ofthespider

Title; In Which People Know Too Much (Part 1)
Fandom; Marvel (Spider-Man/Daredevil)
Characters/Pairings; Peter Parker/Matt Murdock
Theme; 5. you can be like me
Canon; About a week or so after In Which They Deal With The Awkward Stuff
Rating; R
Warning(s); Violence, language, and some sexuality.
Summary; Part 1 of an arc. Deciding to move in with Matt, Peter's life is going pretty all right---even when a photographer for The Globe gets a picture of him and Matt in public. But while he's trying to ignore that and settle in to his new apartment, the Kitchen gives him more than he bargained for.
Notes; All this is turning into one storyline, so there's a little index here underneath the table if you'd rather read in order. :D Also, this fic was beta'd by the brilliant saturn_girl (who has agreed to beta the other parts of this arc and is a total angel for it), and while I would say I don't know how to thank her, that's a lie. So I'm sure while she's looking at the other parts, there will be some bondage smut in the meantime. <3 This is also another case of "squint to see the prompt"---and, seriously, points if you're the first person to find it. XD


"PARKER!"

J. Jonah Jameson was furious. But ... well, J. Jonah Jameson was always furious. Furious and smelling strongly of cigar smoke while he blew it in everyone's faces. He had The Globe clenched in one fist, banging it on the desk while he yelled.

"SOMEBODY GET ME PARKER!"

"He's on his way up, Jonah." Betty Brant, good a sport as ever, barely seemed bothered by Jonah's temper. Actually, no one seemed bothered by Jonah's temper anymore. "Remember what your wife said about your blood pressure."

"FORGET MY WIFE! WHERE IS PARKER!?"

"Right here, Mr. Jameson." Peter had run in after leaving the elevator after Betty had told him Jonah was screaming for him. Again. He hadn't even given Jonah his photos yet, what the hell! "Hi, hi, I'm here."

"There something you want to tell me, Parker?"

It wasn't a friendly question. Actually, come to think of it, no one who ever said 'do you want to tell me something' did so out of curiosity---and when Jonah decided to, it couldn't have been good. Peter gaped, unsure of exactly how to answer that.

Okay. All right. Run down the list of what you've done today, Pete. Got up, went to work, didn't throw anything at the kids, didn't blow anything up, made it through Biology, managed to avoid the principal, picked up the mail (bills, bills, more bills, some spam mail), missed the train to Queens because he'd stopped on the way home to be Spider-Man and stop a car chase (and was now wearing a band aid on his hand where a bit of broken glass had caught him), ended up skipping the train rather than waiting for the next one, walked home, took a shower, corrected some papers, called Matt, went over to Matt's, did a bunch of stuff Jonah wouldn't know about, and then ... come to the Bugle.

"Um ... no?"

Jonah huffed (was Jonah's face always that color? It seemed more purple than usual today), as if torn between screaming and ... actually trying to be calm.

"Nothing new I should know?" he growled. "Nothing you should come out with?"

Peter shifted uneasily, shoving his hands in his pockets and shoving down the mask, like it would jump out in he didn't keep it firmly at the bottom of his pocket with his fist---before wrapping his fingers around it like a security blanket. He swallowed hard.

"Like what, Mr. Jameson?"

Like Jonah was waiting for the right answer. Peter didn't quite know what he wanted; Jonah always just shouted opinions at people rather than asking for something. There were only two big things Peter hid from Jonah and---

Oh. Oh, God no. Which brought up the question: which was worse? Jonah finding out Peter was Spider-Man, or Jonah knowing he's suddenly gay now? He told himself that the first was worse, why in the hell would Jonah care if he was gay?

Because you're gay with Matt Murdock, Peter, that's why. Duh. That evened the keel a little bit, don't you think? Of course.

Peter must have been staring at Jonah for an exceptionally long time---not just because Jonah looked like he was about to pop, but because other people were starting to come to the window to stare at Jonah glaring at Peter Parker, who seemed like he was decided between pissing himself or dying right there. Even Robbie had stopped what he was doing, hovering by the door like he was on stand by in case Jonah threw something at Peter's head. But Peter couldn't find it in himself to speak.

"WELL, Parker? Spit it out!"

