AN If you thought Matt and Claire were done Dealing With Things in the last chapter, you were wrooooooooooooong.

Matt made himself take a deep breath. His heart had thrilled when Claire said the words 'I'd like to date you'. Everything he had been silently confessing, everything he'd been hinting at and dancing around for months was suddenly okay. But something still felt wrong, like the final, devastating caveat had yet to be delivered. He had wanted this for months, but that wasn't the decent, reasonable part of him. That was entirely the craven, despicable part that ignored reason and boundaries and the all-important rule about lust.

What was he doing? He couldn't let this happen. He was a mess, he hurt everyone he started to care for. Why had he pushed Claire so hard that she was willing to give in? He shouldn't have encouraged her, this was all his fault. Matt had been right when he told her not to love him, when he had pruned back her affection for her own sake. But his pathetic selfishness had gotten the best of him and he gone crawling back for more.

He kept hearing Stick's voice in his head, telling him to cut people off, to remove attachments from his life. And, in a twisted way, Matt finally understood the man's logic. If he kept people back, he might save them from himself.

But Claire wasn't asking to be saved from him. She had seen the ugliness in his soul, had called him out on it and refused to be associated with it until he got it under control. And now she claimed that he had somehow managed the hellfire in his blood, that the danger she saw was not so imminent. Which made no sense. He didn't feel like he was managing anything. He was scrambling like he always did, desperate and daring as he tried to temper his desires with the things he should not have. Only problem was, Matt didn't know which category Claire fell into.

He felt dazed, fumbling for protests that Claire refused to accept. He wanted this, he wanted this so bad he could barely breathe. But he also could not let himself hurt her. Not again.

"I don't want to mess this up," he repeated, a terrified confession that she accepted with flawless grace.

"I know," she told him. "But I can't promise I won't, either. We have no way of knowing for sure. We just have to try, and, Matt, I'm asking you to try with me."

He sucked in a breath. This was probably a mistake. Somehow, he had tricked her, made it seem like he was a capable human being. Eventually, it would all come tumbling down.

And what if it didn't?

Claire reached down and let her knuckles brush his cheek. He moved on reflex, body craving her touch before his mind could pull it back. He kissed her palm, indulging himself with her. The smell of her dark, fruity lotion was heavy in his nose, the vague taste of salt teasing his tongue, the steady, lulling rhythm of her pulse against his skin.

He had always considered Claire's advice to be his golden standard, the thing that would garner the best results if he actually listened to it. She would never let them wander into something that left them battered and bleeding. It was one thing to doubt himself, but Claire... She hadn't led him astray yet.

Matt didn't understand why this was allowed. He hadn't earned something so precious, but if it was being offered after everything...

It was hard to breathe, much less think, when she traced the edge of his cheekbone with her thumb. He loved her so much. Certainly enough to let her go when she needed. Maybe enough to trust her when she said yes.

Claire pulled her hand from his face and set her elbows on the table. "Here, hold on. We should clarify something before we go any further."

"Like what?" he whispered. His voice caught in his throat, making the words sound low and ragged.

"I want this—need this to be as clear as possible," she said, pulse skittering a little faster as she spoke. "I think we could be really happy together, but I also think we could both royally screw this up if we don't deal with stuff and establish some rules. So…where do we start? As a relationship, where do we begin?"

"I think a date is a good place," he joked.

He felt off balance after this confirmation or approval or blessing or whatever it was that had just happened. He needed time to reorient himself, find level ground and steady himself. Claire snorted and shook her head. He had a feeling she was buying him time.

"Yeah, sure, but I'm talking…what kind of date, Matt? Where are we right now? Are we in the uncertain beginning phase, are we boyfriend and girlfriend, do we introduce each other to our friends? What are we?"

Matt let out a slow breath. There were so many possibilities, most of which he hadn't even realized existed. He had never imagined their relationship to move beyond the physical confines of their respective apartments, had barely imagined their relationship moving beyond anything (which was a lie. Sort of. Kind of. Not really, if he stomped on any questionable thoughts before they really got their feet under them). But going out together, being a real, tangible, breakable thing in the eyes of other people, that was terrifying (and absolutely thrilling).

And...for the first time since their argument about the Russians, Claire was trusting his faulty judgment and allowing him to decide. He couldn't ruin this.

"I don't know if where we are right now has a label," he told her. It was amazing how calm he sounded, how reasonable. "I don't want to change anything just because it might look weird to someone else. But I also don't want to stay what we have been. I just want—"

Her. He wanted Claire. And now he had her, so what did that leave?

"I want to date you like a normal person," he confessed. "I want us to be us without all of the blood and bandages."

Claire smiled, a big smile that took over her whole body, changing her heartbeat and making her breath slide out in one happy go. "That sounds really great."

Matt smiled back at her, flooded with relief that he had said the right thing.

