#karedevil fluff

Hesitation poured out of her. He was focused on Foggy, but it was like a physical thing, poking him on the side. ‘You fucked up. You fucked up. You fucked up.’

But, she was invested on it, she is very professional, and she didn’t contest him. Just stood there not meeting Foggy’s eyes when he looked at her for confirmation, agreeing with Matt’s statement by not saying anything.

He promised to make it up to Foggy and to her, and, really, he’s half surprised that this is all it takes for her to go with him.

Now she’s here, sitting on his couch with him, eating Thai food with a plastic fork, barefoot, drinking wine out of the wrong glass, walking him through what had happened in court, helping him build his case, radiating heat, that long hair of hers moving in a way that made him purposely ignore it, otherwise he would not be able to do anything useful.

And he caught himself flirting. It’s not like he can’t do it, he can now, there’s this delicious thing going on, starting, simmering between them, it’s so good, it warms him up from the inside. Right now, though, they have work to do, this trial is already almost impossible, they really have to focus, but her hair and her voice and her bare feet and her skin and her perfume and her voice, shit, he has to focus.

“You get Tepper thinking about the real report”, he goes on, and she hums, following his train of thought. “The real truth, and then when he’s disoriented, I follow up with something like… ‘Who had you change the report?’. And even if he says ‘no one’, it proves-”

“It proves that the report was changed. That’s brilliant.”  

He’s smiling, now, not even because she caught up so fast, but because she is smiling, a mirror reaction he can’t help.

“See, you’re a natural”, he says, and it can’t even be considered flirting. Foggy would disagree, but he stands by it.

“Well, I keep good company.”

Oh, thank God. She’s definitely not mad anymore. Smile and body language and heartbeat. Check check check.

“Ah, you know what?” she goes on, untucking her legs from under her and Matt has to actively stop himself from focusing on her body. “Why don’t I help you go through Tepper’s bread-crumb questions? We could, you know, set ‘em up, knock ‘em down?”

“Alright, but it’ll be boring.” A giggle, that makes him go on. “And tedious.” She looks his way, file open on her knees, and he takes another bite of his food. “Could take all night.”

Fuck. No. Stop it. You’re supposed to be working.

“Hmm”, she hums, and Jesus help him. “Well, I don’t mind.”

He’s doing it, focusing on her, the way that lock of hair follows her movements and how the pages slide through her fingertips and how her toes touch the floor and she notices, asks “what?” and he asks if she ever considered law school, because he has to say something, so he just asks the question that had made him wonder once or twice, to maybe steer the conversation away from things they’re not supposed to be doing right now.

Karen laughs and dismisses it, and he jokes about Nelson, Murdock and Page, and it actually works. They’re not exactly working, but a break is not bad, they’ve been looking at the case for hours, now.

She asks if he ever thinks about the night they first met and he lets it out that yes, he does, all the time, and it was not something he meant to admit like that. Well.

He’s closer to her, now, the careful distance he had put between them all but gone, and her voice adjusts to it when she reminiscences about the hours she spent alone in the police station before he and Foggy took her case. But then her tongue flicks out, quickly wetting her lips, a quick scrape of teeth on her lower lip and he’s gone. That’s it. It’s over.

“And then we came back to your place.”

He’s leaning towards her before he even decides to do it, nose on her cheek. The hand on her knee, though, did have his permission.

“I offered you thai food”, he points out, quickly motioning to the coffee table where the containers sat.

“Yeah”, she says, barely above a whisper, doing absolutely nothing to remove the hand he closed around her knee. “I remember everything about that night.”

“Yeah?” He presses a kiss to her cheek, on his way to her ear, where he plans to descend to her neck. Something he had been wanting to do for a while, now.

“Yeah. It’s not everyday you life is threatened”, she goes on, turning to him, tipping her head so he can move better, left hand on the arm he has supported on the back of the couch, sliding up from his elbow, making it’s way through his bicep to reach his shoulder. “And then saved by a man in black.”

He is filled with something that feels a lot like jealousy. Which is insane, because she was talking about him, how can you even be jealous of yourself? But she doesn’t know it’s him, she thinks it’s some random guy dressed in all black that happened to save her life that night, and that, well, it irks him.

