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Matt doesn’t like mornings. Doesn’t like the way they always smell of eggs from the old couple two stories down, doesn’t like the way he has to navigate traffic with no caffeine in his system, and he certainly doesn’t like the way Foggy and Karen greet him with their happy voices, remaining exactly 112% more perky than they should at such a god awful time.
Blasphemy is conceded acceptable before coffee.
“Here’s your coffee, Matt.” Karen places his cup on the table. Matt picks up the wrong cup first, blames it on the lack of caffeine, then drinks enough to remember his manners.
“Thank you, Karen.”
“Late night last night?” Foggy asks, leaning against the door frame. If that isn’t the understatement of the century.
The coffee kick starts his world on fire, and his brain focuses on the smell. Something’s way too close for comfort. “Bomb.”
“What?” Foggy asks. Matt jumps from his seat, following his nose to a box under his desk. He slams the box down on his desk and tears open the cardboard. “Bomb! Matt, that’s a bomb!” Foggy yells, regains some composure, then continues with: “we need to clear the building!”
“Is there a timer on it? I can’t hear clicking.”
“Three minutes! Come on, Matt, let’s go!” Foggy yells. Matt rolls his eyes.
“It’s just a bomb, Foggy.” Stick didn’t just train him in martial arts- he’s a trained weapon.
“Just?!” Foggy yells. “Just a bomb!” Of course Matt can disable a bomb. He blocks everything else out, smells the difference between wires, listens carefully to the change of sounds. Tilts his head. Clicks his fingers for a familiar sound to bounce the echoes off.
Then, much to Foggy’s horror, he rips the bomb to pieces like a feral cat with its prey.
To Karen’s delight, he looks up directly at her and beams when he’s finished. She’d filmed the whole thing. Thirty seconds.
“I… we… it…” Foggy stutters and gives up. “‘I can’t hear clicking’ he says, ‘it’s just a bomb, Foggy’ he says.” And the shell-shocked man is back in his own office, at his computer, clicking his keyboard.
“That. Was. Awesome.” Karen says, moving into Matt’s office. “You’ve saved my life twice now.”
“Did Foggy call 911?”
“He started to, then panicked because you were unresponsive, then nearly had a heart attack because you leapt at the bomb. Best morning ever!”
“Karen, I don’t think you should consider a bomb, which could kill everybody in this entire building complex, the best morning ever.”
“I bet you do.” Matt only smirks.
“That’s it; we’re going on holiday.” Foggy announces, stood back in the doorway of Matt’s office. “Right now.”
“Right now?” Matt asks.
“Is there an echo in here?” His whole world relies on echoes; Matt bites his tongue
Karen reschedules meetings. Matt files anything left out. Foggy lectures them both about the dangers of being workaholics as they try to smuggle cases in Karen’s handbag. He leaves the office last to avoid last second smuggling.
Matt has one case tucked in the inside of his blazer. Karen’s savvy of this and guides Matt to conspire in Morse code as they blatantly ignore Foggy’s panic about the dissembled bomb in the box he’s carrying. “Just leave it on my sofa.” Matt says as they enter his apartment and he goes to pack a bag of clothes.
“Matt, we can’t just leave a bomb on your sofa.” Karen says, pointing at the swim trunks in his drawer.
“Ring Brett then.” He says.
The bomb is left on the sofa.
Two cabs later, Foggy and Karen are also packed, and they reach a problem in which none of them have a car. Matt knows someone with a car. He takes out his phone. “Call Aunt May.”
“You have an aunt?” Karen asks, sceptical. Foggy shrugs.
“Hi Aunt May,” Matt pauses, “can I borrow your car?” There’s some kind of hysterical scream from the other side of the line. “If I promise not to drive, or bribe anyone to let me drive, can I borrow your car?”
Foggy and Karen share looks. “Matt can drive?” Karen mouths. Foggy shrugs.
“Ok, if we take Peter, can I borrow your car?” Another pause. “Foggy’s a responsible driver.” Matt groans. He passes over the phone.
