Log: Clint and Matt

[x-daredevil.livejournal.com]

Matt tells his brother about losing his job and the various choices he has/needs to make



Hozier blasted through the speakers at what was a deafening volume for Matt, but a fairly reasonable one for the space for anyone else The gym was otherwise empty though and that was how Matt preferred it as he worked the heavy bag, the amount of sweat glistening over his body showing not only how long he had been there, but how hard he had been working it. Over and over, he wailed on the bag, hitting and kicking. If pinning a face on the side would have helped, he would have done it.

Clint walked into the gym, took one look at his brother, and shook his head. He swung the grappling hook on the end of the synthetic rope he'd 'borrowed' from a friend around a few times to get the proper momentum, then tossed it toward the ceiling. It caught right where he wanted it to, snagged the rope on the downward loop, and held fast as he pulled on it. A moment later and he was climbing it, up into the rafters. Not bothering to raise his voice as he finally settled in, he asked, "What, did you and Foggy break up or something?" Because seriously, the music was a little loud, even for Clint, so it had to be godawful for Matt.

"No," Matt replied tersely, still focused on the bag, "He offered me to move in with him," well, that had come after he had told his best friend that he was currently unemployed. Granted, he had his severance money, but that didn't make a difference in Matt's mind. "You know. Because we don't know each other's quirks and idiosyncrasies living together already."

"Hm..." Pulling his bag to his front, Clint unlooped it from his shoulder and sat it on the rafter beside him before unzipping it. "You two do basically live in one another's pockets when possible. And I mean - what was it? Six years of being roommates? There's worse possibilities. But if you're moving, you might as well consider moving in here all the way. Or whatever. Worthington doesn't seem to mind your telecommuting? Unless there's some other reason the thought of moving in with Foggy's got you wailing on that bag like it tossed a communion wafer at your priest's face before cursing a blue streak up at midnight mass."

That made Matt stop and go turn the music down. He might be able to hear Clint well enough, but his brother didn't have his ears. "Worthington doesn't care," he agreed, going back to the bag. "Because I don't work for him anymore."

Eyebrows rising, Clint stopped working his arrow repair kit out of his bag and looked at Matt properly. Stressors all over the place. "Dude, you finally quit? That's awesome, though. You and Foggy gonna open up your own firm thing now? Or try, at least?"

"I didn't quit," Matt spat, hitting the bag with a resounding thwack. "And yeah. That's the plan. Gotta get the capital. Find a space. Business plan. Everything."

Frowning now, Clint asked, "Do I gotta go introduce Worthington to my fist all proper like?"

As much as Matt would like that, "I need his recommendation," he pointed out, "and possibly assistance in backing my own firm," so, sadly, no. Not yet. "Feel free to prank the shit out of him though. And put his picture on the punching bags." It didn't make a difference to him, but then everyone could enjoy!

"Wait, if he fired you, how're you getting a recommendation from him? And possible money for your own firm? Also, I'll get a mold of his face and make it into like a mannequin head or something. That'd be way more satisfying to punch, right? Pretty sure I can science this into awesomeness."

"Because I wasn't let go for sucking," he kicked, the bag swinging as he hit it again. "I was let go for being too good. They're restructuring. Got a severance and everything. But you science to your nerdy hearts content, birdbrain."

"I will science for you," Clint said. "In between working on my current big project and trying to figure out a new delivery system for sedatives in arrows. Like, without killing people. Haven't quite got the pressure trigger to work - it's the timing..." Clint trailed off, then shook his head. "So're you bunking with Foggy? I mean, given you two and your... I dunno, whatever it is. Living together could be interesting again. But moving in here would save money."

That was the crux of the problem right there. "If we're doing Nelson & Murdock, then I need to be in Manhattan," Matt stated. He needed to be in Hell's Kitchen. That's where they had already decided to put it. "And if I'm here, it's kinda difficult to do the DD thing. But Foggy doesn't know about DD. And then there's my training here."

Clint was quiet for a long moment, but it was the kind of quiet that meant he was obviously thinking. "So y'know that whole Copenhagen thing? Where I got my ass handed to me and nearly got mercury poisoning? Jennie and I talked about something after that, after we got home and everything. Like, maybe putting together a group of people who handle... I dunno, weird stuff. Weirder than SWORD - weird like Copenhagen was weird. We don't have anything like, planned out, but. That's a thing that's out there. Maybe it could be... I dunno, a happy median of sorts? Give you the chance to do your lawyering and keep up the DD thing without having to... I dunno, pick one or the other or give everything up? If it's... based here? You could keep up your training and stuff. Commute into the city for the lawyering like you were doing now. Do your DD stuff same as now. You know me and Tasha have that backup place. It's not pretty, but you could crash there so Foggy's not all up in your DD business?"

