Either a standalone or a part of Damned 'verse. If read as a part of 'Damned', set about three months after the epilogue of 'Ready to Suffer, Ready to Hope'.
Matt's POV.
This thing actually was on some sort of a bucket list of mine. There's also a soulmate AU, but I don't think that's happening anytime soon :)) So enjoy this one?
Title inspired by Halsey's Eyes Closed (I find the 'stripped version' particularly lovely. Both versions are awesome though).
-.-.-.-.-
Face to Face with Someone New
It was a strange darkness that surrounded him. Waking up never felt like this – there was always something, something more. But now he could only sense a few things; the bed he was lying in, soft sheets, not even covering him, door in the corner and something mechanical above them. It was a speaker, he realized. The flames of his world shrunk to the one single room he was in; the only thing he was perfectly aware of was himself – his own body, his own heartbeat.
Before he could panic, he remembered. He was at the Avengers tower. Young woman with very long hair, smelling of daises and something dangerous, had tried to— she had tried to… restore his vision. The Scarlet Witch hadn't been sure herself if it would work or how long the effect would last, but she had been more than willing to try. It was supposed to be an engagement gift (what that was, Matt had no idea) or an early wedding one; in case it wouldn't work, Stark had something as a back-up plan, Matt had overheard him saying that. Honestly, Matt didn't care much for it; he would be delighted if he was able to see for even five minutes and that was something no money in the world could provide.
He swallowed, the sound too loud in the sound-proof room. He was scared to open his eyes. What if really it hadn't worked? Or… what if had? The world on fire was everything he had known for the past twenty years. What if he could actually see now?
He took a deep breath, promising himself he wouldn't be disappointed if nothing changed. He wasn't good at keeping promises.
He opened his eyes.
And he saw… darkness. He blinked several times, his heart speeding up. It didn't work.
"Matt?" mechanically changed voice creaked, bouncing off the walls – and illuminating the room better for Matt's senses.
One of the walls wasn't in fact a wall – it was made of glass. When Matt looked at it, he realized there was a faint reflexion. The room wasn't pitch black, no, just really dark. Another wall was lined with extremely weak lights – were they weak? Matt couldn't tell. He didn't quite remember what amount of light was normal and he was too busy to think about it, because holy fucking shit he… saw.
"Matty-boy?" sounded the voice again through the fog of Matt's freak-out and Matt realized he knew that voice that seemed to be concerned by his furious fighting for air. He hadn't noticed before that he was in fact hyperventilating.
"F-Fo-ggy?"
"The one and only, pal. How are you feeling?"
Matt considered the question, slightly dizzy as he sat up on the bed, forcing his breathing to slow down. The outlines of the room were getting clearer – Matt had no idea if the lights were getting brighter or his eyes fucking adjusted to the dark.
"Weird," Matt admitted, shocked when he stood up and he saw with the corner of his eye that the reflexion he couldn't make out very well did the same. What did 'very well' mean anyway? He had no clue how good his sight should be, he fucking couldn't reach the memory in his brain-
"Understandable, I guess. How are your eyes?"
Matt gulped. "Not useless."
"Cool! Uhm… you mind if we hit the lights? Like make them a little brighter? Don't worry, we'll go slow," Foggy offered him gently and Matt could hear someone muttering under their breath about treating Matt like he was about to lose his virginity.
"I'm not a virgin, Mr. Stark," Matt reassured him, trying to calm down his furious heartbeat. Make the lights a little brighter. Allow him to see more. Jesus. What? "Okay. Okay, Foggy, do it."
Matt stared at his hand; slowly indeed, it was appearing in a way he wasn't used to seeing it anymore. Matt didn't even know how to call the colour his skin had. It was… it was incredible.
What was more though, he felt the two pictures – the usual one, floating, never really steadying as the flames were licking it, and the pretty much new one, solid, with actual colours – blending together. As the intensity of the light rose, the flames were getting steadier, disappearing. It was crazy, because while what he was seeing with his eyes in his field of vision merged together with the flames, the rest of the world – what was behind him and everywhere else, where his… gaze couldn't reach – remained the same as ever; the way he had been seeing for the past twenty years. It was mind-blowing.
