AN look more date night

They continued with their dinner. The conversation seemed different somehow; still relaxed, but more candid than before. Matt told Claire about the midnight runs he used to make to Chinatown as a kid, searching for dinner because he knew his father wouldn't have eaten anything after a match. Claire told him about her own childhood, how she had lived two lives of her own: the English speaking one at school and the Spanish-speaking one at home.

This was what she wanted, what they both needed. Things were still good, they were both still happy, but now it was with an added dose of honesty. Each little detail filled in the empty parts of Matt in her head.

Claire laughed over her dumplings, relaxing farther and farther into her chair. She had started tracing her foot along his calf as a joke a little while back, but the action had turned into something lazy and comforting. Some of Matt's walls had come down as well. It was slight, but she could see tiny differences in the way he talked. He wasn't weighing every word, trying to find the perfect, clever thing to say.

"I'm going to have to put this place in my lunch rotation," Claire said as they left. "It's beyond delicious."

"I told you!" Matt laughed. Their sides bumped against each other as they walked, arm in arm like it was the most normal thing in the world. "And you had doubts."

"I never said that."

"I could feel it rolling off you."

"Yeah, well, the curb appeal could use some work," she sniffed.

They walked for a moment before Matt cleared his throat. "Do you want to go home? I can call you a cab."

"Can you call a cab?" Claire asked, giving him a curious look. She couldn't see Matt's eyes behind his glasses, but she was fairly sure he was rolling them.

"Yes, I can call a cab. It doesn't take sight to raise your arm and look desperate."

Claire laughed and bumped his side. "Okay, fair enough. Uhm, I'm not really ready to go home, because then I'll see all the stuff I still haven't unpacked properly and I'll just want to go straight to bed. This is my first free weekend in who knows how long. I wanna make tonight last."

"Alright. Then we could keep walking, or…"

"How far away is your place?" Claire asked. It was getting a little cold and the idea of having to stay on her feet on her night off genuinely made her want to cry.

Matt looked surprised as he answered. "About twenty minutes by cab."

"Do you mind if we go back to your place?"

"No, not at all." Matt tried to hide his smile, but Claire knew he was more than a little delighted to still be out with her.

"Besides," Claire said, "you're gonna finish telling me about how Foggy loves Broadway."

"It's a less than secret passion of his," Matt told her. "Seeing his first show was probably equally important as passing the bar."

Claire was glad when they reached Matt's apartment, if only because it was warm. She puffed into her hands as he unlocked the door, wondering why the hell their cab hadn't had proper heating and why New York felt the need to start getting chilly in the middle of September.

"Do you want something to drink?" Matt asked. He slipped off his coat and put it away with an ease that made her smile. "There's beer, milk, water…"

"Only getting more exciting you go," she laughed, shrugging out of her coat.

"If you want something warm there's coffee or red tea."

"Red tea?"

"Yeah, just got it yesterday. Rooibos, I think. It's got vanilla beans in it."

"Oh, sign me right up," Claire said.

Matt walked into the kitchen, flipping on his electric kettle. Claire sat on the edge of the table, watching him work. She found his hands mesmerizing, moving gracefully around the familiar space. He moved like he wasn't thinking about it, not straining every last detail from his surroundings to make up for his lack of sight. He looked comfortable, for once giving himself the luxury of making mistakes.

"Matt?"

"Yeah?"

"What made you want to become a lawyer?"

He gave a surprised laugh, pulling a spoon from a drawer. "I was a nerdy kid that liked reading. I liked philosophy, things like social contract theory, how people naturally come together and select a ruler to make a better society. Nothing crazy like Socrates' Utopia," he said, wrinkling his nose, "but something that was attainable. Something people can make for themselves. Then I found Thurgood Marshall, how he wanted to help society improve itself, help people become better."

"So you became a lawyer? Why not get into social work or join a charity group? Why the law?"

"If a society doesn't have rules, it's anarchy." Matt's expression changed, going from slightly self-amused to serious. It was different from I'm-sorry-I-endangered-you serious, and it was in a whole other field from I'm-the-devil-of-Hell's-Kitchen serious. But it had every bit of the intensity, filled with a passion that was completely Matt. "Lawyers aren't just to get out of trouble, you know? As a defense attorney, I can help people defend themselves, help them tell their side. Society has the opportunity to improve itself once the truth is heard."

Claire watched him for a long moment. She didn't actually know if he was a good lawyer (probably not half bad, if only from sheer determination), but she couldn't help but think that was awfully optimistic coming from a person that experienced just how hard it was to bring the truth to light.

Then again, she guessed that was where the Daredevil part of his life came in. The truth would be heard somehow, even if it rang only in his sensitive ears.

"So why'd you become a nurse?" Matt asked. "And how hot do you like your water?"

"Not too hot. And I wish my path had been half so clear cut," she sighed. "I was in college when I decided I wanted to help people. And even though it would be over broken bones and bad cases of food poisoning or something, I wanted to interact with them, offer a little comfort. You never know when a sympathetic face helps."

Matt smiled at her like she couldn't have said anything to delight him more. He poured the water over tea leaves, then added milk and sugar at her instruction. He walked over to her and handed off the tea. Claire breathed deep, the smell of it warm and sweet like a hug.

