It had been a long night.
Natasha and Steve took out the last two of the offending robots simultaneously and there was a collective sound of relief as Tony announced that there were no more.
It took them a moment to regroup; Daredevil could tell that he, Steve, and Clint were all bleeding and that Tony probably had a concussion since he was much quieter than usual. Hulk had shrunken back into Bruce a few moments ago and was swaying where he stood.
"Right." Matt took a deep breath, analysing their surroundings. "Tony, we're just on the edges of Hell's Kitchen. Did you get the suit up and running again so we can call for our ride?"
There was a minimal movement; Matt waited.
"Oh. I just shook my head," Tony's voice sounded wobbly. "The suit's working enough for me to move, but not enough to get me back to the tower and not enough to call for anyone."
"Right." Matt repeated. There was a moment of awkward silence, then he sighed. "All right, boys and girl. Get your stuff around."
He turned his back on the shuffling group of superheroes and pulled the burner phone out of his pocket, hitting speed dial one. "Claire? Hey, it's me. No, I'm not dying." Matt took a second to evaluate that. "Well, I'm bleeding, but not badly. Just a cut and a few bruises… Look, I know you're good at patching me up, but how are you with super soldiers and assassins? Also, a really rich guy who might have a concussion?"
Steve could practically hear the sigh from the other end of the line. Matt finished the conversation. "Can you get to my apartment? I'd rather not drop them all at your place. And can you bring any extra blankets you have? Thanks. See you in twenty minutes."
He clicked the phone shut. "Everyone ready?" There were nods and moans but it was generally affirmative and a minute later, the Avengers were following Daredevil quietly across a series of rooftops, fire escapes, and through a memorable floor of a burnt out business, Tony helping a half-asleep Bruce. They arrived at a nondescript apartment building and took turns lowering themselves to a roof access door and into an apartment. Steve, who insisted on bringing up the rear, could see a little bit of tension drain out of Matt's shoulders as they entered the space.
Everyone waited at the bottom of the stairs until Matt was there, then followed him into the living space. "Lights by the door…" Natasha walked over and flipped the switch, filling the open space with dim light. "Sorry it's not much light, I don't usually turn them on. Plus, people say the billboard does a lot." He gestured out the large wall windows to where a huge glowing billboard sat.
Clint whistled. "This is a nice apartment, Murdock. How does a lawyer afford something like this?"
Matt grinned, crossing to the door and unlocking it. "He goes blind and then buys a corner apartment that nobody else wants because it has a huge glowing billboard that got put in during a wierd contract after the Avengers fought aliens that destroyed half the city."
Clint made a little noise that was probably agreement.
"Okay, everyone. Make yourself at home. Shower's through the bedroom, kitchen should be stocked. Claire will be here any minute with medical attention. I claim the bed because I have to get up and go to work in the morning, unlike all of you." He added a glare here for effect. "And I'll share with Tony if he wants because he has a concussion. If not, it's fair game." Matt paused. "And don't move the furniture."
He headed to the closet where he kept the Daredevil suit, pulling out the chest and unlatching it while he half listened to the Avengers exploring the apartment, Natasha having claimed the shower. Lifting off the top layer, he pulled off the (relatively clean) suit in pieces, starting with the cowl, and folded it into the box, leaving only the undersuit on. Matt cocked his head, hearing Claire coming, and abandoned the open chest to let her in.
The nurse shuffled through the door, laded with her medical bag and an armload of pillows and blankets from her apartment. "Hey." Matt greeted her, closing the door behind her and locking it. "Thanks for coming."
Claire dumped the pile of soft items on the couch and straightened up, whistling. "You weren't kidding," she said, looking at Tony, who was sprawled in one of the chairs, the armour standing in the corner. Clint had procured a compression bandage from somewhere and had wrapped it around his bleeding leg. Steve was sitting at the table, keeping pressure on his side. Matt was pretty much ignoring his own injury. Natasha clicked the shower off, releasing a load of steam and heat into the room as she opened the door. Bruce was half asleep on the couch but would probably get up in an hour after his power nap and eat half of Matt's kitchen bare.
