Chapter 6
The evening stayed clear, but turned cold as it got late. Matt shivered a bit, even in his jacket, as he held the door at Josie's. Father Lantom had joined them for dinner, and afterwards Vision had headed back upstate, leaving Wanda, as she'd wanted to stay longer. After Father Lantom had gone home, Foggy and Karen had suggested Josie's, so here they were.
It was more crowded than Matt was used to, but they snagged a table and Josie brought out a bottle and four glasses with her usual nonchalance. Foggy took the liberty of filling the glasses. "Yours is at your nine o'clock, Matt," he said helpfully. Matt chuckled as he lifted his glass. "A toast!" Foggy declared dramatically. "To...to....damnit." He paused to think, and Wanda and Karen both giggled. "To things not sucking! For a while. That sounded better in my head."
Matt laughed. "Sounds good to me."
"Likewise," Karen said, and Matt raised an eyebrow at her tone. She sounded happy enough, but there was just a hint of something dark in her voice.
"Cannot argue with that," Wanda said--Matt imagined her smirking from the amusement in her voice. They all clinked their glasses, and drank. Matt half-grimaced at the familiar burn of the alcohol. He heard Foggy give an incredulous laugh. "Man, didn't even flinch." His shirtsleeve made a scuffing sound as he leaned towards Wanda on the table. "Karen and I both got wasted the first time I brought her here."
"There was an eel in the bottle," Karen hissed at Wanda, eliciting a giggle from the younger girl. There was a beat of comfortable quiet at the table, each of them enjoying the peace. Matt heard Wanda swishing her drink around in her glass. "When we were in the orphanage, my brother used to steal alcohol from the adults," she said quietly. "He'd sell it in the market. Hoard the money to buy us food when they didn't give enough. If he didn't sell it, sometimes he'd keep it. I drank some of it so he wouldn't drink it all himself. He would have, if I...hadn't stopped him."
Matt swallowed hard, his good mood dissolving. He remembered being in the orphanage himself, still nursing a broken heart and all-consuming guilt over his dad. He drew in on himself when upset--which was a double-edged sword, because some nuns would respect the boy's quiet and subdued nature, while others thought he should open up. He knew it wouldn't do any good. What would he say? Any priest would tell him that his father's decision to do the right thing was not his fault, and that he wasn't to blame for anything that had happened with him. Father Lantom had told him as much since then. It didn't matter in the long run. He still didn't believe it.
Back then, Stick had been his only respite. Of course the man was rough around the edges; harsh, crude, pushy. But he was there and paying attention, and Matt drank in the interest.
Stick drank. A lot. Hard liquors, beer, whiskey. Matt sometimes drank some of it, just to prove that he could. He would down a shot in one swallow. He never let himself flinch. Never let himself gag, even if he wanted to.
(Even if all he could think of was his dad chuckling without malice, sitting quietly and flinching as he stitched him up, tired but determined.)
Stick would laugh. "You can hold your liquor, Matty, I'll give 'ya that." Matt would wish for a hair ruffle, or a pat on the shoulder that never came. "Good for you."
Foggy's voice was low when he spoke. "I'm sorry about your brother. I got the impression you two were very close."
Matt heard the slight whoosh of air as Wanda sighed, nodded. "We were," she breathed. No one else spoke, but Karen reached out and grasped Wanda's hand gently. Matt heard Wanda squeeze back slightly. Then he heard Karen pull back.
"Well, I had a lot of fun today, but I think I'd better be headed home." Karen grabbed her purse, pulled her denim jacket off her chair with a creak. "You sure you don't want to stay with me, Wanda? I have plenty of room."
"Oh, no thank you, Karen. I would hate to intrude, and I will be fine in the hotel. Really," Wanda insisted quickly.
"Well, I hope you have a nice rest of your stay. It was great to see you again." Matt heard her turn to him and Foggy. "I guess I'll see you guys on Monday."
Matt smiled up in her direction, while Foggy pushed his chair back. "I think I'll tag along, if you don't mind. No sense taking two taxis, and I'd better be heading on, as well."
"Of course." Karen said.
"Night, you two. Don't get plastered!" Foggy called over his shoulder. "No drunk driving, Matthew!" Wanda giggled, and Matt chuckled. "Same to you!" The door closed behind the two of them, and Wanda sighed contentedly. "They are good people."
Matt nodded, smiling quietly. "They are," he murmured.
"Foggy seems to be protective of Karen," she remarked easily. Matt nodded. "We both are. We met under...admittedly kind of terrible circumstances, but she's just been great. She's amazing, and a good friend. She's tough, but..." he sighed. "We like to have each other's backs, is all."
