Blind Justice

In a different lecture hall, Natasha was preparing her courses for Russian and Slavic studies. She set up a projector and connected it to her laptop, looking for the right image to start with.

“Hey,” he said softly, a small smile touching his voice before his face. “I’ve got about ten minutes before my next lecture.”

He angled his body toward her, professor second, husband first. “I got the reminder from pediatrics this morning. Jack’s first checkup is next week, right? I want to make sure I can shift office hours if you need me there.” A pause, thoughtful. “He’s eating well, sleeping… mostly?” A faint chuckle. “Or at least as much as a one-year-old allows.”

"I think it would be safer if we waited a couple of months. I just want to focus on us. We haven't had a night together since... Well, I have no idea." She began to kiss along his jaw and neck.

His mouth claimed hers hard, his breath warm against her lips. He moved her backward with his body, guiding her step by step, keeping her pressed against him with firm, controlled pressure.

He angled her head the way he wanted with the hand at her neck, deepening the kiss, taking his time, savoring the closeness he’d been denied for too long. His other hand gripped her hip, drawing her even tighter against him as he kissed her again, slower but heavier, mouth lingering, demanding more from her.

"I'll pursuade you," he smirked, face flushed.

When he broke from her lips for a moment, he didn’t step back. His forehead rested lightly against hers, his breath uneven now.

Then he went right back to kissing her — harder — his hands staying exactly where he wanted them, guiding the moment entirely on his terms. It wasn't long before he directed her hand in his draws.

"You want another? This soon?" she asked, as Mapone was barely a year old. She instantly thought of the manner in which Mapone wound up entering the world: on the expensive leather couch in their former apartment... With only him able to assist. Said couch ended up being ruined and replaced.

He moved a step closer, listening to the quiet slip of towel over her skin, the clean note of her oils. “I’m not asking for now, Nat. I know she’s barely a year and we’ve had our share of… leather-couch disasters.” A wry beat. “Next time, we spring for a hospital—and a cheaper couch.”

I really love when he gets that sadistic smile, that's the devil I know and love

When she spoke his name — “I won’t be long, Matthew…” — he smiled faintly, the sound of her voice lingering like a pulse he could still feel in his chest.

By the time he heard the shower running, his fingers brushed over the back of the couch, counting each heartbeat, hers and Mapone’s, steady and safe.

When the water stopped, he rose slowly, his voice just loud enough to carry down the hall.

“Take your time, Tasha… I’ll know when you’re ready.”

He smiled to himself, the faintest trace of warmth in his tone. “I always do.”

Matt heard the soft creak of the mattress before he even reached the doorway. The faint scent of her oils — clean, sharp, and somehow still gentle — met him halfway down the hall. He paused there for a breath, one hand resting lightly against the doorframe, just listening.

“Those oils,” he said quietly, his voice carrying that rough warmth she knew too well, “you always manage to find the ones that don’t drive me crazy.”

He stepped closer, the sound of her towel brushing over her skin drawing him like gravity. “You said you wouldn’t be long,” he murmured, smiling faintly as he reached the edge of the bed. “Guess you kept your promise.”

Her heartbeat jumped slightly — just enough for him to notice — and he leaned down, close enough that his words brushed against her ear.

“Now it’s my turn to keep mine.” He wanted another child. It was evident in his dead white eyes.

(( I HAD TO I'M SORRY ))

Matt tilts his head, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “Natasha, you really don’t pull punches, do you? Most people would be intimidated to throw something like that at me.” In all honesty they already had Mapone and now he was ready for another one.

He takes a slow step closer, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “You know I can hear the way your heart jumps when you say it. You wanted a reaction… and you’ve got one.”

His grin widens just enough to show he’s enjoying the tension. “Careful though — keep talking like that, and I might just stop pretending to resist.”

“Guilty as charged,” he murmured, his hand sliding to her waist. “But if I’m such a terrible liar… you already know exactly what I want.”

He tilted his head toward Mapone in the distance, then back to Natasha with a playful edge in his tone.

“Matt…I need to give you something,” Relta informed him quietly, dropping a key in his hand as she lifted it upward from the hospital bed gently as to not hurt the sore superhero more. “It’s to my place. Bulletproof windows and plaster,” she informed him, “your place and Karen’s have both been compromised since Stick got captured.”

She didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject, simply use an easy reference time wise. It wasn’t like she’d bring up Elektra’s death instead for reference. “I figured I better get Foggy and I safe, so I paid for his apartment to get the same treatment,” she added, still speaking in a hushed tone for him. “I’m working on places for you, Karen, Claire — even Frank” she informed him, even more quietly.

“Relta… you didn’t have to do this,” he said quietly, his voice carrying that mix of gratitude and concern he couldn’t quite hide. “You’ve already risked enough just standing with us. Paying for Foggy, securing safe places for all of us… that’s not a burden you were meant to carry.”