AN This is basically my favorite chapter so far. If you go back to my roots, this is it. This kind of self-indulging, fluffy, pseudo-domestic nonsense is all I am at my core.

Claire had really, really enjoyed the peace between her and Matt. Things had been stressful since she had come back. An ungainly tension had hung in the air anytime they saw each other because they were morally opposed about something huge. But her leap of faith to invite him for paella had been rewarded. She had proven, to herself if no one else, that they could exist together without pain being part of the equation.

It felt like a new door had been opened in her understanding of Matt Murdock, revealing someone quiet and mischievous and kind. She liked that side of him, a lot. Enough to reconsider her staunch policy of platonic aid, if just for a second (or maybe something closer to two).

Whatever had happened at the party clearly wasn't about to be undone, either. After she and Matt had had a totally normal phone conversation, Claire had received a knock on her door later that day. The two hefty guys waiting on the other side initially scared the crap out of her (Russians breaking in and kidnapping her wasn't something she was about to forget), but then they had explained that a Mr. Murdock had sent them to help her with the fridge, and they just needed to know the specifics of when they had to come move it for her. Claire had tried to explain that there might have been some mistake, but they insisted, saying that they owed Mr. Murdock one, since he had helped them avoid prison, and all.

Claire decided to go with it and not look this gift horse too closely in the mouth.

But, of course, the peace couldn't last. Eventually the name 'Mike' showed up on her caller ID, which was a little less surprising than she would have liked. To be fair, though, he had the decency to call in the middle of the morning, and he (allegedly) wasn't bleeding. She had yet to decide if this was better or worse than the usual two a.m. calls.

Matt had apologized multiple times for needing her to go all the way to his apartment, but apparently something was wrong with his leg and he couldn't do more than hobble. Claire had rolled her eyes and quickly said, no, no, she had to head his direction anyway, it was fine. Deflection and denial always seemed to work best when Matt got that needlessly apologetic tone in his voice. Also, she was too tired to deal with any self-deprecating crap today.

Claire knocked on his door, waiting as he called "Just a sec!" She hid her smile behind a hand as she heard Matt's ungainly galumphing to the door. She could do this. She could tend to him without breaking into exhausted giggles.

"Claire, hi. Thanks for coming," Matt said, tossing her a grateful smile.

He looked alright. There were no new bruises on his face, and his split lip seemed mostly healed. And he didn't seem to be nursing anything other than his leg. Claire mentally let out a sigh of relief.

"Yeah, no problem," she said, stepping inside.

"Sorry again for making you come all the way out here," he said, limping back to his seat at the table. "But my leg…I got pegged in the calf last night and it still hurts. I just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong with it."

"I'm assuming that since it's after eight on a week day and you're in sweats, you're not going into work?" she asked, leaning beside him at the table. "Finally letting yourself rest before you die of exhaustion or blood loss?"

"Not quite," he laughed. "I'll go in late. What do you think the diagnosis is?"

"My guess? Getting kicked in the leg."

Matt pursed his lips just enough to make his dimples show (damn, did she love his frustration dimples), then leaned over to ease up his pant leg. Claire crouched down to examine his calf. There was a surly bruise, but nothing seemed permanent.

"Did you apply the arnica to it?"

"Yeah, last night and then this morning."

"Good, that'll help. I think you're safe to walk on it, but at least try to stay off it." She rolled down the leg of his sweats and rocked back on her heels. "Anything else?"

"Nothing new."

"That's a relief." She straightened, then resumed leaning against the table. He looked tired without his glasses. Claire yawned in sympathy at the thought, pressing her hand against her mouth.

"Did I wake you up when I called? You sounded tired when you answered," he noted with a frown.

"Mm? Oh, no, I just got off my shift. I can't wait to get back to my friend's place."

"You're not staying in your apartment?" he asked, tilting his head. "Is this the transition period between places?"

"No. Well, kind of? It's a long story," she sighed. "I've been having a run around with my landlord. Apparently, the new place has a bug problem and they need to fumigate before I moved in. Which was several days ago. Which they're barely getting around to now."

