THIS IS REALLY IMPORTANT!
I think I just committed the worst crime. Let me explain. As you might have noticed, this fic has two parts instead of the one advertised.
Some of the first part and the whole second part I wrote after finishing Damned If I Do and continued simultaneously with Damned If I Don't. But then I thought Matt's getting out of character in the last bit, so I made a slight change. But I'm also an idiot and I wanted to share both versions.
So. If you want the original and extremely fluffy version with Terri and few other people involved, you reach the words Instead of passing over her rooftop (bold) of chapter one, and you better stop reading and go to the second part – Operation: Lilith. Basically Coffee Shop AU. Also, you will be less mentally scarred.
If you want Matt's POV – which might be more in character – you just continue. It's my canon. Kinda.
Or, you know, you can read both. Kill me…
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Warning for graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of (attempted) rape and major character not exactly death. And… well, the rest depends on the version you'll read.
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Cups
The idea was ridiculous. Matt had been thinking for a while now – a little desperate, because the problem seemed to have no solution –, but he finally thought he got it, even though it was ridiculous. Yet, it was the truth.
Their relationship was defined by many things; danger, fear, crazy decisions and their outcome, blood. But nice things too, intense emotions that were making them feel alive; passion, hope, delight, love.
And then there was one thing, a literal object that stood out of the others – coffee cups. Matt took a moment to appreciate the stupidity of that statement, but the more he was thinking about it, the more it was making sense. And if there was something that was worth considering when he was about to do what he was about to do, this was probably it.
I.
Their first encounter. The very first moment he met her, she was for some reason carved into his memory much deeper than she should have. Her nervous heartbeat, hint of a panic in her voice, soft sound of her hair brushing against her shoulder, whirling up the scent of vanilla, coconut and coffee as she – obviously relieved – turned her back to him to make him coffee. Her burning cheeks and embarrassment. Light accent, voice playful, with shame and threat as she called out for her colleague.
This was how Matt saw the world around him – too many details he needed to filter and forget soon, otherwise his brain would be overloaded even more than it already was. He had no real reason to remember her, but before he managed to forget, he got to know what she had written on his best friend's coffee cup; the short and easy rhyme that made his friend absolutely delighted and somehow caused Matt grinning. If all new arrivals to Hell's Kitchen would be like her, it would be a much better place.
After two another encounters, Matt thought he probably got sick – because every freaking time he met her, he was smiling. Even when he knocked her attackers unconscious, she made him smile for three different reasons: she hadn't given the men the satisfaction of giving up so easily, throwing a very nice punch; then just hearing her 'thank you', so honest, was somewhat warming and then she did the thing when she tossed him a snack as if she cared about him, a guy with his face hidden who had just beat someone up right in front of her.
He could have avoided another meeting with her. All he had to do was not to come in when he heard her (noticing her embarrassingly late) – and even though he wasn't sure it was her, he pretty much was, because carved into memory dammit – but he was curious about her presence in his gym. And he had a hunch she would make his day better if he let them meet again; and she did. No coffee cups needed.
Of course, the hostage situation he would rather forget – cold crept down Matt's spine every time he remembered the moment she had had a gun at her head and a lump in his throat grew at the memory of what had followed. But he couldn't forget that, because truth to be told, her being stupidly brave was apparently an essential part of her personality. No cups here either, but there was the light scent of coffee as she walked to the bank right from work and he just couldn't ignore the smell that attacked his nostrils, now inevitably associated with her.
II.
The policeman had a paper cup.
One of the cops who walked into the office of Nelson & Murdock was holding a cup of coffee in his hand, because he had clearly used the opportunity of being in the café before – in the café, where he had interrogated Vera's co-workers. Matt felt a very strong urge to splash the liquid right to the cop's freaking face, because Vera was missing and he was enjoying his coffee. And the worse thing about it was that it might have actually somehow been Matt's fault, the outcome of the previous evening, when he firstly had been incredibly rude to her and then he had just left his brain-to-mouth filter turned off, because he had been absolutely stunned by her kind words and caring gesture.
And Matt was starting to understand that the girl, whose picture was carved into his brain, was leaving an imprint in his heart as well – why else would his body be almost overwhelmed by fear?
Five brief meetings. How was that even possible?
Later of course, it was not fear what took over him – it was rage. Once he found her voice, full of pain, hearing what had been happening until he got to them (and it had taken him too, too long), he felt the urge to kill. And he was so glad she basically encouraged him to hurt them, as if she was giving him her unnecessary yet welcomed blessing to make them suffer. But no, she asked him to stop in a voice more desperate than before.
And despite what she had just seen and heard him do to another human being (poor excuse for it, but a human being nevertheless), she rested her forehead against his shoulder, leaning onto him, exhausted and hurting, but calm, with absolute trust, like a child to its parent, as if he hadn't been the reason they had taken her and hurt her in the first place.
The thing was, Vera wasn't a child. She was a rather beautiful young woman, little cute and little funny, stupidly brave, surprisingly strong and agonizingly good. By the time he got the crazy idea of visiting her in a hospital – a vigilante, bringing a balloon to a victim of a kidnapping – listening to her heart, hearing out her plea to talk, because she apparently liked his voice (he wasn't smug about it, he was not, it wasn't like he could take any credit for that), he realized he was utterly fucked. Matt visited her during visiting hours as a concerned friend and her genuine delight at seeing him was hundred times more appealing than a freaking cup of coffee, shooting pure energy to his veins.
III.
Matt was wrong. He hadn't been utterly fucked by the time of the late night hospital visit. Or maybe he had, but he was beyond that by the time he got a coffee cup with his name.
Karen hadn't notice. She brought the daily dope for herself and for their bosses, handed them their paper cups with indifference, speaking in tone that was screaming 'worship me, I saved your life by bringing you this extraordinary gift'. Matt thought the cup was wrinkled and he subconsciously traced the imperfection, denying it was also because he whirled up the light tones of Vera's scent she left when preparing the coffee. And then he realized there was a pattern. The small bumps weren't directly on the cup; they were on a sticker added to it. Braille. Four simple letters: Matt.