"However you got there, I'm glad for it."

"Yeah, probably just because I hauled your ass from a dumpster," she mumbled into her cup.

Matt laughed and shook his head. He lingered in front of her, their faces almost level. He reached out to her knees, his fingers just barely brushing the tops of her thighs.

"I really enjoyed tonight, Claire."

She smiled at him, the warmth in her chest from more than just the tea. "Me too. We actually managed to make it through a whole evening together without someone getting hurt."

"Well, the night's not over yet, so I wouldn't get too comfortable."

"You snark me much more and you're going to pull out those stitches."

Matt's expression folded into something defensive as his hand fluttered to the stitches she had given him a couple of days before (and honestly, Claire was fine doling out a few sutures so long as it wasn't returning his stomach, chest, and back to one piece). She scoffed a laugh into her tea, then set it down.

Matt sighed and took off his glasses. He set them beside Claire, then massaged the bridge of his nose.

"Long day?" Claire asked.

"What? Oh, no. It was actually a pretty good one." He smiled at her, this one big and honest and sweet. Claire tilted at her head. She'd known Matt for a while now, and yet she still had no idea how he could he could have so many different looks. The same person shouldn't be allowed to be handsome, frighteningly powerful, disarmingly cute, and everything in between.

Claire slid off the table to her feet, which she quickly realized was a huge mistake. She as right up against Matt now, her front practically brushing his. She squeezed her eyes shut, wondering which was louder in his ears; her tiny gasp or the thrumming of her heart.

"Claire?"

"Yeah?" She glanced up just long enough to meet his unfocused eyes, then returned to staring at their feet. Hers were practically between his.

"Thank you for listening tonight."

"Not at all. I enjoyed hearing about baby Matt, before he grew the horns."

"No, really, I—" He swallowed, ghosting through the words before he said them. Matt found her hands, just brave enough to hold her fingers. "Thank you for listening and not—not jumping to horrible conclusions."

Claire's breath stuttered in her throat. She closed her eyes and tried to marshal herself enough to speak. Matt raised one of his hands to her cheek, not touching her but close enough that she could feel its heat.

"Of—course. I'm never going to judge you because you're being honest." He was touching her now, his fingertips brushing the edge of her jaw and making it even harder to speak. "To be fair, I wasn't doing so hot in that conversation. Everything I said in there was—was a huge…mess…" She petered out, the words lost as he brushed a knuckle against her lip. His face was closer than before, eyes half lidded as he leaned fractionally nearer.

He kissed her, slow and careful. It wasn't like the handful of kisses they'd shared since their big talk, nor even like their first kiss. It wasn't fast, it wasn't flavored with blood, it wasn't afraid of losing everything even as it attempted to take a little more. Claire wasn't sure what it was. She just knew it felt wonderful.

Matt leaned down to her, one hand cradling her face while the other was anchored to her hip. Each kiss was deliberate, like he was taking his time to place them just so on her mouth. She braced herself against his arms, but then her hands were slipping to his back and spreading across the expanse of his shoulders. She could feel the muscles move under her palms as he held her a little nearer, lessening the minuscule space between them.

Matt opened his mouth, his tongue tracing her bottom lip. She kissed him harder, promising to stay within reach, to keep holding him, to take his lip between her teeth.

There was no way this was legal. Kissing Matt like she had all the time in the world must have been too sinful to be allowed.

Matt picked her up and pushed her back onto the table, his touch scorching her skin. He leaned into her, hands planted on either side like he was keeping her in place to kiss her harder. Claire moved from his burning kisses to the corner of his mouth, the side of his face, his jaw, his ear. He let out a heavy breath as she laid open mouthed kisses on his neck, pressing into her touch, silently demanding (begging) for more.

Claire hooked her legs around his waist as he grabbed hold of her hips. Her shirt had been pushed up around her ribs, though she didn't known if it had ridden up naturally or if Matt had pushed it up. He eased her down onto the table as he kissed her mouth again, sweeping aside the cluster of jam jars in the middle of the table. Her tongue was in his mouth and she was undoing his tie, eager to take off his shirt completely. His hands slid under her shirt, pushing it higher and higher with bone melting leisure.

Claire pulled her mouth away from Matt's. She clenched her teeth, trying to tame the desire to tear his shirt off and adore every inch of his skin. Doing that was a bad idea. Taking off clothes on the first makeout was a very bad idea.

"Claire?" Matt asked, instantly on alert. He pulled her upright, hands sliding back down to her hips like he was suddenly self-conscious of the touch.

"I-it's nothing," she said, resting her forehead against his chin. "I just—that was a little fast."

Matt backed up a little more, and Claire reluctantly unhooked her legs from around his waist. His expression was confused at the moment, but she knew it was only a beat away from self-reproach.

"Sorry, I hadn't meant to push—" Matt began, but Claire waved her hands between them as though she could break up his words.

"No, no, we're not playing the blame game here. Everything was great but then my legs were around your waist and…yeah. Here, uhm, can I…?"

