Night Off?
You weren’t the biggest drinker, but you didn’t mind a bit of a buzz here and there.
Bitter beer and fruity wines had their fair share of ownership over your tastebuds from time to time. You knew how it felt for their bubbles to spill carbonated fuzz down your tongue, the heat of it expanding through you like the soft glow of a lightbulb, your carefully formed demeanour of calm acting as an all-covering lampshade.
It wasn’t all an act, though - you knew your limits. University life had given you many chances to figure them out, and although you ended up with many an interesting story in the process, you did get to a point where alcohol was something you knew how to manage responsibly.
Was it your preference to have your senses impaired, your focus and conviction limited and warped? Certainly not.
You did still, however, know how to enjoy yourself.
Even though this was a need you often neglected, you were trying to make more of an effort to balance the stress and dramatics of your life with some peace, some fun - some good.
Trying to keep Jessica off your mind.
Dex and Janelle’s smug wins off your mind.
Murph off your mind.
James Wesley off your mind.
Not to mention wondering if your biggest request of Jessica would ever fall into place, whether that man from your past was really nearby - whether he could ever be found.
Everything. Everything. Everything.
God.
I really do need a night off.
Waiting in your booth at Josie’s, you twirled your glass, the vodka soda swirling and whirling as little bubbles floated to the surface. This booth was the last free one left, and although the red pleather cushioning was a bit worn, it was comfortable. Homey, almost. The table seemed slightly sticky in places, but you didn’t much mind. It was par for the course here.
At the bar, Josie fielded drinks left and right, her resolve and efficiency not stuttering for a second with each pass of a beverage and each call-out of an ungrateful customer. It hadn’t taken her more than a minute to get your drink, and although it wasn’t service with a smile, you appreciated every well-crafted sip.
Still scared of her.
The fairy lights were just as bright as you remembered from the first time, all reds and blues and greens and golds and purples scattered across the ceiling, down the walls, over the bar - like makeshift walls of sugary magic, masking chipped paint and contrasting with brutish leather and smoke.
And the noise, commotion, and excitement were ever-present, permeating every inch of the bar until each booth, table, glass, or smile was filled to the brim with a darkly glimmering buzz.
The place was alive. It didn’t just live, and by most standards - whether safety or health regulations-wise - it could be argued that the place was dying if one only saw it for its paint chips and sticky tables. The thing you were learning about Josie’s, though, was that it held so much spirit within its cracking walls and creaky floorboards. It was light and dark and all things in between.
And that’s what life is about, isn’t it - at least in some ways? Making sense of the in-between? Learning to live as part of it - and growing to understand that we aren’t exclusively light nor dark, but some fluid, changeable solution of the two, gray and dim and always fluctuating between morning sunshine and midnight rain?
Ah, well, you thought to yourself, taking a sip of your drink. Bar philosophy. How profound.
Through the crowds congregating in front of the bar, you saw the door swing open, and in stepped Karen. She looked through the throngs of people, eyes searching almost distractedly until they landed on you. At that moment, she grinned, those eyes flashing with familiarity, her smile bright as ever.
You smiled back with a wave and shifted slightly in your booth. Karen pushed her way through the crowd, and it seemed to take less effort than you’d admittedly expected. The blonde of her loose curls seemed somewhat brighter tonight, though they looked soft, almost breakable in this setting. Fairy lights on all sides glinted off her hair with a great deal of multicolored prettiness, painting blue or purple streaks through those weaving hues of buttery goldenrod, depending on the angle. She wore a satin blouse the shade of a daytime, cloudless sky, drawing that selfsame shade even further from her eyes, and her flowy sand-colored trenchcoat moved with her as if guided by a summer breeze.
If anyone could pass for being exclusively made of lightness and morning sunshine, it was Karen.
“Hey!” Karen beamed, moving into the booth across from you. Her gaze was interested, her voice calm yet cheerful. “How have you been? How’s work?”
“It’s been busy, for sure,” you started, as Karen settled into her seat, “but not too bad, as far as work goes. How about you guys?”
