FIC: In a Field of Stone
Title: In a Field of Stone
Author:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
doc_sock/![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
doc_socktopus
Fandom: Daredevil, New Avengers, unspecified timeline
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Characters: Luke Cage/Jessica Jones/Danny Rand/Matt Murdock
Words: About 600
Summary: He was tired, and worn down in there. So tired that his bones ached.
Notes: For the "Exhaustion" square on my![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
cliche_bingo card.
Matt couldn't sleep.
He sat on the edge of the bed, Danny and Jessica and Luke curled up together on the bed behind him, head in his hands because he couldn't fucking sleep. He tried not to think much about the time he spent in prison, but sometimes he felt like that's what this relationship was: a prison he couldn't bring himself to escape from.
When he was in prison -- and God help him he was never going back there, not even if he deserved it -- he couldn't catch more than ten minutes of sleep at a time. The noise hundreds of inmates make at night was unbelievable. From the rustle of sheets to the slap of flesh on flesh, something would snap him out of a restless sleep long before the few moments he managed to snatch could do him any good. He was tired, and worn down in there. So tired that his bones ached.
In a world better than this one, he would be able to blame his lack of sleep now on his fear that something was going to smash through the window -- figuratively or literally -- and take this all away from him. And he supposed that something already had, decades ago, before he even knew what he could have if he wanted it.
He wondered if Danny knew he had a heart murmur.
Someone turned over, skin rasping over the sheet. By that sound alone he could tell it was Luke, and that was the problem. Four bodies in one bed were loud, louder than they had any right to be. One room over, he could hear Danielle shifting in her crib, sleeping uneasily. Outside, something was going down, a drug deal by the few snatches of conversation he would catch whenever the wind shifted right.
That was the worst part of being a superhero. Hearing those sounds and knowing that he had to decide whether or not to force his exhausted body up out of bed when all he wanted was sleep. Sometimes, the guilt got him moving even when he was so tired he couldn't see straight. He couldn't save everyone, but he owed them his best try. And sometimes he would just fall into bed, hands over his ears to block out the sounds of glass breaking, fists crunching teeth, junkies snorting, all the noises that managed to make it through the walls.
He was tired of having to make that choice.
Danielle was babbling to herself in the other room, working herself up to a good cry. He slipped out of the bedroom and went to get her before she could wake everyone else up. They, at least, deserved a good night's rest.
And while he was sitting on the couch, feeding her a bottle, Jessica eased into the room and came to sit beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder and smothering a yawn with her hand.
"You can wake one of us up," she told him, talking softly. "You don't have to always be the one to get up with her."
"I know," he said, dropping his head down to rest on hers.
He was just so tired of everything.
THE END
Author:
doc_sock/doc_socktopusFandom: Daredevil, New Avengers, unspecified timeline
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Characters: Luke Cage/Jessica Jones/Danny Rand/Matt Murdock
Words: About 600
Summary: He was tired, and worn down in there. So tired that his bones ached.
Notes: For the "Exhaustion" square on my
cliche_bingo card.Matt couldn't sleep.
He sat on the edge of the bed, Danny and Jessica and Luke curled up together on the bed behind him, head in his hands because he couldn't fucking sleep. He tried not to think much about the time he spent in prison, but sometimes he felt like that's what this relationship was: a prison he couldn't bring himself to escape from.
When he was in prison -- and God help him he was never going back there, not even if he deserved it -- he couldn't catch more than ten minutes of sleep at a time. The noise hundreds of inmates make at night was unbelievable. From the rustle of sheets to the slap of flesh on flesh, something would snap him out of a restless sleep long before the few moments he managed to snatch could do him any good. He was tired, and worn down in there. So tired that his bones ached.
In a world better than this one, he would be able to blame his lack of sleep now on his fear that something was going to smash through the window -- figuratively or literally -- and take this all away from him. And he supposed that something already had, decades ago, before he even knew what he could have if he wanted it.
He wondered if Danny knew he had a heart murmur.
Someone turned over, skin rasping over the sheet. By that sound alone he could tell it was Luke, and that was the problem. Four bodies in one bed were loud, louder than they had any right to be. One room over, he could hear Danielle shifting in her crib, sleeping uneasily. Outside, something was going down, a drug deal by the few snatches of conversation he would catch whenever the wind shifted right.
That was the worst part of being a superhero. Hearing those sounds and knowing that he had to decide whether or not to force his exhausted body up out of bed when all he wanted was sleep. Sometimes, the guilt got him moving even when he was so tired he couldn't see straight. He couldn't save everyone, but he owed them his best try. And sometimes he would just fall into bed, hands over his ears to block out the sounds of glass breaking, fists crunching teeth, junkies snorting, all the noises that managed to make it through the walls.
He was tired of having to make that choice.
Danielle was babbling to herself in the other room, working herself up to a good cry. He slipped out of the bedroom and went to get her before she could wake everyone else up. They, at least, deserved a good night's rest.
And while he was sitting on the couch, feeding her a bottle, Jessica eased into the room and came to sit beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder and smothering a yawn with her hand.
"You can wake one of us up," she told him, talking softly. "You don't have to always be the one to get up with her."
"I know," he said, dropping his head down to rest on hers.
He was just so tired of everything.
THE END