Matt is pissed. The kind of pissed that Foggy has only seen him be maybe two other times in all the years that he's known Matt- but then again, Foggy isn't around for much Daredevil-ing, and that's generally the time when Matt deals with most of his pent up rage and issues. No matter what he says, confession isn't a substitute for therapy. Neither is beating the shit out of people, but that's an argument that they aren't going to have again.

"God he's just— ugh!" Matt kicks the coffee table hard enough that Foggy has flashbacks to Matt's wrecked apartment.

"Matt, let's think about whatever that was logically, before you go and kill whoever it is you just set up a meeting with like some sort of weird gangster," Foggy says in the 'I need to calm Matt down before he gets himself punched' voice that he'd had to perfect in law school thanks to his roomie mouthing off at every former-fratboy dick he met at a party. "Let's start simple: who are you meeting?"

Matt kicks the table again before slumping back down onto his couch (the couch that Foggy refuses to sit on because he knows just how much blood has been cleaned off of it). "Tony Stark."

" The Tony Stark? Why the hell did you just get a superpowered child to set up a meeting with Iron Man for you?"

"Because Stark's an irresponsible, emotionally stunted manchild who's going to get Peter killed because of his own daddy issues!" Matt snarls, digging his fingertips into the cracking fake leather upholstery and ripping at the cheap foam inside.

And this is only night one of not being allowed to go Daredevil-ing. Out of fourteen. Foggy is going to die young just from the stress, he swears.

Foggy throws a pair of chopsticks at Matt's head and the asshole catches them, before glaring in Foggy's general direction.

"The hell was that for?"

"We had an agreement: no Daredevil voice in polite conversation."

"I don't have a Daredevil voice!" Matt says indignantly, throwing the chopsticks back at Foggy, who also catches them. Thank you, intramural softball league .

"Yeah, buddy, you do. We've had this argument before, and you lose every single time. Now tell me about Stark, because if you of all people are calling him emotionally stunted, then I need to hear this."

Matt glares again, this time to the left of Foggy. When it doesn't get a reaction, he just sighs and drags his hand down his face. "All I know is that he's an asshole who hunted down a kid with abilities, gave him a fancy suit, and then sent him headfirst into a fight. Then when the kid needed him he just… ditched him!"

Foggy gives Matt a very sad look, and Matt glares again.

"What?" he growls.

"Whaddaya mean 'what'?" Foggy replies.

"Your heart did a thing."

"A thing called sympathy, bud. This issue seems pretty personal, huh?" Foggy says softly.

Matt trades in the grimace for a very flat look. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Peter is a kid, and he's got all these scary new powers, right?"

"Right."

"And he's getting along alright. And then bam! This guy shows up and helps him because he wants this kid to fight in his war, and then after that lovely bit of almost-parenting, he ditches him."

"This isn't about Stick," Matt snaps. "Don't talk about shit you don't understand."

"Hey, man, you're the one who brought up Stick, not me." Foggy refuses to get pulled into any hostility and is neutral in his defense.

Matt growls and Foggy beans him on the head with one of the throw pillows that was in his armchair. "We don't growl in this household. I need to get a spray bottle and start squirting you with it when you act too Daredevil-y in normal situations."

"It's my household," Matt mutters sullenly, before getting up slowly and walking over to the closet.

As he kneels down and pulls the trunk out to grab his old Daredevil gear, the black pajama ones, he winces slightly from pulling his stitches. Because, Foggy recalls, almost like it was recently, he got shot. Like a moron. He grabs the clothes and groans as he stands back up, his right hand pressed over where the bullet had hit him.

"You know I'm not letting you go out alone, right?" Foggy asks as Matt starts putting on the costume. "You can barely stand for more than ten minutes. How the hell are you gonna get on a roof a few blocks away from here? You just gonna limp down the sidewalk and hope not too many people point their cameras at you? That'd be all over Twitter. I can already picture it: Daredevil's Walk of Shame will be #1 trending."

"You are not coming with me," Matt says, continuing in his sullen tone and pausing before he pulls on the shirt.

Foggy checks for new scars out of habit, and sure enough there's one near his collarbone. "Dude," he says, "what do the ladies say about all the scars when you bring 'em back to your place?"

"I exclusively find my hookups at BDSM clubs so they won't ask about that," Matt deadpans as he pulls on the shirt with too much effort and gritted teeth against the pain.

"I really hope you're joking. I mean, I know Catholics are all about self-flagellation, but I never expected you to take it so literally. Not to say," Foggy backtracks, "you can't be into that if it's what you really want,"

Matt gives Foggy his bitchiest look, the one that's usually reserved exclusively for Frank Castle, or the patronizing middle-aged women at the coffee shop who say he's ' so brave' for just existing as a blind person.

