"We've got another one," Constantine's partner said as he flipped on the ambulance lights. "He's either motivated or angry. Not that it matters which one it is. The more scum he gets off the street, the better. My kids can finally play outside without me worrying about them getting gunned down, you know?"
Constantine nodded absentmindedly as they prepared the back of their ambulance for whoever they picked up. It was almost a month since they'd last seen Matthew. The only evidence he was still alive and kicking was the steady stream of criminals they were called in to pick up every night. They weren't sure if the lack of a visit was good or bad, but they certainly worried about Matthew collapsing atop of another random roof, at the rate he was going.
"Sorry, what was that, Vic?" Constantine said when they realized their partner was still talking to them.
"I asked what you thought about the devil of Hell's Kitchen," Victor said as he made a sharp turn. "With everything that's happened, there's still a good load of idiots that think he's a criminal, too. That he framed Wilson Fisk."
"All I know is he's keeping us in business," Constantine answered, grabbing an overhead bar as their partner made another violent turn. "You should worry less about devil boy and more about keeping us upright."
Victor laughed. He had a big hearty laugh that echoed in the ambulance when he really got going. Constantine's lips twitched into a smile. "I got this. I've been at it for ten years, rookie."
The nickname was unwarranted, but Victor enjoyed using it to tease Constantine. If he wanted to compare experience, he knew he was well beat due to the simple fact Constantine used to be an actual doctor. The US didn't recognize Mexican medical degrees, though. And while the goal was to eventually return to being a doctor, Constantine found they enjoyed the fast pace of a paramedic's life – even if the sleeping schedule sometimes sucked.
When the pair arrived at the scene, three other ambulances were already there. Victor gave a low whistle. "Daredevil's really going at them, huh?"
Constantine was out the ambulance as soon as it stopped. They jogged towards the bodies and couldn't help a short, sharp exhale. If no one had been taken yet, there were six of them. They didn't understand why it hit differently now to see them, a mixture of awe and stupefaction. After all, they'd seen dozens and dozens of them already. Was it just knowing him, actually knowing him, that caused the sudden sentiments at the scenes?
Emotion was probably a more accurate phrasing, since the only thing Constantine felt was overwhelming gratitude. Daredevil – no, Matthew. Matthew was saving uncountable lives in the process. And they'd given back to him. It was a drop in the ocean compared to all Matthew had done, but they hoped it at least let him know there were people in the city that still stood behind him.
"God bless and god speed to this man," Victor said as he came to their side, crossing themselves as they spoke. His voice startled Constantine, but they quickly recuperated.
"God bless the devil? That's a new one," Constantine said and picked the closest body. "Come on, Vic. We've got work to do. A lot, by the looks of it."
By the time Constantine made it home – surprisingly early given the amount of people they picked up – the last of their energy was used to half-collapse on the couch, their medical bag dropping beside them on the floor. A subtle scent caught their attention and they shifted, spying the new addition to their décor hanging right next to the window.
A bit of a smile crept through and they pushed up from the couch with a soft grunt, untucking their work shirt with a yawn as they shuffled towards it.
The Japanese honeysuckles were a spur of the moment purchase. Constantine's errand had been for home supplies, but suddenly, there they were. Little, white flowers set out like a secret sign, and before they realized it, Constantine scooped up one of the pots. Looking at the flowers now, they thought of Matthew and hoped he was still in one piece after his eventful night as they watered the plant.
Soft knocking on glass snapped Constantine out of their thoughts and they gasped when they saw Matthew at their window. "Jesus," they muttered, quickly unlocking and throwing it open. "Where are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," Matthew assured as he stepped into the apartment. Even Constantine could smell the blood coming from him, though. "Just needed a breather and I figured this was the best spot. The air here is especially sweet." His hand went out and gently ran a finger over a flower. "Pretty."
Constantine skimmed their eyes over him before forcing him to turn around. When they were satisfied he wasn't mortally wounded at least, they sighed in relief and headed to the kitchen. "Coffee? Or would you rather rest? You were busier tonight than usual."
Matthew removed the black mask and he couldn't help a wince at the soreness in his ribs. "You got my men?"
