newyorknative | You've got pressure dripping off your shoulders

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matt murdock : takesabeating

You've got pressure dripping off your shoulders

Peter is entirely aware of how lucky he is. Looking back on his first six months as a vigilante, he honestly has no idea how he's still alive. He didn't even know how to throw a punch, when he first went out, and at first, it was pretty messy. Punch too hard, with his strength, and you break bone, but too soft and you risk taking a hit. So he learned how to throw a punch the hard way - by taking them himself. His fighting style has one advantage; he doesn't have a fighting style. It's unpredictable, relies way too much on instinct and shit he's seen on TV, but it works, well, most of the time.

His spidey sense is damn near infallible, and maybe he relies on it too much (he does), but he knows when the attempts to hit him are coming, and it makes up for his lack of skill or technique. So yeah, maybe Peter's view of his own abilities is a little inflated (only a little!) because whatever strange and tentative balance he's found is holding.

The first time he met Daredevil, the guy was beating the shit out of some petty criminal, pumping him for information. They were in that fluctuating line between Hell's Kitchen and the edge of Peter's Midtown territory, so when Peter caught him - well, he wasn't one to step away from any sort of crime, his own turf or not. The ensuing fight between the vigilantes had been interesting; they were both able to predict each other's moves, to an extent, and in the end they'd struck a sort-of truce, both bloodied and tired.

Since then, things have been pretty good. They're sort of friends, Spiderman and Daredevil, as much friends as two vigilantes can be. They're both out there for the same thing - protecting people. Even if they don't always agree on the methods.

"That spinny-kick thing is awesome," Peter compliments, perched on a streetlamp. He webs the guy Daredevil took out, just for good measure. This is more middle ground turf, where they usually run into each other; Peter wouldn't say he was looking for the guy, but it was kind of a slow night in Queens, so. Might as well lend a helping web or two.

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If anyone had ever asked Matt which local vigilante he might end up unofficially teaming up with (for values of "teaming up" that equal "agreeing to cooperate when it makes sense and keep out of each other's way the rest of the time"), he would never have predicted a college kid who climbs walls and shoots quips as fast as he does webs. Honestly, the only things they have in common are a penchant for red costumes and no fear of heights.

But their styles mesh reasonably well, better than Matt would have expected. And with their uniquely enhanced senses, they can fight together without having to rely on the constant chatter of 'above you' or 'look out for the gun'. For a kid who obviously has no training, Peter's good at what he does, good enough that Matt doesn't object to him occasionally popping up.

"Thanks." The slow heartbeats of the three guys sprawled on the pavement assure him that they're all still unconscious, and the only others close enough to worry about are his and Spiderman's. He has to admit, being able to trust the bad guys aren't going to get back up again makes his job a lot easier. "For someone who's fighting style is erratic at best, you get pretty good results yourself."

It's not an insult, more like teasing, which speaks to Matt's growing level of comfort with having Peter around.

The only things they have in common, on the surface. Neither of them are too keen on broadcasting their enormous guilt complexes, for obvious reasons. But they're both New York boys, born and bred, even if the boroughs differ. Both fighting with a mix of guilt, shame, and a burning need to protect their city and the people who inhabit it. They're out for the little guys, although perhaps Peter is a little more forgiving of the bigger heroes, such as those currently inhabiting Manhattan (but then, maybe Peter's just a little more forgiving in general. Willing to see the light a little longer.)

Them fighting together really does work, though, because nine times out of ten their instincts point towards the same thing, and they move in sync to achieve that goal. And hey, maybe Peter would argue that he didn't need training, he wasn't after cartel syndicates in the dead of night, thank you.

"You want to talk about erratic? Dude, you're like a human pinball machine. It's exhausting, watching you parkour all over the friggen' place." Yeah, the webbing definitely had its uses. Especially when Peter was in a bind and needed something to patch a wound quick, like honestly he should patent the stuff. Biodegradable bandages? Well within his capabilities.

