You had spent several minutes getting ready while considering whether or not to wear heels on your first date.
It should have been an easy choice, given your clumsy nature. Flats were easy. Flats were reliable. Flats were stable.
But the heels had looked just so pretty. Red and sharp and a perfect shade to match the red of the lenses he wore. The contrast to the black of your dress offered a sleek look, and even though you knew he couldn’t see it, the ensemble made you feel just slightly more on par with the Greek God of a man taking you to dinner.
You should have worn the fucking flats.
The toe of your shoe caught on the raised crack in the sidewalk, and the momentum sent you flying forward. A hand suddenly wrapped itself around your arm, and it was the only thing that held you back from greeting the concrete with your face. Your hand flew out to latch on to the person’s other arm, desperate to regain your balance.
You glanced up at the person who had saved you from falling and your heart came to a screeching halt in your chest before it sped back up in a panic.
Fucking hell.
“Are you okay?” Matt asked in concern as he helped you right yourself, shifting to hold his cane under his arm so that he could grab both of yours. He gently pulled you up from where you’d all but crashed into his chest, kindly making sure you were settled back on your feet before he let you go. You cursed excessively under your breath, and the twitch of lips told you that he had heard you.
“I..uh, yeah. I’m okay,” you told him, your face heating with sheer embarrassment, even as your mind vaguely wondered how the hell a blind man had just managed to grab ahold of your arm before you careened to the sidewalk in a flurry of red heels and f-bombs. You yanked your purse back up your shoulder from where it had slipped to the crook of your elbow with the force of the fall. “Thanks for…not letting me slam my face onto the ground. This is humiliating enough as it is.”
Matt laughed. Apparently you losing your dignity before the date had even started was more than enough of a greeting, and he moved quickly past the need for a hello. “I really didn’t want our first date to start or end in an emergency room visit.”
You grimaced, a self-depreciating grin settling across your face as you subtly made sure your tits hadn’t spilled out the v-neck of the dress you were wearing. He might not be able to see it, but someone else could, and you didn’t need to be giving anyone a free show tonight. “We still might end up there if these heels have anything to say about it.”
Matt took a small step back, considering you in a way that was uniquely him, and you found yourself squirming under his attention. The red lenses of his glasses glinted in the setting sun that peaked through the crack between two buildings across the street. “New shoes?”
“I mean, I’ve had them for a while, just haven’t worn them yet,” you told him, willing your heart to calm down from your near death experience and the feel of his hands on your arms. “Heels are not my friend, apparently.”
“I can’t imagine they’re very fun to walk in,” he replied, and the tone was a mix between teasing and sympathy. You watched as he removed his cane from underneath his arm and folded it up.
“They’re not,” you admitted with a quick laugh as you ran your fingers through your hair. “But they make my ass look great.” A surprised smile abruptly bloomed across his face, and your eyes widened when you realized what had slipped out of your mouth.
This date was clearly off to a great start.
You wondered briefly if your job had any positions open outside of New York.
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Matt told you, a positively wicked smile on his lips. “But maybe one day you’ll let me use my hands so I can form a better picture in my head.” Your jaw dropped, and an audible squeak left your throat before you could control the noise. Matt continued to grin at you, no doubt enjoying your embarrassment.
“I, uh…I don’t know what to say to that.” You shifted on your feet while trying to ignore the unexpected heat that had suddenly flown through you at the comment. This man clearly had a knack for saying the last thing you expected him to, and your reactions seemed to be exactly what he was aiming for if the way he teased you was anything to go by.
Sure enough, the grin on his face morphed into a sly smirk. “You don’t have to say anything. I just like knowing that you’re thinking about it now.”
He was trying to kill you.
You cleared your throat awkwardly, willing your breathing to return to normal. “Do you, uh…do you realize that we haven’t even said hello to each other yet? Isn’t it a bit early to talk about you potentially feeling me up?”
“I mean, you’re the one who brought your ass into the conversation,” he shrugged innocently, and you found yourself unable to glance away from his handsome face despite the way he was determined to cause you heart failure. “If I say hello, do we get to continue talking about it?”