"Seriously though, someone's gonna have to chaperone you. Knowing you, you'll hear a crime then jump off a building, and rip out all your stitches trying to go help if someone isn't there to stop you. And I'm not letting you parkour there either."

"Well then, Foggy, what do you suggest I do?" Matt says in a bitchy tone that matches his face. Jesus Christ, he must've been a nightmare as a teenager .

"I hate this," Matt says. "I really, truly hate this."

Foggy looks in the rearview mirror to see Matt slapping Jessica's hands away, as she pulls on the tails of fabric that the black mask has. She only stops to pull a flask out of the pocket on the inside of her jacket and take a swig from it. Foggy feels a microscopic amount of sympathy for Matt, considering the smell of whatever Jessica's drinking is even burning his nose

"That smells like paint thinner," Matt mutters, crossing his arms over his chest, pulling the mask down further. Jessica punches him lightly in the shoulder; her coordination isn't great after all she's had to drink, so it isn't quite as light as she'd intended. Matt winces and shoves her in response.

"I feel like I'm driving my kids to a soccer game," Karen says from the driver's seat. "Jessica, stop harassing your brother. Matt, don't be such a downer."

"I'm more like his babysitter than his sister," Jessica points out. Thankfully, she's still sober enough that her words aren't too terribly slurred.

"No, babysitters get paid. You're like his big sister," Karen replies as she turns onto Eleventh Avenue and puts the car into park. "Alright kids, we're here. We'll be waiting down the block—just call us when you finish."

"Okay mom, " Jessica replies sarcastically as she opens the car door and gets out with Matt.

As the car drives off, Matt and Jessica head towards the building that he'd specified for the meeting, but once they get to it, it becomes pretty obvious that there isn't a way to get to the roof without climbing up the fire escape and then doing some parkour along window ledges to get to the roof. Matt walks straight for the ladder leading up to the fire escape, but Jessica grabs him by the shoulder.

"No."

"But—"

" No, Murdock. They said not to let you parkour, and I'm not gonna let you parkour."

"Don't say my name. And how the hell am I supposed to get up there, then?"

Jessica pauses in thought for a moment, taking another sip of her whiskey before she sighs. She stuffs the flask away, and Matt knows he's going to hate what she's about to say. "Climb on."

Matt tilts his head. "What?"

"You heard me. You didn't do piggyback rides at the orphanage or something?"

Matt glares. Jessica glares back.

Jessica wins the glaring contest, because the top half of her face isn't covered, and she's actually glaring at Matt instead of half a foot to the right of his head.

"This is humiliating," Matt says as he gives in and lets Jessica lift him up onto her back.

"Says the guy who goes out dressed in skin-tight red leather," she counters before jumping up onto the roof and setting Matt back down after stumbling slightly on the landing.

"Are you ever going to get over the fact that I have a fucking costume? Maybe having my face covered is the reason I don't need a lawyer every other fucking day, like you and Luke!" Matt bitches at her.

"So you admit it's a costume!"

"It's better than showing my face to the whole fucking world is what it is! And it's also armor, which some of us like to have." Matt snaps back, walking over to the edge of the roof to do his weird listening thing.

"Jesus, stop being so insufferable. Just stand there and look pretty until Stark shows up."

Matt glares again but doesn't say anything, as he proceeds to stand there and looks pretty while they wait for Tony to show up.

"Your ass looks better in this suit than the devil one," Jessica says after five minutes of silence and three more drinks.

"Shut up ," Matt hisses just a few seconds before the sound of the Iron Man suit becomes audible for Jessica as well.

As Stark touches down on the rooftop he groans loudly behind the faceplate. "Friday, please tell me that isn't who I think it is."

"I can only do that if you think it's anyone other than The Devil of Hell's Kitchen," she replies.

When the faceplate opens up, Tony doesn't even get the chance to say anything before Jessica's making her way between him and Daredevil.

"Okay kids, ground rules before we get this started," she announces, gesturing slightly with her now empty flask. "Rule one: no fighting. Rule two: minimal yelling. Rule three: no trying to unmask Daredevil, metaphorically or physically. Break any of these rules, and I will write the rule breaker's phone number on every bathroom stall in every piece of shit hole in the wall bar I go to. And post it on the Craigslist personal section with a very explicit post about what you're looking for in a partner. Do we understand?"

Tony glares at Jessica for a moment, and the raised eyebrow he gets in response makes him cave. "Fine. So Daredevil, wanna tell me why Parker set up this meeting?"

