.expensive perfume
[Marci Stahl x Matt Murdock]
|reasons on why they (she, err, he (itscomplicated) in general) cannot|
AN: requested fic. What. I don't even know what happened here. Enjoy anyways.
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She had a soul once. (or so Foggy Bear says)
And that time was long ago, way past the day she met the two. Where she smelt of faint daisy cologne, the crisp and musk of law books she dived through, ambitions, dreams rocketing high up in the sky.
Marci had her soul when she spots the two, when she smiles at them widely, hand held out with her heart and soul.
She doesn't remember when she has lost it.
Doesn't remember when she has started to measure her progress with the amount of money in her bank account, the intelligently pressed dress suits she buys and collects (like kudos from superiors), the amount of expensive perfume she has and wears, how high she wears her variety of pumps, her taste in liquors, food, restaurants; everything.
And really, she hasn't got the time to wonder where her old self went.
.
Marci, despite what she has become now (a bitchy-meat-grinder in a business full of jack in the ass people), remembers what her grand(mother) told her about boys, men—all about the species with testosterone. Warned her about them: which is which, what kind, whom: to avoid, to approach, will love and care for her, leave her crying, make her rich, cheat on her, let her die waiting, will be the death of her.
All of them share one thing: they will destroy her.
And boys like: Matthew Murdock makes her remember all of that, wary, on guard despite his obvious disability and the waves of ingenuousness that rolls off him like water to a duck's back. Still he reminds her of a puppy of sorts.
Automatically, she smiles at the two professionally, holds out her hand, all prim and smart, eyes her possible competition. Instinctively, she inclines herself to the blond, subtle blue-green eyes and promising smile.
In that instant she made a choice; Foggy Nelson.
Because boys like Matthew Murdock with the all the brunet hair, dark-tinted glasses, fit-frame and charming politeness of silence and words-ish thing going on is hiding something.
And not knowing-herself, it scares Marci.
.
The two are thick as thieves, Marci notices on multiple occasions when both parties are not busy with anything else and are having a happy-youthful lunch together.
Almost impossible to break-up but that doesn't stop Marci from saying yes to Foggy anyway, indulges everything he drops between the two of them, plays their game of flirtation until she doesn't even know if they're still both playing or starting to get serious.
She forgets that there's Matthew Murdock, bestfriend of Foggy-Bear with all the bodily warmth and pleasing grins of one Franklin Nelson, who is sexily smart, speaks Punjabi…until the same person drags her from art thou heaven and well,
She almost forgot. Almost.
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Matt doesn't really know what to make of Marci Stahl, all he knows is she's the alpha-type of woman and other than that, nothing. Besides he can't really see her nor blatantly touch her face and know her because that would cause awkwardness that won't come to an end.
What he does know and make up of her is from things he had gathered over the time and some describing from Foggy accompanied by a nonchalant touch of a tone. Marci is blonde with wide hazel eyes, nice body; tall and well… has quite a personality and character.
Matt remembers that first time they've met her; hands soft, eyes and smile probably bright with fading naivety around the edges, smelt faintly of daisy cologne and musty, crispy, thick hard-bound books, simple yet dreams and ambitious sky-rocketed high.
Now, Marci smells of money and progress measured by materials, ideals gone and replaced by high-class pressed suits, pumps that made professional clicking sounds on the linoleum floor, expensive jewelry, high-class toiletries, face masked by make-up and whole self, doused with expensive perfume. Chanel.
It chokes Matt and he learns to duck whenever the faint scent of it is in vicinity, especially when Foggy's without him (rare occurrence, really). Learns the art of avoiding Marci Stahl.
Knowing her deeper than what he should makes him uncomfortable, rude and betraying his bestfriend all the same.
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It's not that Matthew Murdock was not a catch or he's deformed ugly or because he reminds her of a puppy or he is disable. Him being blind only plays a little part in it.
Marci inclined herself to Foggy-Bear because he would see her, appreciate her beauty along with her wit and ideals and that would be all. He wouldn't try to look deeper, wouldn't look past her and get to know her deeper than she knows herself (apparently, she is still in search of one's self, at this time) because he will be distracted.
And Foggy Nelson is all relaxed and fun-times and Marci prefers that over charming politeness of silence and words and a handsome quirk of obscenely good looking lips of Murdock, Foggy's lips is second best good-looking but first ranking in the act of kissing, because ghad, he kissed well with a mouth that knows another language. And because she hasn't kissed and experience Matt's. (not that she's planning to)
Matt for all his non-seeing eyes, actually sees what the eyes of normal-seeing people cannot. Inclining towards him would've meant being torn apart slowly, until her core is revealed and he's knows her better than she would like.
Besides, she rather likes the idea of beauty being appreciated and seen rather than being known and felt.
(Foggy knows how to look deeper but not like Matt, Marci realizes a bit too late. But, ah, well there's no going back)
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Her heart beats steadily and confidently among their peers, her voice carrying a timbre of wit and certainty.
On days, Matt can smell the scent of her body wash through the thickness of her perfume and he can almost remember the girl, she was back then, that is now fading from Matt's memory, slipping through the tight cracks of unfamiliarity and becoming strangers.
He doesn't really like invading personal and private parts of a person's life albeit that they don't know but identifying Marci comes easy like how he can identify Foggy now, from his small, quite breaths outside the door of their pseudo-office and across from the table. The steady heartbeat of Foggy drumming in synchronization with Marci's at times.
He knows her overly, disgustingly, too well for his liking. And Matt doesn't know what to feel about that except swallow thickly and think:
At least she's real with him.
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Marci catches them together, laughing and watches from afar.
She doesn't remember when she has lost her soul (or so Foggy Bear says) but the words rings at times in her mind.
Foggy cuffs Matt's shoulders, a grin coming alive on his face as another laugh escapes his mouth, Matt returns the action with a wide smile.
Marci knows what the little thing, clawing at her is, has been familiar with jealously for a while. What she can't seem to figure out is:
Is it because Matt has Foggy or Foggy has Matt.
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Once upon a time, Marci indulged herself in what could've been, alone in her condo.
She plays multiple scenarios in hear head, wonders on countless possibilities, welcomes parts of it but doesn't accept what some presents about the truth of herself.
Once, she imagines what could've been if she inclines towards Murdock rather than Foggy Bear, imagines Matt's half-calloused and half-soft hands holding her, the pads of his fingers tracing every feature on her face, every single thing that makes her. Imagines herself, letting be known deeper, felt, more intimately than a lover's act.
Wonders what would it feel like to have the contours of her mouth and body be traced by a mouth that also shelters foreign language. What love would taste like traced in Spanish rather than Punjabi.
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Marci Stahl is mature above else even if she lost her soul and other parts of her.
She also might have been a fool (still is).
But she utilizes herself well in what she's good at. And Marci Stahl is good and making progress, moving forward, marching on.
And she does not linger in the past, in the what could've beens, missed opportunities, stolen glances, and fantasies spilled milks.
She had made a pleasing choice and well, she's okay with it for rest of her life.
AN: what, what is this?