Some time had passed since your midnight motorcycle adventure with the Devil. You and Ray had been making a lot of headway with the Velluchi case - which was shaping up to be an even bigger deal than you’d previously thought - and you decided it was fine to put Ray’s clearance on the back burner for a bit. His work was important, as was yours, and some prioritization had to be made, even if it might hold the Nightingale back for a bit longer than you’d thought. Dex, you hadn’t seen in a while; he was caught up with higher-up meetings and Level One training.
The thought of it still made your stomach turn, but at this point, it was what it was. Everything eventually leads to acceptance - even something as gut-wrenchingly vile as Dex getting that promotion over you.
Karen paused a moment before responding, her mouth quirking out to the side in a thin line of meh. “It’s been alright. We’re worried about this one client - landlord evictions, that sort of thing.”
You nodded. “Sounds rough.”
“It is,” Karen affirmed, becoming more comfortable and animated as she spoke. Passionate. “She’s this sweet, sweet lady, and the fact that these developers have gained such a monopoly on her life-“ Karen paused, her eyes off to the distance in a look of… well, something that was hard to place. The look held wistfulness in the way her eyes searched some otherwordly plane, determination in how they latched onto their target with piercing clarity. She sighed, settling further into the booth, her expression softening. “It’s just heartbreaking.”
“I can imagine,” you nodded again, leaning forward with rapt attention at Karen’s plight. Her eyes flicked to yours, that hardness in them sparking up again. You continued.
“This sort of thing - this sort of injustice,” you explained, talking with your hands, your fingertips shaping each word, “this is a big part of why I do what I do. It’s so hard seeing bad things happen to good people - and it’s even harder to just sit back and watch.”
Karen nodded vigorously, her gold ringlets bobbing with each shake of her head. “Definitely. And the fact that these villains can so easily obstruct the truth and hurt people in the name of their own interests - it’s despicable.”
Damn.
Karen is smart as fuck.
You’d gotten the sense that she was quite intelligent - you just hadn’t really seen it expressed until now. And, as you evaluated that spark of determined fire in her eyes, a flame illuminating the ocean, you were nothing short of impressed with her vivacious pursuit of justice.
Explains why she works at Nelson and Murdock. They’ve all got so much passion - and so much brain behind it.
“Absolutely despicable,” you affirmed, nodding your head as sharply as Karen had. “Do you think you guys will be able to help her?”
A half-laugh rattled out of Karen’s lungs. “That depends on the lawyers, I guess.” Then, another glimmer in her soft-looking, sharp-feeling eyes. “But there must be something that can be done.”
You nodded, lifting your glass. “I’ll drink to that.”
Karen smiled.
The drink poured past your lips and splashed down your throat in a cold froth. You felt it settle in your stomach, not enough to start a buzz - just a tame, slow-warming fizzle.
“Speaking of the lawyers,” you asked, “late night?”
She nodded. “Last I checked, they’re just working through a few details on the case. They should be here before too long.”
As if on cue, you saw the door open once more, and in walked Foggy with Matt in tow. Foggy glanced over the bar, searching - but Matt stayed still, one arm wrapped around Foggy’s, the other holding his cane at ready attention. The way his fingers wrapped around the cane, around Foggy’s bicep - just seeing it called back the memory of those fingers pressed into your abdomen, hotter than they should have been, holding you tighter than you’d been held in ages. A deep breath was your best effort at stifling the memory, stifling the feeling that came with it. Still, this breath only drew out another memory - this one of Matt’s scent that night, slick with cinnamon and sweat, enough flame to draw you in and enough vanilla to make you never want to leave.
Swirling the drink in your hand, you shivered. Something in Matt - you swore - seemed to perk up at that shiver, his eyebrows breathing upwards, lips pursing as if in memory of their pass over your hair.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
You tapped Karen, gestured to the door, and threw your arm up in a wave. “Over here!”
Foggy’s eyes flew to your hand, and his face lit up, sunshine and glitter and all things lovely crossing his face like pixie dust.
Okay - if anyone can pass for being made of sunshine, it’s both Karen and Foggy.
They sidled through the crowd and pulled up to the booth. Foggy’s suit jacket - a forest green tonight - looked well pressed, though you caught a glimpse of wrinkled linen in his button-down beneath it. A hint of long days and longer evenings in the office, you thought.
