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Matt was supposed to be out of the office an hour ago. It was already well past 8 and they close at 6:30. He told Foggy and Karen he’d try and make it to the bar. But there he was, still in his office, reading over the latest case, some vigilante that got off with minimal charges thanks to one Jennifer Walters over in LA. It’s impressive stuff, he’d chat with her if he wasn’t trying to keep his secret identity a secret.
Anyway, he’s in the office, reading about Fisk and Walters and Stark Industries, then he hears the footsteps. They’re outside the building, a little ways up the street, light. Like the person’s walking on the balls of their feet, ready to start sprinting at the drop of the hat. They’re heading towards the building, hopefully not the office because Matt isn’t really up for human interaction right now, it’s kind of why he locked himself away for the night. But alas, he’s a Murdock, which means shit luck and an even shittier time. They knock on the door and Matt goes to answer with a sigh.
“We’re closed,” he says curtly.
“O-oh, sorry Mr. Murdock, I just-“
They’re young, awfully young, it makes Matt’s voice grate on his ears. And he smells awfully like blood and dust and gunpowder like he’s just been in a gunfight and lost. Matt’s barely closed wounds throb. God, he needs a nap. “If you have a question or a case, please come back tomorrow, when we’re opened. Thank you, good night.”
He goes to close the door but they put their foot in it and stop it from closing. “Wait! Wait, wait, I- I’m sorry but I- I really need help now and I don’t know who else to turn to and,” they take a deep breath and it rattles in their lungs like it’s the first one they’ve taken in a while. “I don’t have anyone else. Please.”
And Matt’s not a sap or a softie or whatever else Karen and Foggy call him. He’s not. He just wants to get the job done, fast and well. That’s it.
So the kid is still standing there in the open door, pleading his case instead of Matt closing the door in his face as he has the right to do. All because he said please.
Matt takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly. “What exactly do you need, Mr…”
“Parker. Peter Parker.”
The name’s familiar, somehow somewhere. He thinks he remembers hearing about some F.E.A.S.T. volunteer coordinator who got killed a few days ago in those attacks. Her last name was Parker, maybe. But it’s not from there, Matt’s heard that name somewhere else.
He clears his throat. “Right then, Mr. Parker. What do you need that’s so urgent it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”
“Ok right, um, I’m not completely sure about the legality of this-“
Oh no.
“But like, would it be possible to create a completely new identity?”
Matt closes his eyes. There’s a reason why he’s got office hours, he’s almost completely out of patience to deal with this crap. “Please tell me you didn’t come here to ask me if it’s legal to commit something that is very much a crime.”
He could practically feel Peter’s shock and hear it if the stutter of his heart was anything to go by. “Would the correct answer be no?”
“The only answer would be no.”
Matt leans heavily on the doorway. He doesn’t know how he should approach this. Peter’s just a kid, or someone way too young to be asking a question like this and having his heart sound like someone’s holding a gun to his head. But he’s asking for help, and Matt’s never one to turn someone away.
“I’m not sure how comfortable you are discussing potential crimes in hallways of mostly empty buildings at night, but I’m not. At all. So,” he moves aside from the doorway and gestures, “if you’d like, we can discuss this more inside.”
“N-no, I really should-“
“Kid, you can’t expect me to just… let you leave after that.” Matt’s not the most sensitive person, but he’s not going to let some teenager wander off into the night on his own after showing up to his office, battered and bruised and asking about a damn fake ID. Not happening. “You can’t.”
The air shifts as Peter rocks from foot to foot, making the floorboards creak. “…ok.”
Matt releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “Ok.”
He follows Peter in and they take a seat at the table in Matt’s office, which he realizes is pretty empty right now aside from the mini tree Foggy set up in the corner of his desk. It’s also the room with the worst lighting, which he didn’t expect to be an issue until now.
But it’s not an issue, because Peter hardly even stumbles as he takes a seat across from him.
“I like your tree,” Peter says, fiddling with the branches. “It’s cute.”