It was stupid of course. It was a tiny piece of paper, it wouldn't mean anything, but it did. It meant she wanted to do something nice for him, making possible for him to read his name just like anybody else could, she wanted to make him smile and he was unable to resist, giving in, his lips spreading widely as he felt his name. He heard Foggy's heart jump as he noticed Matt's high spirit and asked Matt about it. But Matt couldn't tell him, he didn't want to share his revelation, so he just shook his head and disappeared into his office, leaving two people absolutely baffled. Matt honestly considered keeping the cup just like Foggy had kept his own.
So. Very. Fucked.
When he confronted Vera about it, she seemed almost ashamed. Matt had been paying attention lately. He had been paying attention to the little things, because he desiredto find them and he was at least fifty percent sure he didn't make up what he had been sensing. How her heart always jumped when she saw him, the smile in her voice when speaking to him, her skin burning just a little hotter when she had touched him in the hospital, leading him to a chair. She was attracted to him. And he shouldn't be doing this, because he was one big bundle of issues he did and actually didn't want to get rid of, but she liked him and even though he was scared it would all go to shit when she would found out that her so-called saviour and Matt were the same person, he tried.
And hell, wasn't it worth it.
IV.
It absolutely wasn't worth it for her. Vera announced him she knew, she forgave him for getting her kidnapped, not even blaming him for that matter, and she was amazing. He just liked to forget that there was the stupidly brave part of her personality; she ran to save him after he had gotten himself captured and that somehow led to her getting shot. And yet, she was still right there, by his side.
Vera was so sweetly embarrassed when she questioned his… interest in her, afraid of that from all possible things, being absolutely ridiculous, because spending so much time in her intimate presence was driving him to edge. Her skin, sweet scent and burning heat, touching his (he wanted more, so much more), her lips on his cheek, throat, mouth, hot wet breath (Jesus, he wished her lips everywhere), her hair, soft sound brushing her shoulders, silky smooth (he wanted to grasp handful of them, pull her closer, not leaving an inch between them), her whole body (yes, he knew it pretty well, but he desired to know better, to explore every line, every little imperfection and perfection, make it his). He was going insane, holding back only because she was hurt for god's sake and it really was not the right time to- but Jesus, how could he resist? She was panicking and then she was curious and brilliant and considerate and her body was screaming with want.
After, he had no idea how he could have lasted so long, when she had been right there, beautiful and eager. A tiny part of him wished it wouldn't work out well for them at least in that area, because so far she seemed to be perfect for him in any possible meaning of the word and it terrified him, because he wasn't used to having something good, so, so good. Yeah, well. Not happening. He enjoyed every freaking second. And once he tasted, he couldn't get enough.
Of course she charmed the Nelsons. Of course she found the one gift he didn't realize he wanted and needed. Of course she cried at nights when she was haunted by nightmares about the upcoming trial, ending up kicking ass at the said trial. And she was even taking his shit when he was trying to figure out how to teach her fight as she had asked him to, because she still trusted him while there were so many things he was keeping from her. And of course one of those things bit him in his ass.
Stick.
That paper cup almost caused Matt a heart attack. Because Stick knew about Vera, he knew where she worked and he had talked to her, because that was positively her scent that was hovering around the cup and when Matt got to the café, one of the longest journeys in his life, he could feel Stick got even closer than Matt had thought, fucking with both Vera and him.
There were probably more cups in between, but Matt didn't pay attention. He was out of his mind, apparently more than Vera, who seemed to worry about him, until Stick fucking tried to strangle her – or only drive her away from Matt as she was convinced. And Stick didn't. There was clearly a shitstorm about to come at them, but she grasped him firmly yet tenderly with her fingers, not wanting to let go. Stick had failed and Vera still wanted to be with Matt, offering her love. Warm and light.
But Stick didn't fail the next time. And Matt could hear it, he would swear he could see it, how her light was fading out. Matt was vainly fighting to get to her, his muscles burning from the effort, his fear almost paralyzing him, because she was dying. Blood was running through her fingers, her breathing unnaturally heavy and wet, because she was choking, her lung collapsing, her heart failing. It was the last sound Matt heard before he drifted away, feeling the tears of fury and helplessness strolling down his cheeks.
V.
The next cup was a painful reminder of her being gone. Stick sure didn't treat him in kid-gloves. By the time Matt regained consciousness, there was a cooling paper cup by his head, coffee and light tones of vanilla and coconut enwrapping him. But it wasn't coming from around the cup and it was perverted. Her scent was perverted by a heavy smell of iron and copper. Matt's hands started trembling when he felt her torn t-shirt, dried blood coarse against his fingertips.
He didn't even realize how that happened, but suddenly there were only pieces of fabric all around him, spilled coffee, his own raw voice echoing in the plain room, his knuckles dripping blood, cracked and scraped almost to bone, stretched out to punch the wall again. He didn't do it. It was useless and it brought him no real relief. There was nothing he could do to change what had happened. What he had let happen. He had gotten Vera killed. There was no denying it.
And he felt like the blood on his hands wasn't his, but hers, his knees weak and mind blank, a ringing in his ears muffling the memory of her heart failing and one of her lung shrinking, the wet cough and almost soundless whimpers of pain echoing in his head, fear and desperation in the air. And what was even worse was his awareness of that only being a memory, his last memory of her, carved to his brain right next to their first meeting.
She was gone.
It was only him, four walls, cold, loneliness, heavy weight of guilt and prayers whispered through trembling lips, over and over again, until his throat was too raw to speak. He just kept going soundlessly.
"God, our Father,
Your power brings us to birth,
Your providence guides our lives,
and by Your command we return to dust.
Lord, those who die still live in Your presence,
their lives change but do not end.