Matt’s suit jacket was folded neatly, draped over his arm. Though it shared some of the same wrinkles as Foggy’s, his shirt clung to him, close and soft and comfortably tight.
Clung to him as he had clung to you, the two of you hurtling towards some destination now rendered irrelevant by the memory of his hands on your body.
“What is up, ladies?” Foggy bellowed, sliding into the booth beside Karen. She and you shared a look and laughed. Before taking a seat, Matt folded up his cane and tipped his head to Karen with a smile.
“Hey, Karen.”
Then, he turned his head in your direction, his smile not fading, no - but morphing into something much brighter and much more subtle all at the same time. The way your name rolled off his tongue in greeting was perfectly and reasonably warm, but the deeper heat beneath it was just close enough to the surface for you to taste it on your lips.
“Selena.”
You smiled at Matt, then at Foggy, then back at Matt. “Hey, guys.”
With his cane folded and his jacket securely in his hand, Matt slid into the booth, settling next to you on the worn red cushioning. You glanced at him - too quickly for it to be majorly meaningful but looking too long for it to mean nothing - and tipped your eyes back to your drink.
Heat simmered and emanated from his body, and you couldn’t help but notice it. This heat reached out at you, fingertips unfurling across the booth in your direction, and the cushioning shifted beneath you with his movements as he settled.
Another shiver passed over you - and, again, you swore you saw something flicker in his face, in his jaw - a subtle clench, a quirk of the lips, all too inconspicuous and yet all you could notice.
Damn hypervigilance. Guess it's what I get from trauma and FBI training.
“So nice we can finally go out, huh?” you opened, trying to break away from Matt’s wordless hold on your attention. Foggy nodded, and you felt Matt do the same at your side.
“Absolutely,” Foggy affirmed, his eyes fluttering. “God, if there’s anything I could go without doing for a night, it is work.”
Karen turned to the guys. “Not to bring up work, then, but how’s the case looking?”
Foggy’s shoulders lifted and dropped, lips forming a thin line - similar to Karen’s movements earlier. “You know, we’re doing our best. There might be a loophole we could pick away at, but these developers have Mrs. Cardenas in a serious chokehold. I haven’t seen a tenancy case this thoroughly unfortunate since our clerkship.”
“The Madison case, yeah,” Matt nodded from beside you, his voice crackling out in relaxed roughness. “Shame we couldn’t have done more.”
“Too much plausible deniability. Madison was out for blood, but the fact that the landlord tried to push so many unenforceable clauses and still got away with it - damn, I would’ve been out for blood, too.”
Matt nodded, and you did the same, your mouth hanging slightly ajar. There was much more passion beneath those blond locks than you’d realized.
Knew Foggy was smart - but woah.
Foggy shook his head, shaggy hair swishing from side to side. “No more work. Done with work. You know what it’s time for?” He asked, a grin splitting his face with tired giddiness as he leaned forward over the table. “Beer.”
“Amen to that,” Matt drawled, the same tiredness in Foggy’s grin sifting through Matt’s voice.
“Karen, wanna help me grab our sustenance?” Foggy asked.
She laughed, lifting a hand to her chest. “I would be honored.”
The two of them - pure sunshine and glitter carved into soft-edged shards of more strength than one would expect - shifted out of the booth and sauntered over to the bar. After watching them walk off, you turned to face Matt - only to see he was already facing you, a small, curling smile playing on his dewy lips, fairy light glow glimmering off his glasses.
“Hey,” you hummed, tension at the corners of your lips threatening to tug them into a radiant, beaming grin, which you held back as best you could. Admittedly, looking into Matt’s glasses, eyeing the curve of his nose and cheeks, softness bleeding into the sharp chisel of well-carved cheekbones and a sculpted jaw - well. Holding back your grin was challenging, to say the least.
“Hey,” Matt hummed back, his mouth dragging slowly, surely, into a grin of his own. The tug at your lips was less a tug now and more a desperate yanking, your inner feelings insistent on bubbling to the surface.
