It's been about a year since Peter's spoken to a lawyer.

Of course, it'd been May that did most of the talking then. He remembers words like "bequests" and "assets" being thrown around, most of which went straight over his head. He can't recall much about the lawyer themselves or what they talked about in that meeting so soon after Ben's death—in hindsight, he should have paid closer attention. He's pretty sure that it had to do with Ben's will, but the only thing that sticks out clearly is May's tear-streaked face after that meeting.

At least Matt Murdock seemed just as apprehensive as Peter feels when Mr. Castle talked with him over the phone. Despite Mr. Castle's confidence, Peter can't help but be surprised that the lawyer agreed. Unless… it's not a ruse, is it? After all, Mr. Castle told the lawyer where they are. It wouldn't be hard for him to call the police and point them in the right direction. Honestly, it's what Peter would do in his shoes. Come to think of it, the entire call was a bit weird. The nice lady from earlier—Karen, Mr. Castle had called her—had recognized Mr. Castle just by him saying her name. She'd also demanded to know if he was hurt, something Peter can't imagine most people would ask when receiving a surprise phone call from the Punisher.

And if Mr. Castle knows Karen, why had he insisted that Matt Murdock come alone? Their law firm has three names, doesn't it? Not that Peter wants to talk to three lawyers, but he can't suss out why Murdock's the one Mr. Castle picked. If nothing else, at least this is a meeting that Peter can anticipate. If Murdock's name is going to be added to the growing list of people who know Spider-Man's face, at least Peter can finally have the foresight to make it under his own terms. No unmasking in his bedroom with unwanted onlookers, no surprise billionaires in his living room, and no waking up maskless and groggy on an unfamiliar couch.

Matt Murdock doesn't know anything about Peter Parker. He doesn't know how many tears Peter couldn't hold back over the past couple of days or the number of times he's been frozen by his own terror. If Spider-Man's the only person Murdock knows about, that's perfectly fine by him.

Spider-Man's stronger than Peter is anyway.

The digital clock reads 1:23 PM, and Peter almost convinces himself that Murdock's not going to show up when three distinct knocks sound from the door.

Mr. Castle gets to his feet and grabs for his handgun, taking a few steps towards the door before stopping in his tracks and turning to Peter. "Any bad feelings?"

"No," Peter says with a shake of his head. Not the kind you're asking about.

To his surprise, that's all Mr. Castle needs to tuck away the gun in the waistband of his pants. Still, he angles the side of his body to the door and approaches it with light footsteps, pausing a good moment before looking through the peephole. He reaches for the door chain and twists the knob a second later, so Peter jumps off the bed to his feet and tenses when Mr. Castle steps aside to allow entry.

Matt Murdock sure looks like a lawyer. He's wearing a dark gray suit with a white button-up, complete with a gray patterned tie and a black satchel over his shoulder. His hair is combed and parted down the side, only serving to make Peter realize how much he's abandoned his own. The red-tinted sunglasses covering his eyes are a bit much; it's November, and Mr. Stark's the only person Peter knows that can pull off sunglasses indoors. On this guy, it only serves to accentuate the red in his split lip. His jaw is set in a way that doesn't look comfortable and his knuckles pop as he curls his hands around his red-tipped white cane that he holds in front of-

Oh. Oh.

"Frank," Murdock says, an edge to his tone that Peter can't identify. The lawyer doesn't quite look at Mr. Castle as he says it, his gaze angled just a bit too far to the side.

Should Peter say something? Murdock probably doesn't even know he's in the room. A simple hi feels a bit off given the circumstances, yet his brain isn't offering him much else. Peter opens his mouth, but the creaking door cuts him off as Mr. Castle closes it behind the lawyer.

"Didn't catch you busy, did I?" Mr. Castle comments with a lilt that Peter knows means he couldn't care less. He falls back to the dresser as he speaks, grabbing a poorly cushioned metal chair beside it in the corner of the room and moving it to face the bed.

Murdock's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Not as busy as you've been."

Peter frowns. Maybe his blindness is why Mr. Castle chose Murdock. If this goes poorly, then at least Murdock won't be able to describe Spider-Man to the police. It's honestly a relief.

"Pete." Mr. Castle gives a beckoning jerk of his head. Peter clears his throat and strides across the room, taking care to make sure that his footsteps are audible over the carpet. "I want you to meet Matt Murdock."

Murdock turns to face him with an unreadable expression, not giving Peter the slightest clue as to what's going on behind those sunglasses. Swallowing, Peter extends his hand. "Nice to meet you, sir. I'm Peter."

