Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

All things considered, Matt Murdock’s life was going very well. It had been a couple years since not-dying and coming back to society, and he hasn’t had many major incidents since. He had a long-term boyfriend, became good friends with Jessica, his firm was doing moderately well- hell, even the police were starting to ease up on him as Daredevil. 

So of course, Jessica stumbled into Matt’s apartment smelling like shittier-than-usual liquor and… something else. 

She smelled like tears, and antiseptic, and… Murdock?

Certain parts of people’s scents were genetic, and Matt knew the Murdock smell. It hung in the air around his apartment, his office, steeped into his blankets and sheets. It’s one of the last things he has to remember his father by, because the image of his father’s face had long since begun to blur.

And that smell was on Jessica. 

It was very faint, to be fair. Whoever this Mystery Murdock is, they only made a little contact with her- maybe a quick hug, or maybe they were standing next to each other for a long time. With most people, in most situations, it wouldn’t be very peculiar.

However, Jessica was not most people and this was not most situations. Jessica was rather touch averse, as a general rule. The only person Matt has ever heard of her touching (outside the context of sex) was her sister, and that relationship was… rocky, at the moment. Also, as far as Matt knows, he is the only Murdock left. His father’s brother had died childless in prison, and besides, there was a hint of Maggie in there. Matt was almost certain he was an only child. 

“Murdock. We need to talk,” Jessica commanded. She sort of reminded him of the nuns, given the fact that they were both very no-nonsense and had no tolerance for semantics. 

“Uh, okay, wha-”

“We have a son.”

Well.

Matt didn’t know what he had expected, but this certainly wasn’t it, not really. 

Another Murdock in the world. Matt felt guilty about creating another Murdock. The entire Murdock line was practically cursed; his great-grandfather had come over to New York from Ireland, gotten married, had two children, and died by falling off the edge of a dock and drowning in the unforgiving waters of the Hudson. His great-uncle had died at age thirty-eight when he got crushed by a falling car working as a mechanic. His grandfather put a bullet in his head when the PTSD from his time in Vietnam became too much, and his grandmother got horrible lung cancer when Matt was a kid. His father, of course, was murdered, and Matt was a clusterfuck of a person. 

And now there was another Murdock boy in the world. Did he have the devil in him, clawing to escape and burning him up from inside? 

“I can see you worrying, Murdock.”

Thanks for the astute observation, Jess. What would he do without such revelatory commentary?

“Listen. We had a one night stand when you must’ve been in college or somethin’. I met Kilgrave near the end of the pregnancy, and he made me give the kid up. He got adopted by a real nice couple that loved him. When they died, he fell off my radar for a bit, but he turned back up when he was living with his aunt and uncle, who loved him too. His uncle was shot half a year ago, and now his aunt has terminal cancer.”

This kid was definitely a Murdock.

“His aunt is gonna die soon, I think. I don’t- I don’t know if you can claim him, or whatever, but it’s that or foster care. Neither of us are parent material, really, but I figured you deserved a chance to make that decision.”

Jessica was right, and he knew this. Between both of them being self-employed with unreliable paychecks and their vigilantism (Matt more so than Jessica) they weren’t really the best options for this kid.

However. 

Matt was in the foster care system. He knew what it was like. And it was...complicated. It wasn’t as bad as some people try to make it out to be, but it was still pretty miserable. He was in the orphanage most of the time, but it was never meant to be a permanent solution. It was like a group home, and so his social workers were always trying to put him in a home. Most of the families were very nice, really, but they never knew what to do with him. They were always awkward about him being blind, or he would lash out and then he was sent right back to the orphanage. He was always drifting, never belonging anywhere. Eventually, when he was fifteen or so, they stopped trying to place him altogether. He never got what he needed, and he didn’t want that for his kid. 

“I don’t want him to go into the system,” he said finally. “I was in the system, and I don’t… want that for him.”

“Is that even something we can do legally? I mean, I think I signed away my rights to him.” Jessica sounded nervous, if that was even a thing Jessica could feel. 

“You said Kilgrave made you?” Jessica nodded slowly. “Well, that could count as signing under duress. And anyway, since I wasn’t… aware , I can claim him regardless as long as I produce a positive paternity test and prove I am capable of meeting the standards. The goal of the system is ultimately to reunite children with their biological parents when possible, so the authorities would likely agree. My blindness might make things a little difficult, but they cannot legally deny me just because of that.” She slumped in relief and put the bottle down.

“Hey Jessica?”

“Huh?”

“What’s the kid’s, uh, what’s his name?” 

“Oh. It’s Peter. Peter Parker.”

“Also, one more thing. Were you with Peter today? Did you see him?” Matt knew the answer, but he had to make sure Jessica knew he knew. 

“Uh, yeah. I visited him at the hospital. I told his aunt I was his biological mother, but as far as he knows, I’m just a family friend. How’d you know?”

“I could smell him on you. I just needed to make sure that you weren’t stalking him without his guardian’s knowledge.”

“Listen dude, I know my lines as far as privacy go are a bit blurry at times, but I’m not stupid.”

And so a new chapter of Matt Murdock’s life begins.

Chapter Text

Foggy has been involved in some weird shit before (he was New York’s resident vigilante lawyer), and maybe this isn’t the most bizarre thing Matt’s brought into his life, but it is certainly jarring. His boyfriend has an orphaned child from an unknown hookup with his friend whom he thought he had met for the first time fighting an immortal ninja cult. Reddit forums don’t have any advice for this.

God, this was stressful. Foggy likes children, and he likes to think he’s pretty good with them, but they were not at all prepared to deal with this. Yeah, the firm’s doing better these days, but is it really enough to sustain a child? Ignoring the vigilantism for a second, both Matt and Jessica had trauma coming out the ass. Matt’s understanding of what is and is not appropriate or normal for a child is… shaky, to say the least. And also, they’re vigilantes. Or at least Matt is. Jessica is more complicated. Matt normally comes home covered in bruises and looking like a domestic violence PSA, which is not something a child should be seeing. 

But. Foggy knew why Matt had been so firm about wanting to take this kid. He was in the foster system, he knows what that’s like better than Foggy ever could. If he’s this adamant about not wanting his kid in the system, Foggy figures he probably knows what he’s talking about. Matt cares very deeply when he loves someone, and he knows that Matt will love his son half to death.

That’s when they started planning. They had a meeting with Jessica and Karen (Karen, being far more organized than anyone else Foggy knows, was a necessary presence) about some basic things that had to be established before any actions were taken. 

Matt was to be the primary custodian, as he had his shit together slightly more and wasn’t technically an alcoholic. Jessica was going to do her best to get sober, for her kid’s sake. Matt’s apartment was big enough for a kid already, but Jessica might have to move to a new place (It depended on how much space it had when it was actually clean). They would meet with the kid’s aunt and meet the kid so he wasn’t shocked when they sprung the secret parentage thing on him. They would petition the state for parental rights before his aunt died so he didn’t end up in the system for more than a couple nights. And then there was Daredevil.

“Matty,” Foggy said, “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I need you to consider giving it up. I know you can’t see all the bruises, but this kid will be able to, and he shouldn’t have to see that. He’s going to need you.” Matt grimaced, biting the inside of his lip. 

“I know, I know, but what if there's another Hand situation?” Matt said. Ugh. He was such a lawyer. They were both lawyers, but at least Foggy had the sense to leave hypothetical bullshit out of emotional conversations.

“Maybe Daredevil can be an emergencies-only hero, like the Avengers,” Karen suggested softly. Karen swoops in to save the day. Foggy probably owes her donuts. 

“Okay,” Matt muttered. Sometimes he says things really quietly and assumes everyone else can hear him. Foggy raises his eyebrow, getting him to repeat it audibly. 

____________________________________________________________________________

Apparently, preparing to bring a child into one’s home was a long and complicated process. Foggy, as a lawyer, officially knew this, but actually doing everything seemed far more difficult than it had seemed from the outside. 

“Your apartment looks like an abandoned warehouse someone would shoot up in,” Jessica said to Matt. “Fix it.” They had to ask permission to repaint the walls a color other than water stained-chic. Foggy got some paneling from one of his cousins and attached it to the counter so it wouldn’t be so… plywood. They even ordered a kitchen table, for Christ’s sake. 

They got a twin bed to put in the kid’s ( Peter , his name was Peter) room that Foggy got from his mom’s cousin’s daughter, whose own daughter had grown out of it. Kids needed a lot of furniture, it seemed. 

Not only did they need to buy new furniture, they needed to go hard on the safety stuff, because the OCFS worker assigned to their inspections did not cut any slack. Outlets needed covers so Peter didn’t stick forks in there, chemicals needed to be put way up high with tight lids, all the good stuff. The lady even suggested Matt put one of those toddler gates up on the roof access stairs, until Foggy helpfully reminded her that the kid was eight, not three. The door up on the roof will stay locked if Matt isn’t going to be daredevilling anymore, so a gate would be totally overkill. He might have a vendetta against those things since he broke his ankle tripping over one at his brother’s house, but it was well deserved. They’re evil. 

Foggy secretly thinks the OCFS worker was a bitch, but he doesn’t know if it was about the blind thing or the gay (technically bisexual, but who cares about the semantics) thing. 

“Hey, Foggy?” Foggy looked up from the IKEA instructions he was diligently reading. It probably didn’t matter in the least to Matt whether people actually looked up when he talked (did he even know?) but he had been trained into his manners and by god was he going to hold onto them.

“What?” Matt was fiddling with his hands, the way he did when he was stressed, or upset, or happy, or just having feelings at all.

“Jessica and I are going to meet Peter tomorrow. Do you want to come with and meet him? You’ll be seeing him just as much as either of us.” 

“I think just you and Jess should go, at least for the first time. It’ll probably be confusing enough for the kid that he had a whole other set of parents without bringing his father’s bisexual-gay lover into the mix,” he said hesitantly. To be honest, Foggy was feeling nervous about where he fit into this situation. It was certainly going to be an unconventional family dynamic. What if the kid was confused by him or flat-out didn’t like him? What if his aunt is some awful homophobe and he was bewitched into her homophobic ways? That stuff was learned, not just innate. He read it in an article once. Matt probably smelled his fear or something, because he moved over and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Why don’t you come with me for moral support and if you want to you can just wait in the hallway? I’m sure he’ll want to meet you.” Foggy was tearing up a little now. Damn, he and Matt were going to be parents. And they even got to skip the diaper part. 

Chapter Text

The cab driver, a very… friendly man named Dopinder, had picked up Matt, Foggy, and Jessica and drove them to Queens. Dopinder could’ve stood to pay more attention to the road rather than making conversation, in Matt’s opinion, because he made very sharp turns and Matt tends to get motion sickness.

All this was to say that now they were standing outside of an apartment building in Queens where Matt was to meet his son. His son’s aunt had decided to die within the comfort of her own home, rather than in the hospital. Matt understood that. The apartment building was thankfully similar to what Matt was used to. It smelled a little like weed and desperation, the way many lower-middle-class neighborhoods do. He has no idea what he would've done if his son had been raised rich. He currently has more money than he has ever had before in his life, but that still wasn’t exactly enough to do frivolous things like upgrade his phone plan or regularly go to a dentist. He should probably look into fixing that. Peter should probably have dental care. That was a thing kids needed, right? A downside of self-employment was not having healthcare. He figured he could worry about that later and they’ll cross that bridge when they get to it. 

The elevator was out of order, so the three of them climbed the winding stairs to the fifth floor. They were number 510, says Foggy. Once they (presumably) arrived at the right apartment, a strange silence fell upon them. A turning point has arrived. Jessica’s heart was fluttering against her lungs, an odd sound in comparison to the steady drumbeat that was her heart’s usual tempo. She knocked and the sound echoed in the long hallway, ringing in his ears. Behind the door, a woman who smelled like death and chemicals covered up with jasmine perfume walked towards them with small steps. The door creaked as it opened, a sick sound of anticipation and anxiety. 

“Hey Jessica! And you must be Matt and Foggy. It’s so nice to meet you guys!” She moved as if she was going to shake his hand, but at the last second she reached out and enveloped him in a hug. Matt was not prepared for this, to say the very least. He hasn’t been hugged by anyone besides Foggy and Karen one very uncomfortable time in maybe 20 years. His eyes got watery, like he was going to cry. Matt really hopes he won’t cry today. According to Foggy, he’s an ugly crier. Plus, Jessica would probably disintegrate if he cried. 

May Parker was a diminutive woman, small and bird-thin. She was probably the same size as Jessica, but May feels frail, which Jessica probably never will. Jessica is unyielding and is solid down to her bones. May seems like she would fall over if you pushed her, the way Jessica so often did when she was joking around with people. She had thick glasses that had dug into Matt’s ribs when she hugged him. He was taken a little off-guard by how young May must be. She can’t be much older than him, maybe 35 years old at the oldest, but she was undeniably very sick. 

“Come in! Peter’s just in his room right now, I can go get him. Uh, you can sit on the sofa. I bought some scones from the bakery down the block. Help yourselves!” May bounded away towards one of the doors. 

“Matt,” Foggy said, “I thought you said I was going to wait outside the apartment.” Foggy was nervous, that much was clear. This whole situation made Foggy nervous, though. 

“I don’t think that lady is gonna let you leave, dude,” Jessica said. She was probably right. May did not seem like someone who would let a guest wait in the hallway. She bought scones, for goodness sake. The scones were actually very good. Apricot. Jessica had already had two. It normally surprised people how much she ate, considering how small she looks. May brought a small child into the living room. He was four feet tall at the very most, and skinny as a rail.

May leant down next to the child and whispered, “Peter, your parents are here. You don't have to hug them, but you should say hello.”

“Hi,” Peter breathed. “I’m Peter. Are you guys really my parents?” Peter fiddled with his hands the same way Matt did. He smelled like cinnamon and Matt and Jessica and two-in-one kid’s shampoo. Peter stuck his hand out first to Jessica, who shook it, and then to Matt. Matt, ignoring the conventions of what to do when blind and pretending not to be superpowered, put his hand in Peters and shook it. It felt impersonal to be shaking his own son’s hand, like he was meeting with a client, but he was hardly an expert on personal connection.

“Who are you? You’re not my mom or dad. May showed me pictures of them from Google.” 

“Peter!” May chastised.

Foggy laughed beside him. Foggy always loved it when children said socially inappropriate things.

“I’m your dad’s… partner.” 

“Oh. Like, a business sort of partner or an almost-married type of partner?”

Matt could hear something in Foggy’s chest that sounded like he was stifling a giggle.

“Uh, well, both actually. We’re lawyers, but we also live together.”

“So, are you and my mom divorced like Betty’s mom and dad?” Peter really had all the hard-hitting questions out and ready to go. Karen was going to absolutely adore him.

“Well, no,” Matt started. “Jessica- your mom and I were never married. We… met, several years ago, and we’re very good friends now, but we were never really in a relationship.” May had gotten up and went into the kitchen then. She must’ve thought they needed time alone or something, probably because this was going to get very personal at some point. 

“Oh, okay. So, am I going to have to live with you sometimes and Jessica sometimes? Betty has to go back and forth between her mom and dad, only her dad lives in Manhattan and her mom lives in Queens.”

“Well, Matt and I both live in Manhattan. We even live in the same neighborhood, actually. You’ll live with him during the week and you’ll be with me on the weekends.” This was the custody agreement they all came up with. Jessica needed to work on getting sober, so she wasn’t really in any position to be a full time caretaker of a child. 

“Okay. That’s cool.” Peter fiddled a little more. “What’s your house like?”

“Well, I have an apartment that’s attached to my office. It’s a little messy right now, but I’m gonna clean it all up before you move in. Matt’s apartment has really big windows and he lives right next to a big billboard.” 

“Okay.”