"I threw a dark sock in my whites last night," he blurted. Well. It was better than 'I'm Spider-Man' or 'Yes, I'm sleeping with Matt Murdock, Mr. Jameson!'

"You---what? Why would I care about that?! I'm talking about THIS!" Jonah spat, throwing The Globe down onto his desk. Peter warily made his way over, peering onto Jonah's desk and trying to swallow the lump in his throat. On the cover of The Globe was Matt Murdock---which was normal, except for the fact that it was a photo of him leaning across a table at a cafe, kissing another man on the mouth. A man who looked exactly like Peter Parker. The headline read DAREDEVIL: Gay?.

"...Oh."

"Oh? OH?! IS THAT ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?!"

"Uhm..." Peter shrugged helplessly, torn between relief that it was this and not Spider-Man and that sick, sinking feeling that had made its home in his stomach. "That's not what it looks like."

"Look, Parker, I don't give a damn if you've run off to join the fucking fairy farm, you hear me?! Don't Ask, Don't Tell far as I'm concerned, I DON'T WANT TO KNOW." If Peter didn't know better, he'd swear Jonah's face just turned a darker shade of purple. "But if you plan on playing happy couple with DAREDEVIL---"

"He's not Daredevil."

"ExCUSE me?"

"He's not Daredevil. ...Sir," he tacked on the end, shifting again and wondering if bolting was a viable option or not. "It's a misunderstanding. I mean, he's blind, there's no way he can ... you know. Be. Daredevil." Peter swallowed hard and resisted the urge to slowly back away and hide behind Robbie. "I think we were over this already. You know, with Ben Urich and that whole---"

"I KNOW what Ben Urich told me, Parker! Fact is that Murdock fruit gets HEADLINES! Headlines with MY photographer sucking face with him!" Peter flinched, looking away before--- "You LOOK AT ME while I'm yelling at you, you hear me?!"

Peter immediately looked back, eyes lowering a second later and landing on the cover of The Globe. He remembered that; they'd been having dinner at the cafe yesterday, talking about the possibility of Peter moving in with Matt. He'd been planning on calling Matt after giving his photos to Jonah today to tell him it was a go, he wanted to do it. Peter had bought some kind of danish that had just come out of the oven and offered to let Matt try it---which had prompted Matt to lean over and kiss him instead. That must have been when whoever-it-was got the shot through the window. Jackass. It made Peter sick to his stomach just to imagine being spied on, let alone having it broadcasted in the tabloids.

He ended up tuning Jonah out (a learned skill, to be sure) while he stared, laying out a possible future. At best, he'd be known throughout the tabloid readers as Matt Murdock's boyfriend---if any of them bothered to remember his face long enough. At worse, someone would see them together as Spider-Man and Daredevil and connect the dots. No more rooftop make out sessions. They were way too risky now.

"---but when you're flouncing around with Matt flipping Murdock, I EXPECT TO KNOW!"

That snapped Peter back into actually paying attention, just to stare. "What?"

"I WANT TO KNOW when one of MY people is in cahoots with DAREDEVIL----"

"But he's not---"

"I EXPECT YOU TO GODDAMN TELL ME, PARKER!" For a second, Peter was sure he felt the ground shake a bit. "We lost a big headline to the GLOBE over this!"

Peter sighed, aggravated, looking away for a second, opening his mouth to respond and giving up, grabbing his bag instead. "I have pictures of Spider-Man...?"

"What are you waiting for, Parker, an INVITATION?! Hand 'em over!" he spat, holding out his hand like Peter's pictures should've been in it already. Fishing the new photos out of his bag, Peter handed them over, just to watch Jonah practically throw them one by one onto his desk. "Crap. Crap. Crap. I'll give you $600." He didn't even wait for a reaction before scribbling on a piece of paper and shoving it at Peter. "You want to see another paycheck, you get me some photos of Spider-Man canoodling with the Human Torch! We've got a man down the street who's a flying FLAMER joke; if we can get shots of the Sub-Mariner making faces at Mr. Fantastic, we can get the Torch playing leapfrog with the webhead! Now GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

Peter retreated all-too-gladly, hearing Jonah mutter as he left, "Never thought Parker would turn out to be a goddamn queer."

"Hey!" Peter turned back around before Robbie put a hand on his shoulder and closed the door behind him.