Matt has no use for the bigger heroes, not because he has anything against them personally, but because they draw too much attention to themselves and to the vigilante trade in general. He has enough to deal with, with Hell's Kitchen's criminal enterprises and law enforcement alike doing their best to hunt him down. The last thing he needs is some high profile hero crashing through the neighborhood, creating chaos and dragging news cameras in their wake.

One of the things he appreciates about Spiderman is that he seems just as interested as Matt in maintaining a sense of mystery. He only interferes when his own business crosses into Daredevil's territory (or when he's obviously bored and just genuinely wants to try and help). And, he will admit, the ability to essentially fling himself from building to building without worrying about how far a human is capable of jumping is pretty cool.

"You should talk, with all that swinging around like you're Tarzan."

This is something else that's new to Matt. He doesn't do post-fight banter. It just isn't part of the persona. (That, and unconcious thugs don't make for great bantering partners.)

Without being entirely certain whey he's doing it, he makes a sudden offer. "I could teach you, it's not that hard to learn."

This is true, civilians do usually complicate things. How many times has Peter had to stop a police car from flying into a crowd? At least five, that he can remember. He's got a lot going on, okay, it might not be an entirely accurate count. Peter also tends to drag a camera crew around - maybe he should have stuck to colors that stuck out less than red and friggen bright blue. Part of it is definitely Peter's villains! Why does he get the lizard people and the guy in a giant robot rhino? Why is Hell's Kitchen just the drug lords and Russian syndicates? They should switch boroughs for a day.

Yeah, Peter runs his turf the same way Matt does. Lays down on the same hot dog cart every thursday and chats with the owner. Doesn't like to stray too far from the people who need him, but he will when he has to.

"I am way cooler than Tarzan. Wait, what does that make you? Please tell me you're Jane."

Peter can't seem to keep the snark at bay and honestly, sometimes it comes in handy. Get the enemy angry and they slip, make mistakes born out of a desire to simply get their hands on the spider. Lose all sense of strategy. That, and it helps Peter focus. Most of the time, anyway.

Peter cocks his head to the side, letting himself slide into the same crouch on the lampost, except he was hanging upside down. "The parkour or the spinny kick? Both are super cool. And useful. These things run out, you know." Peter waved his arm, webshooter hidden in the design of his suit.

Matt would be more than happy to let Peter come and deal with the burgeoning zombie ninja problem. While he's there, maybe he can also talk some sense into the Punisher and get him to stop blowing up and/or burning down everything in sight. He can keep the giant robot rhino, though.

"Better Jane than Cheeta." Matt used to love the really old black and white reruns, before he lost his sight. His dad watched them with him sometimes, and after the accident once in a while they'd turn one on, Matt listening while Jack humorously described the scenes for him.

He'd only meant the one move, not intending to start a full-on training regimen with some young masked hero whose name he doesn't even know. But the kid has a good point. He can't rely on one trick forever, and maybe Matt could undo some of the harm Stick did by passing along a little of his more useful lessons.

"I suppose both, and more, if you're serious. But it would be a lot of work. And a time commitment."

Okay, maybe Peter could do without the mass murderers, zombie and human alike. He's read about the Punisher in the paper, actually, took pictures from a neighboring rooftop when he was brought into the courthouse every day during the trial. It was enough to put dinner on the table for the next two weeks, so.

"It comes with the petticoat, that's non-negotiable." Peter grins beneath his mask, somewhat pleased that he was getting more than grunts out of the Devil. More than he'd gotten two months before, when they first met. Dear god, if Peter ran into Frank - the Punisher wasn't nearly as likely to play along with his babbling, not by a long shot.

"I mean - totally!" Peter resolutely does not flail as he lets himself fall from the lampost and land next to Matt. He's bouncy, though, on the balls of his feet; he's roughly the same height as the Devil, definitely skinnier. Seriously, Matt's shoulders are fit as hell. Rude. "Things get quiet around 4 AM anyway. Yes!"

Yeah, the petticoat remark just gets a tilt of the head and stony silence. Not that Matt isn't chuckling on the inside, but he has a reputation to protect, and besides. He tends to be a little on the dark and unamused side as far as his mental state goes, when he's out as Daredevil. You aren't supposed to let your inner devil have fun.