May chattered away to the three of them about Peter, who was bashfully hiding his face in her shirt. Peter apparently loved science (obviously not genetic), had a best friend named Ned, liked space, and did very well in school. 

“I have a question,” Peter said, letting out a great big breath as he did. “If you guys are my parents, how come you gave me up? I know some people’s parents give them up, but they don’t normally come and ask for them back.”

Oh, good lord. What was Matt supposed to say to that?

“Well,” he tried, “I didn’t know about you until a month ago, so I didn’t really get a choice in giving you up, and Jessica had to give you up. We wanted you, Peter. We… we love you.”

“Can I hug you?” Peter’s voice was small. Matt nodded, his heading moving of its own accord, and suddenly he had fifty-five pounds of eight year old on top of him, squeezing him like an anaconda. When Peter went in to hug Jessica, Matt was slightly surprised by how willing she was to accept the embrace. Maybe he shouldn't have been, though. Jessica’s hard exterior melted away around this kid.

As soon as they left the apartment, Matt listened in on what May and Peter were saying. 

“How are you feeling about all this, Peter?” May asked soothingly. 

“I’m a little sad,” he began, “because I know that you’re gonna leave, but they seem nice, and they smell good.” Matt chuckled a little at that. He knew all about the value of people’s scents. 

“Yeah. I know, honey. It’ll all be okay. I promise you, baby, it’ll all be okay.”

Chapter Text

Jessica was having a difficult fucking time, and there wasn’t really much anyone could do about it. 

Quitting alcoholism was turning out to be much more difficult than becoming an alcoholic was. She felt like a bag of shit all the time, but in a different way than she was used to. According to Claire, going cold turkey was dangerous, but Jessica was notoriously hard to kill, so what was the harm, really? Well, now Jessica knew the fucking harm. But she had to do this. She had to get her shit together for her child, who would imminently be in her (part time) care. 

She called Malcolm over to her apartment to clean up. It was a pain in the ass, but it needed to be done. She didn't normally clean up, unless there was blood or something equally gross. Her apartment, once it was all cleaned up, was more child-friendly than Murdock’s. His looked like an abandoned crackhouse, especially since he never turned the lights on. 

Jessica ordered a shit ton of IKEA furniture with dumbass Scandinavian names. For whatever reason, it all arrived at her apartment on the same day. She was glad that she wasn’t trying to pull the whole secret identity thing that Murdock did, because a five foot woman hauling giant boxes up five flights of stairs by herself definitely aroused suspicion in her neighbors who didn’t already know about her weirdness. 

Jessica may have gotten excited with the furniture. She bought this cool little bunk type bed that could fit stuff under it and a tiny little desk for him to sit and do homework at. She knew he probably wouldn’t have any homework to do, since she would only have him on the weekends and he was in fourth grade, but it was so tiny , and so was he. It was going to be the most well constructed IKEA furniture in the history of stupid Swedish beds. 

Jessica felt like she had it under control. She was doing what she needed to do. She felt good, for once in her goddamned life.

But May was dying, and her timeline began to seem more and more apparent. She was getting so… small -looking. She wasn’t doing chemo or radiation. She had been a nurse before all of this, and she didn’t want to do that. Her doctors didn’t recommend it for her anyway. Matt always said that she smelled like death.

They got a call, maybe two months after they met with May and Peter for the first time. They had been meeting once a week since then, and May put them on the emergency list so they would get a call if something happened.

A call just like the one they were getting in that moment.

May had a stroke in the afternoon, cancer-related or something. Jessica wasn’t a doctor, she had no clue what was going on. The only thing she understood was that May was dead, and now she needed to be there for this impossibly small child of hers.

Jessica had no idea how to console anyone. She didn’t do this shit. Hell, Matt wasn’t great at it either. He was charming or whatever, sure, but he wasn’t very good with big emotions, least of all his own. He was only really good at the empty interactions, like flirting and jokes.

But. 

He often had to promise clients things. She did too, in a way, but she had a harsher exterior. Matt was so goddamn earnest it made her heart clench. He would probably be a better child consoler. Most people would be better at consoling a child than her.

They called Matt first, then her, and since doctors are dickheads, they told them that they needed to pick Peter up and tell him unless they wanted the ladies in the school office to do it or surprise him with it at the hospital. Matt was insistent that they not do either of these. Jessica had no idea why they shouldn’t. She had gotten surprised with news of her parents’ deaths, and she was… okay, well, she’s not fine, but whatever.

She was not at all sure how they were going to pick Peter up. Jessica had a license, but not a car, and Matt couldn’t drive for obvious reasons. Telling your child his guardian has died doesn’t exactly seem like a subway conversation. Matt, ever the questionable decision maker, decided they would take a cab. As much as Matt hated cabs, he hated subways more.

“I think I see one over there,” she whispered. It was an actual yellow cab, which were on the decline these days with Uber and all. Collapsing his cane, Matt slid into the cab first.

“What, ladies don’t go first anymore?”

“Jessica, you and I both know you don’t want me to treat you like a lady.”

He’s got a point there. 

“Take us to Forrest Hills Elementary,” she barked. The driver looked appropriately frightened of her. Good. She wanted everyone and their mother to know that she wasn’t fucking around.

Apparently, this energy must have been evident to those around her because Matt whispered, “Jessica, it’s okay. You can take it down a notch.” Her teeth started aching, and it took her a minute to realize it was because she was clenching her jaw.

“This fucking sucks,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, well, they don’t make parenting books about how to tell your child who you only recently found out about that his adoptive aunt who’s been raising him most of his life has died. Even if they did, they probably wouldn’t be available in braille.”

The car ride seemed infinite until they got to the school, at which point it seemed way too short.

“Hello ma’am. We’re here to pick up a Peter Parker? Is he here?” Matt asked suavely. The office lady (whose name was Ms. Bhatia, Jessica discovered) grinned. God, why does everyone find Murdock so damn endearing all the time?

“Yeah, he’s in class right now. I’ll call- wait. Are you guys on the list?” List? What list? What’s the list for?

“The, uh, list of people approved to pick Peter up,” Ms. Bhatia told Jessica’s blank face. You need a list to pick kids up now?

Thankfully, Matt swooped in with “Yes, we should be on the list. His aunt would’ve added us recently. Jessica Jones and Matt Murdock?” The lady scrolled a little and clicked a bunch of times before verifying that yes, they were on the list. 

“Okay, I need you to check one of these boxes here just to let us know why you’re picking him up early. Normally, you should call beforehand, but I can make an exception,” she said, handing Jessica a small yellow slip. Okay, her options are family emergency, religious reasons, medical, doctor/dentist/orthodontist (what kind of kid has braces in elementary school?) appointment, and refuse to say.

“Matt,” she whispered, not even turning towards him, “Should I put family emergency or refuse to say?”

“Family emergency. As much as I would normally refuse to say, this is not the time, Jess.” She got up and silently handed the desk lady the slip. She gave Jessica a sad look.

“Oh no, doesn’t his aunt have cancer? Poor thing. I’ll call his classroom and get him down here.” 

Does this kind of thing always take this long? Matt and Jessica had been waiting in the weirdly cold office for ten minutes now. She didn’t remember things taking this long when she was a kid. Granted, everything seems to fly by when you’re young.

The little bell on the door dinged and Peter’s tiny little face popped into view.

“Matt? Jess? What are you guys doing here?” Peter’s voice turned sour. “What happened?”

“We can talk about it later,” Matt soothed. Peter was not convinced by his attempts.

“No, I know something happened. What is it? What happened?” Her kid was insistent. She supposed that’s what happens when you breed a Murdock and Jessica Jones. 

Matt sighed a little. Jessica, unsure of what to do, stepped up to the plate. 

“Your aunt… you know she’s sick. Well, today, something happened that she couldn’t recover from. Do you know what a stroke is, Peter?”

“A stroke is when a blood vessel that carries oxygen to the brain is obstructed by a clot or ruptures, and the brain cells die as a result,” he announced with the confidence of a nerdy little kid.

“Aunt May had a stroke, and they tried to get her to the hospital in time, but it was too late.”

Peter was quiet for a second. Then a second became a minute, which became two and then five. And then he started full on sobbing.

She didn’t expect him to cling to her for emotional support- he barely knew her and she didn’t have the most welcoming vibes. Yet he climbed her like a jungle gym and hugged her so tight she felt her ribs creak a little. She had no idea how the hell he managed that- the only person who could really injure her was Luke Cage, and Peter was sixty pounds soaking wet- but that didn’t seem to matter. She carried him to the cab as he cried and cried, and there wasn’t really anything she could do to help.

Chapter Text

Peter was used to being bounced around. He had been through many guardians at this point- his (adoptive) parents, who he couldn’t really remember but had heard about enough to create an idea, Ben, May… others- and he really should be used to it by now, but he’s not, not really. He had known May since he was a baby, had been familiar with her scent for years. He couldn’t believe she was really gone until he saw her empty body in a hospital bed.

“Mr. Murdock, Ms. Jones, I need you to come with me,” a lawyer announced. He was followed by a posse of social workers and nurses, leaving Peter all alone in a squeaky pleather chair in a blindingly white room. They went into a room on the other side of the hospital floor, presumably for privacy, but Peter knew he would hear them no matter where they went.

“May Parker named you and Ms. Jones as the guardians of her nephew in her will, Mr. Murdock. Were you aware of this?” 

“Yes, Jessica and I knew this. We’re his biological parents, and we are willing to step up and take care of him.”

“It says that Ms. Jones signed away her parental rights when she gave birth to Peter. Is that correct?”

“Those papers were signed under duress. She feared that harm would come to her or her child if she did not sign.” Peter didn’t know that. He knew that Jess wanted him now , but he thought she must’ve just not been ready when he was born. That happens sometimes, he thinks. Daniel from school said his cousin Ella was having a baby, but she was too young, so she was gonna give the baby up for adoption. Matt and Jess seemed younger than Aunt May was, so he thought maybe that happened to them too.

The social worker, a lady with a high, shaky voice, inhaled deeply, saying, “Well, he’ll need to spend a few days with a foster family as we do a check of the home and-”

“Actually,” Matt cut in, “We already organized all of that. Peter's aunt was terminal, so we got it done before she died.”

The social worker sighed and pulled out a different paper.

“Okay. You can stop by Mrs. Parker’s house to pick up anything Peter would need then. It looks here,” paper rustled loudly and Peter cringed, “Like she left everything to Peter, and by extension, you.”

The chair screeched as Peter wriggled in it, cutting off the rest of the conversation. Dang. He heard steps getting closer and closer, and suddenly the whole herd was facing him.

“We’re going to stop by your house to pick up a few of your things. We already have beds set up in our apartments, but there are probably some important things at your aunt’s apartment. Do you want to come with us or would you rather we bring that stuff ourselves?” Matt asked gently.

“Uh… I can come.” His voice was soft and choked with swallowed sobs and phlegm, but he knew everyone could hear him clearly enough. On the way out of the hospital, he was given lollipops but two different nurses. Nurses, Peter thought, were the nicest people on the planet. Between meeting Aunt May’s coworkers and later the oncology nurses who helped May during her hospital stints, he had a large enough sample size to decide this. He always sat really still when he got his shots because he didn’t want to cause any trouble for them.

The cab ride over to his apartment was quiet. The cab driver smelled like cucumber hand sanitizer and drugstore cologne, and the smell was suffocating. Matt was kneading his fingers into his palm the same way Peter did when he was stressed. He wondered if Matt hopped a little when he was happy too.

The apartment (it wasn’t going to be his apartment anymore) was empty without May in it. The yellows and reds in the decor seemed flat, the plants seemed droopy, and the walls seemed bare. Everything seemed so empty without May. May always had so much enthusiasm, even when she was dying, that she filled up all the empty nooks and crannies of a room, her presence wrapping you up in a chamomile hug. 

“Is there anything you want right now?” Matt asked. “We can come back later, so if you only want to bring some essentials, that’s fine.” Peter grabbed the duffel bag that May would bring to work when she pulled doubles and immediately shoved a yellow, green, and red crochet blanket. May didn’t make it- she wasn’t the most skilled person in most artistic fields- but she bought it special for him because some textures bother him. It was expensive, made with something really soft. Cashmere, maybe. He thought for a minute. He should probably bring a toothbrush and his toothpaste. He can’t use mint toothpaste because it makes him throw up, and he doubts that either Matt or Jess will have Watermelon Surf toothpaste. He brings his dinosaur book from when he was younger, a photo album, a book about insects and arachnids, and Chemistry for Teens and Young Adults: An Introduction . He has his lego sets and his stuffed animals, sure, but they weren’t things he needed to bring right now. They could wait until things settled down. If he was being honest, Peter was kinda proud of himself for being mature there. May and Ben would be proud.

“You ready, kid?” Jessica questioned. Peter nodded. She snatched up his duffle bag and slung it over her shoulder, leading him down the stairs and back to the car. 

“So,” she began, “You have a choice tonight. You can go home with me or with Matt. We both have bedrooms prepared. Matt’s a better cook than me, but I have gummy bears.” Peter thought about it. Gummy bears sounded really good, but there were other factors to consider. How loud was each area? How much time would he be spending in each place? Did either of them have Eggo waffles?

“Who would I be mostly living with? Like, Betty from school sees her dad during the summer and holidays and she lives with her mom during the school year. Will it be like that?”

“Well, I think it will really depend on what’s going on and what you want, but you would probably live with Matt most of the time. You would stay with me on weekends or afternoons when Matt’s busy, though, and I’ll go over to Matt’s apartment to hang out all the time.” Hmmm. That checks off some of the items on his list (although it provides no insight about Eggo waffles).

“I think I’ll go home with Matt, then. Is that okay?” Peter asked quietly.

“Yeah, of course.” Jess didn’t seem upset by this. That was good. Peter always tries hard to not make anyone feel bad.

Matt’s apartment turned out to be on the top floor of a tallish building in Hell’s Kitchen. You could watch all the people, tiny like figurines, walk down the street. It was entrancing. Peter could sit there for hours with his face pressed up against the glass, watching everyone go about their days. Out one of the windows was a giant billboard, lighting up the sky in the dusky evening.

“You live here?!” Peter exclaimed. “This is so cool.” The billboard changed from blue to red, illuminating the wall behind him.

“Most people are bothered by the billboard, so I got a discount on this place.” Peter liked the billboard. It makes the room look like a movie set.

“Anyway, you can set your stuff in the room on the right. There’s already a bed set up for you in there, but it’s kind of empty. Hopefully you can make it your own eventually.”

The room had a window where the light of the billboard was only peeking out of a corner. There was a twin bed set up along the middle of a wall, a nightstand on one side and a desk on the other. Matt used a really gentle-smelling detergent, dewy and light like the air a few days after its rained. He spread his cashmere blanket across his bed, set up his books on his desk, and went back to the living room area where Matt was.

“Listen, Peter,” Matt started, sitting next to him on the couch, “My dad died when I was eleven. I’ve been here before, living with strangers and moving my whole life. It’s terrible, and I know that. If there’s anything I can do these first few days, tell me and I’ll do it. My… Foggy is going to the store. Is there anything you want, food or something that could help make this transition easier?”

Peter smiled a little. This was his chance.

“Could you ask him to pick up some Eggo waffles? Blueberry, not plain. Plain would be okay though! But blueberry is better.” Matt sat there, a blank expression on his face. Maybe Matt didn’t know what Eggo waffles were. He was definitely going to learn, and soon.

“O- okay.” 

Peter went back to the room and grabbed his copy of Chemistry for Teens and Young Adults: An Introduction . Sometimes, when he’s upset, books help. Peter was definitely upset right now. Matt and Jess seemed nice, but they weren’t May. There will only ever be one May. All the Eggo waffles and chemistry books in the world can’t fix that, unless the secret to reviving the dead was a formula derived from Eggo waffles, which Peter doubts. He was honestly having a difficult time comprehending what was happening. It was all so overwhelming and the world is loud and scary and full of pain and everyone he loves dies and-

Cold. His hands were cold.

