my corner.

~

loud.

that was the first thing matt noticed. so was new york, and his heightened hearing didn’t help, but this sun-cast nightmare was so much worse.

the crashing waves of the santa monica beach seemed to amplify the voices of the falsely tanned twenty-somethings high on god knows what at 2pm, and it took all his strength to not pull out his black suit for the gold-toothed cotton-candy vendors screaming in his ear. 

he could have gone anywhere, god it was a miracle he went at all.

it wasn’t easy to pry away matt from the city he protected with his soul, but as fisk closed in, it took two S.H.I.E.L.D. squads to tear the devil out and into hiding. 

it’s not even that he intended to go out, matt was perfectly comfortable waiting the week out with his head in his hands (and thinking of ways to dismember his foe) in the barren space of his hotel.

however, as much as he hated it, matt’s a gentle soul. without foggy or karen by his side, he began to get anxious, standing by the phone and praying for an agent’s call.

and yet, he was here, with a pink, quickly toasting nose, and a more than modest outfit... in ninty five degree weather. 

he groaned, ignoring the way the irritating sand got into his embarrassingly sandled feet.

tightly gripping the base of his red cane, he hurried down the beach, ready to wave in an uber back to the abyss of a hotel he’d call a home for a few more days.

“little overdressed aren’t we?”

matt froze, cocking his head as he processed the sickly sarcastic voice to his left.

she was lying down on a beach towel, heartbeat slowed and relaxed, the sweet smell of a margarita coming off her lips.

“you can hear me can’t you? or are you trying to guess if i’m attractive enough to warrant a conversation with from my voice.”

matt smirked, turning to acknowledge the bold voice as he stood at the foot of her poppy pink towel.

“oh believe me, i know a beautiful voice when i hear it. though, i didn’t think a sunburnt nose and unpopped collar was much to notice in this densely populated colony of…” matt crinkled his nose, honing on the thumping footsteps of a bleach blonded jock chasing a dirty volleyball 20 paces behind him, “… eligible bachelors.”

she lifted her tortoise shell sunglasses, ignoring the chaos behind the handsome man and instead squinting at his intrigued face.

“oh i promise, red suits you. but this?” she gestured to the pitch black shirt and jeans he adorned, “this, is not something the socal sun takes too kindly towards.”

feigning hurt, matt clutched a hand to his chest, mouthing an ooh.

“are you trying to get me to take my shirt off? and here i thought you wanted to get to know me on this drunken, party-fueled beach.”

she shook her head, sitting up and gesturing for matt to sit at the newly opened space. “keep the shirt, or lose it. either die of heat stroke, or by sunburn, whichever way your gorgeous face will still be intact.”

“you’re a bold woman.”

“got to be.”

“let me guess. yet another wasted grad student looking for a good time to make your mid-march a little less mid-termy and little more … boozey?”

the girl shook her head, looking across the wide expanse of santa monica.

“and you call me bold? tell me, what’s a middle-aged dude in a borderline nun outfit doing all by his lonesome at a beach he obviously doesn’t want to be at?”

matt paused, his heart lurching. a couple simple excuses darted through his mind, but in classic murdock fashion, he opted to dodge it.

“well who knows, maybe i’m just as dedicated in my search for a good time,” he waved a hand to his lower half, “look, i’ve got my party sandals on and everything.”

“is that so? you look at these people like they’re the dirtiest trailer trash you’ve ever seen, but yet, you’re right in a way. they’re looking for something, anything, to feel joy for once. some gratification and liveliness to kill the stagnation of school, work, family, whatever the hell life has slapped them with. is that so bad?”

matt leaned forward, intent on her words. she didn’t meet his gaze, instead turning to her cooler and pulling out another mini margarita. she paused, giving matt a brief glance, before reaching in for another.

“i think you’re looking for something too, maybe you’ll find it if you stop being too proud to admit it.”

she didn’t hold it out to him, instead setting it in the space of the towel between them. no pressure, no force, an offering from one spring-breaker to another.