Chapter Text
Matt mills around the office all day. Seriously, it’s been dead for a solid week, and so Nelson, Murdock, and Page have now gone from “put-Fisk-in-jail” status to "third-time-file-reorganizer" status. He hears Foggy leaning back in his chair, tossing his baseball up and down in the air in boredom and Karen is nearby, mulling over the state of their tea-slash-coffee-slash-non-law related things corner. The desk creaks under Foggy’s kicked up feet and he can hear the computer from Karen’s desk nearby hum from lack of use. Not even their intern is here today, she was out doing… something with friends, Matt just forgot. With a lack of things to do and a now newfound energy Matt hasn’t had since college probably, Matt walks over to Karen and Foggy’s inactivity.
“You guys doing anything?” Matt asks.
Foggy huffs, “I would literally kill to be doing anything right now. Is there anything we can do right now anyways?”
Karen saunters over to them, finally satisfied with the angle of the earl grey from its tray, “I mean, we could finally get around to fixing the printer.”
Foggy sparks up in delight, getting up from his chair and walking over to Karen and grabbing her shoulders, “You, my incredibly intelligent friend, are a genius.”
This idea is basically near impossible to achieve for Matt. He can fight the Hand, die and come back, train with a near psychotic sensei as a kid, and yet the printer has been the only thing that’s ever stumped everyone in the office. Not even Frank could fix it. Frank. It’s so old that, much to their dismay, there’s no proper manual for it online, only bits and pieces of Reddit forums of people who have also given up. It’s practically hopeless.
“We’ve literally tried fixing it since our Nelson and Murdock days, we’ve tried every trick in the book too!” Matt says in disbelief, “can it even be fixed in the first place?”
Foggy places a hand on his shoulder, “Matt, my avocado in law, you underestimate the power of boredom.”
“Okay, well then Mr. Nelson,” Matt leans in playfully, “do you know a mechanic that could fix it? Or an electrician, hell, maybe a rocket scientist?”
“I mean, we totally could, electricity still works here,” Karen interjects. She glides over to her computer, and Matt hears her tapping away at the key board, Foggy watching over and Matt at the desk’s corner.
“Okay, so, these are totally overpriced and specialists who work on the modern stuff anyways, there’s no way this is worth a whole week's paycheck,” Karen says dejectedly.
Foggy sighs in dismay, “I mean, this New York! C’mon people it’s one of the biggest cities in the world and you're telling me there’s not one person who can fix some old-ass printer?”
Karen clicks around the computer some more.
Matt leans, back against the wall, “I mean, maybe we could call Frank again? Or Jessica, hell, maybe even Wa–”
Matt hears Karen’s heartbeat spike before she says anything.
“I got it! Peter Parker, he’s got like, five reviews total, but they're all good, and he won’t actually break the bank!” she counts off excitedly. She seems to scroll down the page more, “Yeah, and he might actually have a chance too, it says he’s done an engineering internship, worked doing some freelance photography stuff– huh,” Karen pauses, “he kinda sounds familiar, don’tcha think Matt?” she turns towards him.
Matt racks around his brain at the thought of the name for a minute. Peter Parker? Peter… where have I heard that name before? I swear I remember hearing about it somewhere, something about vigilantes— wait!
Matt goes forward, back straightening, “Wait, wasn’t he the Bugle’s main Spider-man photographer before he quit or something? I swear I’ve seen his name there somewhere.”
Karen (heart rate up again) is back typing on the computer with newfound ferocity, and after a few seconds of clicks go by, “yeah, he is definitely the Spidey photographer!” she exclaims. She turns her computer to what he assumes is Foggy’s direction as his eyes widen.
“Holy crap…” he trails off, “These shots are like… crazy good, like you literally wouldn’t believe it Matt, these are some crazy angles and action shots here, and this one is crazy high up and definitely better than yours you should seriously invest in that sometime man–” Foggy rambles on.
Matt braces himself against Foggy, “Alright fan-boy,” he laughs, “cool your jets, let’s call him up first to make sure he isn’t a scam as well.”
Now remembering the very real possibility of getting scammed, Foggy seems to be bracing for some type of impact, while Karen remains the pinnacle of calm.