The mask rises slightly as his eyebrows go up at the energetic landing. That kind of enthusiasm is good, though. He remembers how tough Stick's training could be. And although Matt isn't planning on putting the kid through the worst of it, it's still going to be pretty grueling. If they're going to do this, it can't be just some halfway attempt.

"4 AM, huh? You must not have a day job."

He could probably work it in a couple days a week, though. It's not like he goes out as Daredevil every night. Even the Devil has to sleep. Or, apparently, train up-and-coming vigilantes.

Matt's lack of enthusiasm doesn't do much to dampen Peter's, unfortunately for the Devil. What's reputation between two heroes? The only reason Peter hasn't ruined his own is because he's never really spent enough time with anybody, at least, as Spiderman, to have enough time to sabotage himself.

"Well, I never said that." He just typically runs on three hours of sleep. Better for the nightmares, anyway. "How late do your patrols normally last?"

Seems Matt is kinder to himself than Peter, but then, he's been an adult longer than a year and a half and probably lives off more than ramen and velvetta.

Peter's got a point, there. Patrols last until they're over. Sometimes that's early enough for a halfway decent night's sleep, sometimes he just goes home to pull on a suit and heads straight to the office. Most nights are somewhere in the middle, which means he's running on naps and meditation a lot of the time.

He does eat decently, though. As healthy as he can manage, depending on the case load and whether his clients are paying in actual money or barter. (Sometimes eats better because of the barter system, to be honest.)

"Don't set a schedule for patrols, so you got me there. All right, can you put in two hours, twice a week? Four to six? That get you home in time for cartoons?"

Hey, he's gotta get the jibes in where he can, and he might not be able to see Peter's face, but he seems young as hell anyway. Even when Matt was close to that age, he's pretty sure he didn't have that kind of youthful insanity.

Yeah, Matt is way more responsible about it than Peter, which seriously tells you how reckless he is because Matt isn't exactly somebody to take life tips from. Give Matt the same healing factor as Peter and he'd probably wreak havoc on himself, though (he's not indestructible, but it's mostly a shrug and, close enough).

"First of all, cartoons are on Saturday. It's Thursday," Peter pointed out, while simultaneously dodging the question. He really wasn't that young, he was like...a month away from legally drinking. "Can do! Yes siree. Absolu-"

Peter cut off, hearing something a few blocks over from them. In Queens. Well, duty calls. "I'll find you! Bat signal or - devil signal, I guess. Does that mean I just web a pentagram across the sky?" And then he's flinging himself off the building, shooting a web to swing towards the disturbance.

If Matt had even a hint of a healing factor, he'd probably already be dead. Stepping back from risks isn't one of his strongest traits. Mix in a slightly higher chance of recovering from something, and you've got a lethal combination.

He's pretty sure he remembers cartoons being popular even among his college dorm mates, but he just smirks in response. The sound of trouble hits his ears as well, causing him to turn his head at nearly the exact same time that Peter suddenly interrupts himself. Outside his neighborhood, though. No reason to interfere with Spiderman's work.

They meet on the rooftops for the first few lessons. Matt's not planning on throwing Peter around so it's perfectly safe. He starts with basics, blocking and evading, just to make sure the kid has a decent defensive foundation. They're not even going to touch spin kicks or parkour until he's sure Peter knows how to adequately avoid getting hit. After he's satisfied with that, maybe they'll move to something more complicated.

"No webs while we're training. This is about taking care of yourself if you don't have that trick up your sleeve."

Well jokes on you, because Peter doesn't have a TV! Or time to do anything, ever, in his life. Seriously, he's a trainwreck.

Peter wasn't sure the Devil was completely serious, about training him. He was so cloak and dagger about everything and Peter couldn't hold a shadow to what may have been a throwaway promise. But...well, Matt surprises him, they set up lessons, and yeah, now it's a weekly thing. Peter would like to think he's keeping up pretty well, but damn, it becomes apparent really fast that Daredevil knows his shit. He'd definitely be getting hit more often if he didn't have his spider sense helping him out here and there.

"Got it. No webs." They didn't run out often, but it was important to prepare for if it did. "Come on, again. Come at me."