And wet.

Huh.

“I brought you some ice cubes. It helps ground you when you’re panicking. Foggy’s here with your waffles, by the way.” A blond man (who Peter had seen once or twice) waved at him from the kitchen. Waffles. He had a mission now. He dumped the ice cubes in the sink and dried his hands.

“Can I have some?”

“Sure-”

Foggy’s eyes went wide. “Matt, you don’t have a toaster!” Toaster? Why would he need a toaster for Eggos?

“I don’t need a toaster,” Peter said, grabbing a few waffles. They warmed slightly in transit from the store to the apartment, meaning they were the perfect temperature for consumption. Peter broke the first one in half, sticking its sweet, blueberry goodness in his mouth.

Foggy was staring at him with horror. 

“Did you just. Eat. A cold toaster waffle?”

Peter cocked his head in confusion. 

“That’s how you eat Eggo waffles.”

“Peter, you seem like a great kid and I love you already, but that is absolutely not how you eat waffles.” Aw. That was nice. It’s too bad Foggy’s wrong. He said as much, making Matt crack up and Foggy grimace.

“Oh my God, it’s another Matt. Of all the things the world doesn’t need-”

“Don't take the Lord’s name in vain, Foggy!”

“You and the Lord’s name, man.”

Maybe Peter could learn to live with this.

Chapter Text

Matt lied awake for hours that first night. He was going to be a terrible father. Why the hell did he accept guardianship? He’s never had a stable relationship in his life; he always pushes people out or hurts them in a fit of self-destruction. Peter deserved better than this, better than him. He would never survive with Matt. Most people can’t. Matt was slowly being choked by the scaly hands of his own guilt, shaking slightly from his spot right beside Foggy.

He was eventually pulled out of this state by a blood-curdling scream coming from down the hall. Peter. Matt got so damn wrapped up in his own failures that he forgot about how this must be going for Peter. Foggy must’ve been awoken by the noise, because he sat up quickly.

“Is that Peter?” He whispered groggily. Matt nodded and stepped out of bed.

“Bring him a glass of warm water. Cold will wake him up more, but warm will calm him down.” Matt did as he was told (Foggy was much more experienced when it came to childcare) and knocked on Peter’s door.

“Peter?”

Peter made some unintelligible noises and sat up in his bed. He was crying, Matt thinks- he can taste the salt in the air.

“Hey, kiddo, it’s… well, it’s not okay. Not really. It might not be okay for a while, and that’s just going to be how it is. It… it sucks. I remember the first night after I lost my father. I woke up screaming that night, most nights for months and months after that. But eventually, it went away. I learned how to live again.” Matt held the glass to Peter’s lips and Peter accepted the drink. Matt needed a drink too. Talking about his feelings and about the past was damn exhausting. Matt pet Peter’s head and his hair was soft. So was his blanket. Peter had good taste, it seemed.

“Thank you,” Peter croaked.

“I’m your father now. You don’t need to thank me.” Peter sniffled. 

“Do… do you know any songs?” Oh. Matt did not, unless hymns counted. He decided in the moment that they did, and started on “Ave Maria.” Peter huffed a little and was clearly unimpressed by the religious angle, but he drifted off to sleep anyway. Matt turned around to leave and saw Foggy sitting in the living room.

“You’re doing a good job, Matt. You’re gonna be a good father.” Matt vehemently disagreed, but this wasn’t the time to voice that sentiment. He laid his head on Foggy’s shoulder and sighed.

“I just want to keep Peter from having to experience what I did after my father died. Not that I had a bad childhood-”

“Matt. You were abused by a cult ninja when you were eleven, not to mention all the other things that come from being a blind orphan in a Catholic group home. You did not have a pleasant childhood, and you don’t need to pretend that you did.” Foggy had no idea what he was talking about. Stick was an asshole, sure, but Matt needed him. That training made him all that he is today. Training and abuse are different. And the nuns were mostly good people. Except for Sister Prudence. Sister Prudence is definitely not in a better place. Being a servant to God can’t save you if you extrapolate all your joy from the destruction of childrens’ knuckles. Of course, Matt would never say that out loud, mostly because Sister Maggie would emerge from the shadows and yell at him. She always knows. 

____________________________________________________________________________

Matt woke up at 7:30 on the dot, as per usual. 

“Foggy,” he whisper-shouted, “Wake up.” Foggy leaned up to kiss him and Matt accepted it, even though he hates morning breath with a burning passion. 

“We should invite Jessica over and take Peter out to breakfast,” he suggested. Foggy scoffed.

“It’s 7:30. Jessica is not awake yet, and if you try to wake her up before ten she’ll rip your nipples off.”

“Well, I don’t know, she’s sober now.”

“Sobriety is not a personality transplant, Matty.”

Ordinarily, Matt probably would’ve just done what he wanted and ignored all protests, but Foggy has a point. It would probably traumatize Peter to find that his mother killed his father. 

“We’ll get brunch then.” Foggy laughed and pulled his shirt on.

“Jessica is gonna make fun of you. She’s gonna make fun of you so hard. I’m telling her I had nothing to do with it so that I may be spared.” 

“I’m immune to Jessica’s taunts now. I might be a dork, but clearly I’m a dork she’s considered worthy of her time, seeing as we procreated.”

“Have fun trying that, dude.”

“I will.” Matt stuck his tongue out at Foggy. “Do you think we should let Peter eat some waffles now or wait until we go out?”

“I’m not a child whisperer, and I’m certainly not a Murdock whisperer. I have no idea what’s going on in your head most of the time. Just ask him.” 

Matt had already heard Peter awaken, so he figured it can’t hurt to knock on the door and talk to him. From what he could sense, Peter was just sitting cross-legged on his bed. Being able to tell what the kid is doing all the time is certainly going to come in handy.

Rapping on the door, he asked if he could come in. Offering privacy is always good, especially when you’re in a new house with new people. Matt always hated when foster parents didn’t give him privacy.

“Hey Peter. We were thinking about getting brunch with Jessica later. Does that sound good to you?” Peter nodded, and then responded affirmatively after he realized his mistake. 

“You like chemistry?”

“Yeah, I like chemistry, and biology, and engineering. I want to work for Stark Industries someday, I think.” Matt wasn’t fond of Stark himself (he and the Avengers trashed the Kitchen) but his kid would make a great scientist. 

“Did you only bring two books? We could stop by your old apartment and grab more stuff later. You might want to distribute your stuff between your room here and your room at Jess’s, but that’s not really something you need to worry about right now. What you do need to worry about is breakfast. Do you want to have some waffles now or wait until we go out?”

“I want to eat now, if that’s okay.” Matt was not a fan of the waffles. He could taste the sickly sweet processed sugar in the air, and there were no blueberries in those blueberry waffles, but they were for Peter. He’s not going to complain about that. He ate shredded wheat every morning when he was eight, which is probably equally as processed. 

Then Matt’s phone began blaring. “Karen. Karen. Karen.” 

“Hey Karen, is there something going on with a case?”

“Send me pictures of the boy. The child. Give.”

“How did you even know that he was at my apartment?”

“I sensed a disturbance in the Force, so I bullied Foggy into telling me. So send the pictures.”

“I don’t have pictures, he’s been here for less than 24 hours.”

“Not a good enough excuse. Pictures.”

“Uhh, give me a second.” He hasn’t taken a picture since he was nine years old, but given the fact he can identify where Peter is, it can’t be too hard. He took a picture of Peter and hoped for the best before sending it to Karen.

“Matt. The picture you just sent me was really blurry. Like, all blur. I don’t even know how you managed to do that, honestly. Give the phone to a sighted person. Give me the pictures.”

Matt sighed into the receiver. “Foggy’s in the shower and I’m not gonna ask the newly twice-orphaned child to take a selfie so my friends can look at him like he’s a pet. I’m fairly sure that he’s cried sometime in the last thirty minutes.”

“…that’s a good point. I’m sorry. I guess I'll just have to see him in person?” 

“Yeah, okay, I’ll see if he wants to come by the office on Monday. Bye Karen.”

“Don’t forget. Bye.”

Matt pulled out his laptop to do some work while they waited for the appropriate time to wake Jessica. Technically, there isn’t an appropriate time to wake Jessica, but there’s a window of time where she will be the least mean to you, which is what he and Foggy were aiming for.

“Hey, Matt,” Foggy said, “Do you want me to come to breakfast or should I stay here?”

“Of course you should come. Why would you stay here?”

“Well, I thought since it’s gonna be you and Jess and Peter, it might be a family thing, I don’t know.”

“Foggy. You’re going to be just as involved in Peter’s life as Jessica and I are. You’re part of this makeshift family we have.” Foggy’s heart stuttered.

Peter, who was still in his room, was thumbing through a book. Plastic pages, it sounded like, made a sound like they stuck together. Must be a photo album. 

Sitting beside Peter on the floor, Matt asked, “Wanna tell me about them?” When his father died, he was so tired of answering questions about what happened. All he wanted to do was talk about who his father actually was, not how he died. Maybe Peter wanted the same thing.

“Uncle Ben’s a construction worker. Aunt May’s a nurse. She worked in the ER, mostly. She really liked cats, but our building didn’t allow cats, so she would leave cat food on the fire escape for the strays. She argued with teachers for me, when they were mean. She was really bad at cooking, but great at ordering food. She was… warm.”

“My father was a boxer. He was really strong, and he lost more than he won. He… he was warm too, and he fussed over me like crazy. I think I was mad at him for leaving for a long time, mad at God for taking him, but I don’t think I am anymore.”

“…I think I'm a little mad,” Peter mumbled.

“That’s okay.” Pause. “What time is it?”

Peter looked at the clock Foggy had made him install in the kitchen.

“Eleven.”

Great. Time to disturb Jessica. 

“I’m gonna call Jess and invite her to get food with us.” He found her contact in his phone and clicked eagerly.

“Good morning Jess.”

“You woke me up. Ugh.”

“I figured. Come get food with us. Brunch. I’ll pay.”

“Brunch? You’re so lame.” Shit. Child present; retaliation unavailable.

“Yeah, okay. Meet us at that diner on 118th.”

“I hate you, Murdock.” 

“Do it for Peter.”

“….Fine.”

Click. Dial tone. 

He and Foggy got Peter in his coat and little boots and shoved him out the door. He seemed enthusiastic about walking to the diner. Kids just like doing things, it seemed. 

The diner he picked was good- it advertised itself as organic and washed all its food pretty well, so Matt could stand to eat there if he got plain pancakes. Eggs were out, and since Foggy is a kind soul (and wants Matt to kiss him sometime in the next week) he avoids eggs too. Jessica does what she wants, but she doesn’t normally get eggs anyway. He was in the clear. Peter led him to the booth Jessica was sitting at and slid into the vinyl seat.

“Hey sweetie,” the waitress (25ish, probably bleached hair, wears fruity perfume, smells like textbooks) said to Peter. “Do you want a kids menu?” Peter nodded eagerly. “And, uh, can I get a braille one for you, sir?”

“Yes, thank you.” The waitress set some waxy-smelling crayons and paper in front of Peter and a greasy braille menu in front of him. A block away, a woman was getting robbed and it took everything Matt had not to ditch breakfast and intervene. The compost behind the restaurant rotted and the kitchen smelled like pepper.

“Can I ask a question?” Peter said.

“Sure,” Jessica replied.

“Do I have family out there? Like grandparents? Or aunts and uncles and cousins?”

A collective sigh from every adult at the table.

“Not… really. I had my parents and a brother but they died when I was fourteen, and I think you know Matt’s dad died.” Trish’s name went unspoken.

“But,” Matt said, “My mother is still alive. We could visit her tomorrow morning, if you would like. And Foggy’s parents are still alive, and he has a brother and a sister and all sorts of nieces and nephews. Plus, we have some friends who you might see around a lot.”

“Oh God, Page is gonna lose her shi- mind over you. She seems like the type to really like children and small things,” Jessica cut in.

“She called me this morning demanding pictures because someone told on me.”

“Okay, okay, but we both know Karen can read minds,” Foggy joked. Peter’s heart sped up.

“Really?” he asked in disbelief.

“Nah. Besides, I could totally take her in a fight if I needed to defend you,” Jessica said. It sounded like she scrunched her face a little, so she probably winked. Super senses didn’t translate facial expressions very well. Or at all, really- he only really knew about someone’s facial features if they were large and protruded from the face. Most people’s faces were flat to him. His memories of what faces looked like were fuzzy anyway, so what did it matter?

Peter was assuaged by Jess’s answer. 

“Is your mom nice?” Oh boy. That was a tough question to answer. She was a good person, but nice isn’t really a way that anyone would describe her. She’s pretty good with kids when they’re well-behaved though.

“She’ll love you, don’t worry.”

“Okay. Cool. Can we stop by my apartment to get my books after this?”

“You can move all your stuff. And you should take Jessica to do that with you. She’s great at lifting boxes, aren’t you Jessica?” Matt would bet anything that Jessica was grimacing right now.

“Mm-hmm.”

“I have a lot of Legos that I should probably get, but I don’t want them to break, so maybe I should put them in their own boxes.” Legos are the snappy bricks, right?

“Just make sure you don’t leave Legos on the floor. Matt would never see it coming, and everyone knows stepping on Legos sucks.” Aww, Jessica’s looking out for him. If he didn’t know better, he would think she cared about him. 

Brunch continued in much the same manner- Peter asked questions, Jessica quipped, and the questions were answered. Jessica was surprisingly good with him. Not that he thought she would be a bad mother- she’s just not particularly maternal and doesn’t really like most people.

“Foggy,” he whispered after putting Peter to bed that night, “What does Peter look like?”

“Hmmm. He looks kinda like how I think you would’ve looked as a little kid. Brown hair, big brown eyes, the works. His hair is curly, though. I’m sure you can tell, but he seems to have inherited Jessica’s smallness. He has her nose, too, a little bit upturned. He’s pretty pale and has some freckles. He’s like, unbearably cute. Karen’s going to explode and then we’ll need to find a new partner.” Matt tried to imagine this version of Peter. Most of it made sense, fit in with the collection of thoughts he had relating to Peter. It checks out that he's damn adorable. 

____________________________________________________________________________

Matt had Peter and Foggy join him for the brisk morning walk to Clinton Church.

“So to meet my grandma I have to go to church? For two hours?”

“Yes. She doesn’t have a lot of free time.”

“If it helps, I’m not thrilled either,” Foggy added. Heathen. 

Peter was fairly well behaved during mass, staying quiet the whole time. He fidgeted, but so did Matt when he was a kid. Hell, he still does. After the service was over, he scanned the room and all its heartbeats and voices for Sister Maggie.

“Sister,” he pushed Peter forward, “This is Peter. He’s your grandson.”

“Matthew! You’ve had a child this whole time? Why did you neglect to tell me? How could you do all you do with a child around?” the sister scorned. 

“I only learned about him recently. And I think you’re scaring him.” Peter clung to Matt’s leg, his little heart fast.

Sister Maggie crouched down a little. “Hello Peter. You can call me Sister Maggie. I do hope you’re better behaved than Matthew is. I think he spent more time being punished than he slept while he lived at the orphanage. Always fighting, talking back. He used to go and sit on the roof. Matthew, you should go to confession. I’m sure you have something to confess.” Matt wasn’t going to disagree with her, so he trailed off towards the confession booth.

“Good morning, Father. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, Amen,” he recited as he sat down on the cool wood bench.

“May the lord help you to confess your sins.”

