The cacophany of smells in Claire's apartment building-dinners cooked three nights ago, trash that should have been put out already, fresh laundry not yet cool from the dryers-if he concentrated, Matt could smell Claire even through the confusion of these other scents. She smelled like her shampoo, her bath soap, her laundry detergent, the antiseptic she used at the hospital. She smelled sweet and clean, but under that layer of civilized grooming, she smelled dark and warm. Her scent didn't have a name in the English language, but it was comforting and exciting and familiar and new. Matt climbed the stairs, following that perfume to her door. He lifted his hand and knocked.
"Who is it?" she called. She was on the other side of the apartment, near the kitchen. Her heartbeat was fast. She wasn't expecting anyone. Matt cleared his throat.
"Matthew," he said, not very loudly, but loud enough.
Her heartbeat quickened. Was she scared or just excited? He listened as Claire set a piece of silverware on the counter, wiped her damp hands on her pants, and walked to the door. She inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, grabbed the doorknob-
"You don't have to let me in," Matt said. "I'm not hurt."
Claire's grip on the door slackened, but she didn't let go. Her heartbeat was loud, but no longer racing. "Are you okay?" she asked.
"I'm not hurt," Matt repeated.
He heard Claire's sigh of exasperation. She had meant for him to, he could tell. He smiled.
"That's not what I asked," she said. She pulled the door open.
Matt leaned against the door's frame and Claire looked him up and down. She hadn't seen him in his suit yet.
"So you're Daredevil now," she said. She sounded amused.
"So they say." He smiled and Claire's heartbeat quickened again. It felt invasive, hearing her emotions like this. He almost wished he could turn it off. Almost.
"What do you want?" Claire asked. She folded her arms over her chest. She did that when she was nervous. Covered her heart.
"To come in?" Matt suggested.
"And then?"
"A beer if you have one."
Claire turned away from the door and Matt stepped inside. "You know what I mean," she said. She walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Bottles tinkled. Caps were popped off. "Here," she said and thrust a beer into his hand.
The condensation was cold and slick against his palm. He brought the bottle to his mouth, took a long swig. "Thank you, Claire," he said.
Claire sat down on the sofa and tucked her feet under. The smell of her was almost dizzying this close up. Matt had missed her. Intellectually, he'd known he would miss her. But being here, so very close to her, among all her things and the heady smell of her, he realized how much he had been ignoring this simple fact. He missed Claire.
He took a seat across from her and pulled off his mask. "The last time we spoke," he began, "you said you would patch me up."
Claire nodded, sipped her beer quietly.
"And beyond that..." Matt continued , then lost his nerve. "Karen is at my place," he said.
Claire fidgeted. "Your secretary?"
"Yes," Matt answered. "She is having...nightmares."
"I'm sorry," Claire said. Heat emanated from her.
"What?" Matt asked, responding to this change without thinking.
"Nothing." Lie. "I-it's nothing." Lie again.
Matt closed his eyes. She deserved the right to lie to him, to hide something of herself from him. "I can't go home," he admitted. "She says I make her feel safe, but I-I have my own nightmares."
Claire's heart was beating faster. Was she scared? Excited? Angry? "I can't patch that up," she said and abruptly rose and walked into the kitchen.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Beer," she answered, although she hadn't finished her first one. It was on the table between them, still half-full. Half-empty, maybe.
Claire just wanted the distance. "So, you came here to tell me you're having bad dreams?" she asked. She didn't sound mocking or angry. She sounded like a woman who just wanted the facts.
Matt ran his hand through his hair. It was too long and he needed a haircut. "I came to see if you were having nightmares, too."
Claire snorted. "Matt, it's been two months."
"Yes."
"And you're only wondering now?" Th-thump, th-thump, th-thump.
He shrugged, tried to smile. "I was in the neighborhood."
"Karen, is she by herself tonight?"
Matt shook his head. "I left her with Foggy. He, uh, he likes her. She likes him, too. She just doesn't know it yet."
"You've been listening to her heartbeat, then? Smelling her pheremones?" Claire asked. She had drifted back into the living room.
"I know my friends," Matt said. He tilted his head to the side, inhaled, listened. "You haven't had any friends over." He didn't say it as a question and he didn't let Claire deny it. "You've been alone. It's not good to be alone."
Claire snorted again. "Who am I going to tell that I was abducted by Russians, beaten and tortured, saved by Daredevil and sworn to secrecy about his identity? Hmm?"
"You could tell me. Matthew Murdock, attorney-at-law and all-around good guy."
"You're Daredevil in that suit," Claire pointed out.
"I'll just have to get out of this suit, then."
His words hung in the air.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
"I didn't mean-"
"I know what you meant." Claire drank the rest of her beer in one go and Matt followed her lead.
"I shouldn't have come here," Matt apologized. He stood up. "I should have called."
"Yeah," Claire said. Th-thump, th-thump, th-thump. "That probably would have been better."
Matt tilted his head. "Do you believe that?"
Th-thump. Th-thump. Th-thump. "You tell me."
And then even Matt couldn't tell who made the first move, but suddenly they were crashing into each other and this kiss was nothing like their first. It was as raw and broken as they were. Claire tunneled her hands into his hair and his hands went from her waist to her butt, pulled her in closer, closer, there was too much space between them. Neither seemed to want to come up for air. Matt's head was so full of Claire-how she felt, sounded, smelled, tasted-he forgot everything else. He forgot his nightmares and Karen's. He forgot how unmoored he'd felt since putting Fisk away. He forgot everything but this.
Claire's lips were so soft. Her shuddering breaths against his mouth sent eddies of pleasure through him and his armor felt too tight and heavy. He tried to slow down by pulling away, but Claire followed him hungrily and he couldn't say no. She kissed him like he had the breath of life. Without breaking apart, he pulled her back on to the sofa. She kissed his chin, his jaw, that special spot behind his ear that made him arch up into her.
"Wait," he gasped. He pulled her back by her shoulders.
Their hearbeats were on the same crashing rhythm. "Don't make me think about what we're doing," she begged.
"Just wait," he said again. His voice was as ragged as hers. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, focused on his heartbeat. Slowly, Claire's heart and breathing synced up with his. He pressed his hand to her chest. "You're not scared," he said.
"No," she said.
'"You want this?"
"Yes," she said.
He cupped her face in his hands, ran his thumbs across her cheekbones and nose, her eyelids, her lips. They parted and she flicked her tongue out to moisten them. Matt traced her cupid's bow, then dragged his thumb across her full lower lip.
"What do you see?" she asked and her breath tickled his fingers.
"I see the most wonderful woman I've ever known," he said. "She is strong, independent, kind, and she has the most beautiful mouth."
Claire smiled. "You are quite the charmer, Matthew Murdock."
Matt drew Claire in closer. "No charm. Just facts." And then he kissed her. Softly. Gently. Delicately. He kissed her like they had all the time in the world, like they had a lifetime of kisses in front of them, because wasn't it nice to pretend?