It only took a minute for Matt to run into someone. The man was slightly shorter than himself – in this body anyway –, but was significantly smaller in built, olive skin and dark curls, wearing thin glasses. He gave Matt a brief, but warm smile.

It kinda freaked Matt out, but he tried not to let it show.

"Hey, Steve," he nodded in greeting and Matt's brain stopped.

Steve Rogers. Okay. At least he knew 'his' full name, that should be helpful. Though an unpleasant suspicion had crept into his mind and he prayed he was wrong. Then again... did he? It wouldn't be such a bad option, would it? All things considered...

"You okay?"

Matt observed his face, unsure if he was wearing an expression of concern. Matt wasn't used to identify emotions on people's faces. He had heartbeats. Laughing. Breathing. Little noises. Hell, sweating even. Now he had big fat nothing. He gulped.

"Uhm... no. I don't... I don't feel like myself," he admitted and now it definitely was concern on his friend's (?) face he was seeing, the man's brows furrowing.

"What do you mean? Tell me. It could be the effect of the artefact you retrieved yesterday, you're the only one who touched it without any barrier. How do you feel? Dizzy, or...?"

At that moment, Matt was pretty confident he had not been wrong with his suspicion.

Retreating artefacts. Possibly alien ones. Matt had no doubt now. Steve Rogers, build like a rock, living in a fancy skyscraper, retrieving artefacts. Possibly enhanced strength...

Oh yeah. He had woken up in Captain freakin' America's body.

Once the situation would be only a history – there had to be a way to reverse that strange Freaky Friday (thank you, Foggy) situation, right? – the story would never get old. Foggy would be so jealous, actually...

"Steve? Can you hear me?" a voice reached him and he quickly shook his head to get rid of the silly thoughts.

"Huh? Yeah, yeah. It feels like... like, uhm, like I am... in a wrong body."

Does that even make sense?

No, it doesn't, none of this makes sense. Welcome to reality.

"Oh? Uh-oh. Does it feel too big?" the man asked, slightly horrified.

Matt grimaced. Well. That was one way to put it, he guessed. "That too."

"Huh. Do you remember being injected with the serum?"

"Uhm..." Matt hesitated. How the hell should he know?! Was this man talking about the experiment that made Steve Rogers a supersoldier or about something else? "...yes?"

"Oh boy. That's not very convincing. Do you know who I am?" the man asked slowly, and Matt thought he was being looked at like a science project now. He did not like that.

Science. Matt wasn't very enchanted by the bunch of heroes that had saved them from an alien invasion since they had kinda failed to minimalize the damages – then again, those had been aliens, for God's sake –, but he knew the basics. He had heard about the Hulk and he was ninety percent sure this man was him. But even if you tortured him at the moment, he would never be able to remember the big man's civilian name.

"Uhm. I-"

"Oh Jesus, this is bad."

He hesitantly raised his hand, placing in on Matt's/Steve's arm, slowly enough for Matt to retrieve if he wanted. Matt decided to test the waters, letting the touch happen. He was almost surprised it wasn't as uncomfortable as he would expect. Then again, these two people were probably friends; apparently, he had adopted some of Steve Rogers' manners and muscle memory.

"Come on. Let's run some tests."

That did give Matt a pause, all of his alarms bells set off. No probing, please. "What kind of tests?"

"Oh, brain scans, blood tests and so on. I promise not to do anything you don't want me to. I swear I am a friend."

Matt gulped despite himself. Well. Figures.

He still had no heartbeat to confirm that exclaim and reading faces not his forte. But 'his' body still wasn't on alert, so he crossed his fingers mentally and took leap of faith, forcing himself to relax. It could hardly get worse, right?

"Okay."

"Good. I call Tony too. It feels like we could use his help."

Matt was sure his eyes went wide. Tony. Tony Stark?

The premise of meeting the man was as terrifying as it was... yeah, let's stick with terrifying for the moment. Maybe annoyance will come next.

---

The man threatening Steve to enter the apartment had not been kidding. He let himself in, his shoes shuffling against the floor (it sounded a bit as if someone scraped their nails on the chalkboard, the sound eased by a mild rustle of fabric and something soft – hair against shoulders?), perhaps as the man was looking around in a search of his friend.

Or partner?

It was hard to tell, but Steve had come to conclusion that this man did not pose any threat. In fact, he might think Steve was the dangerous one, because Steve was pretty sure there was no Matt in this apartment, while Steve himself – a stranger – was standing in the middle of it, seemingly invading someone's home. Not that he had any clue how he had got there or lost his sight. Temporarily, he hoped.

He really, really hoped with his whole heart.

"Matt?" the man's worried voice reached Steve's ears – scratch that, his soul, vibrating through his bones, what the hell – quickly turning annoyed. "What the hell, man? You promised me to come earlier for Mr. Hanks' case! I had to run the whole meeting alone!"

Steve blinked uselessly, but cherished the piece of information. Alright. Hold on a second. Why did this man thought Steve was Matt? He had to, right? He didn't freak out when seeing Steve, acting as if he was the person this man came for. What...?

This was not happening. He had not been in someone else's body, right?! That would be insane!

Yeah, because nothing you lived through so far was, right? Like getting injected with a serum that earned you several pounds of muscles within seconds, fighting aliens, meeting the Hulk, a man in iron suit of armour, or surviving in the ice for seventy years... yeah, all totally normal.

Was switching bodies with someone a normal for him now?