I pray in hope for— for her,
and for all the dead known to You alone.
In company with Christ,
Who died and now lives,
may they rejoice in Your kingdom,
where all our tears are wiped away.
Unite us together again in one family,
to sing Your praise forever and ever. "
.
"God, our Father,
Your power brings us to birth,
Your providence guides our lives,
and by Your command we return to dust…"
It felt like the Earth just stood still, the sudden change making him dizzy. His senses remained as sharp as ever, but he was tuning them out whenever possible. He was deaf to the outside world, to the city he loved; he suddenly couldn't stand listening to it, because he knew her heartbeat would be missing; and it was on him.
What could be days later, when he came back to the place where she had died – where he had gotten her killed – to refresh the memories for the last time, not of her dying, but the reminders of her love… he found out, after infinite time in his personal hell, that she was alive. It was incredible, it felt impossible, yet it was the truth.
Do you believe in miracles? Matt believed in a lot of things, but that night he added miracles to that list. A tiny part of his heart hated God for letting her live when forcing him away from her, but he tried his best to shush the said part, convincing himself it was a sign. A sign that if he loved her, there was one thing he could do to prove it – leave, keep her safe and alive. Let her live, because she was better off without him, no matter how much he hated the thought and he wanted to prove her, prove everyone that it wasn't the truth.
And sometimes, Matt thought God maybe had a little bit of the Devil in himself too, despite the idea of him being flawless; He liked to play, tricking people's minds. Because if Matt took Vera's miraculous survival as a sign of her life being better without him in it, why only hours after his return to his city was on him to save her from being fucking raped?
Matt couldn't help it – he was tuned to her voice, no matter in which part of the city he was. He was in his apartment when he heard it. She raised her voice, fighting with a boy, or rather a man – and Matt shouldn't have invade her privacy, he should have leave her alone, because that was what he had convinced himself was for the best, to leave her to her own devices –, but the talk they led, the fight, it was about him. It was about Matt. And he really tried to tune it out, it shouldn't be so hard when he even had to prick up his ears to hear them, but… well. Matt sat tight, keeping himself from running to the man and break his jaw just for talking to her like that, making her voice sound on the edge of tears.
Then there was quiet and Matt made himself stay put as Vera and the man parted ways; except they didn't. The man must have followed her somehow, because suddenly they were fighting again and Bryan didn't stop at words and the very same moment he grabbed Vera, Matt was on his feet, reaching for a hoodie at least, no time to change into anything else. The progress of the fight was his fuel.
He ignored Danny following him, all his focus on her. His heart skipped a painful beat as she finally gave in to a kiss, her own heartbeat fast; so Matt stopped dead in his tracks, gritting his teeth because it was none of his business, he had left, no matter what his reasoning had been.
That was until he heard their struggle and realized she was only trying to fool the man, her pulse jumping for various different reasons than attraction.
And Matt was so agonizingly slow as he broke into motion again, arriving seconds before the poor excuse for a man took what he wanted and Matt suddenly saw. He saw in crimson, not only because the man had touched her, but he had touched her against her will and he had hurt her, and all what the Devil desired – not Matt, it was definitely the Devil in the driver's seat – was to hurt him as well. He wanted to see his blood. He wanted to break every single one of his bones and maybe he should start with tearing his tendons one by one, because that could cause an extreme agony. He craved for his screams and whimpers, wanted to continue until the man would pass out from pain. And then the Devil would bring him back and started over, until that wretch just wouldn't be able to scream anymore and lost consciousness again. And he would do it over and over again, not until the man would die, but until he would beg the Devil to kill him.
There was only one thing that stopped Matt from doing that and it wasn't Danny, not really. It was one single word, so weak and broken, barely audible: 'help'. Danny was here to help her, Matt knew that, but she wished for help. And god, Matt wanted to help. He convinced himself he needed to check her up, his fingers tracing her familiar features, touches he longed for, for so long, and he wished the circumstances were different , he wished he at least had her permission, because otherwise he was not much better than the man he had just almost killed. He kept telling himself he was just mapping her injuries and his hands were tender, not like those that had hurt her before. He clenched his fist so tight his knuckles must have turned white every time he found another swelling or graze, and her eyes…
Danny's heartbeat was steady behind him as he watched the weirdest of reunions and while Matt wanted nothing else but extend the period he could be with her, he knew he couldn't. He let Danny bring her to the hospital, because people wouldn't recognize the strange man – and Matt wanted to stay with the bastard and finish him, but he followed Danny's path instead, making sure Vera would get the help she needed. And she did.
VI.
The next dose of caffeine he got was not in a paper cup. It was in a regular mug, back at Vera's place.
And her apartment was once again full of his scent, she smelled like him, because… their actual reunion had gone so much better than he could have ever hoped. In the darkest corner of his heart, there had been some kind of an image that resembled the real events, but Matt had been stuffing the idea to the back of his mind as hard as he could, because he had known it would never happen; to his shock, it did.
He was grateful to Terri who had pushed him into coming to Vera, let her know he was in Hell's Kitchen and even though he had had no idea what he would tell Vera once he would reveal he was back, he had dared to visit her anyway. And God, she welcomed him. It was like she couldn't quite believe he was here, unable to speak, but staying as close as he wished. Her hands on him, tender and desperate, her lips, burning heat, everywhere. She had missed him, maybe at least half as badly as he had missed her. That day he did get an unspoken permission and he grasped the opportunity, taking and taking, because he could, because she was offering so willingly and she still loved him.
And the morning was beautiful, still so surreal, but the reality slowly crawled in, a bit by bit, starting with small things. The coffee in her apartment itself. The bottle of whiskey. Scars that he couldn't map with his fingers – oh, he had felt every single scar on her body, he had taken his time – but he could read between the lines of the talk Vera had led to her landlady and friend as well and it tasted bitter. Just like her sadness and disappointment when he revealed he had been in town for days, keeping his distance for reasons he wouldn't share. But she was still so understanding it wasn't even fair.
