Even though his Spider-Manning often takes him up to Midtown, Peter's always done his best to stay out of Hell's Kitchen. Its reputation is a little too gritty for Spider-Man's image and, after the Blip, Daredevil's been sighted taking up his old post. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen is territorial at the best of times, and him returning to a borough that's flourished with organized crime without him is certainly not the best. Still, Peter makes a mental note to find time to seek out the vigilante.
That's what adults do, right? They network? Yeah, Peter should probably start networking.
He won't do it now, he figures. Daredevil's probably not in the mood to deal with some punk-ass kid from Queens. But Hell's Kitchen is where Matt Murdock lives and operates, so he goes during the day when the Devil won't be prowling. He even goes as a civilian to avoid stirring up gossip. It's the least he can do, he figures. So he takes the train, braving the stenches of rusted metal, phlegm, and over brewed coffees of the New York subway system. The Spider-Man costume sits at the bottom of his backpack, promising a faster and kinder return trip. When he climbs his way back up to ground level, a stray thought crosses Peter's mind that he should have packed some cologne or deodorant or just anything that would mask the smell of New York's underbelly. There's not much to be done now, but he comforts himself with the thought that his own senses are pretty sensitive. He doubts that anyone with a normal sense of smell would even notice.
Double-checking the address on his phone, Peter walks down the street, tucking his collar up against the brisk March air.
Nelson, Murdock and Page is on the second floor of an old brick building, right across the hall from the office of a chiropractor. It's run-down, like most of Hell's Kitchen, but stands proud and defiant.
(Every building that's survived multiple alien invasions has that defiant quality. It carries the attitude of its citizens. Just try and destroy New York, it taunts, New York is a shithole, but it's our shithole.)
Despite the closed door to the chiropractor, Peter's super-hearing can be a curse sometimes. He grits his teeth as he catches the sound of joints popping and cracking from inside, though the sighs of relief that quickly follow help ease some of his tension.
The sign on the door is tiny, but the letters are glossy and neat like it was polished recently (Nelson, Murdock and Page: Attorneys at Law and Investigative Services, it declares.). The bottom of the sign is embossed with braille. There are people talking inside. Two men and a woman. Their conversation halts as Peter knocks on the glass. High heels click against the hardwood towards the door.
A pretty blonde woman greets him, offering a polite smile as she looks him up and down. Over her head, Peter can see a stout-ish man with sandy hair and another man wearing a pair of familiar red glasses. He's not holding his cane.
"Uh, hi, are you open? Is that how you refer to it? I mean, I know you're not a store, but I guess you have business hours and I know that this would be during those hours, so I guess that's kind of a stupid question. Um, can I- can I come in?" He's rambling. Despite three months with nobody to ramble to, it seems old habits are hard to break.
She tilts her head with a small quirk of her lip. "Sure."
Thanking her, Peter steps inside the dingy office and can't stop the thought about how odd it is that such a well-known defense attorney is situated in this shitty of a space. It's clean and warm, but the paint is peeling and the floors are in desperate need of a shine. But compared to Mr. Stark's modern and high-tech style (thinking about Mr. Stark makes his heart clench), Peter has to admit that this office feels more his speed. More like home.
"Can we help you?" the man that isn't Mr. Murdock asks. Nelson or Page, Peter figures.
Peter tightens his grip on his backpack. "Uh, yeah, hi. My name is Peter Parker. I was wondering if I could talk to Mr. Murdock?"
Both men's faces pinch in confusion, practically in sync. It's uncanny. The blonde woman walks around Peter to stand shoulder to shoulder with her colleagues. She eyes him like he's a loose thread that she just might pull to see if there's a story to unravel. Mr. Murdock clears his throat and gives him a charming smile. "Mr. Nelson and I are partners, Mr. Parker. I'd be happy to talk with you in my office, but it's important I let you know that if you're in need of our services he'll be your attorney as well."
Peter considers this. Matt Murdock had really helped him in dropping charges after Mysterio. He'd caught a brick that had flown through Peter's window before Peter had barely had a chance to react. He'd seemed trustworthy and had come highly recommended, especially by the known-vigilantes of New York. If he trusts Mr. Nelson (and Miss Page, by extension), Peter figures he probably can too.
It's not like I have anyone left to lose if I'm wrong, he decides.
"Oh, okay. I, uh, heard you've represented people like Jessica Jones and the Punisher before?"