"But where does that leave us?" Claire insisted. "Do we just jump in, or…what?"

"I don't really want to wait."

Claire laughed again, each one sounding a little more relieved than the last. The tension that had walked in with her was dissolving bit by bit, easing out of her shoulders with every word.

"So, uhm, what else?" he asked.

Claire considered, leg bouncing as she thought. After a moment, she said, "I want to know more about you. Right now, I know more about your wounds than your life."

"What do you want to know?"

"I don't know, Matt!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up and laughing. He raised his eyebrows, a smile slipping onto his face. It was like the reality of the situation was finally sinking into them, the warranted excitement just now registering inside them.

A fresh start. They were granting themselves a fresh start, a chance to be together without the uncertainty and suffering of before. It didn't feel real. Matt didn't get fresh starts, he just kept moving forward until there was enough distance between him and his last mistake to make people forget.

Claire kept talking, her words starting slow and then rushing as she went. "I'm not completely clueless about you, but there's a lot I don't have figured out. And it's not just something a game of twenty questions can fix, it's something that's going to take time. But I want to know something. Something real that doesn't involve masks and court cases. But don't rush into anything if you're not comfortable! I want you to feel safe giving me answers."

Matt's breath caught. I want you to feel safe giving me answers. He had never thought of it that way. Matt had kept the details of his life secret to keep Claire safe, his own well-being had never factored into it. But he could feel there was at least some truth to her words, if his constricting insides were any indicator.

"Are you nervous?" she asked.

Matt took a few moments to answer before giving a nod. He would have gone with 'panicked as hell', but he guessed 'nervous' worked as well.

"Me too," Claire whispered. "And excited. But only a little."

Matt smiled at her, hope once again fluttering around his stomach. But he didn't allow himself to trade pragmatism for hope. If Stick could see him now, trying to fumble his way through a personal relationship like it was a legal document…Matt could hear his dry, blunt criticism.

Shit, kid, can't even fail being alone right. Maybe I was wrong, maybe you're too wishy washy to be of any use. Pick a side and stay with it.

"Okay, wait," he said, trying to smother his panic. He raised his hands like he could catch whatever she was going to say and hold it until he was ready. "This…is not something we can sort out with one conversation."

"Yeah, absolutely. This is...more like a baseline for us, y'know? I want to know the basics about Matt Murdock, but the big stuff…yeah, normally that comes over a long period of time."

"So...let's make ground rules."

"Okay," Claire said, sitting a little straighter. "Let's say two rules each for the moment, and we'll work from there. So hit me. What's your first rule?"

Matt clenched his teeth and dragged in a breath. He had really been hoping she would take the lead on this. He was perhaps the last person to start defining ideal relationships.

What rules could he make, though? Claire was capable and willing to give him seemingly whatever he needed, maybe even what he wanted. What rules did he have to implement?

(He heard the staccato 'don't leave me don't leave me don't leave me' in his head, but he ignored that.)

"Uhm…no fast food."

"What?" Claire laughed. She leaned back in her chair, making it creak. "You get first pick and you say 'no fast food'?"

"It's a pet peeve," he said, breaking into a deprecating smile but committing himself to his choice. He hoped Claire was too taken with the quirkiness of the request to wonder why he had dodged something more substantial. "It just…clings to everything. The smell lingers, the grease settles into clothes, and I can practically taste it hours after I've been around it."

"So what counts as fast food?"

"McDonalds, KFC, stuff like that."

"Okay, so not hole in the wall, mom 'n pop shop, right? Food trucks are good?"

"They're good," he agreed.

"Alright, I can do that. Hm, now let's see…" She hummed as she thought, which Matt found a little suspicious. There was no way she had walked in there without a list of his flaws that spanned the block.

"Tell me…when something's wrong."

"What?" He furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head. That couldn't have been it. It was too easy.

"It doesn't matter what it is. I want you to tell me when something bothers you, when something's not right, when you're hurt. I can't do the 'better if you don't know' crap. I am literally not made for it."

"I think we passed that a few Russians ago."

"Yeah," she scoffed, but it sounded emptier than normal. So that was still a tender spot, despite her brave face. He felt a sting of guilt, both for having caused the trauma in the first place and for having reminded her of it. "But not just Daredevil stuff. Even if you can't right at that second, I want you to tell me if something's bothering you personally. You've gotta let me in with stuff like that."

Matt swallowed, then nodded. That was not nearly as easy as he was hoping it would be. But he would do it as best he could. She deserved that.

"Tell me…" He broke off and took a deep breath, one that stretched his lungs and throat and ribs before he let it out. It was too needy to be said out loud. But Claire had asked him to be honest with her, so surely he would get a pass for that? It wasn't greedy or selfish or perverse, and she said she was willing to give.