Foggy confirms he’s a responsible driver. Aunt May, which she insists Foggy and Karen call her, is immediately charmed by Foggy when they wait at the doorstep. Peter is already in the car.
“Shotgun!” Karen calls and runs.
“Stupid bomb. Stupid Karen. Stupid teenagers.” Matt grumbles, holding onto Foggy’s arm. The blonde man laughs, thanks Aunt May and her questioning glare Matt fails to pick up on, and dutifully drags the said lawyer away from the safety of the doorstep.
“Hey D- R- Matt!” Peter exclaims before Matt’s even fully in the car. The reply is incoherent. “Hi Mr. Nelson.”
“Call me Foggy.” He starts the engine. “So, Peter, how do you know Matt?” There’s a slight pause.
“Aunt May was being prosecuted for child endangerment.” It’s not a lie, it’s just not the main reason.
Karen thinks Peter sounds way too happy to be telling them that.
“Oh! That case in the fall- Matt wouldn’t put it down. Barked at Karen for trying to help too.”
“I said I was sorry.” Matt groans, melting into the seat. “Fogs, where are we going?”
“Vermont.” It’s Karen’s turn to groan. Matt beams and immediately perks up in his seat. “So Karen, you get to be tour guide.” Peter quickly realises that the only person who sees that as an honour is Foggy. It provokes an argument in the front of the car. One which makes Matt and Peter cackle like maniacs and involves Karen throwing Foggy’s jacket out the window.
They turn the car around to retrieve the lost clothing. Karen starts to use words Foggy decides Peter shouldn’t be subject to and the argument ends thusly. The silence doesn’t last long.
“I’ve never left New York before.” Matt spontaneously gives information about himself; Peter almost faints. Peter then joins in the conversation and tells the trio about camping trips he used to go on with his uncle.
“I used to go camping when I lived in Vermont.” Karen says. “I’d go hiking with my brother.”
“Can we go hiking?” Peter asks. Matt groans.
“That’s a magnificent idea.” Foggy decides. Peter cackles at Matt’s misfortune for a good five minutes.
“Never mind; I have left New York once, during college. I was very drunk.” Karen had thought the conversation had moved on, but apparently not.
“Where did you go?” She asks.
“Asgard.”
“Asgard, as in where Thor comes from?” Matt hums.
“Maybe you were too drunk.” Foggy comments, watching Matt carefully through the car mirror.
“I agree, I definitely shouldn’t have gone. Ending up in an Asgardian prison definitely isn’t a good thing to have on my résumé.”
“You’ve been to prison.” Foggy evaluates.
“Accidentally committing treason tends to be a problem, but I was only there for the night, and with my boyfriend at the time.” He smirks.
“Matt!” Peter whines, like a kid, even though he’s almost eighteen.
“Ok. Karaoke!” Foggy declares, turning on the radio. Karen puts in one of Peter’s CDs and Foggy starts belting out the words. Matt whimpers and covers his ears as the three idiots surrounding him sing out of tune and way too loud.
He sticks it for an hour before unplugging and leaping over to the front, sitting on Karen and turning the music off. “No more.” Foggy pulls over and Karen sits in the back. They get Matt coffee.
“Miss Karen? Do you want to play the yellow car game?”
“Sure.”
“What’s the yellow car game?” Matt asks, turning around to face them.
Peter fights with Karen over the privilege to explain. He wins because Karen gets to yell at Matt for being late to work. “Basically, it’s always on and you get to hit everyone when you see a yellow car. You win by getting the most hits, but no one really counts. It’s an excuse to get excited and hit people.”
“Can I play?”
“Matty, buddy, I don’t think this game is really for you. Can’t you play a convertible game or something?”
“I can only tell convertibles apart when walking. At this speed, the sounds of the air movements surrounding cars are too similar.” More personal information- Peter is having a field day.
“Ok, well, what about a motorbike game?” Foggy suggests. He’s ignored.
