Peter Parker had never been a fan of snow. It found its way into the crevices of his suit, made him late for work, and left muddy tracks when it melted. He wouldn't consider himself a clean freak, god no, but he couldn't stand the watery residue it left behind either. It made his socks stick to his feet and make disgusting squishing noises. It left a trail of watery mud on his carpet, and window sills after patrol. Maybe it would have been more accurate to say Peter Parker hated the cold. Sure, he had an amazing immune system, and rarely got sick, but the weather made his nose run and his throat itchy. It made him slip down the stairs of his apartment and run into things buried in the snow. Winter was not Peter's friend. On cold days, he wanted nothing more than to sit inside and watch Star Trek reruns and play video games until his eyes fell out of their sockets.
Unfortunately for Peter, criminals had no regards for his feelings about winter... which was mildly upsetting. Around the time the sun had begun to set, he was pulling on his suit and heading out. No matter how much he hated snow, it never took away from the rush of adrenaline he got from swinging from building to building. He could still remember his first time as a hero. It was nerve-wracking, shooting webs and hoping not to fall into the alley stories below him. But it was thrilling all the same. It made him feel as if he were free from the mediocrity of his normal life, the life without the mask. He wasn't Peter Parker, who got bullied as a high schooler and ended up in a job he was way over-qualified for. No, he was Spider-Man. He saved people's lives, stood up for the little guy, and all of it without expecting thanks or reward. The way he saw it, keeping his home safe was reward enough.
So, as he swung from building to building, he couldn't help but pause when he neared Midtown. Another couple blocks, and he'd be crossing into territory he wasn't necessarily allowed to go in. Well... it was more like the guy who prowled Hell's Kitchen was as territorial as a feral tom cat. Okay, well, they had since been on better terms since their last meeting, but he didn't like pushing his buttons. It seemed that today, luck was not on his side because instead of being able to turn around like he would have wanted to, he could hear the faint sound of some sort of commotion coming from an alley not too far off. With a resigned sigh, he went to investigate. Not only was this a mistake, but it was a mistake that nearly got Peter killed. Spider-Man or not, ninjas were not something to joke around with. As soon as he reached the ground, the wind was knocked out of him. He grunted, quickly pulling himself to his feet as a sizable blade landed where his head had just been.
"Hey!" He protested, shooting a web at the assailant's weapon, "I don't remember asking for a haircut!" He pulled on the web, only to have the attacker slice it away with ease. "Why hasn't anyone tried that before?" Another web, this time aimed at the feet, gluing him to the ground of the alley. Before the ninja ( ninja!?) could reach for his sword, Spider-Man slung in somewhere farther off in the alley. It took him a minute, ducking under another attacker's weaponry, to remember why he'd dropped down here in the first place. A grunt to his left reminded him, "Oh, hey, Red. Thought I saw you down here."
Daredevil didn't even acknowledge his presence, slamming a ninja's face into the pavement until he stopped moving. The man was quick to move on to his next target, said target receiving similar treatment. Peter couldn't help but stop and stare at this. It was rare to see Daredevil in action, but here he was. "Are you going to just sit there and gawk or actually help?" A low voice grumbled.
"Right, gotcha." Peter got to work, webbing up as many ninjas as he could, though it proved more difficult than he originally anticipated. It ended up being Daredevil who took down most of them, Spider-Man managing to take on maybe three out of the seven or so. "Man, I really gotta brush up on my ninja-fighting skills," he said, webbing the attackers wherever they had fallen. He turned and looked at Daredevil, who only grunted in acknowledgement before beginning to slowly walk towards Spider-Man.
"I didn't need your help," he said in a dark, almost menacing tone. With every step, Peter's spider senses were screaming at him to flee, yet he stood his ground.
"I know," He managed, his voice not sounding as confident as he had hoped for, "but I wanted to..." There was another pause before he spoke again, "are you gonna do this every time I swing by to say hello?"
He watched as the vigilante tensed for a moment before replying, "You've said it. Now get out of my Kitchen." But Peter wouldn't let that lie. Without thinking much of it, he webbed one of the Devil's hands, hindering his movement for a second. "What do you want, Webs?" He sounded more exasperated than anything, as if Peter weren't more than a headache that wouldn't go away.
"I know that we aren't exactly friends, but... Maybe we could be?"
And then Daredevil did the last thing he would have expected, laugh. "That's what you were anxious about? Being friends?" If he squinted hard enough, Peter could see a faint smile on the other man's face, though he did well to hide it. "Yeah, we can be friends, if you want, Spidey." There was still a hint of a laugh in his tone, and Peter wasn't sure if Daredevil was joking, but he was beyond ecstatic. What a nerd.
"Seriously? Awesome! Now the only heroes I need to befriend are Captain America and Bucky Barnes. As soon as they're not fugitives, I mean. Cause I don't wanna be doing anything considered illegal and-" He was silenced by Daredevil's gaze, as if the other man was staring straight into his soul.
"That doesn't mean you can come by any time you'd like."
Peter snapped his fingers as best as he could through his suit, "Ah, figures. Well, how about this. We finish up patrol and then... I dunno, we could make snow angels like we're both five years old."
A couple thugs down and there he was, being dragged into the snow... by Daredevil. He couldn't help but laugh at the thought of how ridiculous this was, playing in the snow on a roof at midnight with his second grumpiest friend. What got to him was Red laughing with him as he dragged the web-slinger through the snow and fell backwards, actually making snow angels. "You're such a dork," Peter snorted, arms crossed as he watched the devil themed hero.
"Whatever. Get over here, Webs." Just like that, Spider-Man slid into the snow next to Daredevil, surrounded by the thing that he considered the bane of his civilian existence. But it was worth it, being a total moron and lying next to his friend in the snow. Friend... aha. It felt nice, but... eh. He could dwell on that later when he wasn't there. When he wasn't right next to the vigilante, small puffs of steam rising with every exhale. And just when it couldn't have gotten any better- worse, any worse- small flakes of snow began to fall from the dark sky. He closed his eyes, hearing Daredevil sigh happily. And of course, Parker luck, Peter had to open his stupid mouth.
"So, what did you ask Santa for this yea- oOF!"