"So that we could discuss your treatment of him," Matt answers simply though he's definitely put on the 'I gargle broken glass' Daredevil voice to help his image.

" My treatment of him? Oh that's rich, coming from you," Tony scoffs.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not the one exposing him to fucking domestic terrorists," he replies.

Matt's grinning like a psycho, and Jessica's just giving Tony a look like he's a fucking moron.

"No, no, of course you don't. You just take him to a different fucking continent to fight international terrorists and super soldiers and assassins. That's much better than him working alongside a person who's only ever killed people who are threats to society," Matt counters.

"You're no fucking better than Castle," Tony snaps. "Have you two shown Peter the best way to make someone talk yet? Is it ripping out fingernails or breaking the fingers themselves? I never had torture 101 in school."

"Actually, shooting out their joints is pretty effective," a deep voice supplies from behind Tony.

Both Tony and Jessica jump, but Matt only smiles.

"Frank, I'm so glad you're here!"

"That's a first," Frank replies, circling around Tony to come stand at Matt's side.

Matt ignores the barbed comment and just keeps smiling. "I want to ask you something."

"Let's hear it, choirboy."

"If you knew a child was going to do something dangerous, and you have absolutely no way to stop them from doing the dangerous thing, do you think it would be a good idea to take away their only form of protection?"

"That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard. Of course not." Frank scoffs, personally offended by the idea.

Matt turns his psycho smile back to Tony. "You hear that, Stark?"

"Oh, fuck off, Daredevil. You've known Spidey for what? Three weeks? Why the hell are you acting like his dad?"

"I'm not acting like his dad," Matt growls. "I'm acting like a goddamn responsible adult—something you haven't had to do once in your goddamn life!"

"Minimal yelling," Jessica reminds from where she's sitting about ten feet away. She sadly sloshes her empty flask.

Matt growls something under his breath, before taking a step closer to Tony and sneering at the man. "You want to know what I think, Stark?"

"I have a feeling you're going to tell me no matter what I say."

"I think you're the kind of person who uses people. You find them when they're new and shiny or maybe even when they're old and beat up; doesn't matter as long as there's something there to exploit. You make them think they're serving some sort of greater purpose when really you're just looking for bodies to pile up that will raise your throne up higher."

Tony opens his mouth to counter, but the Punisher gestures in a vague, intimidating manner with one of his many guns.

"You're a child ," Matt continues, stepping closer until he's right in Tony's face. "What was it? Daddy didn't love you enough? When you were bad he took away your toys, so you're doing the same with Spider-Man? The thing is, he's not going to stop just because you take the tech away. He's still special without a fancy suit, and he still cares enough to try and help people, even if it gets him killed, Stark. But you know what? Go ahead, have your tantrum."

Matt's gesticulating, he's in full lawyer mode. "Take away the suit, tell him to stop working with me, do whatever the hell you want. You want him out there with no training and no protection? Then that's your choice. You want to take him away from the people who actually understand what he's going through? That's still your choice. But I'm not going to sit around and watch someone that Peter worships tear him to the pits of hell as well as take away his protection."

Matt lowers his voice to an absolutely feral growl. "Because when he gets hurt, I want you to know that I'll come for you. You're not special without your suit, and maybe it's time someone reminded you of that."

"Maybe it'll be your turn to take a bullet for the kid," Frank adds, stepping forward to join Matt, who's standing less than a foot away from Tony.

Tony looks between the two of them. "Jesus, you really are fucking psycho. Both of you."

"Frank's psycho; I'm the product of the same kind of mentor you are to Peter," Matt replies with a grin.

Tony just shakes his head and takes a step back as the faceplate slides back closed. "Psychos," he mutters under his breath before taking off. Matt shouts that he wasn't done, but Tony takes off without a backward glance, and Matt takes a moment to control his anger.

Once the sound of the suit has faded into the distance, Matt turns to Frank. "Not that I didn't appreciate your input, but what're you doing here?"

"Heard Daredevil was runnin' around and I had to make sure your dumb ass wasn't tryin' to fight with a fresh bullet wound," Frank answers with a shrug.

"Aw, you worry about me? That's so sweet," Matt teases, completely oblivious to Frank's eye-rolling.

"Go home. I got shit to do while you're outta commission," Frank mutters, adjusting the rifle on his shoulder before heading for the next roof over.

Matt just about follows after him, but Jessica grabs his shoulder and smacks him lightly on the side of the head. "No. You're going home because I care about your friends enough to make sure they don't need to drive you back to Harlem for Claire to fix you up again."

"Fine," Matt mutters. "But I'm going down the fire escape."