Matt will be damned if he doesn’t play the yellow care game. “So, as long as you can see it, it counts?”
“I guess so.” Peter shrugs.
“So, I don’t have to see it?” Peter stutters until Karen elbows him.
“He’s playing you Peter, relax. No Matt, we have to see it. But if you hit us for any unsanctioned yellow cars, we all get to hit you back. You’re not getting off easy.” It sounds like she wants to say more, but Matt’s phone goes off. Frank, Frank, Frank.
“Frank Castle?” Foggy asks, turning to face Matt. “Do not answer that, Matt.” Matt answers the phone.
“Hey, Frank.” Foggy looks over his shoulder to Karen and Peter, mouth hanging open like a goldfish. Karen smiles, and Peter just shrugs. Foggy narrows his eyes at him because the kid should be scared of his ex-lawyer, now some kind of unofficial foster cousin, answering phones to a murderer. He turns his eyes back to the road. “What do you mean you lost your key?” Foggy grips onto the steering wheel tighter. “Does Jessica have one? Ok, I’ll ring her.”
He hangs up and tilts his head to the side. He hears the echoes inside a neighbouring car suggesting a glass panel between the seats. Three unsuspecting victims get hit. “Yellow car.”
“Ow!” Foggy complains.
“Where?” Peter asks, turning around. “Oh, cabs don’t count.”
“But they’re yellow.” Matt says, then frowns. “Have they all changed colour? Foggy, are you playing some sort of joke?” Once Foggy clarifies cabs are still yellow, and everybody returns their hits, Matt calls Jessica.
“Murdock, my saltmate, my devil, my friend. Do you want to go and cause chaos?”
“Can’t. Foggy’s kidnapped me. And Karen. And the insect.”
“Hey!” Peter calls from the back and Jess cackles from the other end of the line. Foggy actually hits Matt. “Do you have a spare key to my apartment?”
“Why are you with Peter?”
“I needed a car.”
“Oh shit.”
“Relax, I’m not driving.” Foggy glances in the mirror and shares looks with Karen. Peter finds interest out of the window. “Yellow car.” Matt says and hits everyone. He gets three hits back.
“Sounds like you’re losing that game.” He pouts. “And no. I lost it.”
“How many of my keys are currently in various dumpsters around New York?” He gets an evil laugh in response and narrows his eyes behind his glasses. “Does Danny have one? Luke? Claire. Claire must have one.” Foggy questions his sanity. “Why would Claire give hers to Clint?!”
“Who’s Clint?” Foggy dares to ask. Karen’s curious too.
“He’s a dumbass who can’t keep track of keys.” Peter snickers. “Intern.” Matt states, Peter quickly shuts up. “Sorry, I am talking to you now. Yes, we can talk smack about Clint on Saturday, if Foggy brings me home by then. If not, I’ll drive.” Peter and Jessica scream.
Foggy makes note to get Matt home for Saturday.
“I don’t think Aunt May will like Frank.” By the panicked, strangled noise Peter makes, Foggy thinks Peter agrees. “Oh, Frank’s disposing of a bomb. It’s on my sofa. He’s refusing to break in; says he has boundaries. I know you don’t, but I kind of like my door. And I’m not going shopping with Foggy again after the coffee table incident.”
“I helped choose an excellent coffee table. Still don’t know what happened to that one, by the way.”
“Jessica says ‘shut up, Nelson’.” Peter snickers, earning a death glare from Foggy. He nearly misses the turn off. “No. No way. I am not ringing that dick.” He hangs up. Two minutes later: “call Wade.” Foggy and Karen share looks- they don’t know who Wade is.
“I’m not here.” Peter shrinks into his seat. “Yellow car.” He hits everyone. Matt returns the hit just to get hit again, because there was a yellow car.
“Hey, Red. This a booty call?”