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been three weeks since my last confession. I have taken the Lord’s name in vain, had unkind thoughts about those who have wronged me, and engaged in premarital sex a few times a week.” Matt made no mention of the whole sodomy part because he didn’t know this new priest very well and maybe because he’s not really sure he thinks it’s a sin anymore. “And I’ve- I’m not sure that I’ve been taking care of my child the way that he deserves.”

“What do you mean? Are you neglecting him?”

“I only learned of his existence a few months ago, and I took on his guardianship a few days ago after his adoptive aunt passed away. I don’t know how to be a father. I don’t know how to be enough for him. I want him to be happy and well-adjusted, but I destroy everything good in my life. I can’t do that to him, but I don’t know how to avoid it. It feels… inevitable.”

“God doesn’t force his children to sin,” Father McKinnon said. “He gave you this child for a reason. He thought you were good enough. The Lord will guide you to do what you must. For your penance, say two Our Fathers and two Hail Marys. I absolve you of your sins, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”

“Amen.” Matt, ever trying to be a good little Catholic, said his penance and went out into the world, trying to make things right.

Chapter Text

Peter didn’t end up going to school on Monday. Instead, he sat in Matt’s office and met a very nice lady named Karen who gave him lollipops. Karen was very excited to meet him. She said he could call her Aunt Karen if he wanted, but he didn’t want to. The title of aunt was reserved for May. Karen didn’t seem to mind, though. He read books in the front room most of the day, and it was pretty fun.

But now it was Tuesday, and he was in school, and he felt his classmates' magnetic eyes surround him.

“Mrs. Liu said we should be really nice to Peter because his aunt died,” he heard Erika whisper. Thirty minutes into class, while the rest of the class was reading, he was called into the office to speak to the counselor. 

“So, Peter,” Ms. Alexandre said, “I understand that your aunt died recently.” Peter liked Ms. Alexandre. She had a nice accent- she was from somewhere called Haiti, where they spoke French. She smelled like coconut oil and spices, and her hair formed perfect coils, like springs. They sat in silence for a while until Peter realized she wanted a response from him. He nodded.

“That must be really hard. Is there anything in particular you want to tell me about?” A head shake. “Change is especially hard when bad things happen. How are your new guardians?” She folded her hands neatly on the desk.

“They’re pretty good, I guess. They’re my biological parents. It turns out they really did want me all along. But…” Ms. Alexandre gestured for him to continue. “Neither of them are May. May smelled like cinnamon, most of the time, and candle wax. Matt smells like metal and paper, and Jess smells a little like bleach and leather. Foggy smells like paper, too, and a bit like vanilla, which is nice.”

“And Matt and Jess are… your parents?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And Foggy is…”

“Matt’s boyfriend. They have an office where they defeat bad guys and write papers with Karen.” Ms. Alexandre looked a little skeptical of that, but he wasn’t wrong.

“Is there a reason you call your parents by their first names?”

“Well, I haven’t known them for that long. A few months, maybe. Plus… I don’t know. Matt said that when he was in foster care he didn’t want to call anyone dad, because they weren’t his dad. I haven’t called anyone mom and dad before, because I was so little when my parents died, but I know what it’s supposed to mean.”

“Did you feel like May was your mom?”

“No, she was my Aunt May.” Duh. Aunts are different from moms, he knew that for sure.

“Hmm.” Sounds of pen carving soft paper filled the room. Down the hall, there were kids messing around in the boy’s bathroom. Mrs. Murphy, one of the lunch ladies, was crying in the cafeteria. Her husband was cheating on her. Having super-hearing taught Peter a lot of new things, like what cheating was and how much people don’t like it happening to them.

“If I give you these papers, can you have your… Matt read them?” She handed him some orange papers. Grief Counseling and Therapy for Children ages 8-12 , they said.

“No.” 

Ms. Alexandre faltered. “Why not?”

Peter wasn’t sure how to explain it. “Matt can’t read,” he said. He decided that was the best answer.

He quickly learned that this was probably not the right answer when Ms. Alexandre’s eyes widened a little.

“Is that right?” Peter nodded. “Then you should take one of these,” she said, rifling through a stack and handing him a pamphlet, “For him.” Adult Literacy Programs at the NYPL . Aunt May said that Peter took things literacy sometimes. He had no idea what these would do for Matt, but he did as he was told. 

“I want you to ask your parents to set up a meeting with me.” Peter nodded, collected his pamphlets, and returned to class.

“What did they make you go to the office for?” Ned asked him at lunch. Ned had pork adobo, which was infinitely better than school lunch. Peter was so glad that Ned shared. He was always super hungry anyway.

“To talk to Ms. Alexandre. She asked me about May n’ stuff. What did I miss on Monday?”

“Not much. Just practiced long division again.” Peter rolled his eyes. How many times would they go over long division before they would learn something new, like exponents or linear functions? He just wanted to do some simple graphing.

“Jess helped move my things out of my apartment, and she’s so strong. She can lift three boxes.” Peter had already told Ned about Matt and Jess, and Ned was very intrigued.

“Is she strong like you’re strong?” Ned also knew about Peter’s abilities. It’s hard to explain it away when you end up stuck to your friend's ceiling after a nightmare at a sleepover. At least Ned’s mom didn’t walk in.

“I’m not sure.” Peter thinks she might be. He doesn’t know a lot about Jess yet, except that she’s a detective, but not for the police. She didn’t seem to particularly like the police, but neither did a lot of people in Peter’s neighborhood. She was also a very good box lifter.

They talked about Clone Wars , which Peter hadn’t been able to see for a while. Matt didn’t have a TV.

That afternoon, Jess stood outside his school and rode the subway back to her apartment with him. 

“I got some papers from school today that the counselor says I gotta give you.”

“Mmm. They made me talk to the school counselor when I was a kid. Said I ‘didn’t seem very well adjusted.’” 

“Do you have a TV in your apartment? Matt doesn’t have a TV.”

“Yup. I brought some of your stuff, too, to set up the room a little. Matt’s gonna pick you up from mine when he’s done with work, but if you want to hang out in your room, you can. And I think one of my neighbors has a kid around your age.” Peter grimaced a little. He doesn’t have a great track record with kids his age. There’s a reason he ate lunch alone with Ned.

“Do you have Netflix?”

“Yep. You can make your own little profile and everything. Listen. I’ve got some work to do- just meeting clients- but I’m just gonna be in my office, which is attached to my apartment. You could probably sit in my office if you wanted, or you could sit in the apartment. You don’t seem like you're going to get in trouble, so I’m not too worried one way or the other. Just call out if you need me.” 

Peter ended up deciding on reading Biology of Marine Life in a chair in Jessica’s office. After she finished up with a few prospective clients (two of which she denied, one of whom she took) she approached him. 

“So,” she said, “What are these pamphlets we’re supposed to look at?” He pulled them out of his folder and handed them to her.

Jess looked puzzled. “What are these illiteracy ones for?” Peter felt his face heat up.

“Well,” he started, “Ms. Alexandre asked me to have Matt read these papers, so I told her Matt can’t read.”

Jess looked at him, stony-faced, for what felt like an eternity, and then burst out into laughter.

“What? It’s true. He wouldn’t be able to read the paper!”

“I’m calling Matt and telling him about this,” she cackled. Peter could hear Foggy laugh in the background of the call on the other side.

“For future reference, Peter,” Matt informed kindly, “You could just say that I’m blind. I can read, I just can’t read print.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, kid. I’m sure we’ll get it all cleared up when we go to that meeting which we will all attend , right Jessica?”

She sighed.

“…Okay.” She sounded resigned, but there was a hint of joy left in her voice. 

She got him in his boots and coat before they left the apartment.

“Let’s get you back to Matt’s now, Peter,” she said. Jess was commanding, but not in a mean way. Just authoritative. Peter learned that word a few weeks ago. The walk to Matt’s was nice. It was cold outside, but not too cold for February. New York always smelled better when it was cold out. The heat made the garbage melt and dissolve into the air until he could taste every individual rotting fruit and puddle of mysterious liquid. 

Peter was made to sit in the living room while Matt, Jess, and Foggy talked about him. Fortunately for him, it wasn’t a very effective exile.

“…they want us to take him to therapy. I hated therapy. Most useless shit.” Jessica didn’t sound pleased.

“Bullshit, I know you use that street name trick all the time. I don’t really want to send him to therapy either-” Matt said.

“Still a load of crap-”

“Listen, I’m not sure either of you are the best judges here.” Foggy was so rational. “You both have bad experiences in this arena, and you both have way more issues than one or two therapy sessions can fix. Maybe you should just let him try it out. One session can’t hurt anything but our bank accounts. Which it will really hurt. Unless- Matt, do you have some money from the Barnes case still stashed?”

“I do. I’ll use it for this. Maybe invest in better health insurance, too.” Peter knew what therapy was from TV. It was where you went when you were crazy, rich, or getting a divorce. Or all three. Peter wasn’t any of those, so he wasn’t sure what therapy would actually do to help him. Whatever. Wouldn’t hurt to try anyway.

Matt opened the door to where he was working on a coloring page.

“Hey Peter, Jess is leaving if you want to say goodbye.” Peter did. They had chicken and rice for dinner, which was just flavorless enough that it didn’t bother him and just tasty enough that he enjoyed it. 

Peter thought that maybe therapy was like his talk with Ms. Alexandre. If it was, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Ms. Alexandre is nice, even if she did misinterpret what Peter meant sometimes. They just talked, and she didn’t get mad when he fidgeted. Some adults do. He used to spend a lot of time in timeout at school because of it. Never at home with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. Aunt May didn’t think people should punish kids for being squirmy. “There’s no reason to punish someone when they didn’t do anything wrong,” she would say.

He missed May. He missed her a lot. But he was kinda glad he met his parents. He was never one of those adopted kids who was mad that their parents didn’t want them, or who wanted to find them really badly, but it was kinda nice knowing that they do love and want him. It’s nice having parents again, he thinks. He doesn’t completely remember his first set, but having people who care about him is always nice.

———

Peter lay awake for a few hours that night, unable to sleep. He was paralyzed by something indescribable- grief, fear, he wasn’t sure- and staring at the ceiling. He didn’t know how he was feeling. He didn’t know what was going on inside of him. He was hungry, maybe. It was hard to get enough food when your body was all… changed and stuff. 

He crawled on the ceiling into the kitchen to stuff his face with some waffles. Climbing walls was quieter than walking, so that’s what he chose to do.

Oh no. Footsteps. He hopped off the ceiling and stood suspiciously in the middle of the kitchen. Matt walked into the kitchen and promptly turned around. 

(Matt swore he heard something on the ceiling, but maybe he was just more tired than he thought.)

Peter couldn’t tell Matt and Jess about the abilities. He barely knew them, and he knew how some people felt about those with powers.

He ate his waffles in the dark.

Chapter Text

Jessica couldn’t help but hurt a little when she looked at Peter.

There was her child, who she carried for nine months and birthed and should’ve taken care of, and there are so many years now where he’s grown up with someone else because of the actions of an evil fucking rapist. It was so goddamn upsetting to have a son, a little human who she loved with a violent intensity despite having no presence in his life, live two boroughs over and not being able to see him or talk to him.

Not to mention that year where he dropped off the map. She couldn’t help but wonder if IGH got ahold of him in that time.

Maybe in another life, another world, Jessica could’ve been a good mom. Maybe if they never got in that car accident, or she never went to the Walkers, or if she never met Kilgrave, she would be a person who could care for others the way she should. She would never have been a perfect little Stepford wife who made pie every day, but she would’ve been okay. She tried to imagine herself making pancakes, taking back-to-school pictures, and reading to him at night, but it doesn’t feel quite right.

She still hasn’t really forgiven Trish for killing Alisa, but damn, she missed talking to her. Trish would lose her mind if she knew Jessica got her kid back. She would buy him something fancy and insist on meeting him. Trish made things less lonely.

But that’s all the past. All the futures that never happened. She lived in the real world where she had to go to meet some school shrink. What does an elementary school need a counselor for, anyway? They’re not going off to college or smoking in the bathrooms. 

Jessica bought this fancy color printer a while ago, after a big client paid big bucks, that connects and prints from her phone. Real useful for printing up documents and pictures. She scrolled through her camera roll, searching for a photo she took with Peter and Matt at the diner. It was of the three of them, smiling against the backdrop of sticky tables and linoleum tile. Matt wasn’t quite looking in the direction of the camera, but it was close enough. It was… cute, is what Trish might call it, but it was nice. She printed it up and tacked it up on the corkboard, slightly askew and under some of the documents and case-related stuff.

Hours passed and she was sitting in her dark apartment, feeling lonely. Normally, she would resolve this feeling with booze or meaningless sex, but those were not options for her anymore. She needed a new outlet, like fucking… she has no idea, the gym or some shit. Whatever stable people did when they were having feelings. Matt normally punched shit and meditated, like an angry hippie, but he’s still an absolute mess most of the time so she’s not so convinced it works. Maybe she should be nicer to her co-parent or whatever they were now, but Matt knows she actually doesn’t hate him. Deep down, anyway.

So she punched in a name and hit call, hoping that she would feel a little bit better. 

The dial tone trilled, loud and terrible in her ear.

“Jessica?” Matt’s voice fizzled a little as the call picked up. “What’s up? Is there… is something wrong?”

“No, no, I just want to say goodnight to Peter.” He sighed in probable relief on the other end of the line.

“Yeah, of course. One second.” A whoosh as he dropped his phone by his side and walked. “I’m putting him on now.”

“Hey Jess.” Peter’s voice was sleepy and soft. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Peter. I- I love you.” Her voiced cracked on the love, and she stumbled a little, but it felt damn good to say. This little person, who she made, now knew he was loved, and she can’t think of anything better in the world.

———

When she got to Peter’s school, a little late (she actually left on time but got stuck in traffic) Matt was already there, and so was Foggy.

“If you and your sappy boyfriend are both here, who’s watching the kid?” She might’ve asked a little aggressively, but she has a right to be worried. 

“He’s with Karen at the office learning about the finer details of journalism, he’s okay.”

“Hmm.” Karen Page was an interesting woman, to say the least. She kind of reminded Jessica of Trish, what with the blonde hair and questions. She’s an acceptable babysitter, though. 

A black lady with long, tightly curled locs beckoned them into a small office covered in motivational posters. There was a stack of those bumpy plastic chairs that every school seemed to use in one corner, and three metal folding chairs set up across from her desk. The lady stared at Matt a second, and Jessica realized it must be the illiteracy thing.

“Hello, my name is Rachelle Alexandre. I’m a counselor here. You must be Peter’s parents.”

“I’m Matt Murdock, I’m Peter’s father.” He faltered a little on the word father. He’s probably just not used to it.

“I’m Jessica, I birthed him and I’m his mom now, I guess.” Ms. Alexandre smiled a little at that.

“And uh, I’m Franklin Nelson? I’m Matt’s partner.”

Ms. Alexandre stared at Matt for a moment, and then looked at the literacy pamphlets she had on her desk. 

“Um, Mr. Murdock, I believe I misunderstood-”

Matt laughed, reserved and not fully, but laughed nonetheless. “Yeah, I heard about the illiteracy thing. I had a conversation with Peter about the many better ways to explain blindness.”

The lady looked down at her clipboard and crossed something out. 

“So I brought you here today because my understanding is that Peter recently came into your custody after the death of his aunt. I want to go over his school performance, academic needs, and then I’d like to ask you if there’s anything our community can do to support Peter in and out of school.” 

Jess nodded.

“So,” Ms Alexandre started, “Here are some of Peter’s report cards from previous years. He is really a brilliant kid- he was pushed a year ahead because of it, and he does not disappoint.”

“He consistently gets mostly fours, which I assume is equivalent to an A,” Foggy narrated.

“Oh Mr. Murdock, I didn’t realize! I don’t have anything in braille or anything. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s fine. That’s why I have Foggy.”

