Whaddup.
"What do you mean, we can't kill everyone?" Frank almost shouts, motioning to the obscure cityscape below them. "These people- these fucking MONSTERS - are taking kids from their parents and putting them out as sex workers, Red. They deserve something to die."
Matt sighs heavily, having seen this outcome from a mile away. Leslie had fallen asleep not long after Clint got back from walking Lucky and they all ate. Frank decided that it was the best time to talk since no one had to worry about Leslie getting upset about the possible conversation topics. Matt pointed out that she's a light sleeper, so they'd have to talk outside on the roof so they wouldn't disturb her. It took a second for everyone to build up the nerve to leave Leslie alone, but Clint assured them that Lucky wouldn't let anything happen to her. Lucky practically saluted once he was put on guard dog duty and they left. Lucky jumped in the bed beside her no sooner than the door had closed and Matt almost went back in to shoo him out and only stopped when Leslie scooted closer and tucked him under her arm to sleep better. He huffed in defeated and silently finished the journey to the roof. When they got there, Clint and Matt filled Frank in on everything Clint found.
Needless to say, Frank didn't like it.
"Frank," Matt says, trying to push some form of authority into his tired tone. "We are not going to kill anyone."
"If we can help it," Clint corrects, his tone on the border of tired and flat. "If they don't leave us any other options-"
"I don't kill people," Matt reminds firmly. "Period."
"-but we're not going in assuming that we're going to kill everyone on sight."
"That's the only option we have!" Frank shouts. "These are the worst kind of people and no one would miss them if they die!"
"That's not justice, Frank. That's murder."
"Sometimes there's no difference."
Another tired sigh pushes from Matt's nose and he turns in Clint's direction. "This is why I didn't want to tell him," he informs flatly.
Clint nods in understanding. "I see."
Frank's head turns between Matt and Clint and Matt doesn't need sight to know he's upset. "How am I in the wrong here?" he asks angrily. "It's the only option we have!"
"We'll turn them-"
"Fuck turning them into the police, Red! They'll be back on the streets in no time doing exactly what they were doing. Except this time, they'll be sneakier and we won't catch them. Killing them in the only way to make sure they won't do this again. To make sure that no kid will turn into another Leslie."
Matt shakes his head to finalize his decision. "We're not killing anyone."
"If we can help it," Clint adds yet again. "Sometimes there are no other options."
"There's always another option."
This time Frank shakes his head and folds his arms solemnly. "Not always, Red."
The three lapse into a tense silence, neither one so much as glancing in the direction of the other Matt's starting to realize how much he should have just kept everything to himself. Yes Clint was a big help in the information gathering section, but he also should have remembered that he's a trained SHIELD agent, and that they don't always hesitate when faced with killing others. Not that he blames him, he's just doing his job. Ah well.
"What's our next move then, Red?" Frank asks bitterly. "We gonna go in, kick everyone's ass, hope they don't raise an alarm and start killing the kids, then get the kids to the police station? Or are we just gonna call the police and tell them to do it? Or, more likely, we gonna do the first plan and then you're gonna take all the kids in like you did Leslie, right?"
Matt glares in Frank's direction. "That wasn't necessary," he almost growls. "Leslie couldn't handle being left anywhere."
"And you think all the other kids will?"
Matt can't think of a response. Frank's right. If any of the kids have been through what Leslie has, they won't trust authority figures and he won't be able to force them to.
"We're still not killing anyone, Frank," he finally responds, his ear tuning in on Leslie waking up in his apartment. Not a peaceful waking up, but a violent start that causes her to curl into herself and pant heavily for air. A nightmare.
"Leslie had a nightmare," Matt informs, already making his way back to the apartment as Lucky starts pawing at Leslie. Matt assumes Clint has his own PTSD, so Lucky must have some sort of experience with it. "We all can't come down since she may get-"
"Yeah, yeah," Frank hushes sourly. "Go take care of the kid,"
Matt doesn't waste time responding as he makes his way back into his apartment, but he does keep a keen ear out for what's going on between Clint and Frank. Tensions are high, Frank has a temper, Clint has fast reflexes, and they're both two of the most dangerous people he knows. Matt suddenly finds himself wondering about new lifestyle choices.