"Nope." Matt shrugged. "Remember how I told you I had a part time hospital situation at my disposal now? Avenger Tower pretty much it's own medical floor. It was just too far away for us to easily get back and nobody's hurt too badly."
"Wow." Claire shook her head and apparently decided that it was best to just get down to business. "Who's first?"
"Tony." Steve called from across the room. Claire nodded and walked over to the billionaire, making him sit up and look at her so she could run a series of cognitive tests.
Bruce pulled himself off of the couch, walked over to where the pair was, and had a brief conversation with Claire that Matt ignored in favor of going into his bedroom. He found a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and threw them to Natasha, who was standing in the bathroom door wrapped in a (towel?) She took them with a quiet "thanks" and headed back into the bathroom, leaving Matt to grab a pair of running shorts and another t-shirt for Bruce and Clint, who didn't have clothing under their uniforms. He walked back out cautiously; who knew where everyone and their equipment was exactly? and set the clothing on the counter next to Clint, who was getting stitched up by Bruce.
"You get that from Claire?" Matt asked the scientist, locating his glasses on the counter and sliding them on.
"Yeah. It's a skill that comes in handy. We bonded over our superhero friend's mutual dislike for hospitals." Matt smirked at the response and walked around the kitchen island, carefully rummaging through the fridge and pulling out supplies for sandwiches, eggs, and bacon, never mind that it was past midnight. He started cooking, aware that Steve was watching him. As he finished, he would slide the plate of bacon or eggs across the table so it could be picked up by a starving Avenger. Bruce finished stitching up Clint and picked up a plate, attacking it ravenously. Matt carefully refilled it as he emptied the dish and handed another one to Natasha, who had left the bathroom to Tony and come out to greet Claire and eat.
The two women seemed to establish a mutual girl connection immediately, much to the mild concern of all the men.
By the time Matt ran out of eggs and bacon, Claire was halfway through fixing up Steve and told him to leave the kitchen and take his shirt off so she could look at his shoulder. Matt walked around the island and stopped; unsure of the location of things in his own house. He sighed and waited until Claire came over and offered an elbow.
She sat him on the couch and he stripped off his shirt, waiting patiently while she probed the sluggishly bleeding cut and cleaned it out, pulling the edges together with a series of butterfly bandages. Steve suddenly piped up. "Are the posters in Fogwell's gym for the same Jack Murdock as the jacket you have?"
"How many people named 'Battlin' Jack Murdock' do you know?" Matt asked, but there was only tiredness in his voice, no anger. "Am I clear to the chest?" Claire affirmed and Matt walked over, not bothering to put his shirt back on. He could feel Steve standing by the box but ignored him, running his fingers over the embroidery that spelled his father's name before slotting the layer back over his suit and closing the chest and the closet.
"My father." He answered Steve's unspoken question. "A boxer."
Something in his voice must have told Steve not ask anything further because the supersoldier didn't push. Matt stood, closing the closet and facing the room at large. He focused carefully for a moment, finding Claire's heartbeat amongst the Avengers' and walking carefully towards her. She had just finished packing up her kit, everyone properly on the mend. Matt reached out and touched the back of her hand for a moment. "I know I've said it before, but… thank you. Again." Claire stood, extending her own hand to touch his cheek for a moment.
"Don't worry about it, Matt. When else am I going to get to meet the Avengers?" He smiled, tracking her movements and walking with her to the door and unlocking it. "Try to stay out of trouble."
"I always do." Matt could almost hear her smile as she ducked out of the door and followed her footsteps down the hall and out of the building, fading as she hailed a taxi and drove away.
Matt turned, sighing as he tried to focus on the chaos that was his appartment. "I'm going to bed. Make yourself comfortable somewhere."
There was a general murmur of assent as Matt carefully walked through the apartment to the bedroom, flopping down and digging through the bedside table until he found a pair of sleep-friendly noise cancelling headphones. There were five people sleeping in his apartment; he would need them.