'Fair'. What a ridiculous word. None of what had happened was fair. It wasn't fair Stick had almost killed her. It wasn't fair Matt had had to leave. It wasn't fair she had gained a new scar, in a shape of a freaking pentagram, burned to her skin. It wasn't fair she had fucking joined a cult of lunatics in attempt to deliver them to justice.
Matt was confident he knew her; he knew why she had done it. She had done it for him, because he hadn't been there to take care of it, which wasn't fair and he wanted to punch God to his face for allowing something like that to happen. What if she had died trying to do Matt's job for him? What if she had been dead when the next to the impossible had happened and he had come back home? It. Would. Not. Be. Fair.
One horrifying revelation, one broken jaw and more heavy talk later, they were… good. Not great, but good and finding a way to cope.
Scratch that. They were freaking amazing, because they weren't him and her, but them. And she told him she would stay. There was nothing more he could want.
He tried really hard not to think about that he had too many good things once again and the more he loved them, the more he had to lose.
VII.
Falling back into to normal was… complicated. With Vera, it was surprisingly easy. Maybe he shouldn't have been surprised by her surprising him anymore, but he was. She accepted the fact he had vanished for three months and she let him enter her life as if it never happened. Most of the time, though it was true they were rather tiptoeing about the time they had been separated, she was enthusiastic about any contact (and Matt initiated a lot of contact, but so did she, so it was only fair). She was happily sticking his name to the coffee cups as if the small pieces of paper never left her apron. Her coffee tasted the same, but she started adding a kiss on his cheek or his lips to each cup she handed him. Matt sure didn't complain.
Of course, returning to work was... hard. Foggy refused to stay in business which was daily endangered by his partner disappearing or dying, Karen had a job at the Bulletin and Matt really couldn't blame either of his friends for moving on while he had been gone.
Curiously it was a piece of his life outside of Hell's Kitchen that helped him with that. Danny. Matt dived into trying to get his life back legal way, it kept him busy and at the same time, he got an opportunity to remind people he was a capable lawyer, who kept working even when Nelson & Murdock fell apart.
And Danny was a great friend. Matt knew that he could count on him even when they slowly drifted away, Danny rebuilding his life, Matt still trusted him with his life. Yet, in many ways, he was like a child, possibly worse and Matt just didn't have the strength to say no to the hopeful voice, begging Matt to let him join Matt's and Vera's… training session? Honestly, Matt wasn't sure, it wasn't like they had actually agreed on what they were about to do at Fogwell's.
Matt could sense her hesitation that evening, certain distance and guarding; it was one of the strange moments they weren't sure what they were to each other anymore. And then she dropped the bombshell. Before they could both fully realize what Matt had agreed to, Danny made an appearance; a child walking into an adult talk, seriously.
And what had Matt just agree to?! It was possibly the worst thing he could have done. After all, Vera had already agreed to stay in New York, so why had he said yes to meeting her family and friends, who could possibly convince her he was so not worth it?
Later, he realized it might not have been the worst thing. Because that way he could at least try; he would show everyone he was in fact worth it. Prove Vera he was worth it. He just didn't figure out how.
Yet.
VIII.
The visit went well, at least he thought. Vera definitely inherited most of her features from her mother – a kind woman with big heart, joyful, obviously trying not only to be a mother to Vera, but also a friend. She accepted Matt easily and while Matt couldn't understand her when she sometimes talked to Vera in Czech, she was treating him… well, like Vera. She didn't seem to care he was blind – what was important to her was that he loved her daughter.
Vera's father was difficult – unlike Hana, he didn't speaking English at all and he was rather guarded, emotions carefully hidden. Matt thought he caught him observing him sometimes, but he rarely spoke with his family as well as with Matt. Matt wasn't sure what to make of that. The more of a surprise for Matt it was when the father played chess with him and it almost felt like Mr. Machacek was warming up to Matt after it – Matt found himself feeling sorry they were leaving then and he had no chance to spend more time with him, perhaps know him and let him know Matt too a little better.
There was also a tiny bump on the road, right in the beginning. Maybe rather bigger than tiny; Vera's brother. Matt hadn't exactly plan on revealing his double life to Petr of all people – but while Matt heard them fighting about something, he couldn't understand them and then he had about one and half second to make a decision, one and half second before he would get punched to his face. He really didn't have much time to consider all pros and cons.
He revealed Petr his moonlighting as a vigilante as well as Vera's escapades, while she was in the shower, but the real talk came in the morning.
Matt woke up at Petr's alarm, slipping from under the covers, knowing he wouldn't fall asleep again. They had an approximation of a breakfast together and possibly the strangest coffee he ever had, mostly because of the surreal conversation they had over it. Vera's brother – and Matt knew he loved her very much, not only thanks to the lack of lying when Petr had said that – obviously thought about it overnight.
"Are you serious about her?" he asked Matt after a rather long silence that Matt couldn't have decided was comfortable or not. Matt almost choked on his coffee.
"Yes."
"Huh." Petr seemed surprised by the quick and firm response. What kind of a question was that anyway? Of course Matt was serious about her. "Can't tell if you're lying, I can't hear your heartbeat."
Matt sighed. Petr's voice didn't sound accusing, but there was a hint of doubt.
Petr continued. "Exciting life, parkouring over rooftops, dodging bullets, taking down bad guys, Marianna waiting at home for you…"
"It's not like that!" Matt protested sharply, irritated by Petr's mocking tone. Petr's pulse jumped. "I mean… it is, partly. Of course she's my base. Of course I'm glad I can always come back to her."
"You're not with her just to…. Please, tell me you're not with her just for sex and because she conveniently happens to know what you do at night."
Matt clenched his jaw, his next words strained through his teeth. "No, I'm not."
"Then why her?"
Because she's Vera dammit! Because we just somehow happened and it was the best damn thing! Matt was getting pissed, but he obediently tried to form words, create a more reasonable excuse than 'because she's Vera'.
