Log: Matt and Clint Easter night

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After Warren leaves, Matt and Clint have family time with their dads.



Clint was mostly in a food coma as he laid on the floor in the living room, his eyes closed and his fingers laced over his stomach. Dinner had been phenomenal. Whatever Steve did with a two-day duck was the best thing Clint had tasted in years. That might have been the hangover talking, but he was inclined to go with his dad just been really good in the kitchen.

So the oof he let out when something landed on his chest was genuine, as was the surprised look on his face as he opened his eyes. Warren had gone, it was dark out, he hadn't expected people to be throwing things at him.

"Happy Easter," Steve intoned, eyes dancing as he settled on the couch. The item on Clint's chest was an Easter basket. "Andre's got Matt's. They should be finished cleaning up the kitchen in a moment."

"Or now," Matt said as he entered, Andre just behind him with the Easter basket. The family resemblance between Matt and Andre was clear in the nose and build, despite the age difference. Andre swore he looked a lot like his brother, Matt's dad, when they had been the same age, too. "We have leftovers, too," that was exciting. He would take them to his apartment and have an excellent lunch or dinner tomorrow.

Taking a seat on the floor, he pushed Clint's feet out of his way. 10 years ago, that would have resulted in them tussling on the floor. Now, Clint just scooted slightly. Then again, their tussles now were more likely to break things given their training.

PD wandered over from his food bowl and flopped down on the ground next to them, his head resting on Clint's knee after he sniffed at the basket. Reaching down absentmindedly, Clint scratched behind the dog's ears as he sat up, the basket held carefully with his free hand. "Excellent, leftovers. Maybe we won't starve, after all," he said, smiling. The hangover was mostly gone, for which he was thankful.

Andre'd settled on the couch next to Steve, so Clint put his basket down and started sorting through it one-handed, his fingers now buried in his dog's scruff. Leaving PD with Steve and Andre had been a no-brainer while he was in Alaska, but it was good to have him back. "Thanks, for... the socks!" There was actual enthusiasm in his voice. "I needed new socks." It was like they'd all been transported eight years back in time to when he was in college and Matt was in high school. If he wasn't mistaken, there'd be cash in the Easter eggs in his basket.

"And gift cards!" Matt found a couple inside Easter eggs as he rifled through his own basket, pausing every so often to scratch the dog's back. PD was very clear that while he liked everyone, Clint was his Human. "Oooh, Amazon!" His were labeled with the label maker, which he appreciated. "Oh! Do you have a second label maker I can take to Westchester? I'm sick of asking people what cans and boxes of stuff are what."

"Of course," Steve answered, amused.

"I'll help out with actually putting the labels on stuff," Clint said, distracted by one of the gift cards he'd found in his one of his eggs. "Oh, nice. A gift card for DF Brothers. I've been meaning to get a couple new arm guards." Nudging Matt with his foot, Clint asked, "You brought it, right?" Of the two of them, Matt was definitely more likely to remember to bring important things. In this instance, most especially because he hadn't been getting drunk at a grown up frat boy's party. "What?" Matt asked, momentarily distracted by his own socks, "Oh! Yeah!" getting up, he headed to his room and then came back with an unmarked envelope that he gave to Steve to open. Inside were two tickets to one of the NY York Philharmonic upcoming performances and four tickets to a second performance. Clint would still be in town for it. "Happy Easter from us. This should hopefully beat the year we got you guys the 'where's my peeps?' t-shirts." Keep the standards low.

Andre positively cooed over the tickets while Steve snorted softly at the reminder of the t-shirts. "Thank you, boys," he said, smiling again now. "It will be fun to go see something as a family again."

"You're both due for new suits," Andre said, looking from Matt to Clint and back again. "Next weekend, we'll take new measurements. Savanna's in town for a show and she's got some wonderful ideas for minor modifications to some of the patterns we used last time we made you suits."

Clint snorted. "Right. So we get to pick the fabric, you pick everything else."

"Precisely," Andre said, smiling.

In defense of those shirts, neither had been old enough to drive yet and they thought they were hilarious. Their dads had indulged them and worn the shirts to exercise in the building gym. They'd tried.

"It's not like we've grown," Matt pointed out. Thank goodness. He was used to standing to get measured now, but it had been an experience the first time. "And men's suit fashions haven't changed that much in a year. I'm sure a few new ties or whatever and no one will know the difference," but he would do as he was told. So long as the fabrics were soft to the touch or properly lined, he didn't get fussy with the materials.

Clint laughed. If Matt could've seen the look on Andre's face - it was priceless. "I think we oughta just let him have his way on the suits, bro. Again. You know he's got opinions." The last time they'd had this conversation, Andre'd said something about how neither of his sons would be arriving anywhere in last year's suits. Clint didn't get it, either - he was with Matt on how suit fashions didn't change all that much. And it's not like he wore suits all that often, anyway. Not in his job description like it was for Matt. But it made Andre happy.

Sighing, Matt laid back on the floor and let PD shift so he could scratch his back again, "Of course he gets his way. I learned that a long time ago. But you know no one expects me to be in fashion, Andre! I'm blind! They're impressed I tied my shoes and got to work on time," such low expectations made crushing his enemies even easier.

"Yes, Matthew, you're blind. Your opposition might not be. Which means you should be far better dressed than they are. It makes a statement," Andre said, his voice positively prim.

Clint just laughed again and shook his head. "If you think you can get measurements and have two new suits done in time for the performance, excellent. But it might be cutting it close." Making suits took a long time. At least so far as Clint knew. But he wasn't the fashion expert. That was all Andre.

"Are the two of you staying here tonight?" Steve asked, preempting anything else fashion-related that any of them might have said.

It was times like these when he wondered what would happen if his dad had known Andre was in the city before he'd died. Jack Murdock had been a struggling blue collar type of guy, the polar opposite of his brother. Then again, neither had been able to please their father, so they had that much in common. "I shouldn't. Work in the morning," and he didn't think he had anything clean with him. Reaching for his wrist, he checked the time, "I've got time before I catch the train though."

"I, on the other hand, as the slacker son who irresponsibly took every bit of his PTO at once, will totally be crashing here for the night," Clint said, grinning. "Dessert?"

"Dessert!" Matt agreed, getting up, "And your dog is totally about to fart. Ew."