He wants her mind on him. On this, on the kiss he is pressing behind her ear, not on some guy that saved her life - even if that guy is him, because she doesn’t know it.

Yet, offers his mind, and that thought makes him feel good.

“You gave me your shirt”, she goes on. Success.

“I am a gentleman”, he jokes, a hand on her face, turning it so he can kiss her, and she’s smiling when his lips touch hers.

Kissing Karen is something he can easily see himself getting addicted to. He’s done it only a handful of times so far, and here he is already, feeling his skin warm up to the feeling of her lips on his, his body responding when she opens her mouth and welcomes his tongue against hers, the nails on his scalp sending sparks of electricity through him. His left hand lifts and closes on her hair, keeping her there, kissing her slowly and deeply, pulling her to him after a second, smiling when she giggles, pulling her on top of him, lying down on the couch.

Her hair is dripping down as he kisses her, she is adjusting on top of him and he pulls her skirt up a bit, so she can move that leg, support a knee on the cushion by his hip, his own knee lifting to adjust his leg around her. God, she feels so good.

His arms are tight around her, hand on her hair, leg intertwined with hers, kissing her slowly and thoroughly, musing on the back of his mind that he much prefers wine when he tastes it on her tongue.

“Hmm”, she hums, nipping on his bottom lip, slowing down, changing the angle of her head, not moving from when she lies on top of him. “We have work to do, councilor.”

“Yeah”, he agrees, because they do, they have a ton of stuff to do, even if he much prefers to do this. “Yeah, I know.”

He pulls her knee at the same time he holds her head against him and sits up, making her giggle against his mouth, kissing him sweetly, hands caressing his face, he could sit here forever doing this. Forever.

“Ok”, he says instead, because they do have work to do. “Let’s hear those questions.”

She is a gift, he thinks, a gift he most definitely does not deserve, because she kisses his face and hugs him to her for a moment, a peck on his cheek before she gets off him, turns around to get her very organized files, opening one up, checking her notes.

Matt takes one more sip of his wine - dull and not as alluring and sweet as it was a second ago, when her tongue tasted of it when it was sliding against his - and sits against the couch, his side pressed against it, arm around the back, reaching for her, guiding her to sit with her back to his chest, legs stretched in front of her.

“Ok”, she sighs, turning pages. “You wanted to start with the report?”

“Yes”, he agrees, placing a kiss on her temple, forcing himself to focus on the case, now.

.:.

Presence

She sees it all the time. The people at the office complaining about having to attend anniversary dinners with their significant others when there was not enough time, there was too much work, they were tired.

And it’s not that Karen judged them. She understands, sometimes there is so much to do, it can be overwhelming. And she knows, that that honeymoon phase, that made her and Matt want to spend every free minute glued to each other, it was not forever. It was going to phase, eventually.

But, for now, she couldn’t relate too much. For now, she would count down the minutes until she could turn the computer off and leave the office, take the first cab available and drive to his place or run home and wait for him there.

Even when she had to wait for him at the restaurant when they both had energy to go out, when he called apologising, that he was going to be late, but he would be there soon, she would still smile, still roll her shoulders and take another look at the menu, trying to anticipate what he would order.

And when he came in, bending to kiss her and pulling his seat from the other side of the table to sit by her side, his arm around her back, asking about her day, and she could see the fresh bruise under his glasses, or the split skin of his knuckles.

Matt is busier than the average boyfriend. Her career took up a lot of her time, too, but he was a very special kind of lawyer, working both for the people who cannot afford to pay him and for people who can (he has to survive somehow, and New York is not a cheap city to live in), plus his night activities, with people like him, special in their own personal way, fighting, giving their all to protect those who did not ask for their help or knew they needed it. It’s safe to say his schedule is more than full.

So it filled her heart with a feeling it was almost alien, an euphoria, a giddiness and a warmth that spread all over when she saw him running, trying, making an effort, refusing to reschedule on her, when he fell asleep with his head on her lap while she watched that movie that has been on her Netflix list for so long instead of falling asleep in bed, just because he wanted to be with her.

“Hi, sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry”, he would say, placing hurried kisses on her lips, hurrying to change out of his work clothes so they could go out for drinks, for a walk, for food. And she would try not to sigh, and yes, of course she wanted to go out, see the city, enjoy her boyfriend and her time with him.