“No.” A look of realisation flashes across Matt’s face, and he looks physically drained. “I could have called Ward.” He moans. Foggy knows Ward; Ward Meachum. “Never mind; he doesn’t have a key. Wade, I need you to give my apartment key to Frank.”
“A key you say.”
“Yes, yes I do say. Yellow car.” Matt hits everyone, nobody hits him back, and he beams.
“Oh, don’t look so pleased with yourself, Mr.” Karen orders.
“I don’t have a key.” There’s a silent pause where Matt waits for an explanation. “I gave it to the kid. Shit, I wasn’t meant to tell you that. Red. Red, don’t kill him. I like the kid; his Aunt makes nice food. Red. Red!” He drops the phone and pounces across into the back seat.
“Matt!” is screamed simultaneously, and Foggy slams on the breaks pulling into the nearest lay-by. “Please don’t kill me!” Peter yells and Karen jumps out of the car. “Please! Mr. Foggy, call Aunt May.”
“Hello. Hello?” Matt jumps back across the car and snatches his phone from Foggy which responded to Peter’s shout. “Matt? Matthew. Are you ok?! Is Peter ok?!”
“He won’t be.” He growls.
“Is this about that fight he got into in Hell’s Kitchen the other night?” Matt knows Peter heard that. Foggy physically restrains Matt. Karen drags the man out of the car and shoves him away from the road.
“I am so sorry.” Peter tells Foggy. “I didn’t mean to make him this mad.”
“I don’t think you want to see this Peter.” Foggy says, watching through the window. Matt obviously wants to lash out at Karen. Foggy applauds his friend’s self-restraint. And Karen grabs the phone and throws it out in front of the oncoming traffic.
Karen runs.
Foggy locks the car.
“If you damage the car, Aunt May will kill you.” Peter says as Matt pulls back his fist. Karen passes Matt a top which gets ripped in half to bandage his fists.
They wait ten minutes while Matt beats up a tree.
They then drive in silence for twenty. “Yellow car.” Matt hits all of them. There isn’t a yellow car, but nobody tells him that and he takes it as a win.
Karen’s phone rings. “Hello?”
“Can’t get hold of Red.” It’s Frank. “Tell him I found my key.”
“Umm…”
“Yellow car!” Peter hits everyone. “Ooh! Yellow car!” A second round gets issued and Matt growls. Because this is a game he won’t be losing.
Foggy came out of their five-hour journey with the most bruises. With a teenager too strong for his own good, a complete badass best friend, and a vigilante best friend who kept giving unwarranted hits when he felt like it, Foggy was never going to come out best off. He was however, getting concerned looks from the woman at the desk in the foyer. “Sorry, we had a last-minute addition.” Foggy gestures vaguely at Peter.
“He sleeps on the floor and doesn’t need food.” Matt informs her. He figures a little too seriously when Foggy says:
“He’s joking.”
“No he’s not.” Peter mumbles. Matt throws his head back with a laugh when the woman’s heart rate rockets. Karen nudges him in the side. “Seriously, last time we met up he stole all my skittles.”
“Matt doesn’t like skittles.” Karen comments. The woman at the desk wonders what her life is coming to.
“He threw them off the r- table! Literally, like a wild animal. Wade was pissed!”
“Peter, language.” Foggy says, adopting the role of mother hen when it’s obvious his friends are incapable. He mumbles something Foggy doesn’t understand but Matt finds hilarious. The woman is quick to give them a key to their rooms and say Peter is fine to stay- they’re double rooms anyway.
Karen forces Matt to share with Peter as they’re apparently pretend cousins or something. Peter lights up like a Christmas tree.
Matt locks himself in the bathroom for twenty minutes.
“Something doesn’t seem right about Matt and Peter.” Karen tells Foggy, opening her suitcase and taking out a swimming costume. “I don’t think doing one case would make them be that close. And he kept slipping up earlier, like he didn’t know what to call Matt.”
“Who can currently hear everything we’re saying.”
“Stupid super senses. Matt, stop moping. We’re going swimming.”