Mr. Nelson's frown deepens and his gaze becomes more critical. Matt keeps his smile fixed in place. He chuckles with a forced warmth. "Forgive me, Mr. Parker, those are some odd choices to bring up. Especially considering there's no public record that I've ever represented Miss Jones."
How had Happy known, then? Peter swallows his nerve. Might as well dive head-first. "You represent vigilantes, right? I know Spider-Man."
Matt cocks his head, smile dropping. The office is still. Then, Matt nods. "Okay. Let's go talk in my office."
His hands brush absent-mindedly along the wall and door-frame towards the office on the left, but Matt walks with a confidence that Peter finds surprising for a blind man. Is that ableist? he wonders as he trails behind. Mr. Nelson's and Miss Page's eyes burn into his back. His eyes skate across the red and white cane tucked against the wall. Maybe he just knows his office well enough to not need the aid. Matt gestures to the chair across from a scratched wooden desk, shutting the door behind Peter with a soft click. "Please, take a seat."
Tossing his backpack at his feet, Peter settles into the stiff-backed chair. Matt drags a hand along the edge of the desk, searching for his own chair before sitting. Piles of paperwork are stacked on the edge of the desk, all inkless. The pages Peter can see poking out are raised with dots. A laptop and a refreshable braille display lie closed near Matt's hands. Mr. Murdock clears his throat, leaning forward with his palms facing outward.
"Well, Mr. Parker- Peter, can I call you Peter?"
"Uh, yeah."
Nodding, Matt leans just a little further over his desk. "So, Peter, why are you here?"
Peter frowns. "You- you've represented vigilantes before, right?"
"Before the Blip, Mr. Nelson- Foggy- and I took on the case of Frank Castle, whom you and the media referred to as the Punisher. However, forgive me, you sound a little young, so I'm not sure you would be aware that the failure of that case briefly dissolved the firm. The trial was not a success, Peter. Mr. Castle was found guilty." His voice is gentle, though pressing, and his head is tilted in a way that could be considered sympathetic.
"Oh, no, I was 15 during the Punisher trial. We talked about it in my Civics class at school. I was just, uh, you know... blipped?"
Matt winces in sympathy. "So was I. It's strange coming back to a world that's gone on without you, isn't it?"
That's one way of putting it. Peter had been lucky that Ned and MJ had disappeared when Thanos had snapped his fingers and dusted half the universe. He at least got another year with them before... before... Peter blinks back tears and nods, then blushes because he nodded at a guy who obviously can't see him. "Yeah, it wasn't fun. My aunt and I came back to our stuff in storage, thanks to some of her friends from work, and our apartment being lived in by strangers. I didn't even realize that five years had really passed until hours after I came back; I had so much to do."
"I understand. I was fortunate on the apartment front. With all the empty apartments after half the world vanished, my apartment wasn't the first one people flocked to." He gestures vaguely, wearing a sheepish smile. His glasses glint in the sparse light of the office. "It has terrible lighting. Never was a problem for me, which I suppose is what saved me the stress from having to go hunting."
"Oh, that's good."
Nodding, Matt's smile drops again. "You mentioned my representation of Jessica Jones. She was never charged, so there are no records of my involvement. Is there a reason you know about it?"
Happy told me is not a good answer. He can't prove that he knows a Happy Hogan, not anymore. He's just a kid who met Aunt May through Spider-Man to him. And telling Mr. Murdock about how he mentioned it in an off-hand comment when he'd agreed to take Peter's case three months ago is not a good answer either. Matt's given no indication he remembers Peter. And why would he? Doctor Strange's magic had shown no signs of wearing off before. MJ had looked at him with blank eyes and had offered him a standard customer-service smile and nothing more. Ned had pushed past him in the cafe like he'd been a stranger. Like they hadn't known each other for over half their lives. Like he had never been Peter's guy in the chair. He clenches his hand, digging his fingernails into his palm.
He still can't control his own strength. His nails puncture the skin in bloody half-moons.
Matt's brow furrows. "Mr. Parker?"
The pain shoots a jolt of energy down his spine. "Uh, I asked around. Your name came up. And I, um, remembered the Punisher trial. And I think you and Mr. Nelson helped clear Daredevil's name in 2018 too. So I guess I figured you have a thing for helping out vigilantes?" When Mr. Murdock raises an eyebrow, Peter is quick to add, "On the legal side, obviously."