Let's say the theory was somehow, impossibly true. Who was he at the moment? Who was the newcomer?

Maybe a business partner? He spoke of a case? A medical one? (Blind medical practitioner...? That seemed a bit off, then again, Steve had been a 90 pounds of a man when joining the army, so he would not be the ableist one, alright.) But... maybe a lawyer then? That could work somehow, right? And he had talked about a meeting...

"The sign has written Nelson and Murdock on it, you know? Not just- ugh!"

Nelson and Murdock. Great. Now who was who? And how should he react? Was this a usual situation for these two? Was it a common occurrence, Matthew not showing up at work?

"I'm... uh-"

"No, don't say it. You've been out, haven't you? What time did you go to bed? Three a.m.? Later? No, don't answer that either..." the man continued, exasperated, yet somehow caring. He started pacing – just like Steve's mind. Out? Like... partying? "Please, at least tell me you don't have your ribs broken or something..."

...what? Now Steve was perfectly at lost. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? Why would he have a broken rib? Though thinking about it, the pain he was feeling did resemble an aftermath of meeting someone's fists. Steve would give his money on being mugged; but this friend assumed he might have been injured without Steve telling him he was in pain.

Why?

A ridiculous thought of a fight club flashed through his mind and he cursed Clint for introducing him to the movie classic.

Then again... why not? Steve had to admit that he was shocked by the reaction his body had when waking up in a strange bed. His body didn't feel like his at all, but the grace he had steadied himself when rolling out of bed...

"Matt. Hey. You're with me? Oh no, do you have a concussion?" the man sounded concerned now, taking several steps towards Steve, reaching out his hand.

They didn't touch – and Steve wondered, how he could exactly tell that hand was close to him since he couldn't see it. Not to mention that with the arrival of the man, the rest of the world quieted a bit, Steve's senses focused on him. Strange. Not to mention Steve could hear a heartbeat, but among all of the crazy things it seemed like a detail, truly.

"I'm... I'm not sure," he whispered, because he didn't want to break the spell of sudden silence – or at least relative silence.

"Oh wow. That's great, Matt, really. Splendid." Steve had a suspicion he had just messed up big time for the poor man in whose body he was now. "If you're admitting not knowing instead of denying it, there's something seriously wrong with you."

"I'm sorry?" Steve offered reluctantly. "I'm sorry."

"I'm starting to think 'I'm sorry, Foggy,' is my name, considering how often you use it. Put a shirt on. Come on, I'll call Karen to hold the fort. We're going to the hospital."

"No!" Steve blurted out, alarmed. That did not sound like a good idea.

The other man's heart – Foggy's? – was pounding now.

"Murdock, I swear to god-"

Matthew Murdock. Good, now he at least knew 'his' name. And that meant that the other man was Foggy Nelson. Steve stored that information for later.

"No, no, I mean... we should go to..." Steve hesitated only for a moment. He didn't have much of a choice, did he? He needed this man to help him. To help him to get help, because this whole situation was not okay. "...to the Avengers Tower."

"Come again?"

For a split second, Steve wondered if he should come up with a reason believable for this man. He decided that no, that would not be a right thing to do. He should be telling the truth.

And when he was thinking about right things, he put figuring out what the whole broken ribs and concussion thing meant and how to prevent it from happening it again high on his priority list.

He cleared his throat, straightening himself. He probably still looked pathetic; it was like being small all over again. Helpless. And Steve hated it.

"Listen, I know this is gonna sound strange but... I'm not Matt."

The other man's heart literally stopped, scaring Steve to death.

"...just how bad the bad guys hit you?" the man asked, sounding as if someone was strangling him.

But the choked voice wasn't the weirdest thing to be honest. The words were. The bad guys? If Steve didn't know better, he would think this man was talking to him him now.

"Mr.-" Steve stopped himself, realizing they apparently called each other their first name and it might feel weird, "Foggy, I know it sounds insane, but..." Screw it. There was no way to say this gently. He could even call him Mr. Nelson, dropping the charade he had been terrible at so far. "My name is Steve Rogers and-"

"Ouch! Low blow, Matty, you know he's my favourite Avenger!"

Steve's knee-jerk reaction was a shot of delight to his veins, the spark immediately fading. He was not Tony, for God's sake, to enjoy the genuine fan-out. He had bigger issues on hand.

"Really? Thank— no! I'm serious!"

Mr. Nelson sounded amused now, crossing his arms on his chest—and how did Steve know that again? He couldn't see!

"Sure you are. Ten points to Gryffindor for originality, buddy. Now, get dressed. We're going to the hospital."

Steve huffed, resisting the urge to throw his hands in the air in frustration. "Uhg. Okay."

Maybe he could convince Mr. Nelson later. Mission number one: get dressed. Yeah. That might be a problem. He barely navigated through the room. He didn't think he could do as much as put a shirt on. He swallowed awkwardly loudly.

"Get dressed... right. Could you maybe... please, help me?"

Steve would swear he could hear Mr. Nelson's eyebrow rose and he felt a blush creeping up his neck.

"Oh my god... this is just like college... huh, thinking about it, maybe you're just on a bender..." Mr. Nelson mumbled to himself, but for Steve's ears, it was as if he spoke full volume.

He couldn't help but smile at the new piece of information though; apparently, these two were good friends, going a while back. Steve got lucky that Mr. Nelson had showed up. Maybe he could start resolving the injuries issue earlier than he had originally thought.