“So I’ve been told.” He lets the kid mess with the branches for a bit longer until he starts to get impatient. “What exactly do you need a fake ID for?”
“Um, alcohol?” His heart rate pitches. A lie, not that Matt couldn’t already tell from his voice.
“Sure and you came to a lawyer for that.”
“Uh, yea, you know because the law and my-my parents are super strict and all…”
Matt hums and taps his fingers on the desk. “How old are you?”
“18.” Truth.
“Where are your parents?”
“Um, overseas.” Lie.
“You’re from New York?”
“Yea. Queens.” Truth.
Matt tilts his head and decides to go for a wild, educated guess. “How long have you been living alone?”
“I-I’m not living alone! My parents, they uh, work overseas and…” Lie.
So the only thing Matt gets out of that interrogation is that the kid’s from Queens, he’s barely a legal adult, he’s the world’s worst liar and far too sincere. The smell of blood still lingers, but it’s less concentrated, like whatever bleeding he had stopped or he wiped some of it off with his sleeve. Maybe a mugging, maybe an underground fight ring, maybe he’s clumsy. Either way, he’s on his own and, if he’s coming to Matt to ask about the best way to commit a crime he didn’t even know was a crime, he’s pretty lost.
“Listen, Peter.” He chews on his lip and rubs his hands together. “If you want my help, I’m going to need you to be completely honest with me.”
Peter shifts uncomfortably. “I-I am.”
“You’re not.”
There’s silence for a beat and then a soft, resigned sigh. Matt can practically hear the slumped shoulders in Peter’s response. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re…” a mistrusting person, which Matt completely, utterly respects and understands. But Peter shouldn’t have to be. He’s 18, for Pete’s sake, he’s supposed to be getting a shitty fake ID from his friends to buy drinks and get busted for it. Or applying to colleges and freaking out over admissions.
He shouldn’t be sitting across from Matt in his closed law office, lying about every aspect of his life and completely clueless. And Matt’s supposed to- wants to help him but he’s got no idea what to do and zero experience. He runs around in a red leather costume at night and beats criminals within an inch of their lives, he shouldn’t even be breathing the same air as Peter Parker, let alone offering him advice.
But he’s gotta say something. The kid came to him, he’s not going to send him on his way with a business card and a pat on the back. “You’re a good kid, Peter. And I want to help you.”
“But you can’t do it with nothing, right?”
“Well, I can.”
Peter perks up a bit. “You can?”
Matt smirks. “I’m a really good lawyer.”
And suddenly, like he’s just said the funniest thing in the world, Peter laughs. Loud and clear and Matt’s sure anyone left in the building’s heard it. It’s a good sound, full of breath. It feels like the exact opposite of the whispery, quiet boy he’s been talking to for the past half hour.
“The best lawyer money can buy,” Peter finally responds. Then he gasps, “shit! I- I don’t have any money! Doesn’t this um, consultation cost something? Oh crap, I didn’t think this through, but when do I ever-“
“Hey hey, Peter.” He waits until the kid’s calmed enough to listen. “Let’s worry about money later and focus on your issues first, ok?” He wants to tell Peter that his services will be free, he’s not about to charge a homeless minor for legal fees, but he’s got a feeling Peter wouldn’t accept that.
“Ok. Yea, ok. Um, right, things about me. The truth, or…”
“As much of it as you can tell me.” Which is hopefully a good amount but Matt’s willing to work with scraps.
“In the past three days, I’ve been almost arrested on 5 separate occasions, my… last remaining relative died, and my identity was erased.”
Ok, not what he was expecting, by a long shot. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, maybe something sad but not that intense in just three days-
Focus, Matt. His heart’s racing, pounding, all the adjectives that describe being on the verge of a damn panic attack, and Matt’s over here thinking long and hard about shit they can sort through later.
“Are you hungry?”
The sudden question seems to be out of place enough that Peter pays attention to that instead of whatever spiral he’s falling down. “Y-yes?”
“What is your opinion on Thai food?”