Foggy and Karen are at the pool side, ready to jump in, while Peter in his bright blue trunks is dragging Matt, still dressed, although now in shorts, to the pool. “Can you not swim?” Karen asks.
“I can.” He says, too quickly.
Peter pushes him in.
Pushing a blind man into the pool doesn’t do him any favours with the other people staying at the hotel. The whispers start instantly. Peter flushes. “Red?” Karen gives Foggy an ‘I told you so’ look.
Matt’s cane gets thrust onto the side of the pool, his hand fumbles and grips around Peter’s ankle, and the said teenager gets pulled into the pool with a scream. Matt surfaces, glasses missing, and throws his head back with a laugh. “It’s not funny.” Peter huffs. Matt only laughs more.
Foggy smiles. He’d made the right decision.
Karen jumps in and retrieves Matt’s floating glasses, and Foggy climbs in behind her. They swim until they get kicked out. Which doesn’t take long when Karen challenges them all to make the biggest splash.
“I’m cold.” Peter complains. Everybody ignores him. They’re cold too.
They dress up nice to go out for dinner. “What does everybody fancy?” Karen asks, tapping the screen of her phone… with her thumb. Matt sniffs.
“There’s a curry place not too far away using organic and all-natural ingredients. It smells delicious.” It tastes delicious too, Foggy thinks, and he remembers never to question Matt’s taste in food ever again. “They’re growing their own coriander outside.”
“That’s so cool.” Peter replies. Matt cocks his head.
“Yellow car.”
“Matt, we’re not even… never mind.” Foggy looks out the window in the direction Karen’s pointing and a yellow car drives past. “Yeah. Yep, you’re right.” He beams. “Fluke?”
“Maybe.” It wasn’t. Some kids are playing the yellow car game around the corner. He doesn’t tell them that though.
The next day, Karen gives them a short and limited tour of Vermont but honours them of a trip to her father’s café. They don’t go in, only stand in silence in the parking lot. “We don’t talk much.” She offers of explanation when Peter asks.
“You should try.” Peter says. He shifts uncomfortably in his stand.
“I’ll, uh ring him, tonight.” She swallows, nods her head a few times, untucks the hair behind her ear. “I’ll tell him I’m in state.” It’s dark when she rings, and he tells Karen that he’s too busy with work this week to see her. Karen soaks Matt’s jumper and Foggy’s shirt. Neither seem to mind too much.
What they do mind is the hiking gear Karen forces upon them the next morning. Peter’s totally into it. Foggy’s frustrated that there’s so much stuff. Matt turns slightly green. “Ignorance is bliss.” Is all he tells them, before snatching Karen’s backpack and throwing it out the window.
The trail cheers him up though. “It smells orange.” He says whilst tripping over a raised tree root.
“Orange?” Foggy ask, offering his arm for the third time. Matt hangs back a little and takes it this time. “How can something smell orange?” Matt hums.
“Dad bought a flower, after I’d gone blind. Said it was orange. It has that same kind of… orangey smell. It’s complicated. I hadn’t learnt how to understand scents at that point.”
“What can you smell now?” Karen asks, slowing a little in her path in front of them to join in the conversation. “The ground’s a bit looser here, coming up.” Matt doesn’t respond. Karen doesn’t ask again.
“Earth. There’s lots of muddy terrain, everywhere. Raindrops, possibly dew, they’re everywhere too.” He pauses. “They’re covering leaves, lots of them. They smell damp. The leaves on the ground are dry, and they release new smells when we walk. Peter is… Peter’s…” Foggy watches Matt as he tilts his head. “Peter is deliberately stepping on leaves. I think. The chemicals are being released every time he steps.” There’s another deep breath. “Sugar. Sweet smelling things. Some of the leaves are starting to decay.”
“Dead things smell sweet?” Foggy’s shocked.