“Yeah…no.”
“Worth a shot,” he said breezily, seeming unconcerned. “Let me know if that changes.”
Someone opened the door to the restaurant as they exited, and you quickly took the opportunity to avoid responding by grabbing the door handle so the two of you could step inside. He laughed behind you, apparently delighted by your silence and taking it as a sign that you were indeed thinking about his hands on your ass.
Which…you were. You’d been thinking about his hands on you since the second you saw him all those Tuesdays ago, if you were being honest with yourself.
But he didn’t need to know that.
Matt took your elbow as you led him into the restaurant, and you were grateful that he didn’t comment on the slight tremble in your arm, or the way your skin heated at his touch. You watched as the host greeted him by name with a smile, and you recalled Matt mentioning that this was one of his favorite restaurants.
It was a cute little place, and charming in its own way. The lighting was low, crisp white tablecloths contrasting with black cloth napkins sat on the tables, smooth jazz played softly through the speakers throughout the restaurant. It was intimate, but unassuming.
The setting was perfect for a first date.
…or the perfect setting to embarrass yourself beyond repair. Only time would tell.
The two of you were brought to a table in the back, where Matt somehow seamlessly managed to pull your seat out for you before slipping into his own on the other side of the table. You settled in as the host handed you a menu, eyeing him curiously as he handed Matt one that appeared to be blank. You realized quickly that it was actually in braille.
The thought made you briefly smile to yourself, before it turned into a small frown. You doubted most restaurants carried braille menus in New York City.
“You seem nervous.” Matt’s voice snapped you abruptly out of your head. He had opened his menu and placed it on the table, turning his full focus back onto you. The tint of his glasses flickered, looking more black than red in the dimmed lighting of the room.
You swallowed dryly. “I am nervous,” you admitted as you played with the hair tie you’d accidentally left around your wrist. You glanced up as a waiter placed glasses of water in front of you both before quietly telling you she'd be right back. You smiled at her in thanks before turning back to the conversation.
“Any specific reason why?” He asked, and his voice sounded curious as he tilted his head. He took a large sip of his water, and you tried to ignore the way his mouth curled around the lip of the glass.
“Not really?” It was more of a question than an answer, and your voice was a little higher than it normally was, mostly due to the dirty rotten lie that had spilled from your lips. You knew exactly what was making you nervous.
The man you'd fantasized about for months was sitting across from you, dressed in black pants and a long-sleeved button-up shirt, and the sight was currently sending you into overdrive. The image of just his forearms alone was maybe kinda sorta probably going into your spank bank for use at a later time.
If this date turned out to be a disaster on your end, which was extremely likely due to your questionable social skills, then at least you’d get something out of it. A close-up look at the arms you’d been eyeing for months was still a great consolation prize.
If he did, perhaps, decide to get up and leave in the middle of your date, maybe you’d still be lucky enough to get a decent glimpse of his ass as he walked away.
Are you there, God? It’s me, Thirsty.
“That doesn’t sound very convincing,” he said dryly as he unknowingly pulled you out of your fantasy.
“It really has more to do with me,” you rushed to get out, trying and failing to not be distracted by the not-so innocent thoughts going through your head. God, you were a mess. “I promise it has nothing to do with you.”
“Am I getting the “it’s not you, it’s me” speech already?” Matt teased you, a grin on his lips. "Can't we at least make it through dinner? I'm starving."
The flames that had died down in your cheeks only ten minutes ago were back and burning again with a vengeance. You assumed at this point that blushing and stuttering was going to forever be your default with this man. “I am so incredibly sorry, Matt. I’m not good at this.”
“You’re not good at going on a date with a blind man?”