Murdock doesn't shake it. Of course he doesn't shake it. Peter's cheeks grow hot and he's about to retract his hand when Murdock holds out his own and offers him a tight-lipped smile. "A pleasure."

Peter goes to grab it and regrets it immediately. He has to suppress a hiss at the sharp spike of pain that comes from his broken finger in Murdock's grip, something Murdock is thankfully quick to loosen. He drops it entirely a second later and shifts back to Mr. Castle after he takes a deep breath through his nose.

"I need to talk with you outside."

Peter's heart sinks. That's adult code for I want to talk to you where the kid can't hear, and it's even worse when Mr. Castle doesn't hesitate before turning back to the door. He doesn't cast a second glance at Peter before he grabs for the knob. He can't help but feel like a kid stuck at a parent-teacher conference, made to wait out in the hall while May and his teacher talk about him behind a closed door.

Actually, screw this. This isn't about his grades. Peter maneuvers around them to plant his feet in front of the door and forces himself to meet Mr. Castle's eyes. "Hey, if you're going to talk about me, then I deserve to be there. I don't want any decisions made for me."

Murdock's brow furrows as Mr. Castle lets out a sigh and runs his hand down the lower half of his face. "Go. Wait on the bed."

Indignation bubbles up in Peter's chest. "But I-"

"Wait inside, kid." Mr. Castle lowers his chin and raises his eyebrows, his stare hard and unblinking. It's the same kind of look May would give him when she thought he was about to make a scene. "Please."

Peter drops his gaze and yields with a quiet huff. He doesn't feel any less like a child as he trudges back to the bed and takes a seat on the edge, folding his hands in his lap. Mr. Castle looks him over for a moment before leaving out the door with Murdock on his tail. Two pairs of footsteps stop just out of view of the window after the door clicks shut, close enough for a conversation to be audible to him. But as soon as Peter starts to focus his hearing, the footsteps pick up again until they fade completely out of his range.

Peter puffs his cheeks and blows out a long breath as he collapses back on the comforter. So much for first impressions.

The clock insists that Murdock and Mr. Castle are gone for twenty minutes, but to Peter, it might as well be hours. There's no TV in the room and the walls are blank and void of decorations. The only things Peter has left to entertain himself with are the possibilities of what they're talking about. It's been long enough that he doesn't doubt that Murdock's been made aware of the whole Spider-Man aspect, though how much Mr. Castle's getting into it is something he can only guess. Peter reaches for another pillow to prop up his head before removing a web-shooter to absently toss it from hand to hand.

For the third time, Peter glances at the clock and tells himself that he'll go out there and see what's keeping them if he has to go through five more minutes of nothing. Or maybe he could lock the door if they really like being outside so much. It's a petulant thought, one he knows he wouldn't go through with, but the possibility gives him something to consider.

Finally, a pair of silhouettes pass across the window, preceding a click and a twisting of the knob. A red-tipped cane pokes through before the door swings open, and both Murdock and Mr. Castle are quick to step inside. Cold air rushes into the room with their entrance, and Peter has to suppress a shudder as the door thuds closed. Both of their faces are hard to read beyond a red tinge to their cheeks that only serves to reaffirm that Peter's not the only one affected by the chill.

And if Murdock knows he's Spider-Man, he might as well act the part.

"I was this close to locking the door on you guys for taking so long," Peter quips, not bothering to sit up as he switches to one hand to toss up his web-shooter in order to free up his other to make a small distance between his thumb and forefinger.

Murdock remains neutral, but Mr. Castle gives him a small huff. "Good thing you're smart," he replies evenly as he lowers himself to sit on the opposite bed.

A retort dies on Peter's tongue as Murdock's cane taps against the leg of the chair across from him. He reaches out with a hand to find the back of the chair, and Mr. Castle mutters something under his breath that Peter doesn't catch as Murdock pulls it out. "Mind if I sit?" he asks, and it takes a moment for Peter to realize that it's him he's addressing.

Oh. So they're doing this. Peter pushes himself to a sitting position and flattens his feet on the floor, resisting the urge to drum them against it. "Uh, sure."

Murdock gives him another tight-lipped smile as he takes a seat. He leans forward a little, resting his elbows on his thighs with his hands clasped together after he props the cane back against the dresser. It's the same position Mr. Castle had adopted before he delved into questions, so it's not hard for Peter to figure out where this is going. "Frank gave me a run-down of your situation," Murdock begins. That was a bit long for a run-down, but Peter keeps that thought to himself. "If you think I should hear it from you, then I'm listening. If not, I'd like to work on filling in the gaps."