Leslie is still having a minor panic attack when Matt gets to the room, her hands slowly working through Lucky's fur as the rest of her body tenses into stillness. Lucky notices Matt's approach first and turns his head, releasing a low, warning growl to stop his approach. Matt ventures a guess that that's what Lucky does for Clint when he has some sort of attack, which is understandable considering Clint's line of work usually involves someone approaching to try and kill him. Matt decides Lucky is a good dog, despite jumping in his bed unprompted.
The growling succeeds in drawing Leslie's attention over and she exhales shakily, relaxing slightly as he continues to the bed. Lucky's growl rises in volume and Leslie shushes him quietly, causing Lucky to relax almost instantly as Matt finishes his approach.
"Nightmares?" he asks as he lowers himself to sit on the bed. Leslie nods and Matt does the same in understanding. "Are you alright?"
There's a moment of hesitation before Leslie sighs heavily and nods. "I'm. . .alright," she says slowly. "Could be worse. I'm sore."
"I can get you some pain killers," he responds. "And I should probably call Clare for a check-up. It's been a while and I'm sure it's time to change your bandages." He reaches out and ruffles her hair much like Frank did a few hours ago and pushes himself from the bed. "I have to go let the other two in and call Clare," he informs. "Will you be alright till I get back?"
"I'll be fine," Leslie says with a nod.
Matt offers a quick response, then turns and heads back to the roof, fighting back the smile that threats to break across his face. For all the shit she's been through, Leslie is doing well in the recovery process. She's able to pull herself from a panic attack quicker and she's talking more. That could just be because Lucky is there with her as a support animal, but a win is a win and he's still not getting a dog.
He finishes the trip to the roof quickly and clears his throat to pull Frank and Clint from the argument heating up between them. He might have let it go on a bit longer so it'll be out of their system, but both of them were reaching for their hidden weapons and he had to intervene. The last thing he needs is for these two to start firing and set Leslie off again. "Leslie's alright," he informs. "Don't fuck it up by starting shooting."
He can't see it, but he can feel Frank roll his eyes as he and Clint relax enough to stop reaching for their guns. "We're not gonna shoot each other, Red," he assures. "We're just talking."
Matt rolls his own eyes in response. "Talking usually doesn't involve two people reaching for hidden guns," he says tiredly. "Unless I missed the most recent seminar in socialization. . . Anyway, Leslie's alright, just a nightmare. I'm going to call a nurse I know so that she can get checked out though cause she said she was sore."
"I'm out then," Frank says, turning and making his way to the fire escape. "Call me-"
"The 'flesh wound' on your leg is getting infected," Matt informs flatly before Frank can finish. "I recommend getting it checked out by someone I trust." The statement causes Frank to pause in what Matt assumes is consideration, so Matt decides to continue. "As much as I hate to admit, I know you're probably going after the Russians even though I told you not to. So I'd rather you blatantly ignore me when you're at your best than when you're acting like you are and get yourself killed."
"I'm always at my best, Red," Frank counters. "Hurt or not."
"I don't doubt that," Matt responds and hears the quiet snort of amusement Clint gives as a response. "However, if you do end up getting hurt in your current crusade, how do you think Leslie would feel knowing you did it for her."
A silent tense lets Matt know he's got him. The accompanying defeated sigh and turn only enforces the facts Matt ventured to assume from the beginning; Frank would do a lot if Leslie's name is thrown in the mix. Matt files that information away for later.
"Call your nurse friend," Frank instructs. "I'm going downstairs."
Clint yawns and scratches the back of his head. "I'm heading down too," he says, moving to follow Frank toward the stairs that lead back inside. "Oh, and I'm going to crash at your place again. I don't feel like taking a cab back to Bed-Stuy and a lot of hotels are run by rich, ungrateful bastards who don't appreciate the shit I go through for them."
Matt nods in understanding. "No Avengers discount?"
"Not even when I personally saved the damned place in the Invasion!" Clint confirms angrily. "LIke, shit, man, I could've let the shitty place burn down but I didn't! I deserve credit!"
Frank snorts as he pulls the stairway door open and makes his way inside. "This is one of the people we depend on to save the world?"
"I'm better than you, army boy."
Matt rolls his eyes at the seemingly endless bickering between the two and reaches for the phone in his pocket, dialing the number he knows the sound of by heart. It rings four times before it's answered.
"Please tell me you're not calling because someone is dying immediately on your floor," Clare says, her tone full of clear exhaustion. "I just got off shift, Matt, I don't need another emergency."