And his sweatpants were dark blue. And his knuckles reminded him of his dad – big hands, scraped knuckles as he had punched too hard, scratches and dried blood that created a crust about two days ago. But these hands were his own. He was seeing his own adult hands.
Matt raised his head in the direction where he suspected Foggy and few other people, hidden behind the glass as if they could help him to understand that this was in fact happening. He froze. The wall wasn't glass, not transparent at least. It was a mirror. And Matt was staring at a man standing next to a bed. Matt was staring at himself.
Now Matt didn't know how to feel about it. He blinked at the strange individual and of course, the reflexion – and Matt knew it was him, there was denying it, but it was so surreal to be able to see himself, to see at all, just fascinating – did the same.
Matt was aware he had started crying at some point. But he didn't give a fuck, because there was an actual image in front of him and it was— it was- Matt walked to the glass hesitantly, staring at the man, the distance between them disappearing. The man looked nothing like Matt's father – Matt was kinda hoping he would resemble his dad, so that was disappointing. Sure, their built was quite similar – but Matt had already known that he was somewhat built, strong shoulders, muscular arms, but not weightlifter's arms. A boxer. Matt gulped, examining his own face. Brown eyes, not blue like his father's, he knew that, but still…. What kind of brown this was? Were they whiskey coloured? Vera had once told him— Vera?
"Yeah, buddy, we get it. You're handsome. I told you," Foggy chatted cheerfully. "Handsome wounded duck."
Matt choked at the memory, the man in the mirror looking funny, his lips forming a fond – fond? – smile. Huh. Also, his hair was a mess – dark brown mess with maybe few red tones.
Matt looked around the room properly, his usual perception mixing with an actual image. The sheets were plain white, he ruffled them good when lying on them.
"How long was I out?" he asked, the answer being honestly the last thing that bothered him. But he needed to distract himself, because this whole thing felt like a dream. The picture of himself, the way he knew he existed, how he was aware of his body and now seeing it, it was making him pretty dizzy.
Huh, his socks were bright green. What?
"Yeah, I knew you would love that," Foggy announced and Matt was absolutely sure his friend was grinning, even though Matt could have never seen him grin before, only relying on Foggy's tone of voice, on his heartbeat-
Did Matt want to see that grin? Did he want to see Foggy at all? Did he want to recreate the image in his mind, just like he had done it with his own when seeing himself? Matt didn't know how many people he would manage to compromise like that; but he was sure about one. Why wasn't she with him in the first place?
"Vera?" Matt called out, not upset at all that he got no answer to his previous question. He could hear rustling behind the microphone as Foggy moved away. Probably.
"Uhm. Yeah, I'm here. Hey, Matt," she greeted him sheepishly, but softly. Her tone was saying hey, welcome to the new world. Matt smiled, closing his eyes. The world fell back into flickering flames.
"Hi. Could you… could you come here?"
Matt didn't feel like meeting anyone else, at least not yet. Especially with no telling how long this crazy adventure would last. His fiancée definitely was the priority here. No distractions.
"Are you sure?"
"Very," Matt declared, voice firm.
He wanted to see her. He wanted it very badly. The picture of her in his head, it was created to perfection, clear, hours, days, months of close observation. But Matt wanted to make it crystal clear. Real. Vivid. See her in colours.
The buzzer of the heavy door made him jump and spun in its direction, but he kept his eyes closed. She was standing hesitantly at the door, her heart hammering in her chest like crazy. She gulped, stepping in, the door closing behind her with a metallic thud. Matt smiled wider and with a calming breath he opened his eyes. The flames faded gradually.
Matt had thought he was ready. He really had. Oh god, he had been so, so wrong.
The girl– girl? Or was she rather a woman? Matt could never quite decide, because she was too mature to be a girl and too young and Vera to be called a woman…. A lean girl was standing few steps from him, red blouse (oh he did remember red), plain good-fitting blue jeans. Matt knew it was her, he just knew it by heart, by most of his senses too, but- but.