On one hand, Peter's grateful. Recounting May's death to a stranger before he even mustered up the courage to play it in his own mind isn't something he thinks he's ready to do. If Mr. Castle already handled those details, of Gargan and the convenience store and the garage, then that's more than fine by him. On the other hand, he has a pretty good idea of what filling in the gaps entails. Peter swallows, weaving his web-shooter between his fingers. "I- Filling in the gaps is fine."

"Great," Murdock says with another one of those not-quite-there smiles. "Now, Peter, are you familiar with attorney-client privilege, or would you like me to reiterate the terms?"

Attorney-client privilege. "So… are you my lawyer now? Do I need to- to sign something first?"

"Attorney-client privilege isn't dependant on a hire. Besides, a minor's signature isn't legally binding. So." Murdock raises his eyebrows expectantly.

'Attorney-client privilege' was thrown around in some of the cop shows May used to watch, and Peter's heard it dropped a couple of times in movies. He's never asked what it meant and they never bothered to define it, but the context provided enough clues that he never had to wonder. "As long as TV portrays it right, I'm familiar."

"Close enough," Murdock amends with a considering frown. "Frank, if you could step out while Peter and I-"

"Wait," Peter finds himself blurting as Mr. Castle gets to his feet. A second later, both of them are focused on him, and Peter's unable to meet either of their faces. "I- I don't mind if he stays," he mutters, forcing nonchalance with a shrug.

He can't decipher the expression on Mr. Castle's face when he looks back up, but at Murdock's wave, he lowers himself back on the bed. Murdock gives a contemplative nod as he draws out the silence, just long enough for Peter to notice how pale he is in the reflection of his glasses. "Were you born in Queens, Peter?"

"Born and raised, sir." How that's relevant, he's not sure.

"How often do you venture out?"

"I've never left New York City." Peter pauses with a frown. That's not quite true. "Well, I guess I did once."

"Yeah? What was the occasion?"

Peter narrows his eyes. He knows what this is. He doubts Murdock would waste his time with fluff questions unless they're meant to soften him up for the big ones to come. Besides, the last thing he wants to do is get into how he was strung along to fight the Avengers in Germany. "Are you going to ask me for my identity, Mr. Murdock?"

Murdock leans back with a small inhale, his head cocked to the side. "Are you ready to tell me?"

Peter doesn't have a reply to that, especially when he catches Mr. Castle's frown out of the corner of his eye. Touché.

"Which high school do you go to? One around here, I'd imagine." Murdock continues as if Peter had never spoken.

He can see how that's relevant. It's a baby step, and Murdock knows it. If he can't answer this one… Peter draws in a slow breath. "Midtown Tech, sir."

Murdock gives him a nod. "I hear they're selective—that's quite an achievement. You got friends there?"

"Uh, yeah. Some." He's pretty sure that his friendship with MJ is mutually acknowledged by now. "Only one knows I'm Spider-Man. Ned Leeds," he adds, anticipating the follow-up question. "But he doesn't have anything to do with this. He helps me out with Spider-Man stuff sometimes. Like David."

He glances over at Mr. Castle at that, who lets out a soft snort.

"Who else knows, Peter?" Murdock presses.

Mr. Stark had asked him that same question about four months ago. His answer had been much easier then. Now… He's not sure how Mr. Castle will react if he knows Iron Man was the first to find out. What could Peter even say if he got in contact? Hey, it's Spider-Man. I know we haven't talked since I turned down your offer to be a part of a world-famous team of superheroes for the test that wasn't actually a test, but if you know how to blackmail gang members because I let my identity slip, that'd be great. Also, my aunt died. And congrats on the engagement. Oh, I'm banned from being Spider-Man forever? Cool.

Besides, in all the months he's known him, Mr. Stark never reached out. He contacted him once to recruit him to fight Captain America, then only once more on the ferry before that confrontation that had almost ended it all. Peter had texted him through Happy every day and never received a single response. And he'd been under the impression that the suit was a gift for him to keep, some kind of quid pro quo for flying across the ocean to join an Avengers battle, only to have it taken back the second he made a mistake due to a problem that Mr. Stark never said he was taking seriously. We'll call you, but four months of nothing gradually turned anticipation into a fantasy.

Peter's hand drifts to his pocket, folding over the burner phone. It isn't as fancy as Mr. Stark's tech by any means, but at least Mr. Castle promised to answer it.

Peter clears his throat and looks back to Murdock. "Gargan knows. I don't know if he's told anybody else. And Too- A guy in prison knows, but it's- it's a whole thing. And I guess you guys know. So… yeah."

"Is that all?" Murdock asks lightly.

Peter nods his head before catching himself. "Yeah, as far as I know," he affirms with as much confidence as he can muster.

