Blindsided

The smell of something sweet, fresh and homemade hit his nostrils as soon as he left his room. It became stronger as he went down the four floors towards the communal kitchen.

Rosemary, tomato, carrot and paprika were the easiest to decipher. More spices hung around the room that Matt didn’t know the name of.

“DD!” Clint called in greeting when Matt entered the room.

They were all there. Steve and Bucky were on the left, where the kitchen area was. Natasha, Clint and Bruce were sitting on barstools, the leather of their seats squeaking under their weight. Tony and Sam were over by the window. Peter was sitting on the couch, his fingers brushing over paper.

His cane ticked against the hardwood floor, a familiar sound. It eased the anxiety building up in his chest. He felt his way around the room, even though he could pretty much guess where everything is just by smell and the way the sounds vibrated off the furniture.

The cane bumped against the couch and Matt trailed his hand over the back, feeling his way around to sit down.

Peter moved, closing the book he’d been reading. His heartbeat was still unusual, fluttering as he greeted him.

Matt gripped the cane in his hand, the strap new but familiar against his hand. It was a new cane, one Tony had made for him. It smelled of machine oil and electricity. The handle was too soft under his fingertips. He tightened his grip.

“Glad you could join us, D,” Tony said. His footsteps echoed against the floor and Matt tried not to flinch. The arc-reactor in his chest buzzed and the fabric of his hoodie brushed against it when he moved.

Matt tried to ignore it. He nodded, clenching his jaw. Why was everything so loud?

Someone was talking. He didn’t know who, the sound of their blood flowing and the smell of fresh garlic were too strong to focus on anything else.

A hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped, moving automatically to pin the person on the floor.

His ears started ringing, the sound of his own blood and a heart that was beating way too quick. His hands shook, his tongue felt numb.

The person under him moved, they grasped his hands and he was pushed backwards.

There was something touching his legs, brushing against the fabric of his pants.

“Daredevil,” a voice said.

Matt flinched, it was so loud. His hands moved to cover his ears, fingers digging into his skull, pulling at his hair.

Someone grasped his hands, Matt struggled when the noises became louder again. And then everything went quiet.

Something covered his ears, blocking out the noises. The only thing he heard was the sound of his own breathing.

Voices blended in and out, softer, gentle. Quiet.

His heart rate slowed and he was able to focus on one voice.

Someone was rubbing circles on his palm and he tried to focus on that.

“Breathe,” the voice whispered. Matt tried to do as instructed.

It took a while, but eventually things became more bearable. The smells became less overwhelming, instead warming him up from the inside. The noises quieted down, though he didn’t dare remove whatever was covering his ears.

His heartbeat slowed down, his breathing evened out.

Someone squeezed his hand, reassuringly. He squeezed back.

As his senses quieted down to a level he could handle, he became aware of his surroundings.

The fluttery heartbeat told him that Peter was sitting in front of him, holding his hands. He was a comforting presence, safe and steady.

Tony was standing behind him, but keeping a distance. His heartbeat was raised, and the smell of adrenaline hung around him.

Sam hung back, close to the window but Matt sensed the man’s attention was on him.

The others were in their original positions, their hearts beating faster than normal.

Matt squeezed Peter’s hands again, not ready to let go just yet.

Sensory overloads usually tired him out and in moments like these he needed something to focus on. Something to keep him grounded.

Usually, it was Foggy. His voice was enough to soothe any worry Matt was having. His voice was easy to listen to, it was safe and familiar.

Now, it was Peter. His hands were warm, his heartbeat calming. It helped.

The pasta sauce sizzled softly on the stove and Matt inhaled the aroma wafting off of it. It was more pleasant now, he could smell every individual ingredient.

“Are you back with us, Mr Daredevil, sir?” Peter asked, his voice soft.

“I-,” Matt started. His voice came out soft, like a whisper and in the end he settled for a nod.

Peter gave his hands another squeeze. “Good,” he replied and by the way his voice sounded, Matt knew the kid was smiling. “Do you need anything?”

Matt shook his head. He let go of Peter’s hands, wiping his palms on his pants. “I’m sorry about that,” he said.

He didn’t make a move to remove the headphones, enjoying the quiet for now. He wasn’t distracted by the sounds outside of the room. It was nice. He’d have to ask for a pair.

“Don’t apologise,” Steve said. His voice sounded tight.

“What happened?” Clint asked.

Matt turned his face in his direction but didn’t have the energy to respond.

Luckily, Peter seemed to understand. “Sensory overload?” he asked. When Matt nodded in agreement he nodded, narrating the movement. “I get those too, sometimes.”

“Is it because you’re-“ Tony trailed off, not wanting to finish his sentence.

Matt sighed. “You can say it, Stark,” he said. “I’m blind, not made of glass.”

“Who’s hungry?” Bucky broke the silence. He placed the pan with pasta on the bar, effectively breaking the tension.

Matt felt around for his cane, finding it next to him on the couch.

“Do you want to take my arm?” Peter asked.

Matt could hear him move around and he reached out his hand to grip onto the kid’s elbow.

The tension was completely gone by the time they sat down for dinner.

Matt listened idly as the others joked and talked around, feeling oddly out of place. He still hadn’t removed the headphones, wasn’t sure he wanted to for a while. The weight of them on his ears was grounding, it was like that was the thing that kept him from falling apart.

He sighed, placing his utensils down. Maybe it was because he was exhausted, maybe it was because he was done lying. Maybe the exhaustion made him loose the filter. Maybe it was just because he never thought things through that made him tell them.

He cleared his throat and the conversation stopped. “I need to say something,” he said before he could talk himself out of it. “What happened with HYDRA didn’t make me blind.”

He didn’t need to see to know each of them was confused.

“What do you mean?” Bruce asked. “Your eyes are non-responsive to light, the nerves are damaged.”

Matt shook his head. “I know, I don’t mean that I’m not blind, because I am. It’s just, I’ve been blind since I was nine.” He told them about how he pushed that man out of the way, how the acid on the truck blinded him.

“Why did you pretend?” Natasha asked, her voice sharp.

Their heartbeats had picked up, some out of anger, some out of confusion.

“If I’d told you that I’d been blind before then you would find out who I am. And that’d put the people I love in harm’s way,” Matt said. He hung his head, hoping he hadn’t just put a target on Foggy and Karen’s backs.

“Why tell us now?” Bucky asked.

Matt wasn’t sure how the Super Soldier felt, he couldn’t figure it out.

“I’ve always had a hard time being honest to those around me. It’s something I’ve been working on and I couldn’t keep this from you without feeling like I was moving backwards. You deserved to know.” Matt shook his head. “That doesn’t justify how I’ve made you feel. I’ll leave if you want me to, I’ll stay out of your way.”

“No, it doesn’t justify anything,” Steve said. “We felt responsible for what happened. We thought we’d ruined your life and you didn’t even bother correcting us.”

He grabbed his cane as he stood up. “I’m truly sorry,” he sighed.

Nobody stopped him as he felt his way out of the room.

He didn’t go back to his room, instead heading straight towards the main entrance.

It was time to go back to Hell’s Kitchen.