He blinked a few times, focusing on her upper half. Her black hair was reaching under her collarbones, the soft brush against her shoulders he was used to, the sound and the feeling he loved. Matt swallowed, finally looking at her face. That part of her that was mostly a puzzle – he had touched it hundreds of times, with his fingers, with his lips, but his senses could have never made it justice; that was a simple fact. Her face had always been the biggest mystery.
Matt wasn't used to seeing people's faces anymore, so he couldn't quite… describe her features. It was just a face – a beautiful face, full lips and bright eyes, clouded with what Matt thought was worry and hesitance. He subconsciously took two steps closer, craving for seeing more detail, wanting to watch the light in her eyes, what colour they were; Matt had never asked Vera to describe her eyes to him again, not since the night in the gym, when she had said it was blue and green, rather pale, not vivid. Matt had held onto a certain image – and it had been a wrong one.
Vera didn't make a single move since she had stepped in; he would think she had been giving him time, but she was tense, that much he could tell, afraid, terrified even. She was terrified of his reaction. Matt had honestly no idea how to react.
She was freaking gorgeous. And the two images of her were slowly merging into one, one perfect image, indeed crystal clear—his vision was actually getting a little blurry as new tears gathered in his eyes. Jesus.
Vera was holding her breath, her heartbeat echoing in the room, unhealthily loud. Matt erased the distance between them, stopping right in front of her, staring, fascinated. He was wrong, the image he had been keeping was wrong-
"Your eyes are bluer than I imagined," he whispered and she quickly lowered her gaze when he met her eyes. He automatically reached for her chin, levelling their faces – she was still looking down, shy, her pulse sounding like she was going into a cardiac arrest. "Hey, no. Look at me, please."
Her gulp was loud and she licked her lips, her eyelashes fluttering before she gathered her courage and met his gaze. Matt felt his own heart skip a beat, his throat going dry. He reached for her cheek and then ran his fingers through her hair – without looking, because this his body remembered. She glanced down once more, fighting with something in her, before her eyes focused on his again.
"So much bluer," he mumbled, unable to tear his gaze away.
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" she choked out and Matt smiled widely, caressing her cheek. He felt the rush of blood to her cheeks at that, watching the skin colour in pink. Oh, this was precious.
"So beautiful."
He saw peripherally that her whole body relaxed and the fear in her eyes dissolved. He still felt it more than saw it, not used to relying on his sight. But she relaxed and let herself to breathe in properly.
A small movement of the corners of her lips caught his attention – they curled up in a smile, tiny inconspicuous thing. Matt was fascinated. He traced her lips with his thumb, another picture meeting its upgrade. Matt had felt her smile before – this was indeed a small one.
"Can you smile for me? Really smile?"
Her smile widened and Matt watched it with awe, his own lips parting. It was breath-taking. He always loved the sensation on his fingers when she smiled; he quickly readjusted his hold on her, providing himself a full view, because he really, really wanted to see this and remember it forever. This was his fiancée smiling. This was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, smiling.
When he glanced up to meet her eyes, something squeezed his chest in a vice. God, he couldn't choose better, could he? It wasn't just the colour of her eyes; for the first time, Matt allowed himself to believe that eyes were a window to the soul. And Matt adored what he saw.
"I would like to kiss you now if that's alright," he mumbled and that was the moment her smile reached her eyes, delight twinkling in them and he didn't want to wait another second and crushed their lips together.
A fraction of second later, he realized he should have closed his eyes, but goddammit he was able to see after two decades, he was entitled to forget such details. While Vera's eyelashes could be quite interesting, no doubt, he closed his eyes and let himself slip back into his normal world perception so he could enjoy the way her lips moved against his, soft and sweet… and red, his brain helpfully supplied. He nibbled on her lower lip lightly, feeling the blood rush under it, and he already looked forward seeing how redder it went. The thought was ridiculously appealing.