Murdock presses his mouth into a thin line and dips his head, pausing just a moment too long before going on. "And what grade are you in, at Midtown?"

Peter's heart skips a beat. He knows it's important, that the law applies differently to people of different ages, but an admission feels impossible to get out. What if Murdock and Mr. Castle decide that he's too young? Mr. Castle had said that Murdock would make sure that he can keep Spider-Man, but Murdock hasn't even touched on it beyond Frank gave me a run-down of your situation. Peter finds himself turning to Mr. Castle, who meets his eyes and gives him a slow nod.

"I'm in-" Peter takes a slow breath. Spit it out, Spider-Man. "I'm a sophomore, sir. I'm- I'm fifteen."

The bed opposite to him creaks as Mr. Castle grows stiff. His gaze flickers and his brow goes tight as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he brings a fist in front of his mouth. Murdock's lips part and he takes a barely audible breath, but it's enough for Peter to know that his answer hadn't been the ideal one.

"You were fourteen when you put on that mask?" There's no accusation in Mr. Castle's tone, yet Peter's still unable to meet his eyes or summon a response.

There's a strain in Murdock's voice when he speaks. "And- And when will you turn sixteen?"

"August." AKA, not anytime soon. That must not be the ideal answer either if Murdock's expression is anything to go by. "Is that bad?" he asks hesitantly.

"It's-" Murdock breaks off, his tongue flicking over his lips. "You haven't done anything bad, Peter."

A simple yes would've sufficed.

Murdock blows out a slow breath. "I understand your reservations, Peter, but I need you to understand that I want to help you. And that's going to be difficult for me if I don't know your name."

Peter's breath catches in his throat. He swallows to clear it and finds himself digging his nails into the blanket at the edge of the bed. The question isn't a surprise, yet his heart batters against his ribcage anyway. The logical part of his brain reminds him that with his age, school, and first name, he's all but screwed in the secret identity department anyway. Yet at the same time, the thought of handing it over to Murdock, someone he's barely known for half an hour, a stranger, makes an echo of his Spider Sense twinge in the back of his skull. Peter takes a gulp of air and slowly lets it out through his nose, but it does little to calm his racing pulse.

"I'm not required to disclose representation of my client," Murdock says, leaning forward. His voice is too level, too even. "No one needs to know that I'm representing Peter or Spider-Man. No one is going to make the connection, and I promise you that unless I have your explicit permission, it stays in this room."

That's just lawyer talk, it's just lawyer talk- He doesn't know that Murdock won't immediately turn around to the police, that he won't use it as blackmail, or pull out a badge and a pair of handcuffs as soon as Peter says it and then- Peter clenches his jaw shut. His name is the one thing he has left, the one thing he hasn't given up, the one thing that keeps him from being as helpless to them as he is to Gargan. And to think that he's expected to just roll over and present him with it-

"Easy." Mr. Castle's tone is soft and his gaze is unwavering. "It's okay, you can tell him."

Peter closes his eyes and steels himself.

Mr. Castle wouldn't have contacted Murdock if he thought that he couldn't be trusted.

"Peter Parker."

There it is. No going back now.

For a moment, both men are motionless and Peter wonders if he's just made a huge mistake. The air feels thick with tension, swirling around him and threatening to smother him. When Murdock gives him a small, approving nod, he can finally breathe again.

"So," Peter says, unable to suppress a nervous laugh, "what's my verdict?"

That wins him a small smirk that might actually be genuine on Murdock's face. The lawyer clears his throat and reaches back for his cane before getting to his feet, Mr. Castle quick to follow.

"This isn't an open-and-shut case, and I doubt that Mac Gargan has legal representation that I could confer with. As much as I'd like to have a solution ready for you, it's going to take time for me to find the best one. And considering the… extraordinary circumstances…" Murdock puts a delicate emphasis on the word before he trails off, dropping his head and letting out a small sigh. When he brings it back up, he turns to face Mr. Castle entirely. "Yeah, Frank. I'll do it."

Peter furrows his brow, pushing himself to stand to meet them. I'll do it? Isn't Murdock already doing it? He glances over at Mr. Castle, but his confusion isn't reflected. Mr. Castle doesn't even look at him, too occupied fixing Murdock with a steady stare. "Mr. Castle…?"

Mr. Castle looks his way for a moment before running his hand down his face, but it's Murdock who speaks. "I'll be outside," he says quietly before he makes his way out the door.

Foreboding knots itself in Peter's chest as Mr. Castle lets out a sigh through his nose as gestures to the bed. "Sit down."

Peter doesn't move. "What is he talking about? W-What's happening?"