That was an option. The DD thing was also why he was against crashing with his parents, too. "That's more options than there were," Matt acknowledged. He would need to think on it all and decide. "I still have to put my apartment on the market, too. And move my stuff." Not that he had a ton. Hopefully Billy would like his couch. "Lot to do. I'll be in Manhattan at least all of next week figuring things out."

"I can help with the moving, at least," Clint says. "I mean, besides my projects in the lab and running some intel checks for Tasha, I'm not busy."

"You and Tasha," Matt corrected. She could be useful, too. "Fucking Worthington! I want to hate him, but....fuck. He said I needed a kick in the pants and he wasn't wrong." He just didn't like not having notice. Not having backup plans in place. He didn't like having to choose between two awesome options that seemed mutually exclusive.

"Sure, she'll help. Probably. If she's not elbow deep in figuring out which parts of her New York network are stable and which aren't," Clint said, shrugging. "It's an on-again, off-again deal. And yeah, not having notice sucks but like. Now you've got like, the drive to get your shit in order rather than kicking back just cause you can. Or whatever. I dunno, Worthington's kind of an idiot sometimes, but he's got a good head for business. A kick in the pants from him's like a gift."

That was true. Warren was a grade A idiot and an excellent businessman. "I'm going to have dinner with Steve and Andre on Monday. Wanna come?" Matt asked, partially changing the subject. They would have good advice about the practicalities of starting his own firm. He and Foggy had already studied up on what was needed on paper, but there were lots of other little things they needed to know to get off the ground.

"Yeah, sounds good," Clint said. "You mind if Tasha comes?" She might have some tips regarding certain legalities. Or, at the very least, ideas about where not to set up shop.

"Sure," Matt wasn't doing anything she couldn't know about, "though we're set on Hell's Kitchen. That's not negotiable," though which exact space in the neighborhood was open. "You wanna spar?" He finally stopped hitting the bag, going to get his water.

Clint eyed his bag, full of arrows in need of repair, then his brother. "I could spar," he said, shrugging. Grabbing his rope with one hand, he took hold of the rafter with the other before dropping down. He caught himself, then began a controlled decent until he was on the mats again. "Just don't let me forget my stuff up there."

"One day, we should spar up there," Matt commented without looking up at the rafters. He could see them just as well without moving his head as he could with. "But I don't want to mess your stuff up now."

"That'd be fun," Clint said, pulling his shirt off over his head so he wouldn't get it all sweaty. "Tasha could keep score. Assuming she didn't want to join in. We'd probably give anybody else heart palpitations, though." The thought made him grin.

"Miles could handle it," Matt replied confidently. He wasn't up to their skill level with hand-to-hand, but he could handle the height and the arobatics required. "Kid needs more work with up close fighting, but he's coming along nicely for his age. And he's got experience."

"The responsible adult in me is saying he shouldn't have experience, but," Clint said, shrugging. "I'm not a hypocrite. We were running around at his age doing stupid stuff. But you should bring him in sometime, let me see how he fights. Might be worth introducing him to a few trainers."

"Oh please. Miles and I came here together," meaning they knew each other before they got to Xavier's, "quite literally. I was his adult chaperon for the tour in lieu of his parents. He's got skill. I've been working with him and of course, Gen X, but he could benefit from more variety," the more he knew, the more he was familiar with different things, the better he would be.

"Don't 'oh please' me," Clint said, giving Matt an unimpressed look. "Scrapping in alleys and dodging bad guys with his agility are great, but serious training with people who know what they're doing better than you and me and whoever else he's working is - that's important. You think either of us'd be where we are if we hadn't had the teachers we had? And even then, I learned a lot more once I joined SHIELD."

"I meant more that he was further along than we were at his age," Matt retorted, "We were damn lucky we didn't die," actually, so was Miles. Anyways. "C'mon. Let's give Steve and Andre a reason to be disappointed tomorrow," they were always disappointed when Clint and Matt came home with matching bruises.

Giving his brother a flourishing bow, one that would have made the ringmaster at Carson's Carnival of Traveling Wonders proud, Clint grinned and said, "Yes, let's," before launching an offensive flurry of blows.