Turns out his opinion is highly positive and Peter gobbles down plate after plate of leftovers from earlier’s Christmas Eve dinner. Matt’s glad, even if the kid is eating too much for his size but doesn’t seem to slow down, because the sound of his stomach churning with hunger was more troubling than the smell of blood.
“Are you in school?” He asks in between bites.
“Not anymore. But I’m working on getting my GED.”
“And your parents?”
“They died when I was like 5. And then… it was just me and my aunt for a while.”
Was, ok. Was sucks but it’s was instead of nothing. “And what exactly were the crimes you were almost arrested for?”
“… loitering, squatting, petty theft which I swear I didn’t do, um more loitering.”
“And the last instance?”
“…murder.” Peter quickly adds, “I’m not a criminal, Mr. Murdock.”
“I never said you were one,” nor would he ever think it, Peter’s too pure, “and if I automatically assumed all my clients were guilty of the crimes they’re being charged with, I’d be out of a job.”
The kid sighs. “Right.”
“But the identity thing. How’d that happen?”
Peter groans and devours more food. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Maybe not.” But he’s fought ninjas and mobsters and other random ass people in a crappy outfit and in his custom suit that he never wears but probably should. Then aliens attacked New York again and he came back from the dead. He’s heard crazy shit. “Try me anyway.”
The kid takes a deep breath. “I… got into some legal trouble and I went to Doctor Strange for help and, to make a long story short, the only way to keep our universe from breaking was to make the world forget me. So, he did.”
That’s a new one. And Peter’s leaving out a hell of a lot because a random orphan doesn’t just have one of the Avengers numbers and doesn’t just break the universe because of legal trouble.
“Why?”
“Mm, can’t say.”
“Can’t or don’t want to?”
“I can’t and I don’t want to lie. Makes me feel bad.”
Matt doesn’t bother hiding his smile. “Yea, I noticed.”
“So, fake ID…”
“I can’t help you with.”
Peter sighs and puts his box of food down. “Figures.”
“But, I can’t let you leave here without me doing something.”
“You definitely could.”
“Yea, I could. But I won’t because you’re prone to trouble and need a place to stay. So, I’ll make you an offer.”
“Please don’t put a horse head in my bed.”
Matt huffs and ignores him. “I know a really good lawyer with an apartment that’s too big for his own good.”
Disbelief rings through the silence between them and Matt’s regretting even making the offer to the kid who probably thinks he’s being way too forward when they just met. But it’s the least he can do for someone who needs so much more.
But Peter says, “Mr. Murdock, I-I don’t know what to say.”
“Yes, if you want the place basically to yourself. Trust me, I’m never there, you’d hardly even know I’m you’re roommate.” He pauses and clears his throat. “Or, or no. If not. And I’ll try to help you get on your feet. But no matter what, my services are always open to you, and I’ll be happy to help with anything you need, and I mean anything, Peter.”
“Can I… think about it? I- I haven’t even started apartment searching and I just want to, try, first.”
“Of course. Take your time.”
They clean up and walk to the door where Matt stops Peter before he leaves and hands him a business card. “Give me a call if you make up your mind. Or almost get arrested again.”
There’s a smile in Peter’s voice when he answers, “hopefully there won’t be an again.“
“Peter,” he calls as the kid makes his way down the hall. “Did I know you? Before?”
“…you helped me, once.”
“So you’ve always been a trouble magnet.”
He can hear the teasing exasperation in his response (and the immeasurable relief that shouldn’t be there, but Matt will do everything in his power to make sure it stays).
“From the crib.”
A few days later, the phone rings.
“Murdock, speaking.”
“Hello.” The usual breathlessness and politeness. “It’s Peter. Parker.”
“Hi Peter Parker,” Matt says, “what trouble did you get yourself into this time?”
Peter chuckles softly. “None, surprisingly. Um… that offer you made me. The one I couldn’t refuse.”
“You definitely could and still can.”
“Yea yea, I know. Uh, is it… still available.”
Matt doesn’t realize he’s smiling when he replies, “always will be.”