'darling

Foggy and Matt spent the whole afternoon at your place to help you on making your opening arguments for an upcoming trial, it would be a really big deal in your career and you called the best lawyers you could think of to give you a hand.

You were not a part of the Nelson and Murdock firm, however, without thinking twice, they always helped you out when you called. You went to college together, you even had a past with Matt - a subject none of you felt brave enough to bring up these days, stupid young mistakes made you grow apart, and both of you would be absolute liars if you said you didn't still feel a thing for each other, specially keeping more in touch now days.

You didn't speak to him for years after you two broke up, you didn't blame him, and he didn't blame you, it was really just a matter of two immature and stubborn people trying to deal with their - way too strong - feelings at a young age, and failing.

But you kept in touch with Foggy, and by extension, with the time, Matt and you also got back what you had before your very troubled relationship, you worked well, had common tastes and deep trust on each other even after years without touch.

You felt like he could tell by some sort of sixth sense that you were trustful, for whatever reason, you were he did.

It all pieced together when he told you about Daredevil, and how he did know when someone was lying. You got mad, but still, that brought you even closer to him, with higher senses or not, you trusted deeply on each other and you felt special when he told you this.

Which brings you to now, sitting on your bed humming to a song on the guitar and fully forgetting that Matthew Murdock was still in your house.

He claimed he needed some more time reading what you came up with for the opening argument and said he'd be running it over in his head and tell you if he found anything to work upon, you went to your room to give him some space to think and seeing your guitar there hanging, in order to pass some time, you took it.

After what you judge at least ten minutes of trying to remember the lyrics and playing with the chords you jump back in your bed when you see Matt with crossed arms, bending to the side on your door, concentrated on your music.

“Jesus Christ, Matthew you scared the shit out of me.” You place your hand on your heart and try to get your heartbeat back to normal - uselessly. Suddenly bothered that he could tell your pace was faster.

“I'm sorry.” He says between a laugh showing his perfectly lined teeth. "I thought you could see me here this whole time. I couldn't really tell where you were looking at, you know." He points at his glasses.

“Yeah, I know.” You smile at him. “I just completely forgot you were here for a second, you were way too quiet.”

“Vigilante life side effects, I guess.”

“Let's say that.”

“You play really well.” He points at the guitar. “And sing.”

“Oh, please.”You feel your face heating up. “That's probably the worst performance you've ever heard. And with higher senses? You too nice.” You play.

“Remember how you promised me someday I'd see you play?” You freeze at the sudden mention of your past with him, leaving his lips like it was nothing. You both have been dancing around that subject none stop since you got back in touch. Of course you remembered.

“I guess I'm good at keeping my promises.” you say, a little bit sharper than you wished for, seeing his face fall. “I'm sorry" you start “I didn't mean it to come out that way.”

“It's okay."

There's suddenly a comfortable silence in the room, it's like the memories Matt brought back by saying less than ten words were too much to take in and think of something to speak at the same time, so you just stop to think about it.

You take a moment to look at him. To really look at him, after so long. And he did still look fucking gorgeous.

So you kiss him.

You wish you could tell Matt was surprised by your actions, but - ironically - it's like he could see it coming. And he welcomes you as best as he could. Cupping your cheeks and sliding his tongue into your mouth like you never stopped doing this, like it's where you belong the whole time.

"It's not dramatic, because I'm dying," you moan and turn to try to get comfortable yet again. The aches and pains you're getting are awful, and it makes it really hard to get any rest. Matt had come home from work to find you sweaty while bundled up into as many blankets as you could find. He made you lay in his bed instead, and there you are all bundled up with your cold sweats and you don't feel any better, just like you're laying on a mattress rather than the couch.

"Your fever isn't that bad, at least," he tries, but you aren't having it.

"I feel like I got hit with a freight train that keeps rolling over me," your voice breaks with frustration. You couldn't sleep most of the night, any of the day, so now you're exhausted. Sleep is so far away and you need it desperately.

"Well maybe taking more Tylenol will help. I've got extra strength in the night stand," he offers.

"After I can keep something down," you sigh. The sounds of his footsteps cross the apartment and enter his room. Even through your stuffy nose you catch whiff of the soup he's brought, chicken noodle. It's enough to get you to take the hood off of your blanket sarcophagus and watch him sit down beside you, offering a tray of soup and bread. "Just like my dad used to make," he gave a soft smile, which melted your chilly heart just enough to sit up and take the tray into your lap.

"I hope he was a good cook, or I'm going to be very disappointed," you joke weakly, picking up the spoon.

"He wasn't, I had to tell him what to put in it until it tasted like this," he laughs gently. Your hand goes to his and you squeeze it in appreciation. You'd rather kiss him, but it's better that you keep your flu to yourself.

"Thank you," you say to him, and he squeezes your hand back.

Most mornings he'll be awake and he'll just stay there listening to your heart beat, with a hand rubbing your hip, and kiss your skin softly

If you're up before him he's cold,

But its worth it if he smells breakfast, that means you'll both being doing your favorite thing

You're gonna admire him while you both have breakfast in bed, and after he'll be able to hold you while you guys kiss, and you'll playfully pull him into you lap and he'll be able to just lay on you

Thats great anyday, but it just gets better on rainy days, something about it makes everything hard to do almost, giving him better reason to lay in your lap for longer.

"Aw. Is my pretty boy still tired?" "Hm."

Its the best. He kissing your neck just to lay back in the crook of it.

And days your not there, working through the night at your job he doesn't even want to sleep, he feels like it useless to even try so he's on patrol for even longer.

And if he happens to hear you walking home at like 3 am and he's out better bet he's following you, knowing you cross through an alley way.

"I know your there"

He doesnt know that you know he's daredevil.

So when you advance on him he's real tense.

"You don't get tired of patroling?" "No. The city needs me." "Mhm. I for sure need you."

And now you're passionately kissing him, he having you against the alley way wall, he knows this isnt cheating but it feels wrong almost.

When you pulled away for air you smile, "Come on." "Hm?" "Come back to bed Murdock. I miss you when you sneak out you know." "You...know?" "I know you like the back of my hand."

Patrol can end early for you, he'll carry you home, and you'll both strip each other of the others chlothing. And he'll lay you down in your matching bra and panties, him in his shorts.

You thought it was gonna get spicey?