The air in the office is dry. It's a little hard to breathe. Down the hall, Peter thinks he can catch the sound of more popping joints. Matt's voice is firm. "If you're looking for an attorney for Spider-Man, it's important not to lie to me, Peter."
Peter's heart skips a few beats. His palms are clammy, soaking into the iron-scented blood peeking out of his cuts. He wipes his hands on his jeans. "Right, sorry. I just want to help Spider-Man, you know? He's not in any trouble right now, or anything, but maybe you heard about the truck thing?"
"I have. Eight million in damages? From eye witness accounts, I heard there shouldn't be any criminal ramifications for it. Often times, Good Samaritan law is a godsend for acts of vigilantism," he says, still visibly dissatisfied with Peter's subject change. "But Spider-Man operates in Queens, right? Nelson, Murdock and Page is a little out of your way."
"I just figured you were the right person for the job."
Matt hums in response, so Peter keeps going.
"Um, I can't really pay you and I don't think Spider-Man can afford to either, but I know you do a lot of pro-bono work? And I could find some way to pay you back if Spider-Man ever needs help, I just thought that, you know, it would really help him to have a lawyer, or I guess a law firm, on his side. Just in case something ever happens. He's a good guy, I swear. I think he does a lot to help this city. You know... helping the little guy."
At that, Matt straightens back in his chair and nods. "And how do you know Spider-Man?"
"We work together." Damn it, that sounds like he's saying he's also a vigilante. As if it isn't enough to be one web-slinging vigilante, now he's making it sound like there's two of them. There's no way Mr. Murdock will help him out if he keeps sounding like a tool. Peter splutters, rubbing the back of his neck. Recalling how easily Matt had called Peter out on his bullshit earlier, he tries to think of something that isn't a lie. "Not like that! I, uh, I know who he is? Yeah, I know him under the mask."
Matt sighs, reaching a hand up to adjust his glasses. Surprisingly, he sounds like he believes Peter. "I'm not in the business of turning away people who need help, Peter. But I'll need you to promise me something."
He stills. There's nobody left to protect, but it's not like he's ready to out himself so soon. Eventually, maybe, but within ten minutes of re-meeting Mr. Murdock? The idea makes his heart flutter. "Sure?"
"I assume that meeting with him is out of the question. So I need something I can use to convince Foggy and Karen to take Spider-Man on as a client- should he ever need an attorney. So tell me one thing. Can you promise me that Spider-Man is a good person?" he asks. His head cocks to the side once more and he's quiet.
(The head-tilting is a mannerism Peter remembers Mr. Murdock having when they met the first time. He always seemed to be able to tell the truth after doing that. He'd caught MJ on an innocuous lie, something about how long she'd known about Peter being Spider-Man, and MJ was- is- a great liar. No tells, aside from an uptick of her eyebrow. Which Matt couldn't see.
Maybe it's just a nervous tick, but the more Peter sees that tilt the more he thinks about the other odd things about Matt Murdock. Namely, the way he'd caught a brick hurtling through a window before Peter's senses had told him to raise a hand. Psychic? In a world with super soldiers and mad titans hunting down a pile of colourful rocks it's certainly possible that there's more to the attorney than meets the eye. Maybe he should look into that after this.)
Swallowing slowly, Peter worries his bottom lip between his teeth. Is Spider-Man a good person? He wants to be. But would a good person risk the collapse of the multiverse because he didn't think to just talk to the MIT Admissions Office? Would a good person watch the light leave Mr. Stark's eyes on a scorched battlefield and do nothing to try and revive him? Would a good person ignore his promise to MJ and Ned to come find them and make them remember him just because he decided they were happier and safer without him? It's a question like a loaded bullet with an answer like a shot through the heart.
"He tries to be," Peter says softly, twisting a loose thread on his jacket sleeve. "He told me that when you have powers like his and you don't do anything to stop bad things from happening, then they happen because of you."
"Sounds like a lot of weight to put on yourself."
Peter shrugs. "I guess. But I can promise that he does his best to be good, Mr. Murdock. And that if you or your partners could ever help him, he'd really appreciate it."
The smile that blooms on Matt's face is sincere. He pushes back his chair and rises to his feet, gesturing a hand out to tell Peter to stay seated. "Alright, Peter. Would it be alright if I introduced you to Mr. Nelson? There's a lot of work to do if we're signing Spider-Man on as a client."
Peter returns the smile shyly. It's the first smile that's felt genuine in a long time.
"That would be great."