"Let it go, Pete." That said, Robbie went back to what he was doing, leaving Peter to hand Betty the receipt Jonah had shoved in his hands.

"Can you believe that? Thanks, Betty."

"He's just a little hurt," Betty admitted while Peter tucked the check in his wallet. "That you didn't tell him. He really likes you, Peter."

Peter snorted. "Sure he does. That explains why he hates me."

Betty laughed, pulling some papers over a magazine on her desk---The Globe. Peter pretended not to notice. "He's hurt you didn't tell him you were dating a guy, let alone one who's allegedly Daredevil." It was hard to tell if she did or didn't believe Matt was Daredevil.. "I'm actually surprised you didn't tell me you were dating him, Pete."

Peter shrugged, suddenly a little uneasy. Embarrassed that he hadn't told anyone but Aunt May; Betty was a close friend, she'd understand. "It's quiet. I mean, until now, obviously."

"Is it serious?" She leaned forward, with all the affectionate interest of a best friend or sister waiting for the latest gossip to fawn over.

"Yeah. ... I'm actually moving in with him." Screw Jonah. He wasn't going to let J. Jonah Jameson and the tabloids scare him out of moving in with Matt. It was that, go broke, or move back in with Aunt May---and Peter was way to old to be moving back in with his mommy.

"Oh, really?" Betty grinned, still holding back that giggle. "You take care of yourself, Pete."

"What? Why?" Why was everyone always trying to protect him from Matt? What the hell.

"Well, you know." Like it should be obvious. "Just because you know he's not Daredevil, doesn't mean other people do, too. Just ... you know. Be careful."

"Yeah," Peter said, a little irritated, tucking his wallet back in his pocket. "I will. I'll be fine, Betty, I promise."

"Good boy." And then, her grin widened. "Now I get to tell my-ex-boyfriend-is-gay stories. Thanks, Pete."

Peter laughed. "You're welcome."


* * *


Matt had taken the news pretty well. He'd actually looked excited, but Peter didn't get a good look at him. He was too busy being pulled in for a crushing kiss and spun around. Like a woman. Peter had never realized how strong Matt really was until then. He'd brushed the gesture off, claiming he needed to retain some of his masculinity.

Foggy had volunteered to help Peter move in, and Matt had asked Luke and Jessica. Peter didn't have a whole lot of stuff, but his couch and chairs were a lot nicer, so they were doing a big furniture swap, too. Foggy and Jessica were nice enough, but Luke had taken every available opportunity to poke fun at Matt for the new headline. Matt had eventually told him to let it go, he could only go on for so long about one gay headline, and Luke laughed.

"Just the first time you got caught, right, Murdock?"

"I'm sure that's what Jessica said when she caught you knocking little yellow booties with Iron Fist, right, Luke?" Peter had replied, hidden from the look Luke must have given him by the couch they were carrying up the stairs. It didn't really shut Luke up, but it made Matt laugh.

Oddly enough, it was Matt who first flopped down on the couch when everyone had gone home one night, pressing his face to the pillow. Peter laughed, and Matt told him to shut up, the pillows smelled good.

"They probably just smell like me," Peter countered.

Matt sat up, and if he could have stared at Peter, he would have. "That's the point."

It was all surprisingly easy. Even dealing with his landlord and working out the nuts and bolts was easy. It was the only easy thing in his life at the time; Spider-Man was never easy, Jonah was throwing a fit over the Globe headline (and everything else), work was really starting to get on him about appropriate behavior and the bad press he was bringing the school just by being in it (on top of being absent all the time). Matt got the usual trouble, though now the reporters asked him questions about Peter, too.

Eventually, Peter was settled in. Adjusting to Hell's Kitchen was ... interesting. It had a personality---a violent, hard personality. Peter heard screams the first night, but Matt had calmed him down, assuring him the woman screaming would be fine, he would know. People were more likely to be dragged into an alley and beaten to death here. It was a neighborhood that needed a hero, and Peter couldn't help but wonder if Matt couldn't use a little help.

Maybe Peter was a big nerd, but he couldn't help but think of Batman once he'd gotten to know the place better. With the whole ... Gotham City has her own personality thing. Violent masked avenger. But Matt was no Batman. Matt was, well ... Matt.