Horror washed over you as you gaped at him like a fish, hoping he didn’t actually think you had meant it that way. “God, no! Not good at going on a date in general!” The words began pouring out of your mouth, unchallenged by your suddenly absent word-to-mouth filter. “I haven’t been on a date in two years. That’s two years without any male attention and as a result, I suck at this. Like truly, I apparently have no idea how to talk to a man I'm attracted to. Let's not even bring up how long it's been since I had sex, cause that number is even worse." Christ, someone help you shut up. "It really has nothing to do with you! You’re great. I mean, I don’t really know you yet. But you seem great. I’ve enjoyed talking with you on the phone. You’re super sweet, even though I'm pretty sure you're trying to kill me through embarrassment alone. And I definitely like looking at you. You’re nice to look at, like super nice to look at, not that you’d know, I guess. Trust me, you seriously lucked out on the gene pool. Do you work out? Because let me tell you, it's working for me. And–”
Matt snorted, and the sound was so sharp it effectively cut you off. The look on his face was one that said he was five seconds away from cracking up, but was trying desperately to refrain.
Even the woman seated at the table next to you stifled a laugh, though her companion next to her didn't bother trying to hide his.
You felt a cold bucket of water pour down your spine as you froze, and your mouth parted in absolute distress as the realization of what your rambling mouth had said kicked in with a bang. “I think I should stop talking now. I think maybe I shouldn't talk the rest of the night, actually.”
“No, please continue,” he grinned, and the look was downright gleeful. “This is the best entertainment I’ve had in years.”
You groaned as you leaned forward to bury your head in your hands. “Well, I guess you’re getting dinner and a show tonight,” you mumbled, and apparently you didn't say it quietly enough because he laughed again.
“Lucky me, then.”
You sent him a pained look, not that he noticed. The woman next to you did, though, and she had to bury her laugh into her fist. Excellent. “I’m fairly certain you’re going to regret this date by the end of it, so I’d hold off on counting yourself lucky.”
“Actually, I’m already thinking about how I’m going to convince you to go on a second one, if nothing else than to hear you tell me how my fitness plan is really working for you.”
It effectively shut you up again for a full fifteen seconds.
The waiter came back around to take your drink orders, and you couldn’t have been more grateful for the interruption. You ordered a drink, Matt ordered his own, and then she left, leaving the two of you alone again. Alcohol was probably not the greatest option, given your current inability to shut your mouth as it was, but your nerves were absolutely fried and you were hoping it would settle you.
Besides, things couldn’t possibly get worse, right? (Wrong, they did.)
“Did I scare you off?” He asked, apparently amused when you didn’t say anything as the woman walked away. “I don’t think I’ve done anything that bad yet.”
You shook your head miserably. “You haven’t done anything that bad yet. Me, on the other hand…I feel like you’ve already gotten a crash course of how awkward I am in the full fifteen minutes we’ve been together tonight.” You reached for the glass of water sitting in front of you and took a large gulp.
“Brittany has already filled me in on your specific level and ability to make anything awkward," he tossed back at you with a shrug and a smirk. "So I’m not exactly surprised right now.”
You considered slamming your head on the table repeatedly. “I’m going to kill her.”
He barked out a laugh. “Maybe you shouldn't say something like that in front of a lawyer.”
“If I pay you five dollars, you can effectively become my lawyer, and then anything I do is covered by attorney-client privilege, right?”
He looked thoughtful for a second. “Well, technically, now that you’ve told me of your plans to commit a crime before I take you on as a client, I could get charged with conspiracy if I do not report it. It’s not something I’m willing to take the risk on.”
You gasped in mock horror. “Are you saying you wouldn’t go to jail for me?”
The smirk was back. “If you want to see me in handcuffs, all you have to do is ask, sweetheart.”
Your mouth snapped shut, a strangled noise bubbling up in the back of your throat. Matt threw his head back and laughed at the sound, no doubt keeping a running tally for how many times he had managed to shut you up tonight with just a sly comment.
You cleared your throat as the image of him handcuffed to your bed came to mind. Shifting in your seat, you tried to push down the brief flare of arousal that flooded your system. Across the table from you, Matt inhaled sharply, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you’d heard a quiet groan escape his lips.
“Maybe we should…move away from the topic of any bedroom activities involving any type of restraints,” you told him, eyeing the way his cheeks had flushed lightly.
The wicked look on his face showed up again, even while his cheeks were tinted a light red. “Can we talk about bedroom activities that don’t involve restraints?”