He turned further towards you with a quick upwards nod, swirling up the air between you. Hints of that cinnamon, vanilla, and slightly smoky musk teased you with every breath. Matt’s voice was raw and low, thick with rocky gravel but smoothed over by a newly-forming, warm tenderness, and you felt yourself begin to blush already as he spoke.
The question was a simple one, but it was jarringly, slickly pleasant all the same.
“How are you?”
You took a stuttered breath, looking back to your drink, a bit more of that smile forcing its way onto your face.
“Good. I’m good. Work is busy, but-“ you sighed with a light laugh as his smile caught your eye once more - and wouldn’t seem to let your gaze go. “I’m good.”
Matt nodded, his grin pursed and bright, voice dropped to a whispery rumble. “Good.”
He shifted slightly, and his leg bumped yours. On instinct, you pulled your leg away - but as your gaze remained on Matt’s innocuous smile, a buzz began to grow in your core. Slowly, subtly, your knee moved back over until it brushed his.
And Matt - Matt didn’t pull away.
He leaned further.
Matt’s leg moved closer to yours, and - although the movement caught all the breath in your throat and held it there like a prisoner - you let your knee lean against his.
It was such a small moment, a tiny action, yet it felt so intimate. You sat together under dim lighting tempered by glittering strings of color, engrossed in this pale glow of your own making, carved out of the haze into something just a bit brighter. The thundering, clattering noise of glasses clinking, stories told over drinks, the roll of pool balls, hearty laughs and heartier cries - it surrounded your booth on all sides, and yet somehow was so far away from either of your ears.
And your knee was resting against Matt’s, the outside of your thigh and the outside of his just barely reaching for one another.
But this time, there’s no excuse, no way I can say that letting our knees touch would make it easier to stitch up a cut.
No sutures necessary.
Fuck.
That thought jolted something at the base of your brain, dragging up a newer feeling: a rawer, more real sense and awareness of Matt and his heat, his scent, his smile - as if you haven’t been drawn in by all of it before.
No, in this booth, something felt different. You saw it in the way Matt’s lips pursed in their ever-upwards curve, the way his brow shifted in and out of a furrow, the look of curious and total enthralment in his sightless eyes as they shifted behind his glasses. Every working sense of Matt’s seemed to be trained on you, his head tipping slightly like he was following your breaths, stuttered and shallow as they had become. It was as if nothing could distract him from this moment, sitting alone with you in a red-cushioned booth under multicolored lights.
You forced yourself to take a deep breath, brain and body still caught in the haze of Matt’s attention on you - in the haze of Matt’s leg against yours.
Maybe this isn’t just more than nothing.
Maybe- just maybe- this is something.
“And you?” you asked, shaking yourself from that momentary distraction.
Are you kidding?
NO.
Not after Jessica.
“Something” isn’t worth the risk.
Despite your inner critic screaming at you to be careful, you smiled.
Night off.
Night. Fucking. Off.
“How are you?”
He smiled. “Work is definitely busy,” Matt said, turning his head towards his hands, clasped atop the table. “I’m a bit better now, though.” After the briefest of pauses, he nudged you slightly, not only with his knee but with his shoulder this time, too. “That’s for sure.”
The blush beneath your cheeks radiated through your chest at that admission, blossoming warmth every which way - and, in defiance of that voice in your head, you let it. Looking back down at the bubbles fizzing their way up through your drink, you smirked in spite of his warmth.
Flirt.
“Glad to hear that,” you murmured lightly, nudging your own knee against Matt’s. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a grin spread over his face, wide and gleaming.
You turned to him. “What are you so smiley about?”
Matt turned to face you, his brows raising - though the grin didn’t fade. “What?”
“You’re grinning.”
“And?”
“I wanna know why.”
Matt tipped his head towards yours, and you could faintly see his eyes narrow beneath the glasses. “No particular reason.”
I know there’s a damn reason.
I know what it is, too.
Your tongue flicked out over your bottom lip as it, too, began to curve into a smile. “There’s gotta be a reason.”
“Well, look at that,” Matt crooned, his voice low, yet light. “Now you’re grinning, too.”
Rosy blush bloomed once more through you, and you tried - you really tried - to hold back your smile, force it down into the depths of you, but you just couldn’t help it. The grin was there to stay.