"Because she knows-" Petr inhaled sharply, not getting a chance to speak though, "-because she knows things that one or maybe two people in my life do, if even, and she still chose to stay and take it all. Because she saw me break people's bones, but didn't judge me – not because she would like violence, but because she… understands. Because she witnessed me at the bottom and pulled me up instead of kicking me lower. Because she cares and cares enough to learn stitching up knife wounds for me despite dropping out of med school. Because she's beautiful in every sense of the word. Because she can be one hell of a fighter when it comes to something or someone she loves."
Matt made a pause, chuckling as he was realizing just how many reasons he could name.
"Because she can make me laugh and makes me want to do crazy things like sneaking into her hospital room in the middle of the night with a balloon. Because she's fierce and faithful and for some reason she chose me – hell, she apparently chose me over coming back to her home. And before you ask if I ever wondered if I should stop being selfish and putting her in a danger by sticking around, yes, I did. But she's her own person and she made her choice. And since I'm very happy about it, I'm not gonna try to convince her otherwise, because I'm blessed."
The silence that followed was deafening. Matt could hear Vera's silent alarm going off in the bedroom and her discontent whimper as she turned it off; and her heartbeat increasing when she examined the whole room and didn't find him. He sighed.
"Alright. That sounded sincere," Petr exclaimed, something indefinable creeping to his voice. Matt's senses focused on Vera.
"She's getting up."
"Okay, that's a little creepy. One more thing. You said you were serious about her."
"I am," Matt confirmed cautiously, puzzled by the weird development. Her bare feet touched the floor as she slid from the bed, slowly walking towards them.
"If you're getting any ideas… considering your plans here… I approve, I guess. You have my blessing or some shit, okay?"
Matt was fairly sure the world stood still. His body went rigid and his mind got caught in a loop, the connection between the two elements of his being short-circuiting.
"…uhm, is everything okay?" her sleepy voice snapped him from his trance and Matt would swear Vera's brother chuckled silently, quiet wicked sound. Vera's hand lightly touched Matt's shoulder from behind.
'If you're getting any ideas – considering your plans here – I approve.'
Matt tilted his head back, facing Vera, giving her wide smile. He thought she smiled back, bringing her lips to his in a peculiar reversed kiss.
"Absolutely."
Petr snorted to his coffee, almost choking as well.
The rest of their stay was… not necessarily busy, but sure eventful. Some events small, some larger. Matt had troubles believing Vera would choose to come back with him – her family was loving, each of its members having a different way of showing affection, but the amount of care they had for each other was undeniable. The shovel talk he got from her mum was non-invasive, the questioning surprisingly (maybe not that much) gentle and definitely justified. They were protective of her. It got him wonder – was there a connection with her ex? Petr had mentioned him when talking to Vera the first evening, but Vera never shared the context. Matt had never really talked about previous relationships with her for obvious reason on his side, so he couldn't help but let his mind wander.
Her friends were nice too. Matt found himself trying very hard to impress them, possibly in an unforced way. He wasn't sure if she had instructed them how to act around him – or rather how not to – but when it came to her closest three friends and their partners, he was pleasantly surprised not being treated like glass and being asked for help instead of being offered it too often.
There were moments that made him smile, but they were also moments that let him contemplating. Thinking of what he wanted. Neither Matt nor Vera was much for thorough planning, but… being at a wedding, some thoughts were inevitable. Vera was obviously afraid it would scare him out of his mind, trying her best to confront him with it as little as possible, and Matt let her live in blissful ignorance of him being confronted before. The truth was that when he did briefly look into the future… well. Matt was really happy to find out that some of his imaginations matched hers.
IX.
Waking up from a coma felt like opening his eyes to a whole new world in which he could see.
The remains of his dream were not going away, his thoughts from the horrible four days rooting in his head. Saying Matt was eager to get the hell out of the hospital was an understatement, even though Vera came every day for the three days he had to stay under surveillance, always bringing coffee and homemade muffins – two or three, because she knew he was starving, the smell of the hospital food – and hospital itself – making him nauseous.
The first time she had done it – the day after he had woken up – she had brought Devil's food ones and laughed at his expression. His senses had picked up the fading scent of whiskey and coffee on her – she hadn't been drinking it that day, but it had been there. Her body had been tired, exhausted. Matt hadn't need sight to know there had been dark circles under her eyes. And all of that because of him. For him.
Matt wasn't a complete idiot, he knew what he had in her, but seeing how different things could have been… she shined even brighter in the stark contrast to the other Vera he had met. She was his home. Matt hadn't ask her to move in with him yet, desperately wanting to do so though, remembering how he had wished for it in the other world, desiring to have a prove of her existence, prove of her presence in his life. He wanted her there; he wanted her in his apartment. He wanted his apartment to be home.
He was honestly one breath from asking her to move in once he would be discharged, almost had done it multiple times – every moment she had walked through the door, bringing joy and love and another cup of coffee with his name to feel. He had always chickened out, because he wasn't that kind of a daredevil. Cuts would heal, broken bones could be fixed – rejection was a whole new level of pain.
"…and then I spilled the coffee on his overpriced shirt and told him to go screw himself, because I'm a barista, not a prostitute and I don't have to put up with his shit," her voice brought him back to reality and he winced, going over her words, gasping.
"You what?!"
"There you are. Are you okay? I mean… 'okay' by your standards…" she asked carefully, fingers running over his knuckles, only for him to realize he was clutching the sheets. He let go, taking her hand instead.
"Yeah. Sorry. You— what did you say? Why did you do what you said you did?"
"Well I didn't do that, sadly. Even though I kinda wish I did. I just looked at him murderously when he added the butt slap to his horrible flirting as if he didn't have a ring on his finger-"
His hand twitched deliberately, anger shooting to his veins. He wished he had been there at the moment to memorize the man and break his arm later, just like he wanted to do when Scott did it to her in his alternative reality. Who dared to treat her like that? No one would disrespect her like that.