Her hands were gently resting against his arm and hip, her lips answering in slow rhythm, and he sunk into her mouth deeper, because it was like the first kiss all over again, though maybe even more intense; she was the same person as ever, but at the same time, she was someone new, a beautiful stranger. He grasped her hair tighter when she sucked his upper lip; this familiar stranger wanted him back, her fingers clutching at his body and hell if his head wasn't spinning, it was and he liked the feeling, welcomed warm spreading in his chest, bursting with pride, because this woman-
"Guuuys, com-" Stark sounded from the speaker, apparently cut off by someone else, but the sudden noise made Matt freeze all the same, bringing him back to reality. They were still in the room, people watching them, he had opened his seeing eyes only minutes ago and he was already lost.
He caressed Vera's lips for the last time, unwillingly leaving the burning beacon. When he blinked his eyes opened, his furiously beating heart jumped. He was right. God, her mouth turned the prettiest shade of crimson.
"Oh Christ, wipe that smirk off of your face," Vera complained, her whole face flushed with embarrassment and Matt realized he was probably grinning smugly, because look at that, he had caused that. They were so having sex very soon – and he would leave so many marks, watching them form, because he had never had a chance to see them and there was no way he would deny himself that. He didn't care he was being greedy. Not now.
They didn't let go of each other, still touching. Oh, Matt was not planning on letting go of her any time soon.
"Alright. He actually had a point. I love you, guys, but I have no interest in watching you make out— or worse," Foggy noted, not sounding too annoyed or exasperated. "Anyway. What happens now? Ideas?"
Vera's smile was shy, Matt thought. Her voice definitely was. "Whatever you want, Matt."
Matt met the brilliantly crimson lips shortly. "I want to go home," he admitted quietly, only for her ears.
Her hand moved to his cheek, tracing it gingerly, heat and soft skin. "Yeah, we can do that. Let's go home."
Now Matt knew Vera always sounded sincere when she said 'home'. Whether she referred to her home in Czechia or their apartment in Hell's Kitchen, her voice was full of emotion that wrapped Matt in silk, softly caressing his very being. Seeing her when she said it though, that was a whole new level. Home had a very special place in her heart and he loved that about her.
"God, I love you," he blurted out, unable to stop himself. And why would he anyway? "I love you so much, Vera."
Her eyes got glassy at that, and she shined. "And I love you."
Matt did see Foggy. For like, two seconds, before he realized he didn't want to and quickly closed his eyes. Then he opened them with a sigh, watching his best friend properly. Foggy deserved that much. Matt was actually surprised Foggy's appearance was easier to come to terms with than Vera's in a way – the image in his head was surprisingly accurate, which was ironic, considering how many times Matt had touched Vera's face and how many times he had touched Foggy's.
The point was, Matt had seen his best friend, they had hugged it out and Matt had gotten very careful of what he laid his eyes on since that moment. The easiest solution was to keep his eyes on Vera, who was blushing intensively under his searching gaze, quickly lowering her eyes whenever she checked on him and caught him staring. He couldn't help it okay? It prevented him from seeing the unimportant surroundings – though sometimes he caught a glimpse of the Tower and its tech and it was insane – and… he wanted to see her. To carve the picture of her – not one, hundreds, thousands of pictures of her – into his memory.
Bruce Banner checked his vitals despite Matt's protests that he was fine, not giving Matt another option but seeing a face he didn't need to see. Then Tony Stark's hand waving in front of his face. Matt's clothes. Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers and Wanda Maximoff in the corner when Vera and Matt headed to the elevator. Duh. Sure, it was all fascinating in a way, but it was a lot.
Thank god for the elevator, for the tiny space and the privacy.
Vera didn't look half as happy about it as Matt was. Truth to be told, she looked… sheepish, kept looking rather down, to her side, everywhere but at him.
"Am I really that insufferable that you can't even look at me?" he teased her lightly, surprised how vulnerable he sounded. What if she really couldn't? What if wasn't about her being self-conscious? What if there was more? He gulped at the idea, his stomach clenching.
Her head snapped up at his tone and Matt was pretty sure this was Vera's horrified look.
"What? No!" she protested hastily and it was so blunt Matt didn't need to see her expression or hear her heartbeat to believe her she was telling the truth. "It's… uhm…"
She huffed and Matt felt his lips spreading in a smile involuntarily as she lowered her gaze again. He hesitated only for a moment, reminding himself that they were still them, they loved each other, so he didn't need to ask her to touch her and then he stepped closer, cupping her cheek and meeting her lips again.