But sometimes, just the fact that he was still willing to, after a hard day, even when he was limping, even bone tired as he would be, that was enough. So she would stop him from putting a fresh shirt on, hold him, kiss him until he let out that breath that she knew was holding him up.

“We can go out another time”, she would say.

And, of course, stubborn man, Matt Murdock, he would argue.

“No, I’m fine, we should go. We have to eat anyway.”

Karen was stubborn, too.

“Matt. You can barely stand up straight.”

“Karen-”

“No. Don’t even try using your lawyer voice with me, it’s not gonna work.”

He raised his brows.

“My lawyer voice?”

“Yes, your ‘I have a good argument’ voice. It’s not gonna work. You’re tired. And even you, Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, have to sleep.” WIth one more kiss to his lips and a hand to his hair, nails massaging his scalp, because she knew it relaxed him. “You’re not really the devil, you know?”

A chuckle, a hand on her back, bringing her closer to him.

“There are some people that swear otherwise.”

Pulling away, she took his shirt from him and hung it back in it’s designated place in his closet and he didn’t need to hug her to his chest to make her smile. Just the fact that he tried, that he was willing to go out again, just to make her happy, just because he knew she wanted to, it was enough.

“The devil couldn’t love me as much as you do.”

He chuckled in her hair and she turned around to face him again, removing his glasses.

“Indian?”

He shook his head.

“I was thinking Italian. Chelsea Market. Cappone’s?”

“Hmm. Yeah. Good idea. Not tonight, though. Tomorrow. Or whenever you’re not half asleep already.”

Holding her by the back of her neck, he kissed her like he wanted to start something, and she let him, for more than a few seconds, enjoying his hands and his body and the noises he was making. When he took a step back towards his bed, though, she resisted.

“You get ready for bed. I’ll bring you your Italian food. Homemade pasta.”

Oh, she loved that smile.  

“My own private chef?”

“That’s right, counselor. And, if you manage to stay awake until after dinner, your own private masseuse, too.”

“Hmm”, he said, suddenly becoming handsy and bolder. “Are you trying to seduce me into submission?”

“Yes”, a bite on his bottom lip, full and red, always so distracting. “And it’s working.”

“It is.”

“Then go do as I said, and I’ll fix your dinner.”

She pushed him into the bed, giggling as he tugged on her wrist, untangling before he could really pull her there with him, walking towards the kitchen to work on the quick pasta she was becoming an expert in preparing.

He didn’t wait for her in bed. Preferred to listen to her moving around in his kitchen, leaning on the counter, asking her to walk him through what she was doing.

Once they were done eating, he promised he would take care of the dishes. “Tomorrow.” Pulling her into bed with him, Matt sighed while she perched on top of him to massage his muscles before going to sleep. It was something she liked to do for him - but it was also an excuse to run her hands all over him and not have that smug grin appear on his face.

On the next day, she heard him refusing a meeting with Jeri Hogarth, that big shot lawyer that Foggy worked with and had ties to Jessica Jones and Danny Rand. Because he had promised her to go out for dinner.

And Karen smiled. Even if dinner was in Chelsea Market, eating Italian subs while standing up, paper bags on the high table next to the window, Karen loved it. Because he was there. And he wanted to be.

.:.

Joy

It’s not a new thing, to laugh when she’s with them. Their history started while she shook with fear and uncertainty, and they made their best to keep her safe. Matt and Foggy made themselves her family.

So her heart soars every time she sees them being friends again.

It took a while, after the death of Nelson & Murdock, for them to talk again. But, Foggy working now where he worked and Matt doing what he did, life forced them together eventually. It was painful, it was awkward, it even made her cry once or twice. But, slowly, they started making their way back to normal.

And she loves, she just loves seeing them teasing each other again, laughing together, sometimes working together, trading information, even arguing, when trying to take the other out of harm’s way.

“Ok, on three.”

“On three of after three?”

“On three, Foggy, or I would have said ‘on four’.”

They’re helping her put her new place back together (they all agreed she should move after the walls on her previous place were decorated with bullet holes). Now, as she took plates from boxes and put them on her new kitchen cabinets, she smiled as they tried to bring her couch from downstairs and place it where she wanted it on the living room.

“Left. No, my left”, Foggy was saying. “No, no, wait, wait! Should we maybe turn it? Is this door wide enough?”

