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Matt was in too much of a hurry to stop and consider the store he was about to enter. What mattered was the dry cleaners directly next door and the men that had entered it hushedly discussing a drug deal, the details of which Matt had been scrounging for over the course of a few sleepless nights. Entering the dry cleaners empty-handed would just garner unnecessary suspicion. Standing around outside would do the same thing.
So he pushed into the neighboring store, the bell on its front door rattling. He was struck by the smell of new pages and ink, a lingering aroma of coffee, and the hush of an empty shop.
“Welcome! Anything I can help you with?”
Almost empty.
Great. A bookstore. The perfect place for Matt to not draw any attention to himself at all.
He put on a smile. “I’d sure appreciate it.” He moved towards the source of the employee’s voice.
Young. A strong and rapid heartbeat. He smelled like cheap detergent and some kind of chemical odor Matt couldn’t place. Something about it was familiar. Ah well, Matt had more important things to worry about, like the men’s voices he was currently straining to hear through the shared wall between this store and the next one.
“Anything in particular you’re looking for?” the boy asked. He stood from his seat. He wore jeans and sneakers, Matt could tell from the sound. “We have a section for braille books, and we even have some audiobook CDs—”
“Actually…” Matt began. One of the men on the other side of the wall complained loudly about last week’s deal. That Devil always screwing us over. Matt bit back a smirk. “I need a gift for a friend.”
“Oh! What do they like?”
Matt took a moment to think, which allowed him both to listen in on more of the conversation next door (they hadn’t gotten to an address yet, having moved on to discussing where they were going to get lunch) and to consider which friend he was going to borrow as an excuse. Well, Karen’s birthday was coming up.
“She’s a journalist,” Matt said. “Smart. Inquisitive. Stubborn.”
A laugh. “That a good thing?”
“Oh, absolutely. That’s why she deserves something nice.”
“Okay, okay.” The tap of a finger against a chin. Then the boy said, “I think we have AP stylebooks that she might be interested in, if she doesn’t have one already.”
“The journalism’s a bit of a new thing, so I think you’re onto something there.”
A shift of clothing, and Matt could tell the boy was holding an elbow out for him. Matt took it gratefully.
Kid had some muscle on him; the jacket sleeve under Matt’s hand was soft but there was strength in the arm beneath. He chatted about their current sales and discounts as he led Matt down one aisle which was, thankfully, along the same wall Matt had been trying to listen through. Small blessings.
“Let’s see here… Looks like we’ve got the 55th edition, which is the most recent one.” The boy reached for the book and placed it in Matt’s hand. Its cover was glossy and smooth.
“Perfect.”
“Oh, and you know what else? We have these like, really nice notebooks and pens. Journalists need pens, right?”
“I imagine they do,” Matt said amusedly. “Though she does most of her work on a laptop.”
“But still, if you’re on the scene and you need to write down some quotes or something, you need to have a pen. Keep it behind your ear and everything.”
“You watch a lot of TV, don’t you?”
“Yeah, maybe,” the boy said, sheepish.
Matt couldn’t help but feel charmed. “Tell me about some of these notebooks and pens, then.”
And he did—he described the different sizes of notebooks, the rulings, the colors and designs of the covers. Meanwhile Matt focused on the conversation that drove him into this store in the first place. In all honesty, he preferred the conversation happening right in front of him. The boy had a nice voice to listen to.
But, priorities.
“… the warehouse… knock twice, wait three seconds, then knock four times… ” Matt closed his eyes, trying to whittle away the rest of the world and pluck out the voices he needed. “... be there on time, you hear me? Hey, don’t give me that attitude!”
The vicious bang of a door slamming shut hit Matt’s ears.
He had the restraint not to jerk in surprise, but he did open his eyes.
The boy, on the other hand, flinched.
Matt blinked.
“You alright?” Matt asked.
“Y-yeah.” A lie. Hm. “Sorry, just thought I, uh, heard something.”
Matt tilted his head. The boy fidgeted, shifting on his feet, heart rate picking up.
“Anyway!” he said. “Are you interested in any of these? Do you know if she has a favorite color or something?”
Matt let it go for now. “Just something simple and professional. Any color’ll do.”
“Hm, maybe this one, then…” In a murmur of a voice.
“Don’t forget a pen,” Matt said, teasing. “Maybe one black and one blue. We need blue at the office all the time.”
“You got it.”
The boy took all the items to the counter. Matt followed closely. The conversation in the other room was over, it seemed. All he could pick up was another customer dropping off their clothing and balking at the price.
Matt placed the AP stylebook on the counter with the rest of his purchases.
“Will that be all for you?” the boy asked.
“Yes.”
Keys clicked as the boy punched numbers into the register. Matt took out his credit card.
“Would you like a coffee, too?”
Matt raised an eyebrow. He had smelled coffee in the room, but he figured it was the boy’s personal drink. “I hadn’t realized I walked into a coffee shop.”
“Oh no, it’s nothing fancy.” Plastic crinkled as the boy bagged his purchases. “But we have free coffee for anyone who walks in. It’s cold outside, y’know?”
Matt acutely felt the lack of sleep he’d experienced over the last few nights. He dealt with it as he always did—that was, power naps during his lunch break and always keeping the coffee pot full.
He never was very good at making it.
Matt opened his mouth to speak. The boy’s heart was still racing. His heart rate had jumped when the door had slammed next door, sure, but it had also picked up from the moment Matt stepped inside. Maybe he was anxious around customers, maybe Matt made him nervous.
Sure, coffee would be great.
“What’s your name?” Matt said instead. Whoops.
“Me?” the boy squeaked. An interesting question, considering they’d been talking for the last few minutes.
“Yes.”
“Uh.” Hesitant to share his own name. Matt’s mental list of the boy’s curiosities grew one item longer. “It’s—it’s Peter. Me. I’m Peter.”
Matt practically felt him wincing. Matt only smiled, feeling endeared once again. “Matt.”
He held his hand out for a shake. Peter took it. Quite a grip.
“Rain check on the coffee,” Matt said. “I’m afraid my hands are full.” He gestured at the bag and the cane in his other hand.
“Oh. Oh! Right, duh.” Peter’s skin heated with a blush. The bag crinkled when he held it out for Matt. “Here you go. Anything else I can help you with?”
“No, thank you.” Matt reached out, feeling for the bag's handles. Their fingers brushed in the exchange. “Nice meeting you, Peter.”
Peter’s heartbeat faltered again. Haltingly, he said, “Yeah. Nice meeting you, too.”
Matt tapped his way to the door, pushed it open. The bell jingled. He stepped back into the cacophony of the city.
Not long after the door swung shut, Matt heard Peter sigh and slump over the counter, thunking his head against it.
“Great job acting totally cool around your old lawyer,” Peter muttered.
Huh. Matt would remember having Peter as a client. And he didn’t mention being a lawyer.
Just another reason for him to come back around sometime. He had a feeling Peter would be interesting to get to know.
But tonight, Daredevil had a date at a warehouse.
(And when Spider-Man showed up at the very same warehouse at the very same time to take care of the very same drug dealers, well. Matt decided he’d be revisiting that bookstore sooner than he’d thought.)