“So,” you began, brow tilted down as your mouth stayed quirked up. “You can hear it when I smile, too?”
Matt shrugged. “Maybe I can.” He tilted his head once more, his smile relaxing just slightly. “At the very least, I can hear it in your voice.”
Glitter made its way into your chest, sputtering and spinning off the softness beneath the rough, hazy tone of Matt’s words. Your smile somehow brightened.
“Oh, really? And what exactly does a grinning voice sound like to you and your senses?”
He pursed his lips, their light joy turning ever-so-slightly closer to a smirk, subtle softness permeating his words. “Depends on the person. But your voice,” he paused, tongue dragging just slightly over his lips, “I love the sound of your voice. Especially when you’re smiling.”
Oh my God.
You looked down with a laugh, bashful and more flustered by that little comment than you’d like to admit. From out of the corner of your eye, Matt’s grin only grew. He nudged you again with his knee, playful and teasing, and you knew his smile was directed at your heartbeat - pounding so hard and fast you thought the organ might shoot out of your chest.
If vigilantism or my job doesn’t kill me, there’s a high chance this guy’s got a shot at it.
“About the other night,” you began, changing the subject with a lower voice, “your friend- is she okay?”
At that, Matt’s grin went lukewarm, and the glint in his eyes faded. He nodded once, curtly. “Yep. She’s okay.”
Your brows knitted together, but you decided not to press him on the issue. “Oh- okay.”
He twiddled his thumbs on the table, changing the subject. “If it helps your side of things, Veles Taxi is connected to the Ranskahovs. It must be a front for their other dealings.”
You lifted your drink to your lips, swallowing a sparkling sip that burned as it trickled down your throat.
This was like the philosophy of meetings on a crowded sidewalk - only better. You had the crowds, the commotion, the noise and goings-on, and people here were generally intoxicated enough to notice even less. Plus, while the two of you were surrounded by chaos, you had an entire booth to yourselves - the ultimate seclusion.
Smart of him.
“Good to know.”
Matt nodded. “I’ve got something else I need to show you-“
The abrupt stop of Matt’s sentence made you turn to him, confused - and a moment later, Foggy and Karen broke through the crowd to set four beers on the table in a chorus of clinks.
“Sorry that took so long!” Foggy exclaimed, placing his hands on his hips. He took a breath as if he’d just run a marathon against athletes of Olympic talent. “The people in here tonight are nuts.”
Huh. Must have picked up after I got my drink.
“They’d butt the line every chance they got,” Karen affirmed, taking her own deep breath as she just about fell back into the booth. “Was a nightmare. Selena, I know you already had a drink, but I got one for you just in case.”
“And I’m happy to take it if you don’t want it!” Foggy grinned. You laughed.
“Thanks, guys.”
Beside you, Matt stiffened slightly before relaxing back against the booth. As Karen and Foggy started the conversation - ranting about the current case with a Mrs. Cardenas - Matt remained relatively silent. He’d add to the conversation here and there, but he mostly sat quiet and pensive in the booth, a subtle, polite smile on his lips only interrupted from time to time by the mouth of his beer bottle.
You sipped on your vodka soda, emptied the glass, and offered your beer to Foggy - who graciously accepted it. Said something like, "oh, see, we secret agents really look out for each other," and you snorted at his joke but enjoyed it all the same.
The conversations flowed as did the drinks, and before long, it was high time for the four of you to get out of Josie’s. Foggy and Karen said their goodbyes, but as you followed them towards the door, Matt’s hand wrapped around your arm and pulled you back.
Not expecting the touch or the yank, you stumbled slightly. He laughed.
“Too much to drink?”
“Very funny.”
Matt smiled, his words warm but growing cooler with each syllable that sounded out from his lips. The noise of the bar had died down, but the light was as dim as ever, the colors around you glimmering as always, and he pulled you closer to whisper in your ear just the same.
“I need another favor.”
Under his touch, with his lips nearly against your skin, it took you a second to remember words. But, within a moment, your wit was back in action.
“Another favor? Shouldn’t it be my turn?”
Matt laughed. “You’ve got a point.”
“I do.”