Mr. Castle spends a moment staring past him, his middle finger drumming against his side. "The guys after you think you're with me, kid," he says after a beat. "You're safe as long as they're wrong."

The words don't register. Not at first. "I- I don't…"

"You're staying with Murdock."

That- That doesn't add up. That doesn't make any sense. The entire reason Mr. Castle wanted Peter to stay in the first place was that the only thing keeping them from tracking you down or offing anyone else you've ever talked to is they think you've got a big, scary friend. That hasn't changed. What's changed is… Peter swallows back the lump rising in his throat. Had the I'm not leaving been a lie? Just something to keep him placated while Mr. Castle found the best way to get rid of him?

"No no, hey, no-" In an instant, Peter's in his space and frantic instinct takes over, putting him between Mr. Castle and the door. "You can't- You can't do that. You said you w-wouldn't do that, you promised you wouldn't do that!"

Before he can get any further, Mr. Castle reaches out and places a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Hey, hey. Listen to me. What happened this morning? The gas station? That shit's not gonna end. Not for me. You know that."

Peter doesn't have a response. A you don't know that dies in his throat when he remembers who he's talking to. The only thing he can come up with is a childish that's not fair that he knows won't change a thing. Because Mr. Castle's right. He can still hear the gunfire and smell the blood when he closes his eyes, stuck as a witness as so many lives are snuffed out around him. And that's not even touching the fact that the person he's with is the one doing the killing. Peter knows what he'd be agreeing to if he begged to stay.

And yet…

"This ain't on you. You got that?" Mr. Castle's grip tightens as he dips his head to be level with Peter's eyes. "None of this shit's on you. Now you're gonna go with Murdock, you're gonna do what he says, and he's gonna help you fix this."

"But-" Peter breaks off with a sniffle, scrambling for any sort of valid protest. "But w-what about Gargan? What if he- he finds out? How is Murdock going to-" He cuts himself off, biting back his lip. Peter can barely protect himself from Gargan, how is he supposed to-? Murdock would just end up another casualty of the Parker Luck.

A brief flash of what looks to be frustration crosses Mr. Castle's face, but it's too quick for Peter to determine if it's aimed at him. "Nah. Not gonna happen. I'll make sure of that."

Peter knows what that means, but they've gone in enough circles about it that just the thought of bringing it up now exhausts him. At this point, they're more than well aware of where the other stands. There's not much left that Peter has to say.

So he lurches forward instead.

He throws his arms around Mr. Castle's shoulders and clasps his fingers together behind his back. The response is almost immediate. A heavy pair of hands settle on his back a second later, one moving up to rest Peter's head against his shoulder. He can feel the calluses on his fingers and smell the gun oil clinging to his jacket, but Peter finds himself unable to care. He turns his cheek into Mr. Castle's shoulder, grateful that he can't see the water welling up in his eyes when he sniffles.

"Thank you," Peter murmurs. "For- For e-"

He breaks off when Mr. Castle tenses. "No. You owe me nothin'," he says, voice firm. He pushes Peter back, his hands constricting on Peter's upper arms and his dark eyes boring into Peter's own. "You ever find yourself doin' what you do where I'm doin' what I do—you remember that. You owe me nothin'."

Peter doesn't get the chance to process what he's saying before Mr. Castle lets go entirely. He stoops down to grab the duffle off the floor and place it on the bed, then rifles through it and piles Peter's clothes out on the comforter. He studies the contents of the duffle for a moment before shedding his jacket, holding it out to Peter with a small nod.

"You're gonna need this. Murdock didn't drive here."

Peter accepts the jacket with a quiet huff. He pulls it on and holds out his arms when Mr. Castle bundles up the clothes and passes it to him. Mr. Castle proceeds to scan the room and let out a short breath before going for the door, Peter trailing after.

Murdock's back is against the wall outside, his cane held between his legs and his head bowed. He seems to look up when the door opens, his ear angled in their direction. Peter finds himself grateful when he doesn't say a word.

"Got everything, Murdock?" Mr. Castle asks, an undercurrent to his tone that Peter can't identify.

Slowly, Murdock dips his head. "See you around, Frank."

For some reason, that prompts a short chuckle, but it's quick to die off. Mr. Castle turns to face Peter, his expression shifting before it settles into neutral. He rests a hand on Peter's shoulder, giving it a squeeze and meeting his eyes. He gives a small nod, only letting go and breaking his gaze after Peter returns it.

Mr. Castle turns to the car parked down the sidewalk and reaches in his pocket for the keys before he heads toward it, leaving Peter by the motel room with Murdock at his side.

He doesn't look back.