She notices and huffs out, “don’t worry Foggy, at this point, I’d rather get scammed because at least we’d have something to do. Plus, Matt,” she says, patting his arm, “could get someone to prosecute the guy or something anyways,” she adds cheekily.
He laughs, “Who said I was getting anybody prosecuted?” he says with a grin.
“Yeah, yeah,” Karen says, quickly grabbing at her phone across the table, “you can thank me later!” she snickers.
Matt hears Karen’s familiar dialing of her phone and the speaker-phone ringing throughout the air.
“Dude,” Foggy states nervously, “this is totally how we get scammed! We’ve done it Matt, we’re now going to get scammed by our Nigerian uncle princ–” a voice cuts him off.
The phone, miraculously, picks up.
“Hi! Peter Parker here, how can I help you!” a juvenile voice asks. Wow, he’s young, he can’t be a day over eighteen, Jesus.
“Oh my god,” Foggy says in disbelief, “he’s actually real.”
Mr. Parker, thankfully, laughs, “I mean, yeah, I’d sure hope so, otherwise, how else could I help you guys?” Matt thinks he hears a smile on the other end of the line.
Foggy’s heart rate picks up as he whispers, “Shit he heard that!”
Karen, god bless her soul, continues the call, “Yeah, hi, we’re a law office, I just wanted to ask if you could fix our printer? It’s practically archaic and it’s been driving us nuts for literal years, and we were wondering if you could pass by today to try and fix it? It might be too difficult, we’ve had, like, three different people pass by and try–”
“Oh no, don’t worry about that! I can totally come by today, you’re actually some of my first clients, so I’m totally free for the most part–” he catches his ramble, “er– just give me, say,” there’s clicking on the other end of the line, “two hours? Yeah, I can for sure come by in two hours! Maybe an hour and a half– yeah I can totally do that!,” he pauses again before quickly asking, “can I just ask whose calling and the address?”
Matt responds this time, Karen propping the phone a little under him, “Uh, Nelson, Murdock, and Page. Sorry ‘bout that Mr. Parker,” he apologizes, trying to maintain some level of professionalism of course, “we just got really excited someone would try,” he says with a laugh.
Mr. Parker unnaturally pauses for a minute, before returning to his usual? charismatic tone, “no worries! I totally get it, and please, it’s just Peter, Mr. Parker was literally every other man in my family,” he says, and Matt can barely hear the ever-so-slight strain in his voice.
“Well then, mystery-mechanic Peter, we’re on West Forty-fourth Street, upstairs near the bar, we’ll hope to see you soon,” Foggy states cautiously.
“Fret not Mr. Nelson! You’ll see soon that I’m not a mystery, and don’t worry! I only take payment after the job, so you don’t gotta worry ‘bout getting scammed!” the kid adds gleefully.
The cheer is back in full force this time around, Matt notes.
Matt also knows Foggy well enough to know he’s thinking, holy shit! He’s a mind reader! Even got the name right!
“Alright then,” Karen says, cutting Matt out of his thoughts, “see you soon!”
“You too!’ the kid affirms before hanging up. Karen puts her phone down.
“Well,” she says unabashedly, turning to face Foggy, “that went well! And look at that,” she grins, “no scam!”
“Peter Parker might actually be our honest-to-god miracle, I mean, he’s on the younger side, but we can just say we’re supporting the youth…” Foggy trails off, “or something…”
The office of three whole people burst out laughing.
“Alright– well–” Karen chuckles in between words, “let’s go get lunch, or something,” she teases.
“Yeah Foggy,” Matt cheerfully replies, “or something!”
Peter thanks every god he knows that Nelson, freaking Murdock, and Page are the ones who hung up the call. His whole life’s fucked.
And due to that, like the sane and completely reasonable person he is, Peter slams his phone down and proceeds to scream into his ratty, old pillow. Being apathetic, the pillow doesn’t help with muffling the dread in his voice. He just prays the neighbor’s hearing isn’t as good as his, which with his luck, probably means it is.