"Your men?" Constantine asked with a chuckle. "Yes, I got your men. You did quite a number on them. An astounding collection of broken bones and concussions," the paramedic said as they prepared a new pot of coffee. "My partner, Vic, was impressed. He's a fan of yours, too."
"All I heard you say was that you're a fan of me," Matthew said with a small grin.
"Don't go getting cocky on me, devil boy," Constantine warned as they turned and rested against a counter, undoing the buttons of their own uniform. They saw the way his nose scrunched up again at the nickname and they grinned in return. "Now strip."
The vigilante let out a laugh, rough but genuine. It made Constantine's grin widen into a smile. . "How am I not supposed to get cocky when you make demands like that?" he joked even as he made to remove his long sleeve shirt.
Constantine frowned at the display of colors on his skin and the trickles of blood. "Yeah, because nothing's sexier than a beat up meat suit," they said and pushed off the counter, closing the distance between the two. "I was expecting worse, though," they admitted, trailing their fingertips over Matthew's torso. "Nothing broken. Nothing too deep. I think some skin glue will do the trick." They urged Matthew to the couch and picked up the medical bag from the floor. "You're not going out again, are you?"
"There's still work," Matthew said. He gave a small grunt as he lowered himself to the couch. "I only wanted a moment, see what's new in your neighborhood."
"Fess up. You needed to get treated," Constantine asked as they sat beside him, the bag in their lap. "I don't know why you think you have to lie. It's my job."
"You're telling the truth," he replied after a pause.
Constantine looked up from the bag and set their curious-filled eyes on Matthew. "How can you tell? And why wouldn't I be?"
"Heartbeat. It kept its pace as you spoke. Cla – My, ah, my old doctor. She wasn't exactly thrilled with my sudden appearances," Matthew said haltingly. A sudden realization came that he was still comparing Constantine to Claire. Except he wasn't exactly sure why. There was nothing similar between them except the fact they were both experts at patching him up. So why would he think Constantine would be upset? "Well, really, she probably wasn't thrilled that I only made my appearances for this."
With a hum, Constantine set to cleaning Matthew up. "Sounds like there was more than a doctor-patient relationship there though," they noted absent-mindedly, frowning a bit at a cut that wouldn't stop bleeding. "Was it mutual?"
Matthew turned his face towards the ceiling to hide the grimace, scolding himself for his careless mouth. Claire had been forever ago. And unlike Claire, Constantine certainly wasn't interested in him. His senses focused on the paramedic working on him. He sensed their admiration, their own focus on the work at hand, and something else. He couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was. The mystery feeling caused a little itch of curiosity. As for himself, he admitted he enjoyed being around Constantine. They brought that sense of normalcy he craved more and more after each run in with them.
But there was, as it had been before and would remain to be, Elektra. He still held onto hope that she had survived, that she would come back. Whatever this was he thought he felt for Constantine, it never would compare to what he had with Elektra. That had been real life, living fully. He wasn't sure, though, if he was grateful or grief-stricken for the end of it, and that confusion made the guilt worse. "She moved on quick, which was for the best. I prefer to be alone."
Constantine directed their attention at his face, studying it in silence for half a minute. There was no mistaken what their intent gaze was for and he kept an impassive expression until Constantine finally returned to tending his cuts. "You know, I can't hear your heartbeat to prove you're lying," they said. "But, I still know you are."
"Why do you say that?" he asked, his brows drawing together.
"Because you're not as good as you think at hiding the disappointment in your voice. In fact, you'd be a shitty voice actor," Constantine said in a teasing tone before they grew serious once more. "And because nobody wants to be alone, Matty."
He didn't reply, gritting his teeth when Constantine pinched one of the wounds closed. "So why are you alone?" he asked after.
"Because it's safer," they replied simply. Matthew tilted his head a tick, listening. Constantine pressed their lips together to hide a grin. "Am I lying?"
Matthew winced, embarrassed at being caught. "Sorry. Habit," he said.
Constantine shook their head and glued the last of his wounds. "No apologies here. Really, if I had your abilities, I'd do the same thing," they said with a laugh. "And at least you'll see I don't really do the lying thing."
"So why is it safer? To be alone," Matthew continued. Constantine noticed his head kept the subtle angle, still listening. It made them smile.