“It’s wide enough. Come on, it’s heavy.”

He walked backwards as Foggy walked forwards, moving the couch carefully and turning it like this and like that until it was in.

“Ok”, Foggy said, throwing himself on it after it was on it’s place. “Beer break.”

Matt laughed and poked a finger on Foggy’s belly.

“You need to exercise, man.”

“Fuck off. Go get me a beer, I’m parched.”

Matt walked to the kitchen and stopped to place a kiss on her cheek before opening it.

“What are you grinning about?”

“Nothing. I just love to see you guys like this.”

He smiled and moved to get three bottles from the fridge.

“Me too.”

He pulled her by the hand and they sat on her couch, talking on the otherwise empty apartment, the easy conversations that were the true aspect of their friendship flowing and flowing, until Karen sighed and got up to keep unpacking the kitchen.

“Come on”, Matt said, getting up, too. “Her bed is next.”

Foggy groaned and got up, following Matt out the door.

“We should have called Luke and Jessica”, he mused and Karen smiled at the sound of Matt’s laughter.

This is how it should be.

.:.

Comfort

As much as she loves those moments, where she felt her small family getting stronger, she also loved, loved, loved the ones where it was just them.

He’s busy. She’s busy. Ellison likes her stories and says she is a natural, but she has had no real journalistic training. She has a lot to learn. It’s not just writing and publishing, she wishes. There are so many details, political ones, technical ones, graphical ones, ethical ones, not to mention the actually writing process of a story. Seems easy, but it’s not.

So time alone, to sit and relax and enjoy being together, it can be a luxury.

So it makes it that much more meaningful when she can lock the world outside her door and windows, when he climbs the stairs from his roof access and strips the red suit off, or when he closes the front door and undoes the knot of his tie and it’s just them.

Of course she loves it when they’re naked and breathless and there’s no space between them. She loves those times. But, if she had to pick, her favorites would be when he gets home and sits in front of her on the couch, in bed, on a chair, and presses his back to her chest, head resting on one of her shoulders, letting her run her fingers through his hair, and she could feel him breathin deep, in and out, his eyes drifting close.

That he can be comfortable with her, even if it’s such a simple thing, means so much. After he told her about how much effort it was to keep that secret from the world, how he felt like he couldn’t trust anyone, be himself with anyone, it made it that much more important.

She wants his honesty, his respect, but she also wants him to trust her. To be himself around her. She wants to be that for him, a source of comfort, someone he liked to be around.

His presence already let her heart at ease. She wanted hers to be the same for him. And when he leaned on her like that, vulnerable, letting her ease away the weight he carried on his shoulders every day, it felt good. It felt right.

“Hard day?” she asks when he does it one night, pulling her attention from that  book she had been meaning to finish reading a month ago. It has started raining outside, his hair and shirt are a little wet from when he hopped off the cab in front of her building.

“Hmm. No. Not particularly. It was actually kind of boring.”

She’s unbuttoning his shirt because a cold is the last thing he needs and he nuzzles his nose on the side of her neck.

“I missed you, though.”

Karen smiles, because oh, she did, too. Every time the weather is like this, rainy but not cold, she felt the urge to be close to him. Maybe it had something to do with that first kiss. Maybe not. She’s not too eager to find out. Doesn’t matter.

Because she has him. And he has her.

“I love you”, he says, eyes closed, one hand closing around hers when she finishes taking his shirt off him.

“I love you, too”, she says with a kiss on his temple.

She tries to read while he sleeps against her, but soon she is resting her head on the back of the couch, staring out the window, drifting off, lulled by the rhythm of his breathing.

And she wakes a few minutes later when her neck starts hurting, and he gets up and pulls her until they’re both in bed. There, he cuddles against her again, holding her flush against him, and she can feel his heartbeat against her skin.

It’s been awhile since the nightmares kept her up at night.

.:.

Peace

There are days, weeks, sometimes months, that she thinks it’s all pointless. Why fight so hard for humanity, when humanity itself can be such an ugly, hateful, hard thing? Why keep uncovering the filth, why expose evil, why put herself through this if they keep coming back? Greed and hate and so much dirt, so much ugliness. Every time she’s done with one, another one comes, bigger, worse. Sometimes she feels like she’s punching a wall, drowning in a sea of wrong.