He gets off his bed where he was taking his very much! professional call from to instead start pacing around in worry. He had been having such a good day too! Spider-manning was (shockingly) easy today – nothing but catching muggers, helping cats, and he even got a free churro after helping a stand owner from a theft today! The churro had been the best food he had all week, granted, it’s not like he has much these days, but it’s the thought that counts.
Plus, he didn’t gain any new noticeable injuries today! Nothing but a slight bruise to the ribs from a well timed kick a mugger got on him before Peter’s reflexes kicked in and webbed him a millisecond after. But no matter, that was a problem for later-Peter to worry about.
Now-Peter was very much worried about other things though. Like the fact he got a job that wasn’t borderline illegal or could constitute as a medieval torture method (the Bugle), so, getting paid, good! But of course it had to be for his ex-lawyers, and for a mere printer? Yeah, Peter should’ve referred them to another person, but he couldn’t resist. Being isolated for a solid year (near-homeless, no food, dumpster diving, graves–), had done… a number on Peter. And with a familiar voice on the other line, he just… couldn’t resist. And it’s not like Mr. Murdock would remember him anyway! Plus, it was his lawyer, lawyers get cases all time (at least, he hopes so) and so even if he did recognize him, it’s not like he would remember the case (hopefully, despite the whole– notoriety).
And it’s just a printer, he’ll be in and out before he knows it! Peter knows not to think it won’t go bad, but at this point, his life can’t get much worse after the thing, so what does he have to lose at this point? A half-ass dingy apartment with a leaky ceiling and unstable bed and condiment-only fridge maybe.
An hour and a half is plenty of time to gather his supplies and head over anyways. He saunters off his half-beat up bed to his very crowded desk, complete with paper cups, energy drinks,a lego Palpatine, and papers on papers on papers. Most importantly, Peter’s computer is also there, made nearly entirely out of dumpster parts, and he’s very proud of it. It’s his pride and joy!
The rest of his apartment, well… he can’t say that in full confidence. It’s a tiny single room with a kitchen and at the very least, a door for his bathroom. There’s paint peeling off the walls, a possible mold problem in his shower curtain, and his sink knob has to be taped on so it actually turns without falling off. Additionally, there’s been the issue of food (or lack thereof) in his fridge for quite some time. He knows he’s half spider, so maybe he can stomach the singular fly in there.
Or not.
Maybe he’ll just stick with the slightly moldy cheese in there instead.
After a few quick clicks, he finds out that, thankfully, Nelson, Murdock and Page are still in the same old office as Peter remembers, which means that he still sort-of remembers the route there. As much as he would like to, he can’t exactly swing his way there with tools and supplies on his back without seeming suspicious, so Peter has to go through the metro. No biggie. The hour metro ride gives him time to prep (both physically and mentally), and it should be smooth sailing to the office after that.
The last time Peter went to Hell’s Kitchen was for legal consultation, and now, Peter hasn’t really gone into the Kitchen for what? A year? He’s been meaning to help out over there after Fisk but it seems pretty well protected by Daredevil, and plus, he’s heard in vigilante circles that he’s super territorial over it. Maybe he should stop by as Spider-Man one of these days…
But for now, it’s just Spider-Man doing Peter Parker stuff, like an actual day job. And so, with supplies and tools in hand, Peter pushes through the too-tight door of his abode into whatever special adventure New York has handcrafted for him today.
The metro ride is probably the best part of Peter’s day. Swinging is nice because of the freedom it gives, to feel nothing but the wind on his face as he whizzes by buildings on buildings. However, the metro is nice because it lets him actually be nearer. It’s something he’s come to appreciate more these days. Even though he saves civilians (and remembers most of them too), when he’s swinging, he tends to miss the little things. Like how the lady sitting across from him is knee-deep in reading a copy of some poetry book Peter vaguely remembers from school. Or how there’s an older guy a couple feet away with flowers and vicariously tapping his foot on the floor. Peter gets that – he’s been there.
It’s fun, Peter thinks, to imagine what’s running through people’s heads. It’s fun to think about where Peter would’ve been had he not been Spider-Man. But that doesn’t really matter, not anymore.
To Peter’s chagrin, his stop comes much faster than he expected or wanted, but oh well, it’s time to face the broken-printer-themed music.