You choked on your water and had to take a second to catch your breath. "Uh, no. We …we should probably avoid those, too. Wouldn’t want to, uh…wouldn't want to move things too fast."
"I see," he said with a twitch of his lips as he tilted his head to the side.
"No you don't." Without a single thought in your head, the words practically ripped themselves out of your mouth. Your jaw dropped in horror for what seemed like the tenth time that night.
Holy motherfucking shit.
Matt froze in his seat, eyebrows raising, looking as shocked as you were, before his smile widened, highlighting his laugh lines and the attractive wrinkles around his eyes.
Your face flamed a bright red that felt like it was downright blistering. The heat was foreshadowing your afterlife in hell, obviously. "I am so sorry, Matt. Oh my God, I can't believe I just said that." You mentally prepared for him to send you away with your tail between your legs, all dreams of riding off into the sunset with him crashing around you.
He snickered as you continued to cringe. "I'm starting to realize that you just tend to say whatever pops into your head."
The sharp sense of shame continued to wash over you as you fiddled with your napkin still sitting on the table. He wasn’t wrong, necessarily. You just usually had a better handle on it. "I'm…I'm not normally like this. I'm so sorry. I know it's not an excuse, I'm just incredibly–"
"Nervous."
You winced. "Yeah."
He was silent for a second. "I'm nervous, too, by the way," he finally said in a casual tone, relaxing into his seat, fingers tapping on the glass of water that had placed in front of him a few minutes ago. “It’s been a while for me, too.”
You shook your head as you looked at him, still finding it hard to believe a man like him would not have someone in his life. “Why’s that?”
Matt tilted his head. You were starting to think he did that when he was extremely focused on someone. “Maybe I was waiting for a pretty girl to awkwardly pine for me from afar.”
You gave him a flat look that was more for your benefit than his. “How would you even know I was pretty? I could be a troll for all you know.”
“It wouldn’t make a difference either way.”
You snorted. “Even so, I’m sure there are several women walking around Hell’s Kitchen with crushes on you.”
He shrugged, the fabric of shirt straining around his shoulders. You tried not to salivate at the image. “Maybe, but none of them have made me intrigued enough to want to learn more about them.”
“Except me?”
Matt looked oddly shy as he answered you. “Except you.”
______________
Besides a few additional snafus, the rest of the date went rather smoothly. Your mouth never failed to have your foot in it, though, and it was something he never failed to find hilarious. He told you that he was used to people who were calm and collected and cold, used to people who walked on eggshells around him, and that you were a breath of fresh air. He let you know, as he placed a gentle hand over yours from across the table, that he needed more laughter in his life, and that you seemed to be someone who could easily give it.
You tried, and failed, to not let those words go straight to your heart.
Touching moment aside, there were still moments like:
“Did you see the dessert that just went by? It looks delicious.”
“I think we’ve established that I can’t.”
“Oh. Right.”
And then:
“All I know about being a lawyer comes from Law and Order or Legally Blind.”
“....did you perhaps mean Legally Blonde?”
“Fuck.”
And later:
“Law school must have been tough.”
“Oh, definitely. And I thought that once I got in, things would get a little easier as I learned more and more. But it still remained pretty hard.”
“That’s what she said.”
“...do you want me to pretend you didn’t just make a “that’s what she said joke” on our first date?”
“Yup.”
And finally:
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to splash water on you. I can't always tell where I set down my drink. I hope you didn’t get too wet.”
“It’s a few months too late for that.”
“Is this something else you'd like me to forget you said?”
“That would be great.”
By the time you were leaving the restaurant, you were sure Matt thought you were absolutely nuts, but was being a good sport about it. You couldn’t remember a date where you’d ever embarrassed yourself so much, despite the fact that you’d genuinely had a good time.
“Are you going to let me walk you home?” He asked as you stepped out of the restaurant into the night air, his fingers once again wrapped around your elbow, cane held loosely in his other hand. The weather was warm enough that neither one of you needed a jacket, and your body was a ball of nerves at the feeling of his hand placed once again on your bare skin.