“Peter’s very intelligent, and in the past he struggled with his peers,” Ms. Alexandre said. “From my understanding, you’ve only had custody of Peter for a week and a half, and I’m sure you’re working on funeral proceedings, so it makes sense if you haven’t had time to review his medical history and files.” Shit. Funeral stuff and medical stuff. Jess completely forgot about both of those things.

“Anyways,” Ms. Alexandre continued, “The school was concerned about some of his behavior, so we had him tested for neurological differences. Peter is autistic.”

“And what does that mean? For Peter.” Matt said this a tad quieter than he probably intended to.

“Well, Peter may be sensitive to strong or unpleasant sensory input- sound, taste, touch, anything like that. He might have difficulties creating and maintaining friendships, understanding social norms and cues, controlling and understanding his own feelings, reacting to change, understanding the emotions of others, and making or maintaining eye contact. He fidgets and performs other actions, particularly physical ones, to self-soothe and self-regulate, something we call stimming. Additionally, Peter tends to have very intense, focused interests.”

Matt’s eyes widen a fraction. “Huh,” he said. 

“Do you have questions, Mr. Murdock?” 

“No, it just… sounds familiar.”

“Peter has a 504 accommodation plan set up, allowing him to leave the classroom if he’s overwhelmed, choose groups for projects, and other things. Finally, I want to ask you if you’ve noticed anything off with Peter. Grief is very difficult for anyone, but especially kids, and Peter has already lost so much. Is there anything our community here can do for him?”

“Peter’s been sad,” Matt started, “And he’s been fairly quiet, but nothing too unusual for grief. Both Jessica and I live in Hell’s kitchen, so if the school could show some leniency with lateness, that would be much appreciated.” Ms. Alexandre raised her eyebrows.

“As much as we would miss Peter here, it might be better to have him transferred to a school to your homes.”

“I was a foster kid, and one of the worst parts was transferring schools. Luckily, I was sent to a group home which allows me to go to one school for all of high school, but the transfers before that were terrible. Besides, your school is better than the ones in the Kitchen.” Matt’s answer seemingly satisfied her. His orphan woes probably tugged on her heartstrings or something. If she has to like Dorothy for anything, it would probably be that she let Jess attend one school for the remainder of high school. And Trish’s existence.

Jessica went home and drank a bunch of coffee (black- it was bitter, like whiskey) and sat in the dark. She did some casework, but she felt like she had something she should do, but she wasn’t sure what. She was angry, maybe, about the life she could’ve- should’ve- had with Peter. The one she should’ve had with her mother. Any of the lives she could’ve had if she hadn’t been absolutely fucked over by God or the universe or whatever. 

So for the second time in a week she made a call.

“…Jessica? Is that you?”

“Hey Trish.”

Pause.

“Oh my God, Jessica, are you okay? We haven’t spoken in months. I’ve been so worried about you.”

“I got my son back.”

“Oh my God, congratulations Jess! What’s his name? What’s he like? When did this happen?” Jessica decided to ignore these questions. 

“…I miss you. I don’t quite forgive you but I want you back in my life. Can you meet me at Alias next Saturday?”

“Of course, I’ll be there at ten.”

Click. Silence. 

Jessica felt hopeful.

Chapter Text

Jessica was feeling relatively good- she wasn’t feeling homicidal, violently angry or terribly empty, which makes it an 8/10 day on the Jessica Jones scale. It was Friday, meaning Peter would come home with her and spend the weekend as per the custody agreement, she was going to see Trish this weekend, and she wrapped up a case she feels okay about. She didn’t have to deal with really bitchy clients or take pictures of people cheating. 

She had been forewarned by Foggy to stock up on Eggo waffles, because apparently that was all the kid ate for breakfast. She wasn’t sure that parents were necessarily supposed to let their kids eat exclusively waffles, but he seemed happy and healthy so she didn’t really care. If Matt the organic health nut allowed it, who was she to intervene? She wasn’t going to be the pinnacle of perfect parenting no matter what she did. She had his room all clean and prepped, with his star-print sheets and his little IKEA bed. He left a pair of socks at her place a week ago, and they were so tiny. She wasn’t very big either, but he was only about four feet tall. She was a respectable five foot four, thank you very much. 

“Hey Vido,” she said when he and Oscar stopped by her office this morning. “My son is coming to stay with me this weekend, and he’s about your age. You could probably hang out with him if you wanted.”

“You have a son?” Vido asked. Oscar looked equally confused. Their short lived relationship wasn’t really long enough to disclose information about her abandoned son.

“Yeah, he- I had to give him up for adoption when he was born, but his adoptive family died. Now he lives with his dad during the week and he’s going to live with me on the weekends.”

“Does he like Captain America too?” 

“Well, he likes science a whole lot. I think he likes Iron Man, though.”

“I guess I get to be Captain America when we play then.”

Vido ran off to do… kid things. Jessica wasn’t sure what he did when he ran around. 

“I didn’t know you have a son,” Oscar said quietly.

“I was made to give him up against my will, and between that and everything else, I started drinking a lot. I’m getting sober now, but I’m not really ready to be a full time parent, so he lives with his dad and his boyfriend during the week.”

“Is the dad an ex-boyfriend?”

“Former one night stand, actually. We met later and became friends through work, actually. He had no idea. He was twenty-one and drunk when we hooked up though, so I don’t blame him for forgetting.”

“Well, feel free to bring him by. I’m sure Vido would love having another kid around.”

Jessica went to the store in preparation for the arrival of her kid. She was going to cook dinner one of the nights. She never really cooked. She ate mostly take out, toast, and cereal. Her mom was an awful cook, but Jessica could make okay pasta. Pasta is easy: you buy noodles and a jar of sauce, boil water, add noodles, add sauce, add some sausage, and boom. A meal. 

Peter had been by last weekend, but she didn’t cook. Jessica hadn’t remembered to buy groceries beforehand and she had to go to the store with Peter. Going to a grocery store with kids is apparently terrible. He kept putting things in the cart and she tried to tell him to put them back in the gentlest way possible. They didn’t need a giant jar of Nutella or Iron Man-branded ice cream no matter how much he asked. 

Jess had to take the subway to Queens to pick him up. With how much commuting back and forth from Manhattan to Queens they were doing, it might make sense for one of them to invest in a car, but Matt can’t drive and neither can Jessica. She thinks Nelson has a license, but whether or not he’s actually driven since getting it is up in the air, so for now they will be taking the subway. 

Peter was surprisingly quite fond of the subway. Matt hated it- it was too loud and smelly, he said- but Peter seemed to enjoy the cacophony. He leant in next to Jessica to tell her about what everyone was doing.

“That lady over there is sick, but it’s not new. She probably has pneumonia, but I don’t think it’s the first time. She should probably go to a specialist.” Damn. Jessica was impressed with his investigational skills.

“How do you know?” she whispered back.

“When she breathes, it sounds all crackly, but she doesn’t seem startled even though it’s pretty bad. She decided she was well enough to take the train even though she’s sick, so she might be used to it.”

“Huh. Gross. Maybe don’t touch anything. I can’t have you being a pneumonia patient zero around here.”

“I don’t really get sick. Except for when I have allergies.” Shit. She really should be reading his medical histories because she had no idea he had allergies. What was he allergic to? How bad? Christ, what if she had something in her apartment he was allergic to?

“What are you allergic to?”

“Peppermint, vinegar, and a lot of pesticides. Peppermint and vinegar make me throw up and pesticides cause anaphylaxis,” he recited. Huh. Maybe she would need to stick by Murdock’s organic food rules. At least it’s not peanuts. If she couldn’t order Thai she would be out of ideas for several dinners. 

When they got to her apartment/office, they both awkwardly sat in silence for a few minutes.

“So,” she started, “There’s a kid about your age who lives downstairs. He’s really nice. He wants to play with you. Would you wanna do that?”

Peter hesitated, scrunching his eyebrows together as he thought.

“Okay,” he eventually said. Cool. She could do some work and he would be occupied and entertained. She texted Oscar to bring Vido up.

“Hey, are you Peter? Your mom is super cool,” Vido said. Peter nodded and the two went off to do… kid things, she supposed. Play Avengers? She didn’t really like the Avengers all that much, but they were kids. They were probably infatuated with the idea of heroes and they had no idea about the destruction and regulation of enhanced people. 

Trish came over on Sunday morning with coffees and pumpkin bread from some trendy little café. She knocked on the door, and for a moment, the two women stared at each other.

“Hi Jessica,” Trish said, teary eyed.

“Hi.”

Trish was absolutely thrilled to meet Peter. She had been there when Jess was pregnant (or at least until Kilgrave showed up) and was so excited to be an aunt.

 Peter was on the couch reading a library book about Marie Curie or something. Apparently, Matt and Foggy took him to the library on Wednesday. Where they found the time, Jessica had no idea, but Peter seemed really happy. He brought like, four books to her apartment on Friday.

“Is that him?” Trish whispered, nodding to Peter.

“Yeah. His name is Peter, by the way.”

Trish set her stuff down on the counter and waved awkwardly at Peter.

“Hi Peter. I’m your mom’s sister.” Peter continued to look down at his book.

“I didn’t know Jess had a sister.”

“Well, we weren’t- we weren’t talking for a while. But she does.” 

“Oh. Cool. Do you like space?”

And suddenly Peter was talking her ear off. Space is so cool, like in Star Wars, and his favorite star wars character is Princess Leia, didn’t you know? He was very pleased with the pumpkin bread Trish brought him. 

He happily ate it on the couch while she and Trish talked in the kitchen.

“So, he lives with his father during the week? Meaning you found the father? I thought he was a hookup” Trish whispered.

“Yeah. The father is that blind lawyer? I think you met him once during the whole ninja thing.”

“You fucked a lawyer?!? ”

“Actually, I, uh, fucked an English major.”

Trish laughed, a loud and clear sound. Jessica missed that.

“Oh my God, that’s so much worse.” You don’t have to tell her. Jessica knows. 

“He’s a good guy. He also lives in the Kitchen, so it’s not difficult to share custody. He and his boyfriend are disgustingly sappy.”

“Oh my God, Jess, what happened to your life? Next thing I know, you might be happy .”

They all watched Star Wars: A New Hope for the rest of the afternoon. Jessica has her sister and her son back. Life was good.

——

“Vido told me on Friday that you have superpowers,” Peter said that night over Thai food. “Is that true?” His eyes were wide, his face bright and open. He was so eager, so entranced by superhuman abilities. Most people were, especially children, and so few of them understood the realities of being a mutate- regulation, tracking, being treated like a freak, and an overwhelming sense of responsibility. Jessica didn’t blame Peter- he was only eight. But she wanted to tell him to look a little deeper.

“Yeah.” His face lit up.

“Cool. Me too,” he said. Jessica knew, of course, that kids have fantasies. She wondered if this was some sort of make-believe game.

“Uh-huh.”

“Yeah! Wanna see?”

“Sure,” she said, smiling lightly. She misses her childhood innocence.

Peter set his fork down and walked over to the corner of the room. From there he crawled up the wall and onto the ceiling. What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” Shit. Should she be swearing in front of her kid? Eh, her mom did it, it’s probably fine. But what the shit. Why is he on the ceiling? How is he on the ceiling?

How does Peter have powers?

She needs to talk to Matt and Foggy.

Chapter Text

Foggy was sitting on the couch with his headphones on, watching Sweeney Todd on his laptop, while Matt was in the bedroom meditating when he heard Matt’s phone ring. It blared Jessica’s name over and over again.

“Hello?” He said, picking up the phone. “What’s up, Jessica?”

“Do you guys have court tomorrow?” She asked. He replied with a negative. “Then I need you to clear your schedule for the morning and tell Peter’s school he’s sick tomorrow. We need to have a meeting.”

And on that ominous note, Jessica hung up on him.

Matt hurried into the room, a little panicked. 

“Jessica called-”

“I heard,” Matt interrupted. Of course. Superpowers. “What if something terrible happened?” Foggy was concerned about that himself, but if he knew anything about Matt, the man was thinking of fifteen awful possibilities and was on the verge of drowning in despair. Matt should really go to therapy, honestly. Half of his behavior could probably be classified as an unhealthy coping mechanism. 

“I’m sure if it was something imminent and awful, she would’ve said,” Foggy said, himself unsure. You never really know with Jessica. Like Matt, her idea of what is normal and okay is warped.

Matt couldn’t sleep that night, Foggy knew. He felt him tossing and turning next to him. Matt normally left some distance between him and others, but when he was stressed, he stuck to Foggy like an adorable little blind leech.

Foggy had a difficult time getting to sleep too. He already loves Peter- the kid is a lot of work, as any child is (he leaves the box of waffles in the freezer when he finishes them) but he was sweet, super intelligent, and adorably similar to Matt. They had a lot of the same little habits (stims?) and they would probably have the same eyes as Matt if Matt didn’t have any scarring. His mom has already called twice telling him to bring the kid by to meet the Nelson clan. Foggy politely declined the offer on Peter’s behalf, knowing he would probably explode if he met any new people any time soon. The thought that he might be in some kind of danger was heartbreaking.

Foggy, having awoken before Matt, went to this little organic market Matt liked to pick up some oranges. Matt loves oranges to an almost-absurd degree. He would keep the peels in little jars so he could smell them. Foggy figured it was probably a sensory thing- many of Matt’s weird habits were, like licking sticks of cinnamon- and indulged the habit. It was certainly preferable to when he would get so overwhelmed he would barely eat for weeks at a time. 

When he arrived home with the oranges, Matt was already out of bed and sitting at the kitchen counter, visibly distressed. 

Jessica came around at eight, walking in without knocking and with Peter trailing behind her. Matt perked up and moved to the kitchen table. He hadn’t bothered to put his glasses on this morning; his bare face was a rare sight when others were around. He thinks someone must’ve said something to him when he was a kid to make him so self-conscious about it.

“So,” Foggy said, ending the silence, “What’s all this about?”

“Peter, show the thing,” Jessica commanded.

Peter then shucked his shoes off and… the fuck? He crawled onto the ceiling. 

“What the hell?” Matt and Foggy said. Jinx.

“Was he… on the ceiling? Or is my hearing off?”

“I was on the ceiling!” Peter chirped.

“So, the kid has powers,” he mentioned.

“Yup,” Peter replied earnestly.

Great. Just what Foggy’s life needs- more super people.

“So… what exactly are your powers?” Matt inquired.

“Well, I’m not sure about all of them. I can stick to things with my hands and feet, and I can hear and smell and taste really good. All the five senses. And… I’m really strong, and fast, and I heal fast. Oh, and I know when bad stuff’s gonna happen. It’s all… sharp and tingly.”

“Huh.”

Wait. How did Peter get powers? Did the unholy union of Matt and Jessica create a mutant baby? Who does he know who would have any idea? It’s not like they have superpower doctors outside of the Avengers, and he knew Matt would freak out if the Avengers got involved for anything less than a life-or-death scenario. Matt wasn’t registered, and he sure as hell wasn’t planning on it.

“Is there something wrong?” Peter whispered in a small voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would upset you since Jess has powers too.” Oh no, kid-

“We’re not upset, Peter. I have… powers too.” 

Peter perked up. “You do?”

“Yes. I was blinded in an accident as a child and the accident enhanced my other senses. It helps me navigate. I can use echolocation, like a bat. Do you know what that is?” Peter nodded.

“Could you recognize that?”

“Yes.”

“Cool. Why do you use a cane and stuff then?”

Matt paused and sighed a little. “Well, as I’m sure you know, it’s very overwhelming, having enhanced senses. It takes a lot of focus and effort to navigate like that all the time, and if I did, I wouldn't have the energy to do anything else. Big crowds and stuff also make it really difficult, and there are a lot of those in this city, so some assistive technologies like canes are more practical than trying to use echolocation all the time.” They had conversations in the past about how Matt was tired of people thinking his abilities negate his disability. Foggy was ashamed of how he reacted when he found out, now that he’s looking back on it. Yeah, Matt lied. That was a dick move. But Foggy’s accusations of Matt faking being blind were also very dickish. And ableist. 

