Chapter Text
The city hummed beneath him, a low, restless thrum of life that never quite stopped. Peter sat cross-legged on the edge of a quiet rooftop in Queens, his mask pulled halfway up so he could enjoy the night air without the sweat of spandex clinging to his face. The skyline glowed gold and blue, windows flickering like stars. Somewhere down below, a siren wailed and faded into the distance.
His stomach growled loudly enough to make him wince.
"Finally," Peter muttered when he heard the telltale whisper of footsteps behind him. "You’re twenty minutes late, dude. I’m pretty sure you could hear my stomach growling from across Queens."
Daredevil chuckled as he approached, a pizza box in hand. “Sorry, sorry. My, uh… date went a little longer than expected.”
Peter’s mask slid back into place, but the smirk in his voice was unmistakable. “Ooooo, a date? Look at you, Devil Boy. Who’s the lucky mystery woman? Is she also a fan of brooding in red leather? Do you guys trade tips on being dramatic?”
Matt tilted his head toward him, amused. “Shut up and eat your food.”
“Rude,” Peter said, already reaching for the pizza. “But fair.”
Peter grabbed a slice and took a massive bite, sighing dramatically like he’d been starved for days. “Mmm, okay, okay, I guess I forgive you. Barely. This is good pizza though. Where’d you get it?”
Matt just smiled, taking a slice for himself. “Little spot in Hell’s Kitchen. They know me.”
“Ooooh,” Peter said, mouth still half-full. “So that’s where you took her? Or—wait—was it dinner then pizza? Or was this, like, a post-date pizza? Because that says a lot about the vibe.”
Matt sighed.
“What? I’m just trying to paint the scene! C’mon, you can’t just drop a mysterious date bomb on me and expect me not to interrogate you like this is an episode of CSI.”
“You watch CSI?”
“I mean, no, but like…if I did, it would probably be for the interrogations. Anyway—who is she? A vigilante? Is it Elektra again? Please say it’s not Elektra again.”
Matt gave him a look, the kind that was mostly behind red lenses of his cowl but still somehow full of “stop talking.”
Peter ignored it completely.
“Wait, wait—don’t tell me. Is she normal?” Peter leaned in like he was telling a ghost story. “Like, completely normal? No sword skills? No ninja past? No secret mystical cults?”
“She’s…normal,” Matt admitted, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite himself.
Peter gasped. “Dude. You are dating a civilian. That’s adorable. Oh my God, are you gonna tell her you’re Daredevil? Have you had The Talk yet? Not that talk—I mean the mask talk.”
Matt took a bite of his pizza, very deliberately ignoring Peter now.
“Devil. Devey. Red. You can’t hide from me in the shadows of justice. I will figure this out.”
Matt chuckled lowly. “I’m starting to regret bringing the pizza.”
“Too late. You fed me. That makes us best friends. Now spill.”
Matt wiped his hands on a napkin and leaned back, “You know,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips, “you don’t even know what I look like. I’m definitely not getting into my personal life with you.”
Peter paused mid-bite, holding the pizza slice aloft like it had betrayed him. “Okay—ouch. First of all, rude again. Second of all, fair. Third of all… now I’m just imagining you’re, like, super ugly under there. No offense.”
“None taken,” Matt said dryly. “You’ve got the subtlety of a brick.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Peter waved him off. “Still. You could have, like, a really messed up nose or something and I’d never know. Like, what if it’s just completely sideways?”
Matt tilted his head toward him, amused. “What if I’ve got three eyes?”
“Honestly? Wouldn’t even be the weirdest thing I’ve seen this week,” Peter said, chewing thoughtfully. “There was this guy—yesterday—he tried to rob a bodega using a stolen Stark drone. A drone. Like, how dumb do you have to be to think I wouldn’t notice that flying garbage can buzzing through Brooklyn like a neon ‘please arrest me’ sign?”
Matt chuckled, taking another bite of his slice while Peter kept going.
“And then he crashes it into the side of a laundromat, blames it on pigeons, and starts yelling about alien mind control. I had to web him to a fire hydrant just to stop the speech. I mean, I respect the dedication to the bit, but dude. At least try to be lowkey.”
“You really attract the best of New York,” Matt said, shaking his head.
“I’m like a magnet for weirdos. Honestly starting to take it personally.” Peter paused, then grinned under his mask. “But hey, I got free chips out of it. The bodega guy gave me a whole bag.”
“Ah yes, justice: now with complimentary snacks.”
“Exactly. You get it.”
Xxxxxx
Another night, another rooftop. This time in Brooklyn, just a few blocks from the bridge. The lights of Manhattan twinkled across the river like they were flirting with the city.
Peter was perched on the ledge again, legs swinging, casually munching on a churro he’d snagged from a food truck two patrols ago. He’d already taken out two bike thieves and a guy trying to rob a hotdog cart with a water gun, so honestly? Solid night.