“Leaves do. The sugars in them are breaking down. But something over there is rotting. It’s,” he slips on some gravel under his feet, and grips onto Foggy. “It’s small, but not like a bird. I can’t hear the wind move around feathers. Maybe it’s a squirrel. Or maybe a small fox. It got hit by a car, I can smell tar. There’s some blood too. Something’s been eating it.”
“You can tell that?” Peter asks, now from above them. Karen screams and Foggy jumps. Matt cackles.
“I can guess. Like everything.” There’s a silence. “You know what I can sense. What can you see?”
“Trees, everywhere.” Foggy says. “They’re surrounding us for miles, the oaks differing slightly in multiple shades of dark brown, and the leaves are all different colours. Green, red, yellow, brown. All different shades, lighter when the sun shines down on them too. It’s cloudy at the moment, but when the sun shines through, we can actually make out the beams.”
After an hour, Foggy notices Matt tripping less on un-narrated obstacles, and eventually he lets go of his elbow and touches Peter’s shoulder. “Tag.” And now he’s jumping up the nearest tree.
“Hey, no fair!” But he’s already climbing up after him.
“Matt!” Foggy yells. Karen snorts. “Well, at least Peter knows. That would be kind of hard to explain.”
“Who do you think Peter is?” Karen asks Foggy.
“He calls Matt ‘Red’, but the only person I know who does that is Frank.” Foggy shrugs.
“The entire underworld knows his nickname by now.” Karen says.
“Underworld?” Foggy’s not sure he wants to know. He had told Matt he didn’t want to know much about his night life unless it was very important or necessary.
Karen hums. “Yeah. I mean, most call him ‘the Devil’ and refer to him as ‘Daredevil’, but the people who get to call him ‘Red’ are feared by association. It’s smart to be friends with the Devil.”
“Why would Peter need to be feared?”
“I don’t.” Peter jumps down in front of them. “We’re just friends.”
“Not friends.” Matt corrects, suddenly behind the pair of them.
“Fuckin’ ninja!” Foggy exclaims.
“I try.” He deadpans and Karen laughs. “This is Peter Parker. Photographer for the Daily Bugle, interns at Stark Industries.”
“Have you met the Avengers?!” Foggy asks. “Oh my god, have you met Captain America?”
“Foggy.” Karen interrupts him. “Stop being such a fan boy and let Peter take our photo.” He takes two. One of the three, and a selfie with him in the tree and the others down below behind him. Satisfied, he gives Foggy his phone back. “Can you forward them?”
“Already done it.” Karen grins.
“There’s a swing.” Matt says, shifting his weight on his heels. “A rope-swing, over the river.”
“Let’s go.” Peter starts running, and Matt follows, tripping over occasionally along the way, never losing his balance, and keeping up with him easy. By the time Karen and Foggy get there, the two are in the water fully dressed, bags abandoned. The rope swings above them.
“Is it safe?” Foggy asks, and when Matt nods, he doesn’t hesitate to join them. He runs up the bank to the rope, grabs it and swings, jumping straight into the water. Karen follows.
The woman in the foyer doesn’t even bother to ask when they come in drenched. She’s just grateful her shift ends soon and greets them all with a smile. “Did you know there was a rope swing in the forest?!” Peter asks her, helping himself to a mint from the bowl.
“Was?” She asks. He backs away from the desk slowly and grabs a strap of Matt’s bag.
They run.
Foggy and Karen are left abandoned. “They’re not normally like this.” Karen lies. She’s only known Peter two days, but she still knows that’s a lie. So does Foggy. So does the woman at the desk. “We’re gonna…” they speed walk away too.
Foggy’s alarm goes off at seven o’clock the next morning. No more than thirty seconds of ignoring it later, Matt is in his room, walking into everything in sight until he’s shoving the device in his face. “Foggy, fix it.” Foggy turns it off and Matt throws it across the room.
“Buddy…”
“Yellow car.” Foggy gets a hit he hadn’t been expecting.
Karen sits up and looks out the window. “He’s right.” She says, and Foggy groans.
“I’ll make the coffee.”