“Okay,” Peter said. Kids really were more understanding than adults about most things. 

Foggy called Karen to take Peter to the park so he, Matt, and Jessica could have an “adult conversation.” There was an oppressive silence in the room as Matt listened to Peter leave. No one else would have noticed it, but Matt's shoulders were shaking almost imperceptibly. Foggy saw it because all of Matt’s emotional responses were almost imperceptible until the floodgates broke.

“Matt,” he whispered, “What are you thinking?”

“I’m scared .” A gasp of air. “It’s very difficult being different, being a mutate, a person with abilities, whatever you want to call it. It's so difficult right now. So dangerous. Our society sees us as living weapons. There are all these regulations and documents stripping you of your humanity. Laws reserving the right to lock you in a cage indefinitely without trial if you don’t cooperate. And it was one thing when I had to worry about that happening to me and to my friends, but now it’s my son . His life hangs in the balance, lies in the hands of lawmakers motivated by ignorance and money. It’s terrifying .”

Foggy wrapped his body as tightly around Matt as he possibly could, so close that he could almost feel their hearts beating against each other.

“It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay Matt, I promise. I promise.” Jess sat across the room with misty eyes. 

“What are we gonna do? Are we going to try to figure out if it’s genetic? Who would we even ask?”

“Well,” Foggy tried, “We could try to ask Claire.”

“No. Claire is a good person to go to with injuries and stuff, because she’s a nurse practitioner, but she doesn’t have the resources or the experience to run advanced tests to find out what he needs,” Matt said. 

Foggy prepared himself to say something he knew would make both of them very angry, but he couldn’t just completely overlook it.

“What about the Avengers?”

“ HELL no,” Jess exclaimed at the same time that Matt said “Absolutely not.”

“No. The Avengers are the ones who caused all the Accords stuff. Besides, I’m not trusting Tony Stark with this. The man is a war profiteer who left that out of a sense of moral duty just to build a private army. He leaves terrible destruction in his wake. Remember after the aliens in 2012, when the Kitchen was thrown into chaos and crime went way up? He didn’t care. He turned his back on the city. He’s callous and shows wanton disregard for the consequences of his actions. And yeah, I like some of the others as people, but they’re complicit in his behavior. I am not trusting the life of our son with an egomaniacal super-billionaire.”

“And you know they will insist on registering him,” Jessica added. “I still get calls from the registry twice a week to “check in.” They were going to chip me like a dog if I didn’t negotiate an agreement where I have to be some kind of reserve soldier for the Avengers. And to government tracking of all my devices, and security cameras in some areas of my office, and to those constant check-ins. It’s inhumane.”

“Okay, bad idea, got it. What other ideas are there?”

“Claire it is then.”

The walk to Claire’s apartment was sullen. Jessica held Peter’s hand the whole way there, and everyone could tell he was getting antsy. 

Claire opened the door to the four of them, looking a little exhausted already. 

“What’s-” and that was when she noticed Peter. 

“Hello there,” she said gently, “What’s your name, friend?” Peter just leaned into Jessica’s side and hid half his face behind her leg.

“This is Peter,” he introduced.

They explained the whole thing to Claire- how Matt has a kid, actually, and how he has powers. She rubbed her temples and looked disappointed but not surprised.

“Only you, Matt Murdock. And Jessica, I suppose.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll see if I can run a discreet CBC and BMP. File it under Johnny Doe or something. That might provide some information about how his mutation works.”

They all got boba on the way home.

___

Over in Midtown, Tony was bored. The Avengers (who still had a slight division between them, despite the accords stuff being a few years past) hadn’t had any missions for about a month. Stark Industries hadn’t released anything cool lately either. He was thinking about making prosthetics, like the one Barnes has, but Pepper said it wouldn’t really be worth it since they would be too expensive for anyone to buy. 

Thankfully, Fury called an Assemble, meaning they would have an assignment. The bad news was that he would have to attend a meeting.

Once he had arrived to the conference room, Tony looked around at his fellow Avengers.

“So,” he started, “Fury. What’s this about?”

“I’ve received new information. There is an individual in our database with reportedly high capabilities. The interesting thing here is that at least one of the individual’s parents is mutated. I want you to track the individual, locate him, get him to register, and ask that he consider joining the Avengers Initiative in the future.”

“Why can’t they join the team now?” Steve asked.

“I think you’ll find that there are some… factors preventing this. This individual has been in the database for some time, but opportunities to access him have recently opened up.”

Fury handed each of them a glossy dossier with the old SHIELD logo stamped onto it.

Peter Benjamin Parker

DOB: 8/10/2012

DATE OF POWER ORIGIN: unknown 

RELATIVES: Jessica Campbell Jones, Matthew Michael Murdock, Mary Elizabeth Parker (adoptive) (deceased), Richard Jonathan Parker (adoptive) (deceased), Benjamin Franklin Parker (adoptive) (deceased), May Reilly Parker (adoptive) (deceased)

THREAT LEVEL- HIGH

HISTORY:

Subject born to Jessica Jones (see file) on 10 Aug 2012 in Metro-General Hospital in Manhattan, NY. Also son of Matthew Murdock (see file). Subject subsequently given up for adoption (potentially by force) and adopted by SHIELD agents Mary and Richard Parker. No reported unusual development for first 3 years of life. Agents Mary and Richard Parker died in aviation accident 30 Sep 2015 (suspected HYDRA assassination) and Subject was missing for 18 months. Suspected power origin from [REDACTED] . Subject found in Regina, Saskatchewan, CA, brought to NY by Wade Wilson (see file). Surveillance after this event showed evidence of superhuman ability. Agents assigned to monitor with low levels of success. Subject detected their presence from more than 500 ft away. Subject sent to live with adoptive aunt and uncle, May and Benjamin Parker. Benjamin Parker died in armed theft 05 Nov 2018. May Parker died from stroke related to Stage IV Neuroendocrine Pancreatic Cancer 26 Apr 2020. Subject now in guardianship of biological parents.

ABILITIES: enhanced senses of smell, taste, hearing (potentially touch and sight), enhanced strength for size and musculature, enhanced reflex, enhanced abilities to heal, enhanced speed, enhanced durability, electrostatic manipulation of limbs, precognitive sense

POWER SUMMARY:

Intelligence: 4/5

Strength: 4/5

Speed: 3/5

Durability: 3/5

Healing: 4/5

Sensory Perception: 4/5

Fighting Ability: Unknown

POWER LEVEL: 8/10

What. The fuck. 

First of all, this was a child. Second of all, this child has a higher power level than Tony. He was kind of jealous. 

Steve looked very displeased. So did Natasha.

“Can we see the parents’ files?” Sam asked.

Matthew Michael Murdock

DOB: 10/21/1990

DATE OF POWER ORIGIN: 6/10/2000 (possible)

RELATIVES: Jonathan Murdock (deceased), Margaret Grace Murdock, Peter Parker

THREAT LEVEL: HIGH

HISTORY:

Subject born at home in Hell’s Kitchen, NY on 16 Oct 1990 to Jonathan Murdock (boxer) and Margaret Murdock (nun). Mother experienced severe Postpartum Depression. Locals report that she may have attempted to drown her infant son. She abandoned her son and husband and became a nun at Clinton Church in Hell’s Kitchen, NY. Subject involved in accident with chemicals originating from Rand Oil & Chemicals that blinded (and possibly mutated) him. Father died 02 Jul 2001 as result of murder (shot to the head). Subject then raised in St. Agnes Orphanage for majority of remaining childhood (some intermittent foster homes). Subject experienced struggle with mental health, twice held on suicide watch during his time as a ward of the state. Subject attended Columbia University for undergraduate and law school. After law degree and legal internship, Subject opened small practice, Nelson and Murdock. Shortly before the formation of the practice, Daredevil became active. Subject suspected to be Daredevil. After their defense of Francis Castle (see file), Nelson and Murdock was dissolved. Subject reported as missing person after collapse of Midland Circle in Midtown, but reappeared with the reappearance of Daredevil. Nelson, Murdock, & Page was formed shortly after. Subject now has custody of son, Peter Parker (see file). Fighting style as Daredevil suggests extensive training similar to that of Stick (see file), a member of the cult organization The Chaste (see file) and noted for brutal training of child soldiers. This suggests that Subject was one of his child soldiers. Despite not having enhanced durability or healing, Subject is incredibly resilient and will fight until collapse. Forced registration not recommended. 

ABILITIES: enhanced senses of touch, taste, smell, hearing, balance, spatial awareness, potential additional sense, extremely proficient fighting

POWER SUMMARY:

Intelligence: 3/5

Strength: 3/5

Speed: 2/5

Durability: 2/5

Healing: 1/5

Sensory Perception: 5/5

Fighting Ability: 5/5

POWER LEVEL: 7/10

Jessica Campbell Jones

DOB: 1/05/1989

DATE OF POWER ORIGIN: 5/19/2004

RELATIVES: Alisa Campbell Jones (deceased), Brian Michael Jones (deceased), Phillip Brian Jones (deceased), Dorothy Arlene Walker (adopted), Patricia Marie Walker (adopted), Peter Benjamin Parker

THREAT LEVEL: HIGH

HISTORY:

Born at St. Mary’s Medical Center in New Jersey to Alisa Campbell Jones (professor at Caldwell University) (see file) and Brian Michael Jones (mechanic). Subject lived normal life in Caldwell, NJ until Date of Power Origin, where her brother and father died on impact. Her mother was reported dead, but actually survived in the custody of human experimentation agency IGH. Subject potentially gained own powers through IGH. Subject adopted by family of child star Patricia Walker. Subject attended community college for 14 mos. until she dropped out. Subject engaged in some mild heroism until late 2012, where she came in contact with person known as Zebediah Kilgrave/Kevin Thompson (see file). Kilgrave, using abilities of mind manipulation and force, likely forced Subject to give up her son, Peter Parker (see file). Subject spent approx. 18 mos. with Kilgrave, during which she reports she was repeatedly raped and forced to kill Reva Connors. Subject attained PI license and opened Alias Investigations in Hell’s Kitchen, NY. Subject took the Hope Schlottman case, another person who reported being controlled by Kilgrave. Subject snapped the neck of Kilgrave and was found not guilty of murder on grounds of self defense. Subject involved in the Midland Circle incident and has ties to Luke Cage (see file) and Daniel Rand (see file). Subject also found mother, another enhanced person who committed several murders, and reportedly killed her, also in self defense. Subject struggles with PTSD and alcoholism. Subject registered but allowed moderate freedom under stipulation that she comply with government regulations and serve under the government if needed. 

ABILITIES: Enhanced strength for size/musculature, enhanced healing, enhanced durability, enhanced jumping ability 

POWER SUMMARY:

Intelligence: 2.5/5

Strength: 4/5

Speed: 3/5

Durability: 4/5

Healing: 3/5

Sensory Perception: 2/5

Fighting Skill: 3/5

POWER LEVEL: 7/10

Tony felt conflicted about what Fury wanted him to do here. On one hand, this was a kid they were talking about. On the other hand, his parents were clearly unstable. His own parents found themselves preoccupied with work and had baggage, and, well, look at him. Tony wants to protect this kid, and taking him away from his parents seems like it may be the way to do so. 

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Natasha spoke up.

“Fury, I think you generally have good judgment. I trust you. But I can’t do this. This… to take this kid away, ask him to dedicate himself to being a future soldier, it’s wrong. I won’t do it. I’ve- I have to go.”

Natasha leapt out of her spinning office chair and walked out the door of the conference room. 

“I have to agree with Nat,” Steve said. 

“I don’t know, guys. Yeah, he’s just a kid, but his parents can’t take care of him. They’re clearly troubled people.”

“Struggling doesn’t make you a bad parent,” Steve snaps.

“Maybe not, but being an alcoholic does,” Tony responded.

Steve grimaced. Tony won this one. 

Tony decided that he was going to track down Jones and talk to her before he did anything.

—

Jessica Jones had an office in a Hell’s Kitchen apartment building with peeling paint and scuffed entrances. Tony was starting to trust her less and less. Before he walked up the stairs to a door that had “Alias Investigations” in gold lettering on the front, he switched out his iconic square glasses for a pair of simple aviators. He figured he wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible. 

He rapped on the door three times before a skinny dark-haired woman with dark circles under her eyes opened it.

“It’s not enough for the government’s henchman to be monitoring me, they need you to swing by too now?” She said, exasperated. Clearly, the inconspicuous aviators weren’t working.

“It’s not about that, Ms. Jones.” He waltzed into her office- it was in surprisingly decent condition, if a little cliché for a PI office.

“Sure, come on in,” Jones mumbled. “What are you here about then?”

“I want to talk to you about Peter.” Jones’s expression immediately darkened. She squeezed the side of her desk so tightly that it splintered. 

“I don’t know what you know about my son, but I want you to leave. Now.”

“SHIELD has noticed that he has abilities. We’re just here to investigate. Potentially register and train him,” he said, ignoring the woman’s rage.

“You’re not taking Peter. You’re not going near him. If you do anything to him ever, I will rip your fingers off of your hands. I assume you have a file about me too, so you know I can. He’s not being registered. I’m not letting you train him. Leave. Now.”

Jones pushed him out of her apartment with what was probably the lowest level of strength possible for her. Well. He needs a new plan now.

“JJ was hysterical. Need plan B,” he messaged Fury.

This was going to be a very long mission.

Chapter Text

Jessica told Matt what happened with Tony Stark and he had never been so terrified in his life. The next morning, after Peter had been taken to school and the office has been opened, he and Foggy sat at the plastic folding table and drank their coffee together.

“I get it now,” Foggy whispered.

“What?”

“Why you lied. I was upset for a long time, but I think I really get it now. You’re not really thought of as human, not protected by the government. Our son is being chased by one of the most powerful men on the planet because he’s like you. I understand why you couldn’t tell me, even if it still hurts.”

“I’m sorry I lied to you. I think part of me was scared, but part of me thought I needed to be alone in that way. That I deserved it. I almost told you a million times, but what always stopped me was the idea that I needed to have some way in which I was nothing but alone.”

“You don’t need to be alone anymore, Matt. I love you. And sometimes love is about making sure that the other person has what they need.”

“I love you too.” Matt pauses. “You wanna know something bad?”

“Hm?”

“There’s something fiery within me, a rage, that wants to beat the shit out of Tony Stark, and the only reason I’m not gonna do that is because he would sue me and we would never financially recover from it.”

“Me too, buddy.” Matt felt his eyes widen. To hear statements of violent intent from Foggy was like the US government acknowledging its atrocities; it didn’t happen often and when it did it was surprising. “He threatened Jess, our kid. I hate that. I hate the fact that he will probably get away with it. I hate this situation. God, it’s been what- a couple months with Peter and we’re already facing superhero bullshit, and it’s not even the fault of you or Jess. It’s just the goddamn universe. I think superheroes are cursed. Your lives all suck.”

“My life doesn’t suck!”

“It kinda does, buddy.”

“No, it doesn’t. It’s been rough, sure, but I’ve made something of it, and I'm proud of that. I have you, and Jess, and Peter, and Karen, and everything else. We have a life together. We have a family that we built together.” Matt wants to tell baby Matt that it will be okay. It’ll just be a while.

Also to not get too attached to Stick.

Actually, there are a lot of things baby Matt should know. It would save him a lot of pain.

They had a lot of work that day because of the backlog that came with the day they took off a couple weeks ago. They had a meeting with Ms. Petersen about what she can do to deal with the assault claims made against her by a man she pepper sprayed, they had paperwork to file with the DA’s office, and they had case research that needed to be done a while ago if Matt’s being honest. 