And she knows he feels it, too. If her work gives her a front seat view of all that is wrong, his - both of them - puts him right in the middle of everything.

Including those who try to twist the good he tries to do. Who call him a criminal and a deviant, dangerous, demon, devil, dangerous. A threat to those he tries to protect, every day, every day, every day.

She gets to his place and she’s tired. Annoyed and irritated. A senator, hurt and angry that she had exposed where his campaign money comes from and where his voters taxes go, had written a long article, full of lies, accusing her of sensationalism, of taking money from his opponent, of trying to bribe him, trying to make her look as corrupt and dirty as he is.

When Matt got there, she was already in bed, having skipped dinner.

Of course he had read it. She could feel it the way he walked, careful and measured. When he opened the bedroom door and sat carefully on the edge of the bed, Karen waited.

And, sure enough, he bent and dropped a kiss on her head, long and lingering, getting up right after to change into his other suit.

“So”, he started, soft and low, but also sure and determined. “What’s the next move?”

She sighed, turning to lie on her back.

“I don’t know yet.”

“We’ll figure it out.” And then he was, shirtless and barefoot, kneeling in bed, supporting his weight on his hands and crawling the distance from her feet to her face to catch her mouth in his. “You want me to teach him a lesson?”

Karen smiled against his mouth, shaking her head and pressing another kiss or two on his lips.

“No. Best not make it obvious Daredevil cares what people say about me, wouldn’t you say?”

“I can send Jessica.”

“God, no. Can you imagine? She already doesn’t like him. Let’s not give her a reason to use that considerable strength of hers on him.”

He shrugged.

“I wouldn’t mind, actually.”

As it turns out, he didn’t have to do anything. Trish called asking her to come over for some wine, snacks and The Bachelorette reruns at her place. She was trying to convince her friend to let her take a rain check when Jessica took the phone.

“Listen, just stop whining and come over. And bring that righteous asshole you call a boyfriend, I need to talk to him. Claire found some pretty interesting shit, I need to run it by him. Ok? Ok. See you soon.”

So, off they went. She did have a few glasses of wine with Trish, listening on tips how to deal with misogynist assholes while Jessica and Matt talked about their vigilante business. And when they decided to go, she was feeling better. A little light headed from Trish’s expensive wine, but better.

“Tell me the truth”, she said, when he had his arm around her in the cab. “Did you call Trish?”

He didn’t answer right away, so she turned her face and looked up at him, the red lenses of his glasses reflecting the street lights as they drove by them. And then that smirk.

“No.”

Rolling her eyes, she smiled and pressed a kiss to his jaw.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to, but thank you.”

She fell asleep around one in the morning, after he stripped her naked and made her forget why she was upset in the first place. She was boneless and the tip of her fingers and toes were tingling when she pulled him to her, insisting he stayed, please, she didn’t feel like sleeping alone tonight, please, please.

He did. She knew he was going to leave after she fell asleep - and she doesn’t really blame him anymore. It’s his nature. She’s done fighting it. -, but he waited, held her tight and did as she asked.

To her surprise, he was still there the next morning, his alarm waking both of them up, and they got ready for work and ate breakfast together and he walked her to the Bulletin’s door.

“Have a nice day”, he said, kissing her lips and stealing one more bite of her bagel before walking towards his own office, and Karen felt like the exact opposite of how she felt the night before.

Not jaded and angry and hopeless, but energized and ready and… supported. She had him in her corner. He had her. They could do this. He was strong in ways she wasn’t and she was strong in ways he wasn’t. And it sounds sappy and teenager and cliché, but oh, if that doesn’t motivate her to go on.

Turning to his left, he dropped his mouth on the back of her neck, her long hair smelling of the floral shampoo that now lived in his bathroom, his hand gliding from her shoulder to her back, the dip of her waist, fingers bunching on the fabric of the T shirt she wore to bed. His Columbia Law one.

“Get this off”, he whispered and she stirred, curling her toes.

“Hmm?” she “asked”, turning her head, not really reacting when he pulled on her underwear, sliding it down her legs.

“Off, take this off”, he repeated, throwing the small garment behind him on the floor.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I want you naked. Please?”

She moved her arms so he could pull the shirt off her, her skin warm, soft, vanilla scented.