Light touch of her lips on the back of his hand brought him back to present.
"Just one more day, Matt. Claire said they would probably discharge you tomorrow," came her soft voice, sympathetic, but at the same time not pitiful, because she understood, she knew he hated that. "Too hard to tune it all out?"
Yes, there was a woman yelling at her brother for being irresponsible for driving when drunk few floors below them, but that wasn't what was in his mind at the moment, not actively. Something else was. But she was always considerate of him, treating him like glass while not treating him like glass-
"Come here," he invited her, straightening on the awfully uncomfortable bed, glad she took the hint and invaded his space, indescribable warm reach out to him. Shaky breath with a smile when he touched her jaw, meeting her lips, trying his best to ignore the indeed annoying shouting from downstairs. And everything else.
God, he just wanted to go home.
No, he wanted to take her back to his apartment and make it home.
X.
So yes. Cups of coffee were like a red thread running through their relationship. Some of them were good, memories of others stung, but it was undeniable. Matt decided it needed to be considered.
What he was about to do was crazy. It terrified him and he was convinced he would rather face Wilson Fisk or the Hand all over again than doing it; or dealing with possible consequences if it went to shit. On the other hand, it felt like he didn't have a choice. He had lived a dream about his world without her by his side and it was a terrible world.
Instead of passing over her rooftop, he slid into her apartment, just to kiss her forehead without any intention of waking her up. He knew her lips curled in a soft smile as she blindly reached for his cheek.
"Are you 'kay?" she murmured, words slightly blending together as she wasn't fully awake, yet with the worry audible in her voice.
His own lips involuntarily formed a smile at her worries. His mind had been preoccupied lately, trying to come up with a perfect scenario, but at the moment, he would just ask her right here, right now, sleepy mumbling and no doubt gorgeous smile.
"Yes."
"You sure about that?" she questioned.
Matt pressed his lips together to stop himself from chuckling. She was seeing through his bullshit. Every time. It was rare, him trying to deny an injury – because eventually she always found out. It was easier to tell her the truth. He hated lying to her anyway, even if it was to keep her safe or sane.
"Yes."
She hummed and he could hear her lift the covers, clear invitation to join her in the bed. So tempting. Warm and light. "Are you staying?"
Matt should come back out there. He forced the answer out, wishing he could say something else.
"No."
Vera let out a grumpy disappointed sound, the covers falling back to its place. He made himself to turn around – and God, he was slow as the movement was less than just involuntary – ignoring the sound of her tongue running over her lips and her sigh.
"Be careful," she whispered sleepily, yet with urgency, silent plea to be vigilant, not to make any risky decisions, not to get hurt, but to come back to her especially if injured, so she could take care of him.
His heart made the funny flutter like always, realization of what he had in her, while he started walking to the window.
And then his body stopped listening to any rational command of his mind. He just couldn't help himself, turning back, crossing the distance, crouching by the bed, close to where her head rested on the pillow. A pillow that smelled like her and him, like her tears, like their memories.
"Will you marry me?" his mouth whispered without consulting with his brain. Matt was horrified just a second later.
Did you really ask her? Just like that?!
Vera hummed something he was pretty sure was agreement and his heart skipped a beat, his knees getting weak. And then his rational side woke up, examining her – her breathing was even, pulse rather slow. He gulped, not certain he was glad she was asleep.
Scratch that, he was crushed by the wave of disappointment, because she might have notexactly said yes, but he would take the hummed agreement any time. He was fairly sure he would never gather his courage again. So he let the body act without supervision again, tossing his gloves aside, taking his helmet off.
What are you doing?! You don't even have the ring!
Matt didn't have the ring. Not on him anyway, he didn't have a habit of beating up people while carrying a jewellery box with an engagement ring in his pocket. No, he had it hidden in his apartment, safe.
His body graciously ignored the voice of reason, fingers running through her hair carefully, not wanting to pull and cause her pain.
"Hm?" She tilted her head heavily, her lips finding his wrist, lightly pressing over his pulse point. Jesus, he was blessed.
"Will you marry me?"
Her eyelashes created a small tornado as she blinked furiously, her heart jumping, sprinting. She licked her lips again, gulping, closing her eyes.
"I have the weirdest dreams…" she muttered under her breath, covering his hand with hers, tugging it to her lips again. Matt inhaled shakily. Did she think she was dreaming? Now? Or that she had been dreaming before? "You changed your mind and you're staying?"
Before. She definitely thought she had been dreaming before. His throat was tight and he cleared it uselessly as he tried to smile, probably failing epically.
"What did you dream about?"
Her cheeks flushed furiously, her pulse fastening even more. It only confirmed his theory. Jesus Christ. It was a sign that he shouldn't be asking at all, since he hadn't gotten a proper answer twice now, wasn't it? Plus, there was still the fact he didn't have the ring on him and asking her such a serious question in the middle of the night, in his Daredevil suit, that was just wrong; he almost had a plan and it wasn't even a bad plan, he should stick with it.
Vera sat up, leaning onto the wall behind her and his body subconsciously followed the movement, moving closer so he didn't lose the contact with her face.
"You don't want to know," she whispered, more blood rushing in her cheeks, beautifully burning when his fingers traced it.
His stupid body kept ignoring his brain and rational thoughts.
"I do."
Matt only realized his poor choice of words when she almost went to a cardiac arrest and apparently failed to control her vocal cords. He would laugh, but somehow it seemed impossible at the moment.
"Will you marry me?" he asked for the third time that night, his inner Matt throwing his hands in the air incredulously, probably shooting him a murderous look.
Seriously, Murdock?! Tempting fate like this? You just want to be rejected, don't you?
Vera turned into a statue, her breath hitching. Her body went to fight or flight state, ready to face any danger.
That bad?