Claire very much appreciated it when Matt completely ignored mentioning the help he'd arranged for her refrigerator, and instead wrinkled his nose.

"That's going to linger for ages."

"Sorry, but pest control is higher on my list than your poor delicate nose."

"So does your friend live down here?" Matt asked, easing himself out of his chair.

"Yeah. I'm staying with her until it's all clear. Her and her noisy, noisy neighbors."

"It is bad?"

"They have a newborn. And a yappy dog."

Matt huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. He more than anyone had an intimate knowledge of obnoxious neighbors. "Here, keep talking, I need to go to my room real quick."

"I mean, normally I'm okay," Claire continued. She sat on the edge of the table as he made his way to the bedroom, his hand brushing ever so slightly against the furniture as he placed himself in the room. "But my sleep schedule's all out of whack because I've been picking up graveyard shifts, and the baby's not helping."

"When do you move in?" Matt asked, voice slightly muffled.

"Not until day after next, at the very least. I think I might give it an extra day so I'm not choking on fumes."

"Sounds fun."

"Abso-ab-absolutely," she said, stammering through another yawn.

"You know," Matt began, reappearing from his bedroom. He had somehow managed to change into his work clothes and was already buttoning up his shirt. "If you'd like to take a nap here, that's fine."

"You'd make your home a nap station until Wednesday?" Claire asked, making her voice disbelieving, even though she knew that yes, yes he would.

"Maybe not until Wednesday, but for today, yeah. I'll be at work, so it'll just be normal New York noises," he told her. He seemed casual as could be, offering her his bed as he did his tie and smoothed down his collar.

"Just sirens, cars, and construction every second of the day," she said, earning a wry smile from Matt.

"Seriously, stay here if you'd like."

Claire watched him, weighing her options. The law abiding citizen in her said no, she should politely decline his offer of silk sheets and down blankets and return home. The exhausted nurse that had just come off a graveyard shift said yes, yes, hell yes, she would take his deliciously comfortable bed and not wake up until he came home that night. And there was the excellent point that he didn't have a colicky baby upstairs.

"And you're sure?" Claire asked, giving him one more chance to say no.

Matt grinned as he slipped on his shoes, knowing he'd already won the battle. "Completely. The bed is yours."

"Okay," she said slowly. "Okay, thanks."

"Not at all. It's the least I can do after all you've done for me."

"Actually, the least you can do is take it easy," Claire corrected, standing up to see him off.

He shrugged into his suit jacket and reached for his cane. Claire reached up to smooth a bit of his hair that was sticking out of place. She moved without thinking, her filter dulled by bone deep tiredness. When common sense caught up her stomach flipped, panicking that maybe she had gone too far, that she had invaded his space in too familiar a way.

"Thanks," he said, flashing her a smile that said she was safe (and that maybe he had heard her heart beat a little faster). He stowed away his keys, phone, and wallet, then said, "You're welcome to anything in the fridge, you know where the spare blankets are, and if you need anything else…I'm a phone call away."

"Alright," she chuckled. "Now go on and save the world."

"One court case at a time," he agreed. Matt's smile was a soft butterfly kiss of a thing that she loved. Claire smiled back, wondering if he could feel the action in the tiny shifts of the air, hear the miniscule sounds of her lips moving up.

She could kiss him goodbye, Claire realized. Just like the last time she had seen him off to work, after the Russians and before their fight, she could bid him farewell with a soft kiss. Only this time it wouldn't taste of copper and suffering. It would be so easy, leaning across less than a foot. He would stay still, he would let her hold him back and run her hands through his hair—

Matt opened the door, cast her another goodbye smile, then left.

What the hell was wrong with her? She was way too tired to be thinking if she let herself be carried off on some stupid, frankly dangerous fantasy, for the second time in two meetings no less. She needed to calm down and go to sleep.

Claire clapped her hands to her face, telling herself to snap out of it. She toed off her shoes and lined them up neatly by the door, then focused on the seductive call of Matt's bed. She half skipped to his room, drew the blinds, then flopped onto the covers.

As Claire shimmied under a spare blanket, she wasn't sure which was better—the smooth touch of Matt's sheets or instantly being enveloped in his scent.