“You really don’t have to," you replied immediately, completely caught off guard by the question.
He paused, and for the first time since you’d seen him ever, a slight frown ran across his handsome face. He let go of you and took a step back, and you found yourself immediately mourning the contact. “Are you saying no because you’re worried about me getting home alright? Or are you saying no because you really just don’t want me to walk you home?”
You flushed, the spring air suddenly feeling like it was burning your skin. “Uh…”
Matt continued on as he fidgeted with his cane. “If it’s just because you’re worried that I’ll have an issue getting home, you really shouldn’t be concerned. I know how to make my way around the city just fine, so I’ll be okay. But if you just don’t want me to walk you home in general, then I understand completely. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, and I certainly don’t want to push you if you’re not…feeling this. Though I’m pretty sure you are.”
Your eyes flitted over his face as he spoke, noting the way his expression had turned to something a little more vulnerable than it had been all night. You took a deep breath, trying to settle the butterflies that were once again fluttering around in your stomach. “Matt, I would definitely be okay with you walking me home. I’m just…out of practice in the dating world. It’s been awhile and I don't know the rules for this anymore.”
He paused again, his face pensive. "There aren’t really rules when it comes to dating, I don't think. We should just do what feels right."
"And what feels right to you includes walking me home?" You asked almost hesitantly, but needing to know you were on the same page with what he was saying.
He didn't skip a beat. "It does, if you're okay with that."
"I…yeah. Yeah, I'm ok with that. I’m definitely okay with that."
His easy-going smile returned as if it had never left. “In that case, which direction do you live in?”
You looked up at the street sign that hung from the traffic light, trying to remember where exactly you were and which way you needed to turn. “I actually only live a few blocks from here, but I don’t want to make you go out of your way if you live in the other direction.”
“How about I worry about how I’ll get home, and you just let me hold your hand while we walk?”
Your heart stuttered, and there was something about the look on his face that almost made you believe he was aware of the effect he had on you.
A suddenly shy smile broke out across your face as you flushed and nodded. You quickly remembered he couldn't see your movement, so you spoke up instead. “That would be…really nice, actually.” The volume of your voice was quieter than it had been all night.
“Okay, then.” Matt took a slow step forward, almost as if he was nervous you were going to suddenly bolt. He held out his hand expectantly, and you placed yours in his without hesitation. His smile was soft, softer than you’d ever seen it before, as he ran his thumb briefly over the back of your hand. His fingers were calloused where yours were smooth, and he didn’t waste a second before lacing them together. “Which way?”
You took a left, pulling him with you, and the man fell into a leisurely pace beside you. By the time you made it to your apartment building, the space between you had lessened to just about a few inches, arms brushing against each other as you walked, his breath fanning gently over your face whenever he turned his head to say something.
It had felt more intimate than anything in your life, the ability to be as close to him as you were.
“This is me,” you whispered as you slowed to a stop. Still holding his hand, you turned your body so that you were no longer by his side, but rather facing him. He slowly echoed the movement and stepped closer, bringing you to the point where you could feel the heat of his body radiating against yours.
Slowly, as if not to startle you, he folded up his cane and bent down slightly to place it on the ground next to his feet. He stood back up, and the look on his face told you exactly what he was thinking, and your breath caught in your throat. His hand gently ran up your arm lightly before it slid in between your elbow and your body, coming to a resting point on your waist.
“If I asked to kiss you right now, would you let me?” The words were quiet as he lifted his other hand to brush his knuckles lightly down your cheek. A gentle rush of wind floated by you, causing your hair to blow lightly in his face. He reached out and caught a strand between his fingers.
“I think so.”
His grin widened. “You think so?”
“Maybe I’d just kiss you instead.”
His eyebrows raised in surprise. “Do it then,” he challenged, leaning his head down towards you.
Without thinking about it, emboldened by the alcohol still present in your system, you took that last step forward, pulled his face to yours, and kissed him.
The man you had spent so much time watching every Tuesday was completely eclipsed by the man pressed against you. The reality of Matthew Murdock was far greater than the idea of him, and you found yourself hoping he’d let you in to see every little piece, no matter how small or significant, that made him who he was, just so that you could find new reasons to adore him every day.
