Headphones and his latest case entirely forgotten on the table, Matt was already halfway across the room, heart in his throat and senses expanded to search for the source of your sudden panic. Was there someone in the house? Did you see something on the street? Are you hurt? Nevermind that he would have noticed if something was afoot — even while buried nose deep in his work as he was — all the rational thoughts left him the moment you cried out. Theories of what scared you were frantically jumping between bad and worse in his head, and Matt was moving as quickly as his body allowed him to reach you.

Not even a full minute later, when he burst into the kitchen, breath held and posture tense in a way that said he was ready for anything the situation could throw at him, there was a second of complete stillness. You were sitting up high on the counter, back pressed to the cabinet behind you, knees drawn up all the way to your chest, arms folded tightly over them in a protective manner. Your heart was beating quickly, pulse racing, and Matt could hear the near frantic breaths you were taking. Upon seeing him, your body relaxed significantly; your shoulders lowered and your next set of breaths came out more regular and steady. But even then, you didn’t move to get off from the elevated surface, legs not unfurling and arms still wound tight. Matt took a moment to collect himself, calm his own racing heart and take stock of the situation. He couldn’t sense anyone else in the apartment, there was no smell of blood or tears in the air, there weren’t any foreign noises he could detect in the room that would raise any alarms. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he consciously relaxed his tense frame and took a few cautious steps towards you. When he finally spoke up, it was in a gently inquiring tone, hoping not to stress you out further and get to the end of whatever was causing your distress.

“Sweetheart? What happened?”

“There is a bug.”

Your voice came out slightly petulant, and even with your face hidden behind your knees, Matt could feel the undeniable pout on your lips. With both reluctance and distaste, you gestured towards the ground with a hand, as if you had found something unacceptable there and needed it extracted from the perimeters as soon as possible.

Matt shifted a little in place, canted his head to the side and listened. There, where you pointed moments prior, was a small insect on the floor. It wasn’t flying at the moment, just crawling around in small circles, but he could just make out the small, near inaudible rustles of its tiny wings making noise when the layers of it shifted against each other. The buzzing little thing couldn’t have been bigger than a sunflower seed, utterly incapable of causing any harm to anyone that wasn’t the size of an ant or a grain of salt.

From your vantage point on the counter, you could see the exact moment a slow smile crept onto his face. The specific upward curve of his lips, a beginning of smirk, let you know that he was going to say something he found terribly amusing, and it would most likely make you want to strangle him in turn.

“Is this guy bugging you?”

The following silence was deafening. You sat there, stock still, and Matt was properly grinning now, an aura of self-satisfaction radiating off him. You really wanted to slap him.

“Matt.”

Saying his name in the most deadpan tone you could muster, you hoped that you got your feelings on the matter across sufficiently.

“Yes?”

Judging by the intonation of his words, he heard you loud and clear, and he was enjoying your annoyance immensely. Bastard.

“Deal with it. Please.”

For a few moments longer he just continued to smile at you, then finally moved into a crouch to pick up the little creature in one of his palms. When he had it secured in a loose fist, Matt rose, and you scooted harder into the cabinet behind you if it was possible. He hesitated just for the shortest second at that, but then dutifully turned, walked to the balcony door, opened it with his free hand, then let the bug fly away with a light nudge of his fingers.

Crisis successfully averted, you let out a deep breath, then crawled down from the counter. Matt walked back into the kitchen, grin still on his face, and you knew he was not going to let you live this down for another few minutes. Or maybe hours. Potentially days, because he was annoying like that.

Before he could open his mouth and say something to irritate you even further, you pointed an accusing finger in his direction.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what, sweetheart?”

“Don’t you dare say anything.”

Matt just stood there, proud grin still on his face, but mercifully stayed silent. Well, at least for the moment. You knew better than to think it would stay that way for long.

“Thank you.”

Turning your back to him, you focused back on continuing whatever task you were doing before spotting the unwanted guest. When you thanked him, your voice was purposefully flat, but you couldn't hide the tone of genuine appreciation under the layers of forced nonchalance — even if you really wanted to in order to avoid his future nettling. You were sure Matt could hear it too, and that did not help your case at all.

“Don’t mention it. You were just buzzing to get my attention. I couldn't leave you wanting."