Weird things happened in the Kitchen sometimes, though. Peter tended to walk most of the way home, partially so he could turn into Spider-Man if something happened on the street, and one night his spider sense went off for no real reason. Without knowing what he was dodging, Peter darted to the side, pulling off a one-handed somersault without thinking.

"What the...?" He twisted, trying to find what the hell he'd been running from---and there was nothing. Not a rock, no falling debris. No kids nearby tossing things; it was dark, most people in the Kitchen were inside. A quick scan of the buildings showed that there was no sniper trying to pick him off. He hadn't heard a gunshot. His spider senses lingered for a moment, and Peter was about to go and check out the building anyway when he heard the sound of a woman scream right across the street.

He largely butted out of Daredevil business, unless Matt asked him, but there were some things he could never overlook---like the mugging that was happening right across the street, a man beating a woman into a wall. Dropping his bags without hesitation, Peter darted over. "Hey!"

The mugger looked up, blue eyes wide and feral, slamming the woman into the wall before snatching her purse and taking off. Peter immediately went to grab the woman, putting his body between her and the runaway mugger so he could discretely toss a spider-tracer onto the man's jacket before turning back to her.

"Stay with me." She'd taken a nasty hit to the back of her head, and Peter was already fumbling in his pocket for his phone to call an ambulance. "Come on, lady, stay awake for me, please. Talk to me." Her long blond hair stuck to her forehead, stained pink by the blood.

"He has my ... my, ah, my..." She couldn't seem to find the word, resting her head on Peter's shoulder.

"I know. I know, I'll get it back," Peter promised. "Just stay with me. Keep talking to me. You have any kids?"

It was all habit. Move the woman as little as possible, cradle her against his chest, keep her talking, call the ambulance, wait until they showed up, gently pass her off to the EMTs, get the name of the hospital. Peter stayed there until she was safely inside the vehicle, watching them drive away.

Peter turned into the ally, retreating into the darkness so he could shed his clothes and pull on his mask. That mugger had taken the woman's bag, and he wasn't about to let the goon get away with whatever she kept in her purse. He knew where she would be. Matt would just have to wait for him tonight.


* * *


Jared Michaelson was born and bred in Hell's Kitchen, raised by a gang-member father and his nasty finance-controlling housewife, instilled with an entitlement complex and a habit of overdoing the beatings. He was strapped for a little cash, so he'd dragged a woman into an alley to beat the ever loving shit out of her (because he wanted to) and took her purse (because he needed it). Some asshole had interrupted him and made him book it, but it didn't matter. He still had the purse. The woman wasn't probably wasn't loaded, but the cash and cards in her wallet was enough. He'd just have to mug someone else. No big deal.

Thing is, in Hell's Kitchen, people overlooked muggings---that had been Jared's experience, anyway, and as he rounded the corner, fleeing from his latest one, he scolded himself for not going after that guy, too. Skinny little bastard. Jared could've taken him. But, hell, he just wanted the money and someone to beat on. The way that guy had rushed in, he would've put up a fight. He just didn't want to deal with that shit tonight.

Running back to his apartment in case that freak decided to call the police, Jared locked the door behind himself and plopped down at the kitchen table to count the cash, dumping the purse on the floor after he'd fished out the wallet, sifting through ones and fives while he waited for his parents to come home. Twenty-three and still living with mommy and daddy, what would his classmates say? He wasn't sure, he'd dropped out of school in tenth grade.

When he heard the door open and close, he shouted, "Hey, Ma, when's dinner?"

"Do I look like your mama, son?" The voice was male, low and rough and ultimately amused.

"What?" Jared twisted in his chair, dropping the cash in his hand and standing up when it was a man he'd never met---but certainly recognized. Blue coat, bald head. A brand on his forehead, three rings that made up a bullseye. Everyone in the Kitchen knew who Bullseye was. "Oh, shit. I didn't do anything, I don't mess with the Kingpin's men, I swear!"

"Ain't here for revenge, kiddo." Bullseye grinned in a way that made Jared's stomach turn; he stepped forward and Jared stepped back, nearly tripped on the chair. "Ain't gonna hurt you, either. You have something I want."