Somehow, despite the extra sounds, smells, and temperature variations of people getting ready to sleep (Tony in his bed, which was weird, Bruce on the couch. Natasha on the two chairs pushed together, Steve and Clint on the floor), Matt was able to fall asleep within fifteen minutes.
He was rudely awakened by his cell phone, turned all the way up. "Foggy… Foggy… Foggy… Foggy…" Matt groaned, fumbling for the electronic on the bedside table. There was a soft noise behind him and he was instantly awake, listening to the noise of five sleeping people in various stages of not sleeping anymore because his phone was yelling.
Finally, he located the phone and picked up the call. "Foggy? What time is it?"
The connection hissed. "It's five thirty in the morning, sorry, but-"
The rest of the Avengers half listened from their sleeping places as Matt sorted through the conversation in bed. "Foggy, calm down. Why are you calling me at five thirty?" There was a pause. "What!? He's dead?" Matt was suddenly out of bed, still holding the phone but stumbling towards the bathroom. He set the phone on the counter, quickly washing his face and doing a two-minute shave. "But I thought we got all of Fisk's men out… so how did Marcus get killed in his cell? He shot how many police?"
Steve, who was the most awake and needed the least sleep pulled himself out of the blankets on the floor and started the coffee pot; it sounded like Matt was going to need it. He could see Natasha out of the corner of his eyes, watching as the blind lawyer hurried around his room, dressing in his customary suit and tie. Matt hurried out of the room, tie hanging around his neck but not tied, still talking to Foggy. "Brett's okay, right? Did he give you the call? Damn, this is going to blow the whole case out of the water." He scooped up a bag and a small computer. "Wait, has anyone told... I'll tell her. We're the legal representatives." There was a loud thud and Steve looked up from the coffee pot to find Matt holding onto the back of the sofa, knuckles clenched. He had clearly just tripped on an invisible pile of blankets and barely caught himself. Silently, Natasha rose, moving items out of his way and nudging him towards the kitchen.
"No, Foggy, I'm fine. Just tripped on some stuff. Yes, I know I usually know where everything is, but due to a long series of events the Avengers may have spent the night and so there's extra blankets on the floor." He sighed. "I'll explain later. What's the address?" Matt listened as Foggy rattled off a string of numbers and a street, typing it into the braille reader he used for work. "Okay, I'll go to the Marcus' house and… tell her what happened. I'll try to be back to the office at nine, but I might stop to ask Father Lantom a few questions about funeral arrangements so that Susan doesn't have to do it. See you in a few hours. You too, bye." The blind lawyer ended the call, sliding the phone in his pocket and neatly tying his tie, impressing Steve. Sitting at the table, he rummaged through his bag quickly, apparently affirming that he had all he needed. He took a deep breath and ran his hands over his face, sighing deeply. For a moment, he wasn't Daredevil or Matt Murdock, lawyer extraordinaire. He was just a young man who had a long day ahead.
"When I went to law school, I never thought I'd have to start the morning by telling someone that their husband was shot and killed in his jail cell." Steve winced sympathetically, not that Matt could really see it, and slid him a cup of coffee, which Matt drank quickly, running his other hand through his hair. He carefully made his way back to the bedroom, stopping to brush his teeth and scooping up the red-tinted glasses that he usually wore, sliding them on. Picking up the white cane with his long fingers he turned to face the room.
Steve awake and drinking coffee. Natasha also awake and on her way to join Steve. Clint awake but still on the floor. Bruce and Tony dead to the world.
"I'm going. Try not to move anything and lock the door when you go. If you pile up Claire's stuff for me, I'll wash it and take it back to her."
"Good luck, Mr Murdock." He could hear the smirk in Natasha's voice.
Matt gave them a mock salute and headed out to face the (very early) day, cane tapping down the hall until he disappeared from sight and sound.
This came from the idea of Foggy calling Matt very early because something happened, only to find that the Avengers are camping on his friend's floor.
If you have ideas, please feel free to send them to me!