Matt Murdock (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
man_without_fear) wrote2018-10-17 10:45 pm
man_without_fear) wrote2018-10-17 10:45 pm
You're the worst, you know that, right?
Matt had things to do tonight. Leads to track down, situations he could be handling, people he should be helping.
Instead, he's wasted a bunch of energy in Milliways and now he's wasting time by returning to his place after, on this side of the door, just a short spell away.
Arriving on the landing, Matt clomps down the stairs, a perforated box tucked under his arm. He has the mask on, but along the exposed parts of his face there are a few lightly bleeding scratches, and he has more beneath the dark fabric of his shirt on his shoulder and back.
Clearly annoyed, he heads straight for the kitchen; depositing the box on a chair at the table and walking to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water.
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A small smile rucks up the corner of his mouth when he hears the drowsy notes in her voice, and he takes a moment to breath in deep, clearing out his senses before he focuses to answer her.
"Your ribs sound good, better," he says, voice low. "And I hear your heart, it has a good strong beat."
It's a steady, comforting cadence that he's come to surround and ground himself with since she's been here. A reminder and reassurance when he comes in at night and wakes up in the morning that she's here, safe. Alive.
"It's going to rain here again before morning. Not another heavy storm, the light kind of rain. A fall drizzle. I can feel the temperature drop, and smell the moisture collecting in the air."
He tilts his head slightly, gathering more information from around them, bringing some of the rest of Hell's Kitchen into the room they're sharing.
"The guy downstairs left his TV on again, old Twilight Zone episodes. And the lady across the way is talking to her son on the phone. He's stationed in Germany."
Coming back to her, he bows his head against hers smile still in place.
"I like the shampoo Bar gave you. And you were eating raspberries tonight."
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In the black behind her eyelids, she can practically see the clouds gathering overhead — thickening, darkening, growing heavy with promise.
(If this were a normal day, Claire would probably find herself caught in a morning shower after the end of her shift at the hospital.)
She imagines Matt's downstairs neighbor dozing in a favorite recliner while Rod Serling narrates onscreen.
The mother across the street, features warm and animated as she speaks with —
Matt's lips graze Claire's crown, anchoring her, and she half-smiles.
"Mm-hmm," she murmurs into his chest. "Finished 'em off so you wouldn't have to."
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Giving a short chuckle to her reply, he says, "How nice of you, Claire."
Assured that she's comfortable, his hand starts a slow and gentle motion along her back, up and down between her shoulder blades in a smooth motion. He isn't reading her anymore, just feeling her and softly coaxing her towards sleep.
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The gentle sweep of his fingers and palm is as indulgent as it is hypnotic; she breathes an appreciative oh so low, only Matt's ears could catch it.
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For a moment the question passes through his mind, 'What if they could just stay here like this?'.
It wouldn't be a bad moment to be wrapped up in, but morning will be along soon enough and with it rain, a day at the office, and then another night on the streets.
Before his mind starts working on those thoughts and plans for later, Matt grounds himself with the soft sigh from Claire. Kissing her crown once more, Matt closes his eyes. Pulling a deep breath he lets it out slow, forcing away the clamor and choosing contentment; letting this really be the moment he said it was.