A/N: From here on in there are Ant-Man SPOILERS. Third-act and end-credit type things, so if you haven't seen the film, please do. It's excellent. I have changed the tags too. So please be aware, incase you haven't seen Ant-Man yet!

Also, thank-you so much to everyone for reading, as well as the favourites, follows, and comments. There's still plenty to come, so stay tuned :)

Every day for the next week and a half, Matt would call Natasha. It was often late when he would call, not until after he'd stood up on the roof at night, listening for anyone that remotely resembled the sounds of Bucky Barnes. But there had been nothing. Every night, nothing. Matt tried moving across the rooftops, scouting Hell's Kitchen, but still there was nothing. Matt knew he wouldn't miss Barnes, or mistake him for someone else. Barnes was unique. And he was gone.

Every second day Matt had been receiving a parcel in the mail containing another SHIELD file written in braille. He had been sent files on Hydra, Arnim Zola, Peggy Carter, Howard Stark, and the founding of SHIELD out of the SSR. It was the most riveting information Matt had read in years. If it wasn't real, Matt thought, these people and these events would make one hell of a story. He told this to Natasha, and they would discuss in detail times and events long before they were ever though of.

As the days had past, Matt had found himself looking forward to his nightly phone call with Natasha all the more. They would speak business to begin with, before chatting about their day, their week, their lives. Matt told Natasha everything, about Foggy and Karen and Father Lantom and his parents, about the accident, about Fisk, about being the Daredevil. Natasha spoke about Clint Barton and Steve Rogers and Bruce Banner, about the Avengers, about SHIELD, about being the Black Widow.

Wednesday night was pouring with rain, with a storm due to pass through during the night. There was no point trying to look for Barnes tonight, Matt knew. He would only get wet and cold. Matt called Natasha early.

"Everything alright?" she answered.

"Can you come round?" Matt asked, standing by the window, listening to the droplets of rain run down the glass. It was soothing, but Matt would rather not be alone.

"What, now?"

"Can you?"

"Yes," Natasha answered. "Are you making dinner? Pasta and tinned sauce is fine. So long as it's hot."

"I can do better than that," Matt said, "I'll have something ready when you arrive. How long will that be?"

"About an hour," she said. "And you're sure everything's ok?"

"Yeah, fine," Matt said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, "I mean, I just finished reading the Arnim Zola file, and,"

"Enough said," Natasha said, "I'm on my way."

"Thanks, drive safe," Matt said.

"See you soon,"

"Yeah, bye," But she had already hung up. He had hated Zola from the first page of the file, and his hatred of the man had only grown as he had continued reading. How could someone do that? How could he betray them all after they'd given him a second chance? And Zola had been directly involved in torturing Barnes and turning him into the Winter Soldier. Matt was glad Zola was dead, because he would have readily torn the man limb from limb should it have been otherwise.

Matt stood up and walked over to the kitchen, when it occurred to him that he hadn't given Natasha his address, before he remembered that she'd already know. Now he needed to make something to impress her, but not show off. So long as it was better than pasta and tinned sauce. Matt opened the cupboard and felt around for inspiration.

Natasha arrived just under an hour later. Matt heard her calm heart beat approaching, and was ready to open the door when she arrived.

"Doesn't smell all bad," she said, and put down her bag.

"Do you mind if we wait?" Matt asked and closed the door. He could smell rain on Natasha's jacket and in her hair. She was wearing a different perfume. It smelt very floral, like cherry blossom and roses. It was sweet, but refined. Matt liked it.

"Wait for what?" Natasha asked, her voice seductive as she shrugged off her jacket. Natasha put her hand on Matt's hip and began to lift up his top.

"Ok, good," he exhaled, and kissed her. "We should… really…" he had to let go of her to get his shirt off, and take off his glasses before they got broken. They recommenced kissing, and Matt reached down and ran his hands up Natasha's back, lifting up her top. His fingers run lightly over the bullet scar where she had been shot by the Winter Solider.

"What… happened there?" Natasha asked, her hand running over the scar on Matt's shoulder blade.

"Nobu…" Matt breathed between kisses.

"Bedroom that way?" Natasha asked, fiddling with Matt's belt.

"I don't know what way you just implied, but sure," Matt said, unclipping her bra, never wanting to let her go. A trail of clothing marked the path from the front door to Matt's bed.

Matt didn't know how much time had passed afterwards, but the dinner was most likely cold. His stomach rumbled. "Hungry?" he asked Natasha. During it all, he had heard her heart rate change, and resemble something close to normal. Now, however, it was once more perfectly calm. Surprisingly, Matt thought, he felt calm too.