The way he smiled against your lips sealed the deal. There was no way you would ever survive this man.
He pulled away from you before you were ready, and the look he gave you was devastating. Breathlessly, you clung to him, eyes taking in every aspect of his face that you could at such a close distance, noticing for the first time how dark his eyes were under his lenses. You had a feeling that seeing his whole face without his glasses would be a look you’d never recover from.
Matt ran a hand briefly down your cheek before he slid it into your hair. “I have another question for you,” he whispered, and the words seemed slightly slurred, as if he was having just as a hard time recovering from the kiss as you were.
“Go for it,” you encouraged him, dropping one of your hands from his face to grab a fist full of his shirt. He used it as an opportunity to pull you closer.
“How many dates do we need to go on before I get to grab your ass? Because I’m still curious about the comment you–”
With a laugh, you shoved him away.
______________
When you walked into the coffee shop Tuesday morning, Brittany was behind the counter making someone’s drink. You placed a quick order with the other employee at the register, before moving off to the side to where you would wait for your latte. When you caught her eye, she sent a knowing smile your way. “How was the date?”
Laughing, you heaved a large basket of artisan cheeses and crackers on to the counter, followed by a bottle of red wine. She hadn’t noticed them in your hands until they were right in front of her, and when she caught a glimpse of them, Brittany downright cackled.
“I take it that things went well?” she asked as she handed another patron their order before diving into the basket. It had cost you a fortune, but it was totally worth it.
“If by going well you mean “did you embarrass yourself thoroughly to the point you were considering fleeing the state,” then yes. It went really well.”
Brittany snickered, eyeing her expensive cheeses with glee. “How many times did you put your foot in your mouth?”
“Pretty much every opportunity I had.”
She placed the items she had pulled out back into the basket before she turned to finish making another coffee, giggling loudly at your expense. “You can't have been that bad.”
You looked at her with a flat expression on your face. "You've known me for a year now. What do you think?"
She giggled again as she took in the look on your face. “Okay, I’m guessing you were that bad. How many sexual innuendos did you make?”
“All of them.”
“Intentionally? Like in a flirty sort of way?”
“Unintentionally. Like in a “holy shit this girl must secretly be a twelve year old boy” kind of way.”
Brittany threw her head back and laughed while you glowered at her amusement in your pain. “Well, it must have gone well enough that he wants to see you again.”
“How would you know that?” you asked, curiosity spiking, smiling gratefully when she handed you two drinks, one of which was your latte, another that had Matt written on it. “We literally just made plans last night to go out later this week.”
“He came in yesterday and told me he was going to ask you out again,” she shrugged. Brittany handed another patron their coffee, thanking them as they handed her a five dollar tip. “Must have done something right because he also brought me a bottle of wine as a thank you.”
Your cheeks flushed, a large smile taking over your face despite how flushed you were. “I’m still confused as to why he wants to see me again. But I’m not going to question it too much. I'm just going to hang on for the ride.”
“I sure hope you do,” she said as she sent an exaggerated wink your way. She was clearly talking about a whole other type of ride than the one you had intended, and you couldn’t help yourself from snorting at the innuendo. "I hope you let me live vicariously through you. A man like that probably knows how to really fu–"
"Annnnnd we're done here," you cut her of, stepping aside from the counter as Brittany snickered. She suddenly received an influx of drink orders to fill, so you took it as a good time to let her focus on her job rather than tease you.
"Boo."
“But you can consider him off the market, Brittany. That man’s mine,” you tossed over your shoulder at her before making your way to the exit. The man in question had texted that he would be there in a few minutes, so you planned to meet him outside, away from the prying eyes of the barista who was content to make fun of you mercilessly.
“I still expect a child named after me!” She called out after you, causing a few patrons to look at her in alarm. You shot her your middle finger and stepped out the door.
A few blocks away, Matt smiled to himself, unable to keep it from beaming across his face as the words floated past him on his way to the coffee shop.
Yeah.
Yeah, he was yours.