Matt Murdock Shorts

Meet the Stark-Rodger-Parkers

You've been going out with Matt for four months before he tells you about how he lost his sight and his father. You reach across the table, taking his hand and thinking about your own tragedies.

"I'm sorry, Matt. I know it's hard."

You know it's hard? Do you, though? If he had a dollar for every time someone said that to him. It's an effort not to take his hand back and withdraw altogether. But he knows you're trying to comfort him so he doesn't call you out on it. He's pretty sure he's growing to love you and he can't handle the idea of you pitying him. That's one thing he's never picked up from you. He lets it slide with a passive "it was a long time ago."

"That doesn't always make it easier."

He tilts his head to the side, listening to the light shake only he can hear in your voice, the change in your breathing as you decide whether to tip him off. It seems you know more about loss than he thought. Of course, he knows he's not the only one who has lost people but most people are still thrown by the orphan boy thing. "You sound like you're speaking from experience."

You sigh. "I was lucky I had Peter. Our parents died on a trip with mystery surrounding it. I remember them speaking in hushed voices to my aunt and uncle about something important— something dangerous— before they came out and kissed Peter and me goodbye. They died in a plane crash the next day. Our aunt and uncle took us in for a couple years, but then my uncle died and as hard as she tried, Aunt May wasn't prepared to support and raise two kids on her own. I'm sure she would've made it work— there are plenty of single moms out there— but social services came and took us. We were in the system for about a year before our dads adopted us. A few times, couples tried to adopt Peter but upon seeing my hysteria, they moved on. He was still little, and cute. He would have still been theirs. I felt bad, but I couldn't lose him too."

Matt runs his hand along yours. "So what happened? You said your dads adopted you. Did they know each other?"

It takes you a minute to process the question but you laugh once you do. Sometimes you forget that having two dads isn't everyone's normal. "Well, I hope they knew each other. They're married." When Matt goes quiet, you sigh and pull your hand away. This wouldn't be the first time homophobia got in the way of a relationship. The first time you broke off a relationship because of it, your two superhero dads looked devastated. It wasn't something you ever wanted to see again, much less be the cause of. Still, neither of them are idiots. It wasn't long before they learned to decode your shrugs and statements of 'it wasn't working'. Steve's the only one who ever apologized for it. You, of course, shut him down at the very thought. It's the other people who have the problem, not your wonderful dads.

"I'm sorry." Matt finally says.

"For what?" It's a challenge.

"For assuming. I thought you meant two single dads adopted each of you or something. Sorry if I made it awkward. I swear I don't have anything against it."

You let out a breath of relief. "Yeah, I'll admit I'm a bit defensive about it. They gave us the best childhood we could've asked for. Even though I remember— and will always love— our bio parents, it doesn't make Steve and Tony any less of real parents."

Matt nods. "I'm sure you've had to be defensive about it. I'm just sorry I made you think you needed to be with me."

You smile. "It's okay, Matt."

"So, what do they do?"

"Tony's an engineer, scientist, general genus, you name it. Steve's a soldier."

Matt can't help but notice the similarities between your dads and certain masked heroes. Not to mention your phrasing. You didn't say military or specify a specific branch, you said soldier. But if you're not advertising, he's not going to push it. "My dad was a boxer." He offers.