No Matter What You're Told
They’d been huddled on the couch for some time. They’d finished watching Totoro and were halfway through Porco Rosso when the sound of air displacing itself from the elevator shaft caught Matt’s attention. The doors ground open, wafting the smell of machine oil and too much aftershave into the room. One set of steps moved quickly towards where they were sitting, the other set clicked, lighter than the first, and at a steady pace. The footsteps halved the distance between them and the elevator when someone paused the movie. Fabric rustled and metal whirred as Sam and Bucky got up and walked over to the kitchen, near enough to listen, far enough to not be noticed. Lucky huffed at the movement but followed after them from his place on the floor, tail wagging as his paws clicked on the hard surface.
“What kind of fucked up prank is this?” the easily recognisable, yet very angry, voice of Tony Stark accompanied by the brief rustling of a trash bag. The steps, now known to be his, stopped right next to Clint, Matt listened closely. He couldn’t make out Stark's heartbeat over a frustratingly high-pitched noise. The sound wasn’t too dissimilar to the sound of Foggy’s computer hard drive whenever he tries to open or save a file. Matt was familiar with the reactor, he’d heard so many stories about it, but it sounded much different to how it used to. The couch shifted as Clint stood up, Matt followed suit and stood up next to him.
“How come you think it’s a prank?” Clint asked. There was a moment of quiet, interrupted by something tapping on glass. Clint took in a breath and his heartbeat thudded faster. “Shit.”
“Where in hell did you find this?” Tony asked. Tepid silence loomed over them, Matt could still feel the warmth of anger radiating from Stark. The steps from the kitchen receded to the elevator, and Lucky’s paws padded back over toward the couch. Something prodded Matt’s side, he masked a wince.
“It’s not a bag of random blood.” Clint said, his voice quiet “It’s the Kid’s.”
This was not the situation Matt had expected. In his mind, he’d hand it over, receive a courteous response saying they’d do some half-assed investigating, and be on his way. He didn’t think that they’d even get a match to the blood in the bag. Even less had he thought that the owner of said blood’s identity would be protected by layers upon layers of security and clearance measures, and known only to the avengers and very, very few exceptions. His thoughts surrounding the owner of the blood hadn't come close to them having been missing for the past four years. From the conversations he’d overheard on his few previous missions with the Avengers, he and Jessica had put together that ‘the Kid’ was enhanced to some degree, and related to someone Hydra wished to target. So, if Stark was right, and the blood really was the… shit. This was way above his pay grade, and he didn’t even get paid for this stuff. Matt felt himself pale. No wonder Stark was angry. So much for sneaking away from this quietly.
Noticing the lingering silence, Matt composed himself.
“I apprehended someone, a random criminal, no weapons, he was running from the police. He said he was paid to hand the bag off, near the docks. I don’t know who wanted it or why. Once I smelt the blood I thought I’d be more interesting to you.”
The thrum of the reactor emanated in front of him, another sound, quiet buzzing, just audible in the quiet.
“Where’d you find it?” Stark asked through gritted teeth. His tone was level but strained, clearly using all the effort he could to not blow up where he stood.
“I stopped the guy in an alley,” Matt replied, “He didn’t know who he was doing it for, just a place and a promise of money-”
“Look Murdock,” Tony interrupted, the quiet buzzing moving as he spoke, “I don’t have time to screw around. I need street names, dates, and times to the second. I need to know every place that bag has been through its lifetime. This isn’t something you can half-ass like last time!”
Matt’s hands curled into fists. That is not what happened last time and Stark knew it. Matt recalled the relevant information through gritted teeth, giving the street name and time to the hour. Stark’s steps receded quickly to the elevator.
“J, don’t let him leave,” Stark muttered as the elevator doors swished open. The remaining heartbeat lingered a moment before heels clicked in the same direction. The doors shut, the air moved, and stillness returned to the room.
Fabric rustled as Clint fell back onto the couch, huffing out a sigh. Matt stayed standing, not sure what to do now he was forbidden from leaving. He was happy to help, that was why he’d come to them in the first place. If necessary he’d help them search, if it meant this would be over faster, though he wasn’t keen on having a repeat of what happened before. It had been four years, it wasn’t Matt’s nature to think of things as hopeless but-
“Shit, man,” Clint said, “I was gonna go home this weekend too.”
Matt’s confusion showed on his face, and Clint tried to muffle a laugh.
“We don’t all live here, you know. We have lives.” Of course they do, Matt thought. Judging from previous experience he wasn’t quite sure if he believed it. The Avengers were a family. They were tighter than the bolts on the Brooklyn bridge and worked together smoother than the flowing tide of the east river. Wilson had been making cookies when he got here! They were the world’s mightiest heroes, with movie nights and training sessions, apartments in the tower, and group missions all year round. He was the Devil of Hell’s kitchen. A single man, fighting for the benefit of the people, night and day. Alone. Ask anyone, the Avengers and Daredevil, they’d laugh at the thought. He sank down onto the couch, running a hand through his hair. It sank a little too far. It was uncomfortable, as though he was being swallowed by it, too different from the one in his apartment. That worried him. He didn’t know when he’d get to go back to his apartment, didn't know when he’d get to go home.
***
“You’re not allowed to leave?” Matt flinches as Jessica’s laughter crackles from the other end of the phone. A huff sounds from the other side of the room. Romanoff was not pleased with the developments of this situation. Matt couldn’t be sure which aspect she seemed so against, only that she sent a clear message to everyone who happened to cross her path.
“Like house arrest?” Jessica asked once she’d recovered from her laughter.
“This was your plan,” Matt reminded her, “It didn’t work. This is not how I wanted this to happen.” Matt isn't sure if he believed himself, it’d been a while since he’d worked with the Avengers. It had seemed as though Hell's Kitchen had taken a lull recently, this did nothing to reassure Matt in the slightest.
“I followed your advice. Now I’m,” he lowered his voice, though he was sure Romanoff could still hear him, “I’m stuck who knows how many floors up with an angry robot man wanting answers I don’t have.” Matt heard Romanoff chuckle on the other side of the room. So much for privacy.
“For fuck’s sake Murdock,” Jessica groaned, “I’m not breaking you out. It’s Stark tower. From what I’ve heard you’re basically in heaven.”
“I’d have preferred it to be under different circumstances,” he replied through gritted teeth. Matt rubbed a hand over his face. He hadn’t slept in the past thirty-six hours, and it was starting to show. His ribs ached, and despite his best efforts to think through this, his mind would go blank. He hoped he wouldn’t be confined to the communal area. The couches were overly comfortable, sinking too far, he could easily hear each overused spring. Matt really wished this wouldn’t be the only place he’d be allowed to sleep.
“Fucking hell,” the static on the other end stopped as Jessica hung up. Matt bit the inside of his cheek before pocketing his phone. This was going to be quite the vacation.