still lazily snowing, and there was some ice forming on the stairs to the building. Peter was sure Mr. Murdock could make his own way up, but with the weather, well, it didn't hurt to ask.
Mr. Murdock tilted his head, as if in thought. “It’s nice of you, Mr. Parker, but I think I can get in fine. Come on, I’ll show you to our office.”
Peter nodded, allowing Mr. Murdock to go up the steps first. Peter followed him into the building, fidgeting his hands nervously. This may have been a mistake, trying to get a job with someone he knew before the Battle of Lady Liberty. But he also knew that Matt Murdock was a good man, and he saved Peter from going to prison. He felt at ease around him, even if his spider sense wouldn’t shut up.
They stepped into the elevator. Peter kept trying to calm himself down; Mr. Murdock is a good man, a really good lawyer, he can absolutely-
His brain stopped short. This guy was full on blind, right? No light perception, no sight at all? Then how the hell did he grab that brick back in May’s apartment during the trial? It made no sense.
Peter looked at Matt Murdock, considering him thoughtfully. He must’ve sensed the scrutiny, because Mr. Murdock turned toward Peter and smiled. “Nervous?”
Right. He may be blind, but this guy was some kind of genius. Who knows how he perceives the world. Maybe he is just a really good lawyer who can grab bricks out of midair. A real Elle Woods, pulling miracles out of nowhere type of lawyer.
Yeah, because that was absolutely true about every successful attorney.
But what did it matter?
“Only a little, Mr. Murdock.”