Thanks to something called “if it has enough caffeine, the taste can be forgiven,” AKA Redbull Coffee, Matt finished that case research. Mr. Flores will be very well represented in a court of law that no one will dare mess with him in the indefinite future.

Foggy stood up in his office and knocked on Matt’s door. Matt scrambled to try to his the Redbull cans, but alas, he was not fast enough.

“Redbull Coffee? Really Matt? I thought you stopped Daredeviling so you wouldn’t die prematurely.” Matt hissed at him. “That doesn't work on me anymore, bitch.”

They picked up Peter from the after-school program that day, a time during which he was quiet and fidgety. They got his blood drawn by Claire a week ago and that wasn’t a pleasant experience for anyone involved. 

“Today, in class, we learned that New York was owned by the Dutch but they sold it to England and changed the name. The Dutch live in the Netherlands, which doesn’t sound right, but it is. It’s in Europe. There are lots of flowers there.”

“That’s cool, Peter!” Foggy said eagerly. Foggy, based on what Matt already knew about him and what his heart was telling him, was not actually that interested, but he pretended for Peter. Foggy’s so good at the parent thing. He was practically made for it. Matt feels like he’s failing half the time.

Peter sat on Matt’s lap to show him a book he couldn’t see and explain what was happening on the pages. It had diagrams of some kind. Apparently, the diagrams were of ionic bonds in DNA, which was something Peter found very interesting. It wasn’t exactly Matt’s field, but he was intrigued by the way his son explained it nonetheless. 

Late that night, long after Pete had been out to bed, Matt was lying awake, listening to the city.

“Tony Stark has been asking around,” he heard someone say in the distance (a man, smoker, probably mid-50s). “I think it’s about that Jones lady. I told him to talk to Oscar. He dated her for a second or something. Chick lives next to me and I always heard them gettin’ busy.”

“You would think he’d be smarter than to park his Lambo right outside. Does it look like anyone here owns a Lambo? Makes me wanna smash a window just to show ‘im.”

“Foggy,” Matt whispered, shaking the other man awake. “Foggy.”

“Hnngh?”

“Stark is prowling around by Jessica’s. I’m going out.”

“Wha- no! You stopped for a reason.”

“Well, now I have a reason to go out. I’ll be in and out, I won’t get hurt.”

“I can’t stop you, can I?”

And Matt opened his trunk and pried out the false bottom, digging out the kevlar suit. The Devil swallowed him whole again, a feeling that was comforting in its familiarity. 

He leapt off his roof into another one nearby. 

“Hey, look, it’s Daredevil!” he heard someone down below yell. Suddenly, the sound of about ten heads swiveling towards him.

“He hasn’t been seen for a while,” a woman says. “My son said people was thinkin’ he died or somethin’.”

“Well, I’m glad he didn’t. I’m pretty sure he saved my Brett at some point,” Bess Mahoney responds.

He continues on towards Jessica’s end of town, barreling across rooftops with little regard for whatever else is happening around him. This is about as singular-minded as Matt Murdock can possibly be. When he gets to the sidewalk right outside Jessica’s building, he finds a car that smells like very expensive cologne and motor oil, so he sits on the hood and waits for his prey to fall into the trap. Sure enough, after accosting some of Jess’s neighbors, the smell of that same expensive cologne and motor oil draws closer and closer.

“Stark,” he barks. “Leave the people of Hell’s Kitchen alone.”

Tony Stark guffaws, the air shifting around him. He assumes the man is making some sort of face. 

“You’re here about your kid, aren’t you.” The audacity- Matt grabs him by the collar of his dress shirt and pulls him into an alley.

“Don’t talk about him. Definitely not out here. Are you trying to get him killed?” 

Stark brushes himself off, disgruntled. “Don’t manhandle me,” the man grit out. “The Avengers can’t be the only ones who know about the kid anyways. The bad guys are going to find him one way or the other.” Then, as if coming from inside him, Matt heard a low grinding and swishing, and the man before him sounded and smelled metallic.

So this was the famed Iron Man suit.

The sound of the repulsors in the bottom of the suit was nearly deafening. Before he could try to fix any of his problems, Tony Stark flew away into the night. 

Matt figured he should stop that nearby mugging for good measure.

The next morning, it was as if nothing had happened. If Peter’s senses were anything like Matt’s, he certainly knew something happened, but if he did he didn’t mention it.

The Avengers were not going to leave Peter alone. Neither were these mysterious others Stark alluded to during their meeting.

Peters young. He’s powerful and intelligent, sure, but he has no training and his logic and reasoning skills are simply not on par with those of an adult.

He needs to be protected.

Defended.

Matt knew just who to call.

Or text, rather. Danny was averse to picking up the phone, and texting, though a nightmare for Matt, was a more efficient means of communication with multiple people. Danny had set up a group chat that he was essentially the sole user of, with the exception of the few times Luke would reply with a thumbs up to placate him.

“Hello guys comma,” Matt orated to his phone, “Meet me at that restaurant Danny bought at five pm on Friday period.”

Shit. He probably had to tell Foggy about the conversation he had with Stark now. As much as he wanted to avoid it, he needed to be an adult.

For Peter.

“Fog?”

“What’s up, hon?”

“I… had an encounter with Stark last night. About Peter. Apparently they know I’m Daredevil and they have a file on everyone. And he thinks that other people may have similar information.”

“Holy shit, Matt.” Foggy puts his hands on his forehead. “God. Why does this… why does this always happen?”

“I’ve called everyone from Midland Circle together. I think we can protect him. Maybe I’ll just need to work together with everyone else.”

“Can I hug you?” Foggy asked. Matt nods.

Foggy gives the best hugs. Before Foggy, the last hug he’d had had been before his father died. When Foggy hugs you, you felt all his love, every sentiment. It was strong and warm, and he always smelled of citrus shampoo.

Matt loves citrus. He knows Foggy knows this, because Foggy always brought him fresh oranges from the Saturday-morning farmers market. 

God, he loves this man. He loves how good he is with Peter, and how understanding he is, and his hugs and kisses and intelligence and citrus shampoo.

He would scream it from the rooftops, but the only time he’s on rooftops is as Daredevil, and that would only make Foggy a target.

He’s enough of a target as it is.

“You’re coming too.”

“To the secret superhero squad meeting?”

“You’re as involved in everything as anyone else.”

“Do you think if I ask, Danny Rand will buy me a new computer?”

“Don’t you dare, because he absolutely would. He’s the kind of rich person who doesn’t know what to do with his money.”

“Wasn’t the guy like, a monk for ten years?” 

“Something like that.”

Chapter Text

Danny was the first one to show up. Matt thinks that he might just be excited to be included in something.

“What’s up? Is there another cult?”

“Wha- no. No more cults. Not now, anyway.”

“Oh.” Danny sounded weirdly disappointed.

“Maybe there will be cults involved eventually?”

Foggy leant in and whispered “What the fuck,” in Matt’s ear. Matt shrugged. He didn’t understand Danny any more than anyone else did.

The others slowly filtered in. Claire was first, then Luke. When Luke arrived, Peter turned in his direction and dropped his fork in the ground, which made an echoing clatter. Jessica, Matt knew, would probably be at least fifteen minutes late. There was a surprising lack of tension between Claire and Luke these days, considering the fact that they were broken up. Luke was just one of those guys that gets along with most everyone, it seemed. 

Karen came shortly after Luke holding a jumbo bag of gummy worms. She began a one-woman  crusade to become Peter’s favorite last week, and gummy worms turned out to be a very effective means to her ends. Unfortunately, this meant the presence of gummy worms in Matt’s apartment, something he very much disliked. They smelled like chemicals and burnt sugar. There was also the matter of Peter eating a giant bag of gummy worms every day, which can’t possibly be healthy. Peter padded over to Karen like a dog and took what sounded like a fistful of gummy worms.

Jess took it upon herself to be fashionably late. Matt could hear her when she was a few blocks away, and from the way Peter shifted, so could he.

Jessica burst through the door and plopped down into a chair, drinking a very large, strong cup of coffee. 

“So… not that I’m not thrilled that the gang's back together, what’s up? I have info on this cult-” Danny said.

“I’m more confused about the child,” Luke cut in.

“Defenders, meet the incidental spawn of Matt and Jessica. Peter, meet the Defenders.” Foggy gestured between the two.

“Uhh,” Danny began, “Do your guys’ superpowers include super baby development? Because that kid’s huge for being like, three years old.”

“I’m not three. I’m eight.”

“Oh, that makes more sense.”

“Not really,” Luke added. “You guys already knew each other? Before everything, that is?”

“Not exactly,” Matt replied. “We met once in college while, uh, in a forgetful state of mind, and then Peter happened.”

“I lived with my parents, and then they died.” Peter said. “Then I lived with my aunt and uncle, but they died. And then, a social worker tells me my birth parents want me, so now I live with Matt and Foggy and Jess.” Peter grabbed another handful of gummy worms.

“Karen, stop buying him gummy worms,” Jessica commanded. 

“But I like them!”

“You can’t eat gummy worms all the time, bud.”

Peter sighed, a deep, long exhale, so as to thoroughly display his annoyance.

Everyone else in the room was very silent, clearly uncomfortable with the frankness of which Peter discussed some of the more unfortunate aspects of his life so far. Matt had no idea why- all of their lives were fucked, so why should they be surprised that this child’s was as well?

Peter’s heart sped up, and so Matt moved over in the booth so Peter would be able to scoot in. He did so gladly. 

“We’ve become privy to some information regarding Peter and his past,” Matt began.

“Are you sure Peter should be, like, present for this?” Foggy whispered.

“It concerns him, Foggy. He deserves to know.”

“The Avengers have some sort of file on Peter, and they’re trying to collect him for some reason or another. Stark was stalking me as the Devil, and he implied that there are others out there with information about Peter who may become a threat. People looking for him.”

“Okay, I get he’s yours and Jessica’s kid and all, but why do they care about Peter?” Luke asked.

“Oh.” Matt forgot to mention. “Uhh, Peter, do the thing.”

Peter slid out of the booth and climbed up the wall and onto the ceiling.

“Sweet Christmas.”

“Because of that.”

Peter hopped down from his spot on the ceiling.

“Ow!” He yelped.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Foggy’s heart was racing.

“I hurt my knee.”

Claire shuffled across the room to take a look at it and put a bandaid on, but as soon she got there, she inhaled in a way that indicated confusion.

“What is it?” 

“The cut is almost gone- the skin started knitting itself together almost as soon as he got it. It was pretty shallow, but that it’s already gone- it’s incredible.”

“Well, we need to see this file the Avengers have,” Karen announced.

“How do you plan on getting that?” Jessica asked. “Last I checked, you weren’t a hacker.”

“I know a guy,” Karen said in a mischievous voice.

Fuck. When Karen “knows a guy,” that guy normally is connected to Frank Castle. Hell, he normally is Frank Castle. Matt’s pretty sure that Frank Castle isn’t a hacker, so he might be able to avoid the man himself, but if he does encounter Frank head on, there isn’t much can do to keep himself from going apeshit. It’s practically instinctive.

“I’ll see if I can get any ears out in the street in Harlem,” Luke said.

“I’ll talk to my business connections. I can call Stark up,” Danny added.

“That’s probably a bad idea dude,” Jessica snipped. “But, if you could listen in on what’s happening over there, that might be helpful.”

Jessica grabbed a handful of gummy worms. At this rate, they were never going to able to get Peter to listen.

“Can I come over some time to monitor Peter? From what I can tell, his healing abilities are astonishing, and that may have other implications, health wise.”

“Of course Claire.”

The night continued mostly civilly, if not pleasantly. Peter managed to get Danny to promise him an IPad, and as much as Matt wanted to disapprove, Danny seemed thrilled by the prospect of being liked by a child and he had more than enough money anyways. Luke and Jessica were being weird, but they were always weird with each other. Claire was intrigued by Peter’s healing. Claire had confided in him at one point that she wants to open a clinic for enhanced people. She could, legally, considering she has a nurse practitioner’s license, but she doesn’t have the money. Matt and Foggy just held hands under the table. All things considered, this was a good night. Matt has a family now, and he can’t help but revel in it.

Chapter Text

Peter woke up at four in the morning again. He keeps dreaming of May, of the light in her eyes fading, of her skin going cold, of all of it. In some of his dreams, she crumbles to ash right in front of him in her hospital bed, her sickly pallor fading gray as she dissolves. Half the time, he awakes sobbing or screaming, and someone has to shake him and tell him it’s not real. 

Matt always seems to know, and he always brings a glass of warm water with him when he goes to calm Peter. He said that’s what his father did for him when he woke up in the night, and that that’s what he wishes someone would’ve done for him after his father died. Apparently, Peter’s grandfather died when Matt was about the same age as he is now. That’s something Peter could understand. 

Sometimes, he gets sent to the school counselor when he cries at school. Ms. Alexandre is nice and all, but it’s embarrassing to have everyone stare as he gets sent out of class. 

People tell him all the time that it’ll be okay, or that May’s in a better place, but Peter thinks that the best place for her would be with him. No one understands, and he’s sick of them pretending to. Even Ned is unbearable when he tries to help, as sincere as he seems.

He’s at Jess’s apartment tonight. She doesn’t know to bring warm water. She knocks on the door, but all he can do is whimper. She opens it up and hugs him, but it’s not the same. It’s not like with May. 

Everyone thinks he should be so happy that he has parents who stepped up to take care of him, but he’s not, not that he would ever say that. May and Ben were his parents. They took care of him for a long time, much longer than his “real” parents. He had known he was adopted before, and he always wondered where his parents were and why they gave him up, but May and Ben raised him. Matt and Jess just showed up one day and now he lives with them. They aren’t even married, so now he goes back and forth between houses, which is so different from before. They’re very nice, but they don’t know each other yet. 

Peter has so many feelings that sometimes he just wants to scream. 

——

When he wakes up again at six thirty, Peter is exhausted. His cheeks are wet and his throat is raw. He goes to the kitchen and eats six frozen waffles, but he still feels empty and stuff.

His backpack is already packed, as he always packs it the night before. He’s slow in putting on his clothes and brushing his teeth, and the whole world feels like it’s suspended in something thick, like maple syrup. But less delicious. 

“Ready to go?” Jess asks from where she is in the kitchen by the coffeemaker. She doesn’t always eat breakfast before she takes him to school (or at all) but she drinks a lot of coffee. Today must be a coffee day. 

The walk to the subway and the train ride to his school is long. It always is, given that he still goes to his school in Queens, but today it is especially long. It’s quiet, too, or as quiet as a subway can be. He saw a lady with lizards in her purse, so he knew he wasn’t in some upside-down dimension where New York was normal. 

He wanted to ask the lady if he could pet them, but Jess told him no. 

He complained that May would’ve let him pet the lizards. This was a lie, and it didn’t convince Jess, who said that approaching strangers on the subway was not safe. 

When he got to school, things started bad. They were reading a book in class about a kid whose parents are dead. He cried, and they sent him to the counselor. She tried to talk to him, but he didn’t want to talk.

He spent the rest of the day being pretty quiet and working by himself. Ned tried to talk to him, but he didn’t want to talk.

Matt picked him up from school. Everyone seemed surprised that a blind guy can pick a kid up from school. Matt told them that he’s lived in this city for thirty years, so he’s figured out how to get around like an adult. 

Matt tried to talk to him on the way back about how his day was, but he didn’t want to talk.

He wanted to fall asleep for a hundred days. 

Spiders, Peter read, could hibernate. He stuck to walls like a spider. He wanted to hibernate too. 

That night, they all ate dinner together. It was pasta, specifically penne, which is the best kind. Matt and Foggy talked about work for the most part.