Karen was surprised and concerned when he appeared in the doorway, her voice sounding the alarm for Foggy to appear from his office.

"Oh, Matt, are you alright? Should you be in the office?"

"I'm not dying, Karen," Matt said, wondering what the hell Foggy had told her was wrong with him.

"Yeah, but you're sick, you should take it easy! I mean, case or not, you need to let yourself rest."

Ignoring the eerie repetition of Claire's mantra, Matt set his cane against the wall and shot a look toward Karen's warm lily smell. "It's actually two cases, believe it or not. And…sick?"

"Uh, yeah," Foggy cut in. "I mean, you were puking last night."

Matt was thankful they couldn't see him rolling his eyes behind his glasses. When did he ever get sick?

"Well, I just needed to rest a little bit. I'm fine now."

"Well…okay," Karen mumbled, not the least bit convinced. Matt imagined she was sharing a look with Foggy, but since Matt didn't show evidence of having bled in the last twenty-four hours, Foggy left it alone.

"Alright, Mr. Peak of Health, in that case I'm expecting you to work your ass off on the Himmerman case."

"Always do," Matt said, going into his office.

He spent the rest of the morning trying to ignore the squiggles in his stomach caused by the idea of Claire sleeping in his apartment. It hadn't been this bad the last time it had happened. Last time, they had actually kissed and opened up the path to a beautiful maybe, and yet he hadn't lost his head then. He needed to get work done.

And looking forward to going home to find her scent on his sheets was just wrong.

Matt purposefully worked through his normal lunch hour to make up for lost time, and also not to rush back home and spook Claire. A part of him wanted to voice his conflict with her to Karen or Foggy, but Matt was in no way rested enough to pick a brand new fight. Not only was he uncertain if Karen's crush on him had abated, but he also didn't know how to explain 'Hottie McBurner Phone'/'The Nurse Friend'/Claire to Foggy. And, if he was being honest, he still liked having Claire to himself.

As Matt tried to work, his horrendous sleep schedule caught up with him. He normally could operate on a less than recommended amount of sleep and be just fine, but his leg had kept him up most of the night. By the time he caved and decided to go home, it was after two and the world was swimming around him. Well…more gently rocking back and forth. He tried to force himself to stay awake and power through, but the appeal of both his bed and traces of Claire lingering in his apartment weakened his resolve.

He hurried home and decided to forgo the stairs in favor of the elevator. He leaned against the wall of the elevator car, half fantasizing about the blessed comfort of his bed by the time he reached his floor.

Matt opened his door, and damn him if he didn't inhale a little deeper, searching for Claire's dark, delicious smell. It was strong, stronger than he'd expected, and for a moment Matt let himself just breathe it in. Then he noticed the soft thump-thump of a heartbeat and the whisper kiss of someone's breath stirring the air.

Claire was still in his apartment.

He moved cautiously to his room, surprised to find her still curled up in his bed. He leaned against the doorway, a slight smile on his face. Which promptly turned to a frown as he realized he'd have to sleep on the couch. It was comfortable enough, but leather was kind of a letdown after the promise of silk.

Matt sighed and walked over to the bed. His hands skimmed over the bed as he tried to extricate a pillow and blanket from under Claire (was she really sprawled over his entire bed?) without waking her. After an awkward moment, though, he heaved a sigh and dropped his hands to his sides. He'd have to go without.

Claire woke with a sharp breath, propping herself upright with the shushing shift of silk sheets. Matt froze.

"Matt?" she asked, voice muddled as she tried to process everything around her.

"It's alright, Claire, go back to sleep." Those words tasted so good on his tongue, flavored by the tiny, sweet taste of unearned pride at having been allowed to say them.

"What're you—"

"I was trying to get a blanket. It's fine, I don't need it. Go back to sleep."

Claire groaned and rubbed at her face, a clumsy motion that sounded more like a smack. "Just—just lay down."

"What? No, I didn't mean to disturb you. I'll go to the couch."

"Lay down, Matt. Finally treat yourself nice before I get annoyed." The words were muffled, like she barely had the will to move her lips while she spoke.