"Want? Take anything you want, just don't hurt me, don't---!" Bullseye darted forward faster than Jared could dodge, grabbing him by the arm and reaching behind him, pulling something off of his back, holding it in front of Jared's face. It was tiny, made of metal, painted red. In the shape of a spider. "The fuck is that?"

"This is a spider tracer, sugar. And you know what that means?" Again with the grin, again with the stomach turning.

"Wh-What?"

"Means old webhead is going to be at your doorstep any minute now, bucky." Bullseye tapped Jared's forehead. "Probably for that purse you stole."

"Spider-Man? I don't ... I---" The smell of urine filled the room, and Bullseye made a face, tossing Jared to the ground. He hit the floor hard, curling up and covering his head.

"The guy back there was Spider-Man." Bullseye spoke slowly---like he was talking to some mentally retarded kid. It seemed like Bullseye would turn around and leave when he rolled his eyes and turned away, picking up the purse on his way out. "And he should be here any second, shouldn't he," he muttered to himself. Jared listened while Bullseye's footsteps retreated, pushing himself to stand when he thought Bullseye was gone.

He was wrong. A second later, a quarter flew at him and burrowed into his skull. Jared hit the ground again, and this time, he didn't get back up.


* * *


Peter followed the spider tracer's signal, heading for an area where it idled. An apartment building. Just as he was getting there, the signal moved again---but just to be safe, he swung down to where it had been coming from.

Hanging outside the window of the apartment where the signal had idled was the purse he'd been looking for, a note attached to the leather.

Spider-Man,

I know who you are.

Peter shuddered, dropping the purse on the fire escape. First Jonah, now this? This was not Peter's week. Peter clung to the fire escape, closing his eyes and reminding himself it would do no good to panic. Panicking was bad, panicking led to rash decisions, it---

Oh, screw it. Peter needed to panic! This was time for mind reeling, heart racing, smelly, sweaty panic! And whoever had left the note had definitely taken the spider tracer. Rubbing his eyes, Peter took in a long, deep breath.

Okay. Okay. Check out the apartment first. Make sure no one was hurt. Whoever had left the note had left the window open, and Peter crawled in, carefully padding through the place until he went to the only room with a light on: the kitchen.

"...Oh, God."

The mugger. He wasn't mugging anybody now, was he? Inching over, Peter crouched down a foot or two away, squinting. Whatever that thing was buried in his skull, it was covered in blood; Peter leaned closer and realized it was a quarter. Whoever had killed him was no rookie, obviously had perfect aim. Took pride in his work, if he was using quarters instead of bullets or knives. And there was only one name that came up automatically.

Bullseye.

"Damn it," Peter breathed, pushing himself to stand and hastily backing away from the body. He fumbled for a phone, sighing in relief when he heard a dial tone and calling the police. As soon as they were on their way, Peter was out the window, the purse entirely forgotten.


* * *


Peter had mostly calmed down by the time he got home---and by "calmed down", it was more like "forced himself to breathe like a normal human being, as opposed to hyperventilating". Still, the moment he got into the apartment, Matt turned toward the window, sniffing.

"Hey, you. What happened?"

"It's fine." Peter brushed off Matt's attempt at a hug, tugging off his mask and already stripping out of the suit. "Don't worry about it."

"Worry about what, Pete?" Matt frowned, stubbornly sliding his arms around Peter's waist just as he was about to push down the bottom half.

"I've got it handled. You know how you have your stuff and I have my stuff? This is my stuff. I just need to..." Sleep on it. Sleep, he couldn't think straight right now. Sleep, curl up next to Matt, if Bullseye made a move tonight, Matt would know. "Deal with it myself. All right?"

Matt blinked, but ultimately decided to let it go and respect Peter's privacy. He told Peter to butt out constantly; now it was his turn, and Matt could accept that---while sliding his hand underneath Peter's suit. "All right. I'll let you handle it." Matt kissed his ear, biting gently when Peter let himself relax, just a bit. "You're so tense."

"Mm." Which was slang for 'If only you knew'. But he was going to handle this himself. Even if it was Bullseye. Bullseye clearly had a beef with Peter this time around---and even if he didn't, Peter could handle him. No reason to worry Matt. Not yet. ---That, and he didn't have the heart to make Matt stop, that hand against him felt good. "I know."

Matt grinned, moving his hand underneath Peter's suit. "I can fix that."