They can be no-TV-or-social-life buddies, then. Although at least Matt manages the occasional night out for beer and pool with Foggy. So his life is obviously completely on the rails.

Peter has been progressing well, better than Matt expected, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying the sessions. It's nice to have someone else to work out against, and hell, it's even nice to have someone to talk to who doesn't freak out at the mention of the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

He decides to step things up a notch, see how the web-slinger does against a full-out attack. Knowing that Peter can sense when he's about to take a hit, Matt makes a point of being as misleading as he can -- a few quick running steps that look like the lead-in to a grapple, switching to a kick and flip angled to let him use the side of a ventilation unit to change direction, and back to the grapple after all, but from the side and positioned to pull his opponent toward him rather than knock him over. It's a lot to keep track of, but it'll be a good test of what Peter's been learning, as well as how good he is at responding to what his enhanced senses are telling him.

And yeah, okay. Maybe Matt's showing off a little too. He doesn't get to have an audience that isn't trying to murder him very often.

The day Peter hears Matt voluntarily call them buddies is the day Peter eats his entire shoe. Seriously, he'd probably bounce off a wall or two.

Peter didn't have friends, and he's pretty sure Matt didn't, either. Not of the 'super' variety, at least. So the workout sessions are definitely a highlight of his week.

Peter can't really turn his spidey sense off, but one lucky side effect is that he can't really anticipate too far in advance. Matt is making a show of changing attack patterns, but Peter just takes a deep breath and tries to stay relaxed, waiting for the instinct he needed to follow. He shifts his weight, almost tries a sidestep before going instead for a block, at the last second. He's a moment or two behind Matt's grapple, and he leans into it, executing a good, if late, block.

Matt definitely knows way more about this than Peter, and he almost wants to ask where he learned it - but Peter is astute in some ways, and he has a feeling a question like that will only make Matt freeze up.

The end result is both of them winding up on the ground, but without Matt as in control as he'd been shooting for. The block was good, especially for being based very much on instinct. Once he's more familiar with some of the fighting styles Matt intends to teach him, there's no question that he'll be able to counter attacks like that with ease.

"You better stay on the side of the good guys after learning all of this." He comes easily to his feet and offers Peter a hand, even though it's doubtful the kid actually needs it. Seems like he's made of mostly springs and enthusiasm, sometimes.

These sessions have been good for Matt. Interacting with someone he isn't trying to beat up while in the Daredevil suit has helped him gain some internal balance that's occasionally lacking, resulting in a better handle on his temper. And while maybe it isn't noticeable to anyone but him, but he's slowly becoming more relaxed around Peter. More accepting of him as a colleague and of his 'interference' in the Devil's territory.

"Take a break, drink some water." After their first lesson, when he realized that rooftops aren't ideal places to find refreshment, he's been bringing bottled water for the both of them. Stripping off his gloves and shoving them into his belt, he grabs a water for himself and tosses one in the young man's direction. "So what do you think? Are you learning anything useful?"

"What, you think I'm a date and ditch type of guy? For shame. I'm disappointed in you, Devil. Me, such an upstanding citizen - " Peter's still babbling as he takes Matt's proffered hand, bouncing up onto his heels. Well, he is a teenager with the proportional strength (read: everything) of a spider. His jump height is nearly four times what it used to be, and he just has so much energy.

Interference is a strong word. Peter prefers...healthy dose of volunteering. That's what he's doing, isn't it? Offering his assistance if Matt wants it. Not that he needs it. But if he wants it. He offers because he knows there are times when you wish you had backup - for him, it's when he's being thrown bodily through a building by a man made of electricity. Yeah, Peter could do with a few friends.

Peter obeys, because he is thirsty, catching the bottle on instinct and flopping on the edge of the roof. He pulls his mask up to his nose with one hand and pops off the bottlecap with his other hand, grinning as he sucks down half of it in one go. "Definitely, man. This is like, ninja level. It's awesome." He leans back, propped on his forearm. "But actually, seriously, I feel like I'm not relying on my sense as much. Or well...like I'm supplementing it, you know?"

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You've got pressure dripping off your shoulders

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