Matt moved to pull the covers more securely around them, satisfied with the temperature of the room - no need to get up and adjust the heater.

“You’re not getting naked?” she asked, apparently not really caring, turning to face him, cuddling against his chest.

“Later. Now I just want to feel you”, he said, hugging her to him, hand travelling under the covers over plains of smooth, uninterrupted skin.

“Hmm. Ok.” Karen dropped a kiss on his collarbone and closed her eyes again, ready to fall back asleep.

A few seconds, though, and she was moving again, hands grabbing his shirt.

“At least this one”, she whispered when he smiled, moving his arms to take it off. “God, you look great”, she said, dropping kisses on his chest, hands holding his arms.

“Glad you think so.”

“I do. You know I do.”

Karen moved to lie on her side again, her naked body molding around his, breasts pressed against his chest, hand on his back, the both of them tangled together, occupying the center of the big mattress.

“My feet are cold”, she complained, rubbing her soles on the sweatpants he still had on.

“They’ll be warm in a minute”, he said, kissing her face, tucking the heavy duvet around her more securely.

She fell back asleep soon, breathing on his chest, hand relaxing on his back, resting against the mattress. The snow kept falling outside, the wind picking up here and there, shutting the city up.

Matt’s world of fire was, for once, silent when he fell back asleep.

He had, of course, known how beautiful she was from the minute he stepped into the interrogation room. When she removed her wet shirt, sliding his borrowed one on right after, it didn’t go unnoticed. When she followed him into the rain while he beat the man sent to kill her, that one part of his brain registered the way the fabric and her hair stuck to her skin. The skirts she wore, tight and figure hugging, when her hair was up, when it was down, when she licked coffee foam from her upper lip, he noticed everything.

Only he didn’t notice that he noticed. He was stupid, a moron like that.

So there have, yes, been women after Karen. Back when he thought she was just his secretary, whom he had no business being attracted to.

And then a kiss in the rain. Dinner, smiles, plans, little touches and whispered nothings, everythings. She was so much more than he thought. An infinite more. She couldn’t fit inside the box he had set aside for her. Not even the bigger box, the “girlfriend” box, or the box with a question mark. She was bigger than his crush, bigger than his worry, bigger than his doubts, his patronizing.

Karen was bigger than him.

Even now, when he had his hand on hers and they walked through the empty streets of a chilly Sunday morning in New York City, coffees in hand and no hurry, and she thought she was fully aware of how much he loved her (she wasn’t. He wasn’t, either), she was bigger than him. No matter how much he tried, he could not wrap his mind around her, there was always more, everyday, every minute, every time he thought about it, he discovered he loved her a little more than he thought. Discovered she was a little more.

“How about a real breakfast?” he asked, tugging on her hand, slowing down further. She looked at him, tilting her head.

“You’re not tired?”

They hadn’t slept yet. He was coming from one of the million spider webs he had been untangling with Jessica, Luke and Danny, she had pulled an all nighter at the paper, trying to finish a story for her deadline, so it could make Monday’s edition. Before going home, he had called her and stopped by the Bulletin to pick her up. The sun rose while they exited the building, hand in hand, both exhausted, coats tight around themselves. They stopped for coffee, hoping the warm caffeinated beverage would help them the rest of the way home, at least.

“Yes”, he replied, tugging on her hand, bringing her closer to him, standing there nose to nose in the cold, loving every second of it. “But it’s quiet out, and I think coffee is not gonna sustain us for much longer.”

“Hmm”, she replied, her cold nose on his cheek. “Might be a good idea.”

“Ok”, he touched his lips to hers, tasting her latte and the remains of her lipstck as he spoke. “This way.”

He followed his nose to a bakery, where buns and pastries and more coffee were fresh. They were the first clients in, the young server smiled at them.

They had the whole place for themselves, but they still sat on a small table at the window, so Karen could watch as the sun lit the streets up and the day slowly began, and Matt could count her eyelashes, measure the temperature of her skin with his hands, test how soft she was under his lips, open his mouth and accept the bites of sugary pastry she fed him.

“You finished the article?” he asked, because he wanted to hear her voice.

“Yes”, she sighed, tired, she was so tired. “Finally. It’s out tomorrow.”