A few chuckles roll from Matt's core and he shakes his head despite the fact no one can see it. "No one's dying, Clare," he assures happily. "Leslie just said she's a bit sore and I was wondering-"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Clare says, a hint of excitement taking place of her previous exhaustion. "Leslie spoke? Like, actually said something? Not writing."
Matt smiles. "Yeah," he explains. "She's been talking a bit lately and-"
"I'll be right there." And then the line disconnects. Matt laughs lightly and then redials the number, this time ringing twice before being answered. "I already said I was coming, you don't have to convince me any further."
"I'm not trying to convince you," he says. "I'm just trying to let you know what you're walking into."
"I thought you said no one's dying."
"That's true. But I have Frank Castle and Clint Barton in my house, along with Leslie and Clint's dog and myself." There's a moment of silence that lasts a bit too long. "Clare?"
"You have a wanted mass murderer AND an Avenger in your house with your stolen Russian sex trafficked kid and a dog?" Clare repeats. "You do realize that sounds-"
"Insane?" Matt finishes. "Yeah. I was just wondering how my life ended up like this."
"You need a new hobby."
"I know."
Clare breathes her own faint laughter and sighs. "Alright, I'm still on the way."
"Thanks Clare. Oh! And Frank has a gunshot wound on his left leg that's starting to get infected. Can you check it out?"
"I'm going to have to start charging you for this shit, Daredevil," Clare huffs. "But yeah, I'll see what I can do if he lets me."
"He's fine with it. Thanks again."
Clare hums a tired response and then ends the call again. Matt pockets his phone again and takes a moment to prepare himself to go back down. Yes, his new trio of roommates are calm now, but he knows the situation can change within an instant if he's not playing referee. Frank's lightning quick temper plus Clint's seemingly nonexistent verbal filter is a ticking time bomb waiting to go off, and Matt doesn't want it to explode in his house. A majority of his reasoning does lie in the fact Leslie lives with him now - for now - but it doesn't mean he wants two of New York's deadliest starting a deathmatch fight in his living room.
With that in mind, Matt tunes his hearing back to the ongoings of his living room.
Leslie still sits on his bed with Lucky, the latter of the two being scolded by Clint for being on Matt's bed without permission. Of course, a lot of the fuss is Clint saying how much Matt's going to kill him for letting it happen even though it was totally out of his control. Lucky, however, wags his tail happily as if all of Clint's frantic gesturing and whisper-shouted words means they're playing a game. Frank sits on the couch across the living room, laughing lightly and hurrying Clint by telling him Matt could come down any second. Clint continuously tells him how unhelpful he's being and only adds to Frank's amusement. Neither of them know Matt already knows Lucky is on his bed and let it happen for Leslie's sake.
His heart rate slows at the mundanity of the typically unusual situation, then speeds up again at the thought of finding sleeping arrangements for everyone. Matt doesn't have the heart to kick Leslie out of his bed and he doesn't want to fight Clint and Frank for the long couch. None of them are small enough to cram onto the armchairs despite Clint being comfortable on the one he slept in a while ago. He ventures a guess at Clint arguing with Frank for the couch for the simple sake of arguing with Frank, so he can't assume that he'll just take the armchair again. Does he have enough sheets in his linen closet for everyone to make a spot on the floor? Maybe he should have asked Clare if she had sleeping bags at her house.
The train of thoughts cause Matt to pause and realize how deep he's gotten into the current situation. He finds himself wondering how long this is going to last before he can go back to normalcy, then huffs once more to prepare himself and heads back inside to face the comedic tragedy that has become his life.
Alright, I know I'm inconsistent as FUCK in my update schedule and I know I said I'm trying to get better, and I mean that. I'm working on ways to keep everything - all five of the stories I have going on across two different posting platforms - updated regularly. I am going to college in a few weeks and I still have a job, so please don't get too upset if I end up vanishing for a while like I have been doing. My life is a fucking nightmare I'm working on making better.
I know this story seems like a lot of fluff and these last chapters probably aren't what everyone was hoping for action wise, but I wasn't really planning on a lot of fighting in this story in its initial blooming anyway. Besides, I'm still working on fine tuning this thing and it may include action later. Right now, I really like working on character interactions and shit and I'm rolling from there.
However, I promise there is plot going on, I'm just still working on translating it into words as nicely as it flows in my head.
End rant! Thank you all for putting up with my bullshit and continuing to read! I love you all! Please continue to read, favorite, follow, and review! Hopefully I can get my shit together faster! Thanks!
