Archive of Our Own ^beta

A half made Ikea desk sits right under the window. Now to the owner of this apartment, stupid mistake but their problem. To Rick it means he'll have to jump over it and pray he doesn't make any noise.

For the record this is not a robbery, Rick is merely warming up from New York December. Anyone who leaves their window open is surely kind enough to let a cold child inside. 

Never mind that he's sixteen and illegally breaking in. That's just a minor detail. 

He makes the jump, time to judge the owner's taste in decoration.  There're three doors besides the office looking-bedroom he's in, one has to be a bathroom. The others are probably bedrooms or a closet. Sometimes apartments do that, they have a door it looks like a room-and then it's a small closet. 

The kitchen and living room are one because that's just how it is. A three quarters eaten sandwich is pushed off to the side, Brooklyn has mice. The peanut butter is warm, no it's probably room temperature. 

The rest of the room is scattered with chairs and tables, and the assortment of papers that snow over everything. The pale green couch is soft, and Rick might actually die because of how nice it is. He might even reserve whatever thoughts he had on the unfinished desk. The lights are so perfectly ugly, he could just fall asleep then and there.

Like always, he spoke too soon. At the sound of someone coming, Rick finds that the closet is large enough to fit in, he does so. 

“We need a plan, I’d offer some drinks but I only have a gallon of milk.” Rick couldn’t see who was talking but it was clear that she was bored, probably didn’t want whatever guests she had.

“Oh that's fine, we really can’t thank all of you enough.” British person, slightly scared, of what though? Why doesn’t this closet have a peeping hole or something? 

Rick attempts to look out through the small space under the door, but all he can see is four pairs of shoes. 

“We should make a plan, last time I did this there was no plan and I almost died!” Rick had the impression that this second woman was glaring at someone. 

“Get over that, what was the deal with the statue?”

“The cult that you’re investigating is trying to release Seth.”

There is a considerably long pause after that, which makes Rick think that none of them know what the American voice is talking about.

“That’s a bad thing.” The British voice clarifies.

The American one continues, “The statue is probably worth a good amount, which would be a bad enough reason to steal it-but Seth is technically evil. In the sense he’s angry at being imprisoned and loves chaos.”

Were these people superheroes or something?

“Well, that’ll be fun. Right now it’s two A.M. You can split the couch, I’ll see if I have a mattress somewhere. Matt, Halloween's been over for two months-bathroom is the second door on the right.”

Someone walks towards the closet, and suddenly Rick is under a very strong impression that the person who stopped walking can hear his heartbeat.

"Jessica," The voice says, second American dude-meaning there three guys, "There's someone in here."

Now if there is anything Rick is good at, it's lying. So he takes a deep breath and opens the door like the idiot he is.

Whatever he was going to say died on the tip of his tongue at the sight of the man in front of him.

"Hi,  you know it's December-right?"

All four people look taken aback, some more so than others. Apparently there wasn't a fifth person?

A dark haired woman leaned against the counter, pouring herself some kind of drink-although Rick doubts that's milk, she's slightly amused but mostly bored. The blonde next to her looks more worried, and like she's had a long day and would much rather be scrolling in her pajamas and ice cream than standing up.

Rick will not be talking about the man in front of him. Halloween was in October.

The second man was in a suit, covered head to toe, distantly Rick wondered how he was breathing.

"You know," Rick started, rolling his shoulders slightly and walking past the costumer and into the living room with the aura of someone who doesn't own the place but might convince you if you listen long enough to sell it to him, "I'm awfully hungry. Have anything?"

The woman with wine does something between a laugh and a snort before composing herself, "I'd offer you some, but you look twelve."

This gets a laugh from her sister.

"I'm nineteen, and I was referring to food, not wine."

"This is whiskey."

"I don't drink so I don't care."

"Good point," She goes to get some water since she might be an okay host.

"Who are you?" Her sister asked, eyeing him the way any sane person would if a random child broke into your house.

"Rick, Chandler" He adds after a pause, taking her name.

He needs a reason to be here.

"I'm here with a proposition. There's a statue I'm sure you've heard of?"
He was straight up spitting bat-crap, but he could practically feel them hook up like fish to a dead fly. 

"You want the statue?" Masked man in the suit was British, good to know.

"Yeah," If they're looking for it, he could work with them-get a heater out of it. "I'm planning on doing this underground bidding thing to the-Central Museum of Exploration! Yeah, I need the money."

Hopefully they didn't notice him stumbling over every other word. 

"And you know about Seth?" British guy morphed into second American one with an equally cool costume. 

"Well now I do."

"To clarify, you only want the statue?" Daredevil asked, like that wasn't clear.

"Yep."

"And you have nothing with the cult, possessions, and murders?"

"The what!?"

"Okay, he's good. Trish." Blonde lady held her hand out, Rick shakes it.

"That's Jessica, Matt-"

Daredevil is scandalized by that.

"Why would you tell him my real name?"

"-Marc slash Steven, and you're Rick."

She didn't need to tell him that considering it was his name.

"Is the Central Museum of Exploration a real museum? It sounds like you made that up."

"No, I think I heard of it...Vaguely." 

"Steven you don't need to take pity on the ten year old who broke into my apartment. What was your proposition again?" Jessica turned to Rick to ask the question. She was slightly terrifying. 

"I could help you, and you help me?"

Everyone seems to think this over. 

"We need to banish Seth into another dimension." American guy explains. 

"I could help with the logistics of that." Rick has no idea what logistics means, it just felt like it fit in the sentence.

"Coffee runs and whatnot?" Trish probably knows what logistics means.

"And taxis, you're hired. Take the couch."

Jessica reaches over the table to shake Rick's hand. 

Well, that went better than expected.