Soft music filled the room as Constantine lay stretched out on the couch, a book in hand while a cup of cocoa sat at the coffee table. The open window allowed the sounds of the city to trickle in and Constantine glanced over to it, hoping Matthew was alright. If the men they'd driven to the hospital throughout the week were any indication, he was either better than ever or lying bleeding somewhere.
Their gaze returned to the book, though their mind was still on the vigilante. His unexpected day visit rattled around their head. Maybe it was Constantine's schedule, or Matthew's, but another month passed without seeing him after they'd fallen asleep on him. He might be mad at me. He was speaking about his father, after all, and I ended up drooling on his suit, Constantine thought as they sat up, placing the book aside to grab their cocoa. Even then, Matthew had let them sleep on him. They might not have woken up at all if they hadn't been haunted by that familiar nightmare.
And Matthew had wanted to ask, Constantine knew. Their heart rate was wild, their breathing shallow when they awoke. "Bad dream," he had said. That was all. And Constantine had replied with a yes and left it at that. There were some things they just weren't ready to elaborate on, and this was one of them. At least Matthew didn't push it.
"Now that is my type of music," a voice said from the open window and Constantine immediately turned towards it, a sense of relief spreading across their chest. "Ella Fitzgerald is a true gem."
"Isn't she?" Constantine asked as they stood, quickly closing the distance between them and Matthew, who was already removing the mask from his face. "How bad?"
The vigilante laughed quietly even as he shook his head. "I'm fine," he said and when he felt Constantine's skeptic look, he lifted his shirt to show bruises and superficial wounds. "See? Fine." It was becoming a routine, twirling for Constantine to allow them to properly inspect him. When they were satisfied that he wasn't mortally wounded, then he was allowed to walk further into their apartment.
"Here. Cocoa," they said, pushing a cup into his hands before padding towards the kitchen. "It's cold tonight. Don't you have something warmer to wear?"
"It'll impede my movement. Besides, it's not that cold," he said as he followed Constantine to the kitchen. "Day off?" He sensed Constantine nod as they set to make more cocoa. "Any plans?"
"Hiking!" they replied, their excitement palpable. "I actually requested some time off to go to the Adirondack Mountains," they continued as they rested elbows on the counter. "Just enough for a long weekend. It'll be nice to do some stargazing. It used to be a little ritual for us in Mexico. Go off on the weekends and just look at the night sky. With school and work now, I do it once a year, at least."
Us. Matthew focused on the single word. Constantine could've meant their family with that single word, but something told Matthew that wasn't the case. There had been someone important to them, back in Mexico. Probably someone they lost, seeing how they mentioned before it was safer to be alone.
"Are you going by yourself?" he asked, avoiding the question he really wanted to ask. "Isn't that a little dangerous?"
"That's a riot, coming from you, devil boy," Constantine teased and pushed off the counter to check on the pot. "I'll be fine. I can take care of myself. Besides, it'll do me good to be away from the city for a few days. Get some fresh air and enjoy actual open space."
Days, they had said. The reality of it hit him suddenly. Days in the mountains, away from the city. Away from him. Is that why they were doing it? The thought made his stomach churn. "It sounds like you're not really a city person," he noted casually.
"Oh, I could never leave the city," Constantine said, throwing Mexican chocolate into the boiling milk. "Not Hell's Kitchen, anyway. This is my world, my home. But, even home can get a little tiring and nature's always been my go-to for recharging. If you joined me, you'd understand what I mean," they added and threw a quick glance over at him before focusing on stirring the pot.
The invitation soothed his previous insecurities while also raising new worries. "You know I can't," he replied a little stiffly. Had he read Constantine wrong? Was there actually something more they wanted that he wasn't aware of? For the first time, he was at a loss about a person. Sure, he could read their heart beat and the heat from their skin and the stance of their body. None of it displayed any emotion other than admiration and even that didn't explain why Constantine would welcome him so thoroughly.
Constantine let out a long, dramatic sigh. "I know, I know," they said with a wave of their hand. "It didn't hurt to offer, though. You could definitely use a break. I bet the real devil takes more days off than you."
"Your idea of a break is certainly not very relaxing," he replied with a slight laugh. "Trekking in the wilderness, sweating and being harassed by bugs."
"Worth it," Constantine replied without hesitation and poured out their fresh cup of cocoa into a mug. They motioned for Matthew to follow and the two headed towards the couch. "There's just something about existing out there with no distractions that soothes my very soul."
"You still believe in the devil and a soul?" he asked, sitting on one end of the couch.
"It was a form of expression," they laughed lightly as they tucked their legs under them. "I don't really believe we have souls that can be damned or saved by a god or devil. But there must be something that makes us, well, human, I suppose."
"Nature's considered another face of God, you know," Matthew noted after a sip of his cocoa. "It makes sense that being in it brings a sense of peace to your… humanity," he added with a hint of a smile.
"Are you trying to convert me, Mr. Murdock?" Constantine asked, earning a laugh from Matthew. "It might not help your case, though. Nature is beautiful, but brutal. It doesn't care who you are or what you feel, it will do as it pleases whether you like it or not. Nature teaches us humility, forcing us to submit and adapt to it." They paused and tilted their head in thought. "Then again, that does sound like the Catholic God, doesn't it?"