"You seem to know what you're doing for a blind guy," Natasha said.

"Are you talking about dinner or …"

Natasha rolled over and wrapped her arm across Matt's chest and kissed him on the shoulder. "In some other universe, Murdock, we all might be good."

Matt didn't feel like getting philosophical. He was hungry and had just had a very good time. Let matters of good and evil rest. He kissed her hair. "Let's refuel," Matt's sitting up, and pulling Natasha up with him.

She looped her arms around his chest. "That implies another round."

"What? Not up to it?" Matt teased.

"Depends on the food."

Five minutes later, both dressed in sweatpants and hoodies, Matt and Natasha sat at Matt's dining table eating the re-heated Thai beef curry with noodles Matt had made earlier.

"Any good?" Matt asked. Natasha was eating heartily, so Matt knew she was enjoying it.

"Noodles, not rice?"

"Have you ever tried eating rice with your eyes shut?"

"Fair point," Natasha said.

Matt ate another fork full and listened as Natasha's fork scraped her bowl.

"How do you cook so well?" she asked.

"Cooking is highly sensory," Matt said, "Sensory and scientific. So long as the meat is fully defrosted, most meats can be cooked using a timer. Combine that with smells, and the sound of the sauce boiling or the steak sizzling in the pan, and, well, any good cook knows you have to continually taste your foods. Really, it's easy and I quite enjoy it. It's much easier than cleaning. But people tend to trust a blind lawyer more than a blind chef."

"Well, I'd happily eat at Restaurant Matthew Murdock again."

"That is a terrible restaurant name," Matt laughed.

"Well," Natasha said, "I hear they do a good Thai curry. One more question, how do you cut things up?"

"I use a happy chopper, or buy the pre-cut stuff."

"Huh," Natasha said, "Seems logical enough when you think about it."

They finished their meals in companionable silence. "You," Matt chose his words carefully, "Acquiesced very quickly to coming here tonight."

"I'll have to leave early. We got a case abroad. Early flight."

"Where about?" Matt asked, noting that her response didn't really answer his question.

"Classified."

"Seriously?"

"Sorry, Matt. I'll tell you when I get back, if I can."

"Is that all?" Matt asked. He couldn't help but feel Natasha was holding something back.

She sighed and lent back in the chair. "There is an accord which is likely to be agreed to, or signed off on. Whatever the correct legal term is. It will likely happen in the next few days. Steve doesn't like it. It could cause us - issues. Steve and Clint and I - it doesn't affect us as much, but people like Wanda, and Bucky, and," she paused, "And you, Matt. It could be a problem."

"What it is?" Matt asked. This was the real reason why Natasha has come, Matt could hear it in her voice. He hadn't heard anything about any new accords that could affect him. And by him, he felt she meant him as Daredevil, not him as Matt.

Natasha shook her head. "Look, it's possible that the whole thing could still be thrown out or altered or forgotten. Legal matters in this country are complicated and weird. It - it might be a non-issue. I don't really understand it, but it's got Steve real worried and quite worked up, and that doesn't fill me with confidence."

"What, Natasha,"

"I'll call Maria, and,"

"Maria?" Matt asked, cutting Natasha off.

"Maria Hill," Natasha said, "I guess you'd call her our director of operations. She makes things happen. She quite literally runs the place. About a month ago, Hill took two days off, and went down to Orlando for an extended weekend. When she returned, the facility was actually on fire."

"What?" Matt laughed.

"It wasn't a big fire," Natasha said, "Just a bit of one. Hill just swore, and then proceeded to fix the whole mess up. She's the one behind you receiving those reports in braille, Matt. I trust her. I'll call her now, and have her courier you the details on the accord tomorrow. I can't tell you much more because I don't really understand it."

That was true. "Ok," Matt said. "I'll clear up. You call Maria."

"Ok," Natasha said. "Oh, and Matt?"

"Yes?"

"Can I put her number in your phone? For while I'm away. Emergencies."

"Sure," Matt said, "I think it's on my beside table on the charge."

"No," Natasha said, "It's there on the coffee table."

"Oh," Matt said, "I must have left it there earlier." His mind was too preoccupied thinking about the accord to listen to Natasha's brief conversation with Maria Hill. Who would approve something that could put them at risk? At risk of what? And who was behind it? Who was pushing it?

"You ready for that second round?" Natasha asked. Matt hadn't heard her come up behind him, but now she stood with her warm hands up his hoodie.

"Yeah," Matt said and smiled, turning around. Dishes and legal business could wait.