"Yes," she choked out, sounding quite bewildered and Matt was confident he heard wrong. He just imagined it. Did she say 'yes'? His lips parted, tasting both her and his disbelief in the air, something he had never felt before slowly taking over him. And then he sensed her terror. "Jesus, I'm sorry, what did you just ask me? I'm really half sleeping right now-"
"What do you think I just asked you?" he blurted out, losing firm ground under his feet, because she said yes, she agreed, so why couldn't he have this?!
"I'm— uhm…" she stuttered, obviously embarrassed, and there was a flicker of hope for him behind that tone, hope that it actually had happened, she had agreed aware of the fact he had asked her to marry him.
"…don't— just- uhm. I would swear you asked me to marry you, please, don't freak out-"
"And I would swear you said yes," he breathed back and she made a tiny startled sound in response. That was… good or bad? Was that a yes then? God please, let it be yes, or I'm never gonna ask again.
"I did."
Two words: I did. She said yes.
Vera just agreed to marry him.
Matt chuckled in disbelief, climbing to the bed, brutally drawing her lips to his mouth. She didn't even have time to protest and then she just couldn't, because any sound that could escape her lips was muffled by his own.
She said yes, she said yes, she said yes. And her breath was in his mouth, and it would be his now, in every sense of the word, she would be his.
His mind, the rational part that had been discouraging him from doing something so royally stupid like proposing under these idiotic circumstances, got caught in a loop, his hands tugging her face closer and closer, not wanting a tenth of inch between them.
Apparently, Matt wasn't the only one overwhelmed, letting the feeling he didn't know existed wash over him, because Vera was finally kissing him back and Jesus Christ, she was crying.
He retreated, the treasure still in his palms, allowing her to breathe. His treasure. His quirk of fate. His miracle.
"What's wrong?" he demanded, his mind unlooping itself, coming up with millions possibilities from something causing her pain to her disappointment in his modest and absolutely inappropriate proposal.
Her breath tickled his face as she chuckled. "Absolutely nothing. You— you don't have a concussion or something like that, do you?" Vera asked, suddenly horrified and he cut off her ridiculous idea before it started springing in her head.
"No. I'm very much aware of what I'm doing right now." Mostly.
"So you… you really want to… marry me," Vera stated absolutely awe-struck as if someone just told her that Daredevil was in fact a blind lawyer by day. Matt had to admit that without any supporting evidence in a shape of, well, he didn't know, a ring for example, her doubts were probably justified.
"Yes. Yes, I do. I swear I have a ring, but not here. It's in my nightstand. I promise. It's just— you- I love you. And I wanted to make it unforgettable and perfect- and I know I failed rather colossally now-"
"This is perfect," she whispered with immeasurable amount of emotions in her voice, more salt in the air, more tears rolling down and for the first time, it occurred to him – no matter how crazy it seemed – that they might be happy tears. She was always easy to cry.
"Yeah?" Matt breathed weakly, letting her tears run down from his fingertips to his palm. There was something huge in his chest and it was not allowing him to breathe in properly.
Vera nodded furiously, her hair brushing the back of his hands and she leaned in, kissing his doubts away. Matt was distantly aware of the fact that the armour was possibly the least comfortable thing for her, but he guided her hips anyway, wordlessly asking her to sit in his lap. She didn't seem to mind, obediently climbing on top of him, knees bordering his hips. Her fingers interweaved in his hair and he got ridiculously pleased when he imagined that every single time she would do it from now – almost from now –, he would feel smooth metal on one of her fingers, he would feel her ring, saying the whole world that this amazing human being loved him and wanted to be with him.
She made a tiny pained noise when he squeezed her waist too firmly, tugging her body against his with too much force (but she opened her mouth for him, inviting, so he guessed she wasn't particularly bothered), because he wished they would just merge into one.
One body, one breath, one heartbeat, one soul. She said yes. Matt wanted to shout it from the rooftops, write it to her skin, slip the ring of her finger and make her never put it away, he wanted to let everyone know. His. She was going to be his. She wanted to be his. His, his, his.
Her lips moved to his neck, grumpy sound vibrating against his skin warm and wet when she realized the cowl was in her way.
"One, you're thinking too loud and two, I really don't want to take it personal, but you look like you want to back out and escape-"
"I just want to go get the ring," he growled, half embarrassed, half pissed at himself.
He was in fact torn in half. He really, really wanted to stay, not to move even a little bit away from her, leave marks on every inch of her body, mark her as his, and at the same time, he needed (and it physically ached him almost as much as the rush of blood to his groin, his fingertips tracing every line of her body, not having enough, never enough, she was everything and he wanted, god, he wanted and wanted) to get the freaking ring to mark her in the right way.
But she was on him astride, her body, her hands on him, her lips, eager and desirous. He could feel her skin burning hotter with each second, tasted her arousal on his tongue, dizzying cocktail of hormones luring him, blinding his senses with lust, and Jesus she was so wet and throbbing he could slip into her right now, slick and hot and sweet-
"Ring can wait."
The colour of her voice, dripping with need… she shifted in his lap, supporting the friction and he didn't even know how to name the sound that left his lips, but he was fairly sure it was a whimper, because he wanted to feel her, he wanted to be inside and the armour was a tool of torture, because he knewhow it should feel when she moved like this and this just wasn't enough. All he could do was to rub against the firm suit, usually protecting him, but right now trapping him, and it didn't bring him half of the relief he craved for. He grabbed what he had tighter.
"Mine," resonated in the back of his throat and he could tell exactly what effect that sound had on her body and Christ, she was soaking through the fabric of her underwear now.
He swiftly guided her hands to the opening of the stupidly concrete armour, not wanting to give up the opportunity to touch her just in order to strip it. He couldn't feel her touch in the right way anyway, not over the suit, so this was the best possible use for her fingers; apart from losing her patience with his clothing, taking the initiative and using them for pleasuring herself right here and right now. God, the sounds she would let out, she would burn with need and he would guide her, tell her to go faster, deeper, while all he would wanted would be doing it by himself, but instead he would be unable to move, fascinated, paralyzed- and no, that idea was not helping the unbearable throbbing in his crotch.