Matthew let out another, heartier laugh. The sound of it brought on a new realization to Constantine. This awe they felt of Matthew was very similar to the sensation they found in the middle of a dark forest. And while they'd heard dozens of stories about what he did, had witnessed the aftermath of his rage, they'd never seen him do those things. They'd been privy to the face of beauty only, and part of them felt a sudden need to observe the other face, the brutal side of Matthew Murdock.
"You certainly got the gist of it," he said with a smile. He uncrossed his legs to switch and was unable to stop the wince that crossed his features. Constantine immediately sat up, their eyes sharp on Matthew. "Come on," he sighed when he felt them stand and head to their bedroom. "I'm fine."
"Pants. Off," they called over their shoulder before entering the bedroom.
Matthew couldn't help another chuckle, but he obeyed. He set down his cocoa first then carefully kicked off his boots to remove his black jeans fully. He sat back down as Constantine came back into the living room and he suddenly couldn't help shifting self-consciously. There was nothing to be shy about, knowing Constantine saw more than their fair share of undressed bodies. He recognized then he was projecting again, unconsciously recalling his first interactions with Claire and the obvious chemistry between them. And this brought the realization that he was the one expecting more from their connection.
Constantine's sharp inhale snapped him out of his thoughts. "Seriously, you need armor or something," they said as they sat beside him. With the gentlest touch, they brought his leg up to their lap and inspected the well-sized gash on his thigh. "Knife?"
He nodded as Constantine set to work. "My red suit had better protection, but I'm thinking I'll wait until I get back to that one. You know, with recent events," he said. Constantine gave an understanding hum as they cleaned out the wound carefully, leaning back after a moment to really look at it before being satisfied. Bringing up his impersonator, Pointdexter, brought another thought to mind. "Did you believe it?"
"Believe what?" Constantine asked absent-mindedly.
"That it was me killing people," he said plainly.
"Not for a second," they replied as they prepared a needle and thread. "You don't kill people, even the ones that people say deserve it."
"Do you think I should be?" he asked tentatively. He hoped Constantine wouldn't need clarification on that. After spending so much time thinking he had to resort to that with Fisk, the idea of saying it out loud made him uneasy.
He noticed the pause in the work they were doing, their head slightly angled as they pondered on his question. "Considering your beliefs, I think it would destroy you," they settled on after a minute of silence. "And I'm sure I'm not the only one that would be devastated if that happened. I personally don't think killing makes any situation better either. If anything, it only compounds the violence."
There were two things that brought relief to Matthew: their actual consideration of the question and the confirmation that killing was not the answer. He sent a silent thanks to Foggy for his never-ending intervening nature, despite Matthew's annoyance. "So you think I did right in letting Fisk live?"
"Yes, I do," they answered with a slight nod, pinching the gash close and starting in with the needle. Matthew's jaw clenched as they worked. "I think it's important we don't succumb to the ways used by criminals, seeing how it's so easy to blur justifications for killing once people get going. We do it all the time as a nation, if you think about it. Your conviction to not end a life is something valuable and worth preserving."
Matthew sat quietly after, letting Constantine finish closing up the wound. "Thank you," he said once they taped the gauze down.
"You can thank me by not lying to me about being hurt," Constantine chastised and began cleaning their tools and putting them away. "That's why you come to me, remember? I can't have you bleeding out and possibly fainting again in some dark alleyway or on a random rooftop."
"You don't have to worry about that happening," he tried to assure as he set his foot back on the floor, shifting to sit up straight.
A loud scoff caused his head to turn towards them. "Of course I worry," they huffed after. "I see the aftermath, remember? Don't you think I worry what you look like every night I pick up your men?"
This revelation was a surprise to Matthew. He knew why Foggy and Karen worried due to their friendship, but to have Constantine share in that experience felt oddly pleasing even if it did jab at his pride. Following on the footsteps of that, a deep guilt and sense of betrayal infiltrated his chest as Elektra came to mind and he stood, grabbing his jeans. "I can take care of myself," he said while getting dressed.
Constantine's full gaze turned to him when he said this and he tensed slightly, feeling defensive suddenly. "I know you can. It's obvious by the fact you've survived this long, doing what you do. But, you're still human," they said coolly, snapping their medical bag shut. "Super abilities and all, it doesn't change the fact you're not knife proof," they added, motioning to his leg. "And these guys don't follow your 'no guns' rule, I'm sure. You are definitely not bullet proof either."
Matthew suddenly needed distance from Constantine. It was too easy, too comfortable, and it made him waver. He wouldn't betray Elektra this way, so soon after losing her again. He should follow Constantine's point – he came here to get treated. The end. No cocoa, no talking about their families. "I'll do better next time," he promised and picked up his mask. "I should get going."
His whole posture and demeanor changed and Constantine sighed softly. "Wait, Matty," they said, standing and offering something on their open palm. "For the pain. If you need to take more later on, stick to ibuprofen. And if you open that wound, come back, alright?"
The pills remained untouched for too long a pause before Matthew finally grabbed them. He dry-swallowed them before putting his mask back on. "I will."
Constantine watched him walk to the window and disappear out into the night before sighing again. A glance at the coffee table showed his barely touched cocoa and they looked away, picking up the medical bag and putting it away before dropping into bed, forgetting their own cocoa as their mind once again focused only on the vigilante.