“Hmm”, was all he felt like he could say, extremely tired himself, lips on her temple, arm around her chair while they sat as close to each other as they could, his hand grazing her arm.

“How was it, with, uh…” she hesitated, always careful when mentioning his vigilante business outside and he smiled. “With the guys?”

“Good. We made progress, but also…”

“Uncovered more mess?”

He sighed.

“Always more mess.”

She lifted her hand to touch his face, angling it to hers.

“If you need my help…”

He smiled, leaning to kiss her, realizing that they should be home, spending the last of their energy on each other, not trying to stay awake at an empty bakery - even if did smell nice.

“I know. Thank you.

She returned his slow kisses and rested her head on his shoulder, looking outside again, watching the eventual car drive by, the early birds coming out to pick up their papers or whatever, the residual party goers make their way back in.

God, he loves her.

Last winter, when he had walked the streets with his mask in a paper bag, his heart on his sleeve and the air stuck to his throat, to tell her, to finally tell her the truth about him, the very real possibility of him losing her forever was so heavy on his shoulders, he felt like he would crush under it’s weight.

Now, even with the sea of trouble he had to swim through, moments like these made it worth it. It was all worth it when he had it so clear in his mind that he did it for her. He did it for everyone, but, mainly, he did it for her.

“Let’s go?” she asked, swallowing the last of her cinnamon sugary thing, feeding him the last bite of his, lifting her head off his shoulder.

He nodded, they got up, paid and thanked the young server, put their coats back on and made their way back outside, the chilly, dry air of early winter piercing their skin.

Matt and Karen walked back to her apartment hand in hand and, by the time they arrived to her doorstep, he could feel the sun on his skin, the noises of the streets intensifying, people, cars, dogs, TV’s, and he was so ready to turn in.

When he joined her in bed, finally, he smiled and she smiled back.

“Surprise”, she whispered, pulling him to lie by her side, but he rolled to settle on top of her.

“You didn’t need to do that”, he said, his heart warm.

“I wanted to”, she said, caressing his face, smoothing his hair back, pulling the brand new silk sheets to cover them with her feet, the expensive egyptian cotton duvet after. “I know you sleep better with them.”

He did. Fuck Stick, he did sleep better on silk sheets, he slept perfect when he had Karen there by his side on those silk sheets.

“I love you”, he told her, for the hundredth time.

“I love you, too”, she replied, opening up to his kiss, running her hands on him, those hands that were better than the purest silk in the world, nothing topped that.

“I don’t want you spending this kind of money on me, though”, he said after a few seconds, at the same time he enjoyed the feeling of the sheets and the covers and the pillowcases.

“Shh”, Karen urged, laying on her stomach, tapping his chest, a leg intertwined with his. “I’m allowed to do nice things for my boyfriend. Now go to sleep.”

He did.

.:.

Two hours later, he woke up with his phone ringing on the night stand. Luke Cage.

“Yeah?” he answered, still half asleep, whispering not to wake Karen.

“Hey man. Sorry to wake you”, Luke said on the other side of the line. “We got that lead. Might be Gao, might be something else entirely.”

Matt blinked, trying to wake his brain up, noticing Karen’s rhythmic breathing, her toes twitching, which meant the noise was bothering her, she was about to wake up.

“Who’s the source?”

Luke hesitated.

“Punisher?” he answered, but it sounded like a question. Matt sighed.

“Listen. If he’s your source, I trust him to follow up on it. Would you mind if I sat this one out?”

He could almost hear Luke thinking.

“What’s up?”

“I’m-” he started, sighing, deciding on the quickest explanation. “I’m at Karen’s, man. She bought new sheets”, his voice went lower, just in case. “She’s not- she’s not wearing her pajama bottoms.”

“Hmm. Say no more”, Luke replied. “Go. I’ll keep you posted. We gonna need you tonight, though.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Thanks, man. I owe you.”

“You do.”

Hanging up, Matt put his phone back on the table and pulled the covers over himself again, turning to Karen, running his hand on her back, under her shirt, down to her waist, going over her underwear, settling on the smooth expanse of her naked bottom. She stirred a bit, let out a breath, turned around and cuddled against his chest.

Matt fell back asleep in less than a minute (but first, he picked his phone back up to remind Luke:

“Don’t let Frank kill anyone”.)