"I don't want to talk about it," Constantine said. Their tone never changed, nor did it show defensiveness. The words simply were and Matthew was thrown for a loop once more.
"You said you don't lie," Matthew pointed out.
With the work finished, Constantine shifted and leaned back onto the couch. "Your lawyer trickery won't work on me," they said, the smile growing into a grin. "Was I lying when I said I don't want to talk about it?" they asked, kicking off their shoes. "I refused to tell you something. I didn't create some fiction to cover up the fact I don't want to talk about it. No lying."
Matthew let out a laugh. "Alright," he added as a concession of defeat. "Your coffee is ready, by the way." Constantine perked up and stood, grabbing two cups before taking hold of the coffee pot. "So you're okay? With me dropping in?"
"Yes," Constantine stated without hesitation as they brought the filled cups and offered one to him. "Any day, any time. It's the least I could do."
He took the cup, though he looked confused. "What do you mean? I haven't done anything for you."
Constantine let out a small laugh. "You really sell yourself short all the time, don't you? You've done way more than I could ever pay back for, Matt. For the people of this city as well."
Matthew hadn't experienced gratitude like this. While the people he saved showed gratitude, there was always the sense of dread radiating just as strongly from those people. To hear this sort of pure gratitude, without any drop of fear, from someone who simply heard of what he did… No, from someone who only ever saw the aftermath? All blood and broken bones and disfigured features?
"You really are a fan," he smiled after a pause, drawing a laugh from them. So, Constantine definitely wasn't interested in more than helping. That was good. It would keep them secret and out of danger's way, a perfect little haven without risk of crumbling because of too many emotions. Someplace safe, stable. He never had much of that, until Foggy and Karen. And even then they weren't always a stable, emotional source. It felt good to widen that circle. "Thank you. Really. It means more to me than you think."
"No need," they said, smiling in return. "Can I convince you to stay? Just for tonight. I'll even feed you again in the morning." When they noticed his hesitation, their foot nudged his leg. "Come on, Matty."
He shifted, clearing his throat as he moved to sit up a bit straighter and to be just out of their reach. Constantine didn't have any other intention aside from helping him, and yet it didn't stop his own heart from wavering in a way that made no sense to him. It also didn't help hearing that nickname from their lips. It pulled at his heartstrings and was as pleasurable as it was painful. And worse, no matter the rational he tried to put forth, it made it harder to say no to them. "Alright. Just tonight," he agreed reluctantly before sipping on his coffee. "Can I ask you something? I promise to take you at your word."
"There's no restrictions here, devil boy. You do what you do as you please," Constantine said, stifling a yawn. "Ask away."
"Anytime, anyplace. Does that include when I don't have to get stitched up?" he asked. The moment the words were out, he wanted to call them back. Somehow his mind and body had simultaneously betrayed him and the question seemed to hang in the air like a toxic cloud. Foggy was right, he thought. I'm the problem. He dragged people into his world and then became upset when they started to care for him.
To Constantine, he sounded both embarrassed and wary. It didn't make sense to them, but one thing they learned very quickly was Matthew's continuous need for reassurance. They sat up a bit and shifted closer, nudging his knee with their foot again. The motion caused his head to move, his face turned towards theirs.
"Whether it's the window or the front door, you're welcome here any time," they stated, firm but gentle. "Especially if you're bringing my favourite coffee." This pulled a laugh from Matthew and it warmed Constantine's heart. They pushed up from the couch fully and padded towards the desk's drawer. "For tonight, how about a game of poker?"
Matthew's eyebrow rose and Constantine let out a laugh of their own. "You do remember I'm blind, right?" he asked as they took a seat back on the couch and pulled the coffee table closer.
"I do," Constantine said and went through the deck before tossing a card at Matthew. "But you don't get any pity from me, Mr. Murdock," they added as they went back looking through the deck.
He flipped the card between his fingers, running a thumb over a corner. "You're pulling out the Jokers? That's no fun."
"Not if you're a mediocre player," Constantine piped up and shuffled the deck properly this time. "And don't think for a second I'm going easy on you."
Matthew chuckled and sat his coffee down, taking the cards Constantine set out for him. "I wouldn't want it any other way."