"I can understand that," Wanda said. He heard her trace her fingertip over the rim of her glass. The gentle ring was soothing. "How...um...did you meet, exactly?"
Matt laughed, a bit incredulously. "She was accused of murder. We bribed the desk sergeant to help us get clients."
Wanda choked on the swallow she'd taken from her glass. When she'd swallowed, she gasped, "Really?"
"Really," Matt said. "Can you believe that? Karen? She wouldn't hurt a fly."
"Mmm." Wanda hummed. "I don't know. She might, if anyone threatened someone she cared for. She seems just as protective of you two as you are of her."
"Just one big happy family," Matt grinned, taking another drink. He sighed at the buzz of the alcohol. "This stuff is the best. For real."
Wanda laughed. "I don't think I'm even technically supposed to be in here," she said conspiratorially.
"Huh?" Matt thought for a moment, then remembered; Wanda had told him she was nineteen. "Shit. I'm an idiot."
She snorted. "The law is ridiculous, anyway. I had my first drink at three when my батя gave me a sip of his beer."
Matt smirked. "Nine, and it was whiskey."
Wanda chuckled. "You do not do anything half-through, do you?"
"No, I guess not," Matt laughed. He started to take another drink, letting his mind ease off of filtering sound for a bit. It got a bit exhausting to block some things out for long periods of time, but it was easier with breaks. He heard someone turn their fan on five blocks away, a microwave timer beeping, car horns blaring, a cop yelling at his partner to hurry up with his coffee--
"Isn't she that new Avenger?" he heard from the other side of the bar, and his hearing zeroed-in.
"Yeah. Pretty hot for a kid, isn't she?"
A snort. "Yeah. Too bad she's a mass murderer." A slurp. "Cause I'll tell 'ya, I'd have that gypsy bitc--"
Matt wasn't even aware he was moving until he was standing, fist curled on the table, barely keeping his shoulders from heaving, and there was a cool, small hand curled around his forearm, gently tugging him back. "Matt. Matthew, you can't."
He drew a deep breath in through his nose, trying desperately to calm down.
"You got a problem or somethin'?" The voice asked in a bored tone. He didn't recognize it; probably someone from out of town who was here because the other bars were full.
Wanda's voice was close to his head, but soft, calm. "It's not worth it." A pause. "He's not worth it, Matt."
He stood for a moment, imagined how satisfying it would be to stride over to that dirtbag, slam his head into the table. Throw him onto the floor and kick him until he's in traction for the next few months.
Then he grabbed his jacket and his cane, and turned. "Josie, put the bill on our tab, please." His voice was even somewhat steady.
"Sure thing," Josie nodded, her voice steely. Matt turned and walked briskly to the door, and stifled a slightly-hysterical smile at the sound of Josie's steel-toed workboots clanging rapidly across the floor towards the asshat's table. He was sure the guy would have skipped town by morning.
He paused under the canopy, Wanda right beside him. He realized with a start that he was holding her hand; her grasp must have slid down to his wrist as he led her out. Her fingers were hesitant in their grip, ready to drift away if he wished.
He raised his head to look in her direction. "Why did you do that?" He asked. "Why would you just...take that?"
Wanda sounded surprised. "Because I'm used to it. And as I said; there's no point."
Matt licked his lips. "You...you know that's not acceptable behavior to anyone, let alone a stranger," he says. "It's not."
Wanda shook her head. "No. It's not. But he is an asshole, not a criminal. If he ever becomes one, I am sure you will be waiting for him. But until then, you can't attack him. Especially not in a crowded place where others could be hurt." She swallowed hard. "And anger does not always mean you are justified in taking action."
She squeezed his hand a little with the words, as if preparing to be let go after them. Matt was too busy being shell-shocked to even think of letting go. This girl had been through so much in so short a time--and yet she let cruelty towards herself slide off her back for fear of others being hurt. She was speaking from experience, and he knew it. He was overwhelmed with sudden admiration for her--her unwillingness to be selfish, to be brash. To be a monster--a slave to a darker nature. And now that he thought about it, he realized that he'd always felt an admiration for her--her strength, her kindness, her persistence.
So he curled his fingers more tightly around hers. "Thank you," he said simply.
She glanced down to their joined hands quickly--he could hear the whip of air as she ducked her head--and then back up to him. He heard her heartrate spike, felt a bit more heat enter her cheeks. But her voice was steady and sure when she said, "You're welcome."