481. You're drunk and want my name tattooed on your ass. – ft. Elektra Natchios/Matt Murdock
Elektra stared at the ceiling of Matt's bedroom, wondering if he'd let her actually give the place a makeover, or better yet, move out and live with her in luxury. He wouldn't, she knew, but it was a nice thought. Sighing, she sat up, only for the front door to bang open. Without thinking, she reached for her twin sai, only to cringe as the wound in her chest twinged harshly.
"Elektra?" Matt's voice called out in an unbalanced way. Elektra looked out the door to see Matt stumbling down the corridor, tripping up at one point and falling to the ground, only getting up after a couple of seconds.
"Matthew…"
"Elektra," Matt replied, grinning as he dropped down onto the sofa. Elektra stood slowly, approaching cautiously.
"Matthew, are you…drunk?"
"Yes," Matt sighed, blank eyes facing the ceiling. "I want to get a tattoo. 'Property of Elektra' – then, if I'm hurt and someone sees it, they can speak to you and you can take me home."
Elektra looked at him in disbelief, "You want to get a tattoo that says you're my property? Where, might I ask?"
"My ass."
"Your arse," Elektra stared at him, walking over to where he laid, leaning over him, one hand on the couch. "You're drunk, and you want my name tattooed on your arse. Is that what you're telling me, Matthew?"
He grinned dopily, "I love you, 'lektra." Elektra froze. He raised a hand, fingers brushing her face as he tried to reach for something. He stayed still for a second, before the same hand cupped her cheek, a finger wrapping in her hair. "I'm so glad you're alive." His hand dropped, eyes shutting.
"Matthew…" Elektra swallowed, before she winced, kneeling down beside him. "Matthew, speak to me. Why would you say that? You hate me – and why are you glad I am alive, considering even that?" She waited for an answer, watching him. "Matthew…" She let out another tired sigh, realising he was asleep. Not bothered by the floor, and not exactly wanting to get up while her chest ached like it was, Elektra rearranged herself so her head was lying near his waist, the hand that was falling off the side of the sofa gripping her own.
Right before she shut her eyes, Elektra managed a half-laugh, half-scoff.
A tattoo of my name on his arse…I both hate and love it.