"Oh, of course," he said. He took a quick step back, giving her space to slide off the table. He looked self-conscious, his body language closing down like he was certain he had done something wrong.

"Let's sit. This is probably something we should talk about," she sighed. He sat down across from her, expression still a little confused. Claire put her hands on her knees, deciding to cut straight to it. Blunt was good, blunt worked with Matt when she had time to properly explain. "Okay, so hear me when I saw this. This is not your fault. You were great, actually. I'd definitely do this again."

Matt let himself laugh, but the smile fell a little too fast. Claire suppressed another sigh. That was a fight for another day. Helping him fix that was a fight for another day.

"I just—I felt myself getting a little carried away," Claire continued. "And I know from experience that things get messy when a couple goes too fast. Specifically with me."

Matt frowned, expression surprised. He tilted his head, eyes wandering as he pieced together his thoughts. "So…is that why you've been saying we need to go slow?"

"Kind of. I mean, like you said, we deserve simple. We skipped our first date and cut straight to taking down the mob together. Then it was radio silence and we only spoke once in four months, and I just…I want to have time to sound all this out. Which is different from what I was saying earlier about not tiptoeing, but that's different. I mean, I was talking about a different kind of thing. Ooooooh my gosh, I'm just sounding like a huge hypocrite tonight," she groaned, putting her head in her hands.

Matt reached out and pulled her hands from her face. When she looked at him, he was wearing a slight smile. Claire bit her cheek to keep from leaning forward and tasting it.

Get yourself under control, Claire.

"You don't sound like a hypocrite," Matt told her.

"I just...feel like I'm all over the place. I'm sorry." Claire closed her eyes and tried to form a proper thought. "Okay. I want to go forward like a normal couple, one step at a time. But I don't want us to be so afraid of going forward that we just stand still for forever. This should be a progression of some sort, right? Once we're both comfortable, we move on to something else to tackle. Does that make any sense at all?"

"I think it does," Matt told her, still wearing that kind smile.

"I don't want to mess this up," she said, painfully aware that this was exactly what Matt had told her just a little while ago. "I don't want to make assumptions about us—or not make them—and then just ruin everything. That's sort of why I said we needed to keep open lines of communication, so things like this don't spiral into something horrible."

"I think that's fair." Matt was quiet a moment, eyebrows furrowed like he was still sorting through the last few minutes. Then his expression lightened, eyes jumping up to somewhere around her ear. "But…I have to ask. How have things gotten messy when you go too fast?"

Claire made a sound that was torn between a sigh and a laugh. "Nineteen-year-old me moved in with my boyfriend because we were in love. I realized maybe I had jumped the gun when we got into a fight about the couch and I threw a mug at him."

"You threw a mug at him?" Matt's hand twitched like he wanted to make sure her cup of tea was well out of reach. Claire rolled her eyes but didn't bother to bite back her smile.

"Yes. Not one of my shining moments, I know. Thankfully, I pulled things together real quick, and now my mug throwing days are behind me."

"Alright. So…what's too fast for us? Were we in danger of that just now?"

Claire raised an eyebrow. She was still in danger of climbing onto his lap and kissing him until they couldn't think straight. "Uh, yeah, yeah we were. At least, I was. Were you not?"

Matt's sheepish smile said all she needed to know.

"Yeah, I thought so. For right now I think—I think it's probably a good idea to just put a pin in sex for the foreseeable future," Claire continued, trundling on before she became self-conscious. "Unless you're one of the really good Catholics that waits until marriage."

Matt's eyebrows raised ever so slightly at her bluntness, but then he gave a truly devilish smirk. "Claire, that's what confessional is for."

"That's it, I'm stepping back before a lightning bolt smites you right now," Claire said, scooting back her chair. "Don't get ashes in my tea."

"I'm kidding," he said. He gestured for her to come back, laughing when she batted his hands away.

"Are you okay with that, though?" Claire asked, sobering. "I'm only saying this because I want to get all of our other stuff hammered out before we potentially complicate things by bringing the physical side into things."

"I think it's a good place to start," he said slowly. "Like you said, things get a little messy when you rush."

"Okay." Claire folded her hands into her lap. Matt was watching her, or at least, his version of watching her. His eyes were fixed somewhere near her face, and they had an intensity that said he was studying her pulse and a thousand other things. Or at least, she guessed that was true. She'd never actually asked him about that.

He gave her a tiny smile, then leaned back. "Do you want to finish your tea?"

"What? Oh, yeah."

Matt handed her the mug and got to his feet. "You're a good woman, Claire," he murmured.

Claire looked up to crack a joke, but stayed quiet when he kissed her forehead. Matt walked away, his hand lingering on her shoulder.

She stared ahead, suddenly fighting tears. That one, tiny gesture had contained a warmth that she had never felt with Matt, an honesty that had been fundamental and previously unseen. Thank you, it said, thank you for caring so much about me.

She wrapped her hands around the mug and smiled into her tea.

AN I'm aware I may have just poked some holes in people's dreams, but I'm okay with that. There is too, too, toooooooo much going on with Matt and Claire for them to skip this fundamental relationship building. Also, let's be honest, smut is fine but I will literally journey to the ends of the earth to find all the cuddle!fic I can find.