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blindfighterIt's around 630 when Matt stops pretending to be asleep.
Though that's a lie, just a tad--Matt has slept. On and off, on his silk sheets and curled up naked with another man in what feels like forever. It's nice, and for a few hours it lasts. It really and truly lasts, and Matt can hear the steady beating of Tim's heart. He can hear every creak as his bones adjust, can still smell scotch and bourbon as he exhales in his sleep. It's not the kind that's overwhelming, it's natural and in a way comforting.
But it's still another person and Matt Murdock is used to being alone. He's used to not getting close.
He's used to one night stands and relationships that barely last a month, if that. He's used to Foggy clapping him on the shoulder and telling him there'll be more.
He's used to going to their place. This is the first time he's brought someone home.
Someone here.
He's brought people over, but not for a one night stand. This is a different circumstance in many ways--mostly that they're going to see each other again. They're going to pass each other in the courtrooms even if they're not going to actively see each other although, if Matt's being honest, he does want to. It had been one of the best lays in a while.
And that's how, at exactly 6:40 in the morning, Matt Murdock decides he can't get used to it just yet. So instead, he gets to work. Turns the alarm off to let Tim sleep in, gets half-dressed (socks, slacks and a dress shirt, the first few buttons undone and the collar a little rumpled), and is in the kitchen. He gets to work.
If this is a one-night stand with special circumstances, he may as well make breakfast. That includes half a grapefruit for each of them, fresh fruit, and Matt himself is in the middle of cooking up some of the bacon and eggs. Simple and scrambled, but if there's one thing Matt can do better than most thanks to his olfactory senses being heightened, it's cook.
Though that's a lie, just a tad--Matt has slept. On and off, on his silk sheets and curled up naked with another man in what feels like forever. It's nice, and for a few hours it lasts. It really and truly lasts, and Matt can hear the steady beating of Tim's heart. He can hear every creak as his bones adjust, can still smell scotch and bourbon as he exhales in his sleep. It's not the kind that's overwhelming, it's natural and in a way comforting.
But it's still another person and Matt Murdock is used to being alone. He's used to not getting close.
He's used to one night stands and relationships that barely last a month, if that. He's used to Foggy clapping him on the shoulder and telling him there'll be more.
He's used to going to their place. This is the first time he's brought someone home.
Someone here.
He's brought people over, but not for a one night stand. This is a different circumstance in many ways--mostly that they're going to see each other again. They're going to pass each other in the courtrooms even if they're not going to actively see each other although, if Matt's being honest, he does want to. It had been one of the best lays in a while.
And that's how, at exactly 6:40 in the morning, Matt Murdock decides he can't get used to it just yet. So instead, he gets to work. Turns the alarm off to let Tim sleep in, gets half-dressed (socks, slacks and a dress shirt, the first few buttons undone and the collar a little rumpled), and is in the kitchen. He gets to work.
If this is a one-night stand with special circumstances, he may as well make breakfast. That includes half a grapefruit for each of them, fresh fruit, and Matt himself is in the middle of cooking up some of the bacon and eggs. Simple and scrambled, but if there's one thing Matt can do better than most thanks to his olfactory senses being heightened, it's cook.
no subject
Date: 2016-08-31 12:52 am (UTC)It's stupid. It's stupid that he's so in love. So in love that even though he hates sleeping in an empty bed, but can't bring himself to invite anybody else into it. After all, it's not as if they've broken up. Tim left it open ended for a reason.
He considers getting a dog before he remembers he hates dogs. This is fucking him up.
Several days past, and Tim dedicates himself to work. To the marshal's service, and to the task force dedicated to hunting down the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. There's more than enough work to occupy him, for the most part. The Devil is active, more active than usual, cleaning up the streets in his usual illegal, vigilante manner. Tim, at least, recognizes that the vigilante is trying to help. It's a the-ends-justify-the-means sort of thing, a mentality Tim recognizes from the military. But the police force doesn't feel the same way.
The Devil's one step ahead of them though, always. They come close one night, but not close enough for it to matter. It keeps Tim busy, though. And that's important.
Karen texts him one day. Tim scoffs out loud at the words car accident. Tim doesn't text her back, and Tim doesn't reach out to Matt, either. But the message eats away at him for days. Matt's sad. Tim shouldn't cave just because Matt's sad, but he feels guilty, if he's being honest. Maybe he has nothing to feel guilty over, but he does. He wants to reconcile.
He wants to make up. Even if he doesn't get the answers he wants.
One night, after working late, he texts Matt. A simple Can I come over? that doesn't get answered. Normally Matt's relatively prompt about texting him back. Tim's equal parts worried and annoyed. Worried that Matt's gotten himself hurt, and annoyed that the other has the gall to ignore him after everything that's been said and done.
So he stops by. Maybe it's rude, but they're past that now. He knocks on the door, and not a second after, there's a crash from inside. Tim frowns. There's another crash, this one more concerning than the last, and Tim acts before he thinks. When the door doesn't open, he draws his gun and shoots the lock, keeping it unholstered as he yanks the door open.
He finds not Matt, but the Devil. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen, beat up and bloody and barely breathing on Matt's coffee table. Suddenly, something clicks in his mind. Suddenly, it makes sense. It's ridiculous. It's outrageous and improbable, maybe even impossible. But somehow, it makes sense. Tim swallows hard, gun still drawn and trained on the vigilante as he creeps closer. His weapon never wavers as he kneels down slowly, reaching out to remove the mask covering part of the vigilante's face.