Vera let out a surprised oh tickling his mouth before she returned his kiss, relaxing. It was a little ridiculous how much a touch made them understand each other, trust each other. They were better at this than talking. And maybe it also was because Matt closed his eyes so she could feel like nothing had changed for them, even when pretty much everything had changed for him.
He rested his forehead against hers, catching a breath. He opened his eyes, examining her, while she kept hers closed. They didn't speak for a while. Matt was fairly sure FRIDAY or whatever Stark had named his new AI slowed down the elevator for them so they could figure out their… stuff. It was a little creepy, but Matt was grateful at the moment.
"You weren't there when I woke up."
Vera blinked her eyes open, her heartbeat fluttering. "I— we- we didn't know how would you react."
Matt tried his best to ignore the painful pang when he read between the lines. "I wouldn't hurt you."
She smiled at that, her eyes getting glassy again, and she connected their lips shortly. It sent a strange tingling feeling down his spine, her being the one to initiate contact. He chased after the feeling when she withdrew slightly. Two tears rolled down her cheeks – he caught them, fascinated and a little horrified.
"I know you wouldn't. It was just… a precaution. We didn't want to scare you, Matt. We were hoping it would work, that you would be able to see, which we thought would be enough of a shock already," she explained, whispering.
Considerate, his mind supplied helpfully. Memories of Vera not pushing him into a double date with Terri, trying to confront him with her noisy friends at the wedding as little as possible, her being afraid of invading his space when moving in with him and many more filled his mind.
"And when you say 'we', you mean you, don't you?" he offered gently and her heart skipped a beat instead of an answer. Matt sunk his fingers in her hair, meeting her lips again. "Thank you."
"…but I totally misjudged, didn't I?" she breathed, few more tears escaping her eyes.
Matt wasn't sure why she was crying, but reading her, he wasn't concerned anymore – she was just emotional about this. She understood – or was very close to understanding – how much this opportunity meant for him. He tasted the tears; the action made her shiver.
"No…. Yes. A little. It was okay. It makes sense." In a way.
She chuckled; Matt smiled at the sound. God, this woman. "Thanks."
"And you weren't the one talking to me through the speaker at first, because…?"
She bit her lip, unable to answer. He liberated the red beauty from between her teeth by his own, his arm around her waist pulling her a little closer. Her skin burned hotter and Matt was fairly sure it had nothing to do with embarrassment this time. It was intoxicating. He breathed her in thirstily.
Okay, maybe the intimate presence of this beautiful woman was making him a little horny, sue him. God, he wanted to see her, hear her, feel her…
"We thought-" Matt hummed disapprovingly at the tiny lie and Vera sighed. "I thought you would react better to Foggy, because you know him longer. In case you would be confused, Foggy could calm you down easily, because he's someone you know for like a decade. Foggy didn't protest."
Matt rolled his eyes (the action feeling surreal now, seeing the ceiling when doing it, he forgot how that felt), because of course Foggy hadn't protested. He trusted Vera with Matt's life; if Vera had said they should be standing in a line dancing Macarena to greet Matt in the world of sighted people, he would agree with her as well.
Of course it made some sense. Vera's logic was still logic, but god, sometimes it was like she didn't know him at all. He shook his head, pecking her lips, kissing her cheek, her forehead and her nose; she giggled at the last one. Something warm spread in his chest when he looked at her as she did so. Connecting the sounds she was making with a picture was quickly becoming his favourite part of seeing again. And God, there were still so many sounds he knew she could make and he wanted to draw them from her as soon as possible.
Matt wanted to see a lot of things, a lot, but for once, he made sure his priorities were straight. And his priority was in his arms, jumping ten feet above the ground as Stark's AI asked if it could open the elevator door.
He slowly let go of Vera, their hands falling to their side. He clenched his fists to stop himself from pulling her as close as he could and take her right in the elevator when she blushed furiously and bit her lip again when withdrawing.
She was saved by the bell as the door of the elevator opened.