Daredevil landed beside him with his usual silent, smooth grace.
“Yo,” Peter said, holding up the paper bag. “Churro? It’s still warm.”
Matt reached for one. “Thanks.”
They munched in companionable silence for about twenty seconds—Peter’s max limit—before Matt casually mentioned, “I was a little late. Got dinner with someone.”
Peter’s head whipped around like a meerkat on Red Bull.
“Oooooooo,” he sang. “Still seeing her? Mystery woman? Fancy date this time, or another pizza run?”
Matt groaned immediately. “Why did I say anything.”
“Because deep down, you want me to know. You’re begging me to be involved in your personal life.”
“No, I’m really not.”
Peter ignored him completely. “So what’s her name? Wait, don’t tell me. Lemme guess. Is it something classy? Like Evelyn. Or Margaret. Or—oh!—is she older? That’d be so cool. Wait, is she older?!”
Matt took a long, slow bite of his churro and said nothing.
Peter gasped. “She’s older, isn’t she! Oh my God, that’s so hot. I mean—not hot, like I’m into it, just like—objectively—kinda hot. Wow. Good for you.”
“I regret everything,” Matt muttered, face in his hand.
Peter kept going. “Where’d you go? Did you, like, wear cologne? Wait, do you own cologne? Is it ‘Brooding Forest’ or something?”
“Are you always like this?” Matt asked, exasperated.
“Literally every day of my life,” Peter said proudly. “You knew what you were signing up for.”
Matt shook his head, smiling despite himself. “Next time I’m eating dinner alone.”
“No you’re not. You like me too much.”
Matt grunted. “Jury’s still out.”
Xxxxxxx
The night was calm in the aftermath of chaos.
They walked side by side along the edge of a warehouse rooftop in Brooklyn, the Hudson’s breeze tugging at their suits as the last of the warehouse takedown disappeared behind them — some low-level weapons ring that had been too disorganized to last more than five minutes against the combined force of Spider-Man and Daredevil.
Peter was chattering, as usual.
“Okay, but like, did you see the guy with the buzz cut try to hit me with a crowbar? Like—first of all—rude. Second of all—crowbars are so 2005. Upgrade your villain tool kit, man.”
“I was a little busy dodging bullets,” Matt replied dryly.
“Excuses,” Peter said, hopping up to balance along a metal beam. “Anyway, we crushed that. Tag-team dream. You, me, the sticks, the webs. Pow. Splat. Done. Team Red strikes again!”
Matt let out a soft laugh. “You’re insufferable.”
“You love me.”
“Not quite.”
Peter gasped theatrically. “You wound me.”
They kept walking, silence drifting in for a moment before Matt said offhandedly, “My girlfriend thinks I need to take more nights off.”
Peter stopped walking so fast, practically skidding to a halt.
“DUDE?!” he yelled. “Girlfriend?! She got promoted?! Were you just gonna—not let a bro know?!”
Matt paused, visibly regretting his phrasing. “I… forgot I hadn’t mentioned it.”
Peter pointed an accusatory finger. “Unacceptable. I demand answers. I demand tea. You don’t just drop the g-word and keep walking like it’s nothing.”
Matt chuckled, keeping his pace. “You’re not my bro.”
Peter caught up and clutched his chest. “Oof. That hurt. That cut deep, man. You are my bro. We’re Team Red. We fight crime together, we share pizza, we overshare personal details, that’s how this works.”
Matt laughed again, that low, warm kind of laugh that only came out when Peter really got to him. “Fine. Fine. She’s great. She’s kind, and funny, and actually listens when I talk, which… is rare.”
Peter nodded solemnly. “That’s a green flag.”
“She teaches,” Matt added, smiling to himself. “Loves kids. Volunteers at a community kitchen on weekends. And she makes these—God—these ridiculous brownies. They’ve ruined all other brownies for me.”
Peter let out a dreamy sigh. “I already love her. Are you gonna marry her? Can I be your best man? I’ll wear red. We can coordinate.”
“You’re insane.”
Peter nudged him with his shoulder. “Insanely supportive.”
Matt shook his head, still smiling. “You’re the worst.”
“I know,” Peter said, grin spreading wide under his mask. “But I’m your worst.”
Peter glanced over, quieter now. “But seriously, man… I’m happy for you.”
Matt looked toward him, sensing the shift in tone. “Thanks.”
There was a beat, softer than the rest. Then Matt added, voice lower, “She’s amazing. She really gets me. In a way not many people do. I didn’t think I’d meet someone like that again.”
Peter smiled under the mask, something warm blooming in his chest. “That’s really cool, dude. You deserve that. I mean—vigilante life is... lonely sometimes. It’s nice when someone gets you, y’know?”
Matt nodded, thoughtful.
Peter hesitated a second, then lifted both hands and made tiny devil horns at his own head. “You ever think you’ll, like… tell her?”
Matt snorted immediately, sensing the gesture. “Did you just do the horns?”