That didn't stop the derisive laughter in his head as he heard Stick mocking him, calling him a baby, embarrassing, pathetic. Even Elektra's cool remarks rang out, little jibes at how he needed too much for his own good. Hell, when did he not take too much from the people around him? Matt knew he grabbed up far more than his fair share, but the thought of not doing that, of letting himself ruin everything before he was even remotely satisfied…

"What is it, Matt?" Claire asked. Her voice was level and open, prompting him out of genuine curiosity. He clenched his toes, knowing that if he grit his teeth or balled his hands into fists Claire would notice.

If he asked for too much, Claire would tell him. She would continue to be his voice of reason, correcting him from the wrong path. She would work with him. He prayed she would work with him.

"Tell me if this…is too much," he said. He held his breath, then reached out to hold her hand.

The apartment was deafening in her few seconds of silence. Claire didn't move, either to take his hand or pull away. She just sat there, slowly processing what he was asking for. Her heartbeat was steady, breathing was the same, posture unchanged so things should have been fine, her body would have said otherwi—

"This…" She licked her lips, buying time. "Is this a tactile thing?"

He blinked at her. His brain spun as it tried to squeeze some meaning out of her question Tactile? Wasn't everything involving touch tactile? But she wouldn't waste such a careful question on something so obvious, so why…?

"Like…is this a seeing with your hands thing?" she continued, and now Matt heard the edge of strain that came with her trying to walk a safe line. "Is it to ground yourself, is it…I don't know. What are you asking for?"

He stayed still, fighting to find a response and not squeeze her hand even tighter.

"I just want…to touch you," he confessed. The words felt wrong in his mouth, clunky and bordering on perverse as he fought for an explanation. "But I don't want to be overbearing or—or anything. Just tell me if it's okay to do this when we're together, or if I ever cross a line and things become too much."

Claire was quiet again. His pulse climbed as she thought, worry and fear struggling with the relief and hope she had just fanned into his chest. What conclusions was she drawing about him? What answers were produced to her own questions?

"Okay," she said. "I'll tell you if it's too much."

Matt was frozen for a moment, confused and a little disappointed. He had expected more, condemnation, maybe, or possibly affirmation that it was okay. But she laced her fingers through his, promising to return to the subject another day.

"And for my last rule, we have to stay in contact," Claire told him.

"Contact? What do you mean?"

"No more of this phone tag, only-show-up-when-life-is-in-danger crap. That sucks. I want consistent info from you," she said. Claire pounded the table lightly with their joined hands for emphasis.

"Does it matter how? Phone calls, face-to-face conversations…?"

Going out for dinner, laying together on the couch…?

"I dunno, whatever works in the moment. But you keep me informed. Tell me about insurance fraud or whatever as well as the drug rings."

"And you'll tell me about things like getting a new apartment?"

Matt heard Claire open her mouth in surprise. He waited, determined to get an answer. If she could ask for information, then he could, too. That was within their boundaries, however ambiguous.

Claire let out a tiny breath, something caught between a sigh and an 'oh'. And then she spoke, her smile honey and sunshine on his ears.

"Yeah. I'll tell you about things like getting a new apartment."

He smiled back at her, heart suddenly going too fast. He felt like he had passed a test, or maybe she had. Either way, giddiness was crashing over him. This was happening. This was real between them. This was them.

Claire ran a thumb over his knuckles, sighing again. "I need to get home. I just wanted to come over and talk before I lost my nerve. There's still some unpacking I need to do, clear the last of the boxes before I have to go in to work tomorrow."

She pushed back her chair and stood. Matt turned his face up to her, somehow helpless and yearning even after she had just promised him more than he could have even dreamed of. He knew better, but Matt still felt the pang of worry that maybe this was an illusion, that it would all slip through his fingers the moment she walked out of the door.

"Do you need any help? With heavy lifting or anything?" Matt asked, easing out of his chair.

"Nah, right now it's just my personal knickknacks and junk that needs a home. Thank you, though."

They stood together for a moment, both unsure what to do. He wanted her to stay, oh, how he wanted her to stay. But this was part of loving her openly, whatever that meant. Matt still had to let her go. They were together, but she wasn't his to keep stored away from the world.

Claire leaned toward him and kissed the corner of his mouth. He was slow to respond, surprise dulling his reflexes. Matt managed to catch the edge of her mouth, the briefest feather touch full of Claire smell and Claire touch and even a little Claire taste. It was a miracle he didn't grab her waist just to keep her there, a breath away, not moving or needing or giving anything.

"I'll see you later," she whispered, and God forgive him, but he reveled in the secret of the words.

"Yeah," he said, hand tracing the underside of her forearm. "I'll see you later."

He felt Claire's smile once again split the air, the murmur of a half born laugh on her lips. He could still feel it linger after she had left.

AN I wanted to make Claire's struggle with this to be very clear, but I want Matt's to be, as well. He is so confused and conflicted about everything, and I wanted to show that it goes so much farther than just him and Claire.