Matt deliberated for a moment, then eased down beside her. He felt out how much space he was allowed to have, inch by inch. Claire had rolled onto her side, giving him a generous half of the bed. He lay stiff, then forced himself to relax.

Normally, when Matt wanted to sleep he had to close his senses off one by one. He built a little wall between him and the smells and the tastes and the touches and then finally the sounds of the world. It was just a matter of casting himself out to sea until his brain could go to sleep. But now he didn't think he could turn them off; every sense was tuned to Claire.

Claire. He felt engulfed by her, with her scent on his pillows and her heartbeat in his ears. His tired brain stuttered through a few circuits of thought (Claire is in my bed. Claire is not in my bed in that way. Does it matter as long as she's there? Claire is in my bed.) before he lost the energy. Matt drifted into a sort of trance, soothed by her red fruity presence and the enticing movement of her pulse on her neck, the creases of her elbows, her wrists. If he ever needed help falling asleep, if the inferno around him ever became too much, he could cast aside counting sheep and go straight to keeping time with the thump-thump of her heart.

Claire mumbled something and rolled over. Her hand fell on his chest, a dull thud that jarred him out of his doze. Matt sucked in a breath of surprise, then let it out again. Her hand was still on his chest. He picked it up, carefully, carefully, afraid of waking her.

Her hand was well cared for, the skin smooth with short, even nails. Capable hands, healer's hands. Heavenly hands.

Matt hesitated, turning his attention back to Claire. She was still asleep, her breath and pulse moving slow. He waited a moment, suddenly nervous. Matt swallowed, then pressed her knuckles against his lips. If this was the last kiss he was ever allowed to have with her, stolen or not, allowed or not, decent or not, he would take it.

He lay there in the quiet, feeling nothing, hearing nothing, sensing nothing but the woman lying beside him. He pulled off his glasses and set them on the nightstand, then rolled onto his side to face her. His hand was still over hers, soaking up that tiny point of body heat.

Matt woke up when Claire eased off the bed, mumbling something about needing to get groceries before work started. Even though his heart tightened at the thought of her leaving, he was at least glad he was awake to see her go.

He felt awkward and hopeful as he stood in his living room, waiting for her to walk out the door. There was no kiss on the forehead, no frank notice that she couldn't do this. No blood, no stitches, no pain.

"See you later," she said, gathering her bag. "And thanks for the pit stop."

"Not at all. Happy to return the favor."

Claire laughed and nodded. "Yeah, maybe sometime we'll make a habit of seeing each other for reasons other than fixing each other up."

"I'd like that."

They were quiet for a moment and Matt found himself holding his breath. He wished he had some way to know if she was okay with this, if she was smiling or frowning or pressing back a grimace at his words.

It had felt so perfect lying beside her, feeling nothing but gauzy peace where he normally felt a forest fire. It felt perfect, but in a tantalizing, needy, intangible sort of way. He had known it wouldn't last as he had held her hand and longed for that moment to freeze. And standing there now, waiting for Claire to leave him yet again, Matt realized that he couldn't keep holding his breath for the next little moment. He craved every little thing he could get with Claire, but was that reasonable for him to even want? It had been months and he still had no evidence that they could ever try being something more.

He wanted Claire, he wanted her so bad that it sometimes made his soul ache. Sleeping beside her now only made him realize that more acutely than ever. But he was also beginning to realize that he couldn't slog through life coveting her half-formed affection. The gift of her friendship was probably more than he deserved, all things considered, but demanding more, begging for more on his hands and knees even as he built an escape in case the repercussions were too serious…

Claire deserved better than that. She didn't need to be constantly deciphering his hopeful double entendre every time they met, not when she so plainly said the way things were now would never work. She had made good on her side of the deal and not left him for good. It was time he follow through on his end and finally obey the rules he had sworn to keep. He needed to steel himself and sacrifice his own greed for the sake of their normal, heartbreakingly platonic friendship.

"Yeah, maybe," she said.

If he could have tasted the chocolate kiss of her smile, he knew it would have been bittersweet.

AN I, too, really love Matt's frustration dimples.