“Peter, tell me about your day,” Foggy said casually.

Something inside him boiled over.

“NO!” he yelled. “Maybe I don’t want to tell anyone about my day! Maybe I just want to be left alone!”

“That’s okay then,” Matt began, but Peter yelled after that too.

“I hate you! I wish May was still here! I wish Ben was still here! You guys do everything wrong! You go to church every week, which is boring, and even though I don’t have to go, no one can do anything fun without you. Your neighborhood doesn’t have any nice cats, and it’s too loud! You’re always trying to talk to me, and your house smells wrong, and your hugs feel weird, and you're not the same as them and I hate it! I hate you!”

He lost control of his grip strength and he smashed the glass right where it was in his hand. His fork had indents in the handle from where he was squeezing it. 

He ran away to his spot on his closet ceiling. He messed it all up and now Matt and Jess and Foggy won’t want him anymore. Peter knows what happens when you don’t have any family to take you in, because a girl in his class last year was in foster care, and it doesn’t sound that good.

Peter could hear the whispering of Matt and Foggy in the background.

“…Foggy, you should talk to him.”

“Matt, this isn’t the time-”

“Well, you’re better with him than me.”

“Matt. I think you would do a better job here. Now go and talk to your son.”

Peter heard his bedroom door creak open. The knob twisted as Matt opened the closet door.

“Peter?” Matt called, his face searching for where he was. Matt eventually landed on a spot about a foot from where Peter actually sat. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and Peter could see his eyes, so rarely seen out in the open. It was a little strange to see them. They were brown, like Peter’s were, but they had old scarring around them on Matt’s skin and a hazy layer on top, giving Matt’s eyes a permanent glazed-over look. 

Peter unstuck from the ceiling and landed on his feet.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he cried.

“It’s okay, Peter. I understand how frustrating it is to lose a parent. I was angry at the world for the next eight years afterwards.”

“Will I be upset for eight years?”

“Well, you’ll probably always be a little sad, but I hope you’re not angry for as long as I was. I was very… lonely. I didn’t really have anyone who loved me, or who was there for me. But Foggy, Jessica, and I, we’re here to help you. We love you. No matter what.”

“Promise?” Peter whispered, his voice soft.

“I promise. Do you want to shake on it? I can draw up a contract if you want.”

Peter laughed a little. 

“Do you want to find a new therapist?” 

Peter saw a therapist for about a month before he stopped because the lady used too much perfume and didn’t understand him. She seemed confused why he was so sad when he was with his “real” parents. 

“I think so.”

“Well, we’ll do that for you then.”

The rest of the night was rather serene- they watched a documentary on the discovery channel about how DNA works, during which Foggy fell asleep. Peter learned a lot though. 

That night, when he drifted off to sleep, Peter felt that although it was different, he could learn to live with his parents.

Chapter Text

Jessica woke up feeling groggy. She often felt tired, which was an occupational hazard when you worked a job that involved legal stalking, some of which took place at night. She made herself her coffee and settled into her chair, drawing up contracts and organizing information. There was much more paperwork involved in being a PI than most people think. 

She was filing paperwork when she heard a knock at the door. And then a doorbell ring. And another knock. This could only be Karen, who Jess is pretty sure feeds off of annoying others. It’s seven in the goddamn morning and Jess hadn’t even brushed her hair yet, what the fuck could Karen want?

“What is it?” Jessica asked, disgruntled. Karen looked perky as ever, despite the hour. Jess is halfway sure the woman snorts coke with her breakfast. 

“Okay, so I talked to my guy, and— actually, can I come in? We should probably talk about this in private.” Karen stepped inside without waiting for a response. Her apartment was an absolute mess, but if Karen was knocking on her door at seven with no warning, she couldn’t really expect order.

Jess glanced at her phone. There were eight texts from Karen. 

Okay, maybe there was some warning, but still. She doesn’t owe Karen anything. Especially not at this unholy hour.

“Okay, so my guy found some files.” Karen plopped a thick manila file on the coffee table. “And there’s some interesting stuff here.”

Jess thumbed through the first few pages  until she saw the Avengers logo on top.

“Karen, did your guy steal these from the fuckin’ Avengers?”

“Well, they still have the original copies. And is it really stealing if it’s about you?”

The woman had a point. Plus, Jess appreciated any resistance to the surveillance state. 

“Anyway, my guy found these files-”

“You can just say Frank Castle, you know. I don’t get all squeamish like Matt.”

“My guy, not Frank Castle, found these files, and the stuff about you and Matt isn’t really news, although I guess now you know that the Avengers and the government track you.”

“I already knew that.”

“Whatever. The interesting stuff is in Peter’s file. The really interesting stuff is the redacted bits, but as far as what we know, there’s mentions of Wade Wilson. He knows something about Peter and maybe even about how Peter got powers. We need to talk to him. And lucky for us, my other guy, who is Frank this time, knows how to get to him.”

“Wade Wilson… you mean Deadpool? You want us to meet Deadpool, who is known for being absolutely unhinged?”

“Eh, it’ll be fine. Maybe bring Luke as a human bulletproof vest. Or bring the kid. If he saved the kid before, he might have a soft spot.”

“Karen, I dare you to tell Matt that you suggested bringing along Peter to meet an unstable assassin.”

“Okay, I get your point. Fine. But I'm not telling Matt.”

“If he’s in the Kitchen right now, he probably already heard you.”

“He’s in Brooklyn litigating a housing discrimination case, so I’m in the clear. I think. I don’t know how far he can hear, actually. Once, he told me he can hear all the way to New Jersey, but I’m pretty sure he was fucking with me. Right? I think he was fucking with me.”

That was hilarious. Jess made a doubtful face, as if to suggest that he may be telling the truth. She will always encourage Matt taking the stick out of his ass and messing with people.

After a cup or two of coffee, Karen went back to Nelson, Murdock, and Page, probably to tell them about her new knowledge. Jess thinks Karen stole a few sheaves of printer paper before she left. Damn it.

~~~

A few days later, Jess, Karen, Matt, and Foggy were crammed into a packed subway car heading to the Bronx.

“So, like, I’m a civilian,” Foggy started.

“I am too!” Karen cried.

“Not really, you associate with Frank. You’ve lost your normal person status.”

“You ‘associate’ with Matt!”

“Matt’s more normal than Frank.”

Matt perked up.

“Kinda.” Foggy paused. “Anyway, I don’t have sonar or super strength or anything, so do we have a plan if the assassin starts assassining? Because I’m not ready to die. I still haven’t convinced Matt to see Six with me yet.”

“You’re not going to.”

“Come on, dude! I’ll buy you noise canceling headphones, and we can sit far away from the stage where it’ll be quietest, and I’ll use my awesome description skills to tell you about their epic costumes! And we can take Peter! Who knows, he might be a theater kid deep down and it might change his whole life.”

Jess was sure Matt would give in fairly soon. She had a sixth sense for that kind of thing.

They got off the train and Karen used google maps to lead them to their destination. How she got Deadpool’s location was one of those Karen things everyone decided to ignore for their own sake.

“Saint Margaret’s School for Wayward Girls,” she read aloud. “Hey Matt, are you sure you haven’t been here before? Seems like your kind of place.”

Matt grimaced in her direction.

She opened the door despite the sign indicating it was closed. Perks of being a science experiment, she supposed.

“What the fuck?” A shortish man with glasses said. She probably broke the lock on his door. If she was feeling charitable after this, she might pay to replace it. “Who the fuck are you? What are you doing in my bar? We’re closed!”

“Hi, yes, we’re looking for Wade Wilson? Fra-” Karen glanced in Matt’s direction. “A friend sent us.”

“Karen, just say Frank. I know.”

“Frank sent us.”

“Well shit,” the man said. “I’ll see if I can find him. He’s either here or not here.” The man pulled out a flip phone and headed to the back of the bar. 

An awkward five minutes later, the man returns.

“He’ll be here soon. I’m Weasel, by the way.”

A man in a red suit enters through the back door. He rips off his mask, revealing a scarred face. So this was Deadpool. 

“I was summoned?”

“Wade, we got a group here to chat with you. Frank sent them.”

“Francis sent people? I knew he secretly liked me.”

“I’m Matt Murdock, and we have some… stuff to discuss with you. Would you mind, uh, putting the guns away?”

“Oh, no problem.” Deadpool dropped the two handguns on the floor. Jess cringed as she heard them clatter.

“So.” Matt began, using his lawyer voice. “We gained access to some files that indicate that you had contact with our son. His name is Peter—”

“Oh, I remember Peter! He was so adorable. Not as cute as my little girl though. Wanna see some pictures?”

He pulled out a bedazzled flip phone with hello kitty charms and shoved it in her face. His daughter was cute— she had curly brown hair and big brown doe eyes.

“You have a kid?” Foggy asked.

“Yeah! She has foster parents, but they’re super chill. We get to see each other one weekend a month. I used to only have supervised visitation, but they bumped me up to level 2!”

Jess felt more at ease knowing he had a kid who he seemed to care about. She now kind of trusted him not to kill Peter or something. 

“Peter. Can you—”

“Oh, you mentioned you were his parents? Like all of you? Is it a polycule situation? If so, do you have room for more? Because I’ve been kinda lonely lately, and—”

“No, We’re not a polycule,” Jess said. 

“Sometimes, a family is a woman and her one time lover and his boy friend and their paralegal,” Foggy said.

“Please never call Matt my lover again.” Foggy grinned, and she flipped him off. “Anyway, what I think  Matt was trying to say is that we read in the file that you met Peter years ago in circumstances that were redacted. Can you tell us about them?”

“Sure. Well, I was in Saskatchewan because my bastard aunt died when I saw guys with guns. I was pretty bored, so I decided to follow them. Get some action one way or another if you know what I mean. Turns out they were doing shit to people, and I have very little tolerance for human experimentation, so I stormed their base. Lucky for me, I had brought the big guns and this was post-immortality upgrade, so I was prepared to annihilate them. I found a bunch of adults and let them loose on creation, but I also found a kid. And I have even less tolerance for experimenting on kids, y’know? So I scooped him up and sat him in my truck before I went back to kill everyone else. Kid didn’t need to see all that. Anyways, I got back in the truck, got him some hot chocolate from Tim Horton’s on the way back to Regina, and brought him to New York, because he said that’s where he was from. I brought him to a police station, left a note, and I guess they found his family. The end.”

“Who were the people who had him?” Matt asked.

“I don’t know, it was pretty standard issue terrorist stuff. You know, black suits, big guns, the works.” Deadpool smiled. “Hey, maybe we should keep in touch? I have been wondering about how Peter’s been doing these days.”

Well. Wade Wilson, Deadpool, whatever he’s called— he sure is an interesting man.

Chapter Text

Natalya Alianovna Romanova had done a lot in her life. She had traveled all over the world, mostly for jobs, but she had been to over one hundred countries and every continent nonetheless. She had fought and killed men one hundred different ways, used people and been used by others, all to be where she is now-- thirty-two, alone, without any family and only a few people who really knew her. Of all the Avengers, everyone at SHIELD, all the acquaintances and coworkers and half-baked friendships, only Clint knew her whole story, and as much as he could try, even he could never understand. 

No one else really understood what it was like to be in that position, trafficked, without an identity, a life, anything to call your own that couldn’t be ripped out from under your feet any moment-- the horror, the listlessness, the loss of never getting to be a real person, never getting the chance to have a normal life. Except for probably James Barnes, but there was no way she was going to discuss it with him. Steve’s trying to nurse him back to health or something in an apartment in Red Hook, and who was Natasha to get in the way of that? 

Currently, all the Avengers (sans Steve) were speculating as to the nature of their relationship. Tony thought they were just really good friends, because he had a difficult time reconciling the fact that two men born in the nineteen-teens could even be gay, Sam thought they were trauma-bonded or something but that Steve had a crush on Bucky, Clint and Natasha both quietly agreed they were probably romantically involved, if not now then at some point pre-ice, Bruce thought everyone should leave them alone, and Thor happily proclaimed that he thought they were “two noble warriors who sealed the covenant of battle with copulation.” Wanda did not get to participate because she would just find out and it would ruin the game.

All this-- disregarding the stuff about Steve and Bucky’s relationship-- is to say that Natasha felt connected to the kid from the file Tony tried to hunt down. At some point, he was probably in the custody of some terrorist group’s laboratory division, experimented on like she was. 

And like Yelena was.

After all these years, she still hasn’t found her. Natasha took solace in the idea that her sister was at least free, but she knew well enough that after what they went through, no one’s ever really free. Sometimes, she thought the after was the worst part, because she didn’t really process everything that was done to her until she escaped. Natasha still woke up sweating, afraid of punishment. She had to live with what the Red Room gave her and what they took. She had to take hormone replacement pills because they removed her reproductive organs, and if she didn’t take a handful of stupid pills every morning, her bones would become brittle and she could develop dementia or have a stroke. You’re no good as a spy if your bones break when you stick a landing and you can’t remember your target. She had to live with the fact that she got some sort of serum, not quite like Steve’s, but enough to make her life different from a normal human’s. She had pain and scars she couldn’t explain. She didn’t know how to be good for anything besides violence. She didn’t know how to be a person.

This kid might be in the same situation, and his parents have no idea how to help him because nobody does. Nobody but her and the handful of other people on the planet who’ve experienced similar things.

Natasha knew one thing-- she would find these people and help them in a way that Tony couldn’t. He was in trouble, she could feel it. She couldn’t explain how. She had no details, no concrete evidence, no clues as to who or what the threat was, but she had to protect this kid the way no one ever protected her. 

____

Peter felt like he was being watched. Everywhere he went, he felt a prickle on the bag of his neck, the one he felt when something was about to happen, except nothing ever did. No one else seemed to notice anything, not even Matt, who had even better hearing than him. 

He started doing little things to test his theory. He would take a look in every direction before he sat anywhere, just to check if anyone was there. He would take different routes to and from school, to see if it would throw this mystery observer off. Nothing worked, no matter what he changed. Peter hated when people watched him, even in normal circumstances. This was beyond normal circumstances; it was weird, and, in Peter’s opinion, much worse.

“Hey Ned?”

“Hmm?” Ned responded, his mouth full of sandwich. 

“Do you feel weird? Like somebody’s watching us?”

“Nah, why?”

“Uhh, no reason.”

“Do you wanna come to my apartment to watch clone wars after school? My lola is making adobo tonight.”

“I don’t think I can, I’m going to Jess’s house tonight. You can come over though! Maybe. She has cable, so we can still watch Clone Wars, and she has Ben & Jerry’s in her freezer.”

“What flavor?”

“Cherry Garcia.”

Ned’s eyes widened. “I’ll ask my mom.”

They did their special best friend handshake before going back to class. The special best friend handshake had been created in second grade after they watched more disney channel than perhaps they should have. 

Later that evening, sitting in Jess’s living room, watching Clone Wars and eating ice cream, Peter still felt that he was being watched. Maybe, he thought, he would ask Jess if she felt it. She was a pretty paranoid person, and she might be more in tune with these types of things. 

They were sitting in the apartment alone, having brought Ned home earlier, when he decided to bring it up. 

“Hey Jess?”

“What’s up?”

“Do you feel anything… weird? Like we’re being watched?”

Peter could see the panic rising in her eyes.

“Why? Do you? Because if Tony Goddamn Stark--”

“Why would Iron Man be watching us? He’s a good guy.”

Jess softened.

“Yeah, he is. I’ll ask around and be on high alert, don't worry. I’ll take care of it.”

She paused.

“Thanks for telling me. It’s really important to let me or Matt or Foggy know if you feel unsafe.”

“Yeah, I know.” Adults always talk about letting another adult know if you’re in danger. It was like, their favorite thing to tell kids, after telling them about doing well in school and how they know better and drinking water and stuff.

Adults were weird, man.