“Yeah, obviously.”
Matt sighed. “I mean… it’ll have to happen eventually, right? I can’t hide it forever.”
Peter tilted his head. “So you’re planning on it?”
“No,” Matt said honestly. “Not yet. I don’t know. It’s not that I don’t trust her, it’s just…” He searched for the words, then shrugged slightly. “It’s a big thing. Being who I am. Doing what I do. Not everyone wants to be close to that.”
Peter nodded. “Yeah. I get that. It’s not exactly the kind of thing you put on a dating profile. ‘Fun facts: I like long walks, homemade pasta, and nighttime crime-fighting.’”
Matt chuckled. “Exactly. I’m not even sure how to start that conversation. ‘Hey, so I’ve been lying about what I do at night, also I get into rooftop fights in body armor. Surprise.’”
Peter shrugged. “Honestly, if she’s as cool as you say she is? I think she’ll get it.”
Matt gave a small, grateful smile. “Yeah. I hope so.”
Peter patted him on the shoulder. “You’re good at this whole feelings thing when you let yourself be.”
“I’ll deny everything in the morning.”
“Sure you will, bro.”
Xxxxxx
It was another Thursday night, same rooftop, same pizza place. The box sat between them, half-finished, crusts scattered. The skyline shimmered quietly, a low hum of life buzzing beneath them. But this time, the air felt… different.
Spider-Man was unusually quiet.
No dramatic retellings of bodega crimes. No weird hypotheticals. No churro stories. Just Peter, sitting on the ledge, legs drawn in tighter than usual, picking at the edge of his gloves.
Daredevil sat across from him, chewing slowly, listening.
Finally, he sighed. “Alright. I’m poking.”
Peter looked up. “Poking?”
“What’s gotten you so quiet?” Matt asked. “You’ve said, like, five words since we got here. That’s terrifying. I had to check to make sure the world wasn’t ending.”
Peter shrugged, not meeting his gaze. “Nothing, man. It’s just…”
Matt raised an eyebrow. “We’re bros, right? And as you so eloquently put it — bros tell each other everything?”
Peter smiled faintly at that, his shoulders relaxing just a little. “You’re using my words against me. That’s rude.”
“Effective,” Matt said. “Talk to me.”
There was a long pause. Peter stared out over the city, fingers still fidgeting with the seam in his glove.
“A lot’s been on my mind,” he said finally.
Matt waited. Patient. Quiet.
Peter let out a breath, like he’d been holding it all week. “I dunno. Stuff’s just been complicated lately. School, life, the… other stuff. And there’s been something going on at home, but it’s—I don’t really know how to explain it. Not yet.”
Matt tilted his head. “Is it something bad?”
Peter shifted on the ledge, his legs drawing up tighter, arms wrapped loosely around his knees.
“No, it’s not… personal stuff, exactly,” he mumbled. “It’s just—uh—my parents. They died when I was younger.”
Matt’s expression softened.
“And after that, I lived with my aunt and uncle,” Peter went on, voice quiet. “They were amazing. Seriously. Like… I wouldn’t have made it through anything without them. But then—” He paused. “My uncle died a few years ago. Got—caught up in something he wasn’t supposed to be in the middle of. It just… happened. Fast.”
Matt nodded gently, not speaking. Just listening.
“So now it’s just my aunt. She’s all I’ve got. And she’s been strong, you know? She’s always been strong. Never really let herself fall apart, not in front of me. And she hasn’t dated anyone since…”
He trailed off for a moment, then looked over at Matt. “But now she is. Dating someone. And it’s serious. Like, serious enough that she wants me to meet him.”
Peter laughed once, hollow. “And I’m not mad. I swear I’m not. I want her to be happy, I do. But it’s just—she hasn’t let anyone in like that since my uncle. It’s weird. It’s like this part of my life I thought was set is changing again and I don’t know how to feel about it.”
Matt was silent for a few seconds. Then he said, gently, “It’s okay not to know how to feel.”
Peter blinked, caught off guard by how simple that was.
“Grief doesn’t go away just because time passes,” Matt continued. “It makes space, maybe. But that ache? That uncertainty? It sticks around. Especially when someone you love starts moving forward and you’re still figuring out what that means for you.”
Peter nodded slowly.
“But letting her move forward doesn’t erase the past,” Matt said. “Your uncle will always be part of her life. Of yours. And if this guy’s worth anything, he’ll know that—and respect it. You don’t have to be ready right now. Just be honest with her. And when you do meet him, go in with an open heart. Doesn’t mean you’re forgetting anyone. Just means you’re making room.”
Peter sat with that for a long moment, staring out at the skyline.
“That’s… that’s actually really good advice,” he said finally. “Dang. You always this emotionally competent or is this a special Team Red exclusive?”
Matt smiled faintly. “Trade secret.”
Peter laughed, the tension finally breaking a little. “Thanks, man. Really.”
“Anytime.”