ofthespider

Title; In Which Philosophies Differ
Fandom; Marvel (Spider-Man/Daredevil)
Characters/Pairings; Peter Parker/Matt Murdock
Theme; 27. author's choice (There's a lot you don't know.)
Rating; PG-13/R, for one mention of sex and the F-bomb
Canon; In some universe where Peter and Matt are doing the nasty.
Warning(s); Mention of sex, derogatory statements toward personal religion
Summary; Spider-Man catches Daredevil beating a man to death; arguing ensues.


There were nights when they just couldn't ... click the way they'd used to. Fighting beside each other was usually fun, but, then again, they were usually fighting some superpowered whack who could handle a good beating. But tonight ... God, tonight, Peter felt physically sick.

Matt had beaten a man, nearly to death. He'd meant to kill him, and would have, if Peter hadn't stepped in. It was just a criminal, a murderer, but a completely human one. One that would die if Daredevil's fist had met his skull one more time. It was less the man and more the principle that Spider-Man had saved, torn between knowing it was an eye for an eye sort of situation and the absolute horror of seeing Daredevil killing someone. It wasn't that Peter wasn't at least partially aware that it happened sometimes, that Matt would start going and couldn't stop, but until now, they just hadn't talked about it.

At least they were talking about it now. Or ... screaming, as the neighbors would note.

"---you can't just go killing people!" Peter snapped, for what felt like the tenth time since they'd gone back to Matt's apartment. "It's not---you can't. You just can't! We don't---"

"We don't what, Peter?" Matt was irritated, already stripping off his suit, as if determined not to let Peter ruin an already bad night. Losing control like that, losing his respect for human life, took a lot out of him. He needed quiet, time alone, time to gather himself and be upset about the fact that, yes, he'd very nearly splattered someone's brain against a wall.

"We don't kill people!" Peter shouted; Matt flinched. "It's not our job, it's not our call to make! We protect people, we don't play God!"

"Excuse me?" Matt stopped, the top half of his suit in his hands. "It's not playing God. Don't be melodramatic. You saw what that guy, you saw what happened!"

"That doesn't mean it's your job to pass that kind of judgement," Peter spat, unnerved by Matt's gruff, superior attitude. The way he just went about his business like it was no big deal, tossing the top half of his suit onto the couch. "We don't kill people, Matt, we protect---"

"Why do you keep saying 'we'?!" Matt's head was pounding, from the stress and from Peter's yelling, but he was sick of trying to keep his voice down. "This isn't about 'we' or 'us'. Hell's Kitchen is my area, and if you don't like the way I run it, you can leave."

"Oh, bull. We both know that's bull." Peter was in his space now, standing like he was trying to stare Matt down. It was relatively unaffective, Peter being four inches shorter and Matt being blind. "Hell's Kitchen is still in New York City. Unlike you, I don't put a limit on the people I protect. Area means nothing to me, and you know it."

"Maybe it should," Matt snapped. "You hang around here too much as it is! Go back to Queens; I don't need you here."

"You mean you don't need me calling you on your shit."

"Shut up, Peter."

"Aren't you supposed to be Catholic or something? 'Thou shalt not kill' and all?" It was a low blow, but then ... Peter never knew when to shut up, especially not when he was angry and -- honestly -- kind of scared. Scared that Matt could snap like that at any time and get violent with anyone. Peter could handle it, but as much as they liked to ignore it, Matt was getting worse. Their arguments were nasty, sure, and that was normal, but right now Peter was angry at Matt in a way he never should have to be, enraged because it was Matt nearly killing people. More than anything else, Peter was disappointed, and instead of being the voice of reason, Peter was only making it worse by taunting him.

That comment seemed to stab at Matt, both because Peter was right and because he had no right to attack something as personal as his religion. "You're one to talk," Matt countered, scathing. "Don't you pretend to be Protestant or something? I'm pretty sure there's a rule in there about letting other men fuck you."

Peter flinched. "Oh, Jesus Christ, do you want to be the pot or the kettle? At least I acknowledge that I suck at religion."

"I'm not kidding, Peter. Shut up." Matt hadn't been given time to cool down, and he was exercising an alarming amount of restraint.

"I'm not kidding, either, I want to know how you can walk into a church and pretend that this isn't a big deal, beating people to death like you're one of them. You're no better than the people we fight when you do that."

The next thing Peter felt was his head snapping to one side and pain blooming on his jaw. Taking a step or two away out of shock, he brought a hand up, gingerly touching the place where he'd been struck. His stupid spider senses hadn't picked it up, but ... hell, he'd fought with Matt before. It had gone badly. But Matt had never seemed like a threat to Peter, and apparently, his spider senses had agreed, enough not to pick up when Matt was about to slug him.

"...You hit me." Like he couldn't believe it. He should've expected it, Peter chided himself. Look what they were fighting about.

"Get out," Matt breathed, quiet and dangerous when he gave Peter a shove for good measure.

"Don't touch me," Peter snapped, lashing out and pushing Matt away, hard enough to make him stumble and hit the kitchen counter hard.

Matt hissed as the counter dug into his back -- but the pain seemed to wake him up, and he was silent, rubbing his back.

"I don't have to deal with this." Peter rubbed his jaw, grabbing his mask off the counter. "I really don't have to deal with this."

"---Wait." Matt didn't seem as angry as he'd been a moment before, as if the blow had calmed him down. His father had cuffed him and shoved him around to get him to behave, and the effect of the physical pain deflating his mood still seemed to work.

To Peter, though, it just seemed ... kind of weird. Pulling his mask on, he looked back. "What?"

"Don't leave angry. Look, I'm---it's not like I like doing that sort of thing, it just happens when---"

"I don't care right now, okay? I don't care. Do whatever you want. Doesn't mean I approve of what goes on here, but talking to you is obviously getting us nowhere." He scowled underneath his mask, and Matt could hear it.

Matt rolled his eyes. "Come on. Peter, come on, don't be like that." Shit. Shit. "I just need a shower, and then we can talk, I just need to calm down."

"Then calm down. Doesn't mean I'm sticking around to talk." As he said it, Peter was crawling out the window, kicking himself for even getting involved in what was obviously a serious psychological issue.

Matt was about to open his mouth again, ask if Peter planned on coming back, but instead, he scowled. "Then get the hell out of here. I told you to go."

Peter just snorted, webbing a building and jumping, leaving Matt to finally sigh and lean against the counter, hating Peter for pushing his limits and hating himself for driving him off. Hoping he'd come back and doubting it.

So instead of dwelling, Matt decided to finally stalk off to the shower. He'd deal with Peter and his self-righteous bullshit some other time, if there was another time.