He could hear her fingernails running over the zipper, but it was so unimportant, when her voice, liquid sin, whispered to his ear.
"There are other ways to mark me yours."
Matt gasped, wave of her scent crushing him, and he gripped her brutally, with too much avarice, but still too little. God, he knew, he knew and he wanted to, to mark every inch of her. "You can leave so many marks on my body no one will ever doubt to whom I belong."
This was painful. So painful. His hips uselessly rocked against hers, good, good, but not enough.
"Marks on places I'll never let anyone else touch or even see again," Jesus Christ-, "and somewhere everyone will see, every single person in the café, on the street, and they'll all know I'm yours. You want them to know that, don't you?"
"Yes," he managed to choke out and he could feel her smile, wicked, beautiful smile, and her own arousal spiked enormously; she was turned on at the thought too, god, one breath, one heartbeat, one body, one mind.
And she still tortured him, her fingers playing with the fastener on his side, as if she liked him like this. He wanted to throw that thing away by himself, but that would mean stop touching the hot smooth skin on her torso, on her breasts and thighs and he just couldn't, not now.
Such a simple thing like her biting his earlobe made him release another pathetic sound as he could feel the blissful tension growing. Fuck, he was still fully clothed, so was she, but he was so fucking close. And she wriggled on him, the motion barely breaking through the armour, but it was so much, almost too much, yet he wanted more, arching against her motion. Again. And again.
And then her lips were back on his mouth, heat, breath of life, and he took it, sloppily and clumsily, but he needed it, needed to taste her, needed her closer, not enough, not enough…. He wasn't inside her, but she was looking for release too anyway, rubbing herself on him, on the hard parts of the suit, and holy freaking shit if he ever wanted anything so badly, ever saw anything so alluring.
She retreated to take a breath, somehow, despite his hands on her body pressing her close, and her mouth was still on his, light touch, vibrating with words, titillating his sensitive nerve endings.
"You can mark me and let them see," she incited sweetly and he knew that, he knew, not close enough, a little bit more, god, please, "and you can make them hear too. You can make me scream for you so loud everyone will hear. Let them know I'm yours, Matt."
It was stupidly his name that sent him over the edge, the last drop in the ocean, and the tsunami of pleasure flushed over him and he couldn't control it, he couldn't control anything, the tension releasing, endless bliss in every cell of his body, tingling in the base of his spine, heat running to his fingertips, and it was everything.
And Matt knew he was going to hell for this, because something so satisfying and blissful had to be a sin, while it felt like heaven. Yet, he was agonizingly sure he was on Earth, because she was right here with him. She was too unchaste to be an angel and too virtuous to be a demon, so she was expelled here, to his side, and he would never stop thanking God and Devil for rejecting her and giving him so precious gift. And he would take it, he would take her and make her his.
He heard Vera gasping, astonished sounds, when she realized what had happened, what she had done, but there was no judgement or disgust. No, nothing close to these things.
So he obeyed her previous orders. He finally got off the suit and heard out her pleas, marked her everywhere he could, made her scream for him, made her beg loud enough to wake up her neighbours, so they could hear when she came with a cry, with his name on her lips.
Matt didn't know what time he had arrived, but they didn't go to sleep since. They made love again, slowly and fast, and again in the shower. Before she went to work, he vanished, letting her get ready – he headed straight to his apartment (hopefully soon theirs), grabbing the small box. He proposed one more time, properly on one knee (still in the armour though), while she was just leaning against the kitchen counter with a cup of tea in her hands. She was obviously exhausted from their night just like him, but she shined so bright he was sure he would get blinded if he still had his sight. She said yes once more, laughing delightfully, and he wanted to hear her laugh like that every single day. And now he could.
Matt followed her across the rooftops when she went to the café and fought a smile every time she giggled without a real reason; maybe at her thoughts, maybe at her memories – he didn't really care.
"Jeeeez, Vera, did you get any sleep tonight? You have bruises under your eyes, had anyone told you that? Of course not, Matt cannot see those. And are you high? Your eyes are like spotlights and you're grinning like an idiot," her best friend blurted out instead of a greeting.
Matt could hear Vera's heart fastening at that accusation, soft sound of her fingers brushing her hair away in gesture of slight embarrassment and uncertainty.
And then Terri squeaked, high-pitched loud sound that hurt Matt's ears even from the distance, making Vera jump, confusing the hell out of her. But Matt knew what happened – it wasn't just her fingers, it was the thin metal that ran through her hair as well, just like it always would from this day on.
"OH MY GOD! Show me! Show me and tell me everything!" Terri demanded, pacing to her best friend, pulling her into a crushing hug if the choked noise Vera barely let out was anything to go by. "Murdock, you freaking beast. You really are a daredevil, aren't you?"
Matt grinned, leaving the two friends to deal with the news, his heart bursting with pride. Terri was the first to know Vera agreed to be his. He never thought he could be smiling so widely.
After two hours of vain effort to focus on work – screw it, it was Saturday, he could take some time off, he just got engaged – he stopped at the café.
The cup of coffee he got tasted better than ever.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
If you haven't noticed until now, I know shit about religion. If the prayer is totally misplaced, I'm sorry.
Also, I'm not a guy, and with Matt's senses it's like impossible to- uhm. So if it's terrible, just pretend you never read the 'smut' and Matt just proposed and she said yes. And that Terri freaked out over the ring. Obviously.
If you're willing, continue to canon divergence (ha, canon divergence from my story, cool). Just don't forget to take your insulin shot before doing that. Just saying.
Thanks for reading! Feedback appreciated.
AND THERE'S AN EXTRA CHAPTER (CHAPTER 3) COMING. IT FOLLOWS THIS VERSION. It's gonna be fun ;)