Matt tipped his head down in a slow nod. “Alright.” He paused, considering as he chewed his bottom lip, shades of fairy-light blue flashing over the red of his glasses. “What can I do for you?”
You looked at him, eyes catching on the edges of his stubble, five-o’-clock shadow painting translucent streaks of dark hair over his jaw, around his lips, reaching out over his cheeks just slightly. “Not quite sure yet.”
I mean, it’s true.
“Okay,” he nodded, his brows knitting together, suspicion lacing his voice in a low laugh. “Let’s see - how’s another drink?”
You shook your head. “Too late.”
“Another coffee?”
You laughed. “Still too late. Here - let’s just say that next time I need your help, I get double the favor.”
Matt narrowed his eyes, his smile widening. “Double the favor?”
“Yeah, sure. Double the favor. I can call you in for something big.” You paused and leaned closer to him, your voice gaining a slight rasp as it fell lower, quieter. “If I ever end up needing your help.”
“Wow,” Matt remarked, leaning back with a raise of his eyebrows. “Someone’s arrogant tonight.”
Another laugh coursed through you. “Easy to be when you keep on needing my help.”
“You seem to be forgetting the numerous times when I was actually the one saving your ass,” Matt quipped, his voice whispery and light as he dipped his head down with the words. “Both times on the docks? You don’t remember those?”
“Yeah, sure, I remember you getting us stuck in a shipping container.”
“Oh, please,” Matt smirked. “You didn’t mind one bit.”
Blush burned over your cheeks, but you smiled. “Bold assumption.”
Matt shrugged as he repeated a phrase he’d said to you the night you met - only this time, you really understood it.
“Educated guess.”
You shook your head, succumbing to his request for help - but not without a bit of tease. “Okay, fine. Fine. What is it that you need this time, Murdock?”
Matt lowered his voice and began to walk you towards the door with careful, measured steps. From an outside perspective, it’d look as though you were the one leading him - but his hand wrapped around your bicep, pushing you gently forward with every one of his careful strides, privately said otherwise.
“You mentioned that you’re good with computers, right? Tech, hacking, that sort of thing?”
You hesitated. “Yeah.”
He licked his lips, the air stalling for a moment as he considered his words, the two of you still stepping around bar patrons on your way to the door. “I know it’s a long shot, but I was hoping you might be able to take a look at something for me - well, tonight.”
“Tonight?” The word was more of a gasp than a standard, regular-person exclamation.
Matt didn’t quite grimace but seemed to understand the potential implausibility of his request. “I know. I’m sorry, Selena, I just - I really need this. I can explain it all to you once we get out of here.”
Reaching the door, Matt squeezed your arm, and you pressed against the handle to let in a whoosh of cold air as you and Matt stepped outside. The night air wasn’t freezing, but it was brisk and gusty, and you pulled your coat more tightly around you.
“Okay.” You stated with a nod, stepping out onto the sidewalk with Matt in tow. “Okay. Fine. What do I need to know?”
He leaned in closer to you, his whisper a warm breeze compared to the cool wind that otherwise graced your skin. “It’s a cellphone. I need you to get into it - just to get whatever information it might have.”
You nodded, thinking of the tech you might need - just the laptop, really, if I need anything else at all. “I can do that. Shouldn't be hard.”
Beside you, Matt seemed to let out a sigh of relief under his breath. “Good. Okay, good. Thank you.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
He pressed his lips together. “Why don’t you go home, grab your stuff, and meet me at my apartment? I’ll just give you my address. It’s not too far from here.”
Your breath caught in your throat.
His apartment?
“Your apartment?”
Matt shrugged. “Or I could meet you at yours-“
“No, no. That’s fine. Your place is fine.”
His place.
That’s fine.
Totally fine, right?
He smiled. “Okay. Great.”
Great.
Okay.
Great.
A slight buzz that had nothing to do with alcohol climbed up your skin, from your legs up to your head. Going to Matt's place - that's not a big deal, is it?
Is it?
"I'll just get a cab to my apartment, get my stuff, and cab over to yours."
Matt considered you for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. Okay. That sounds good."
You half-expected him to insist on walking you home, or cabbing with you - but, then again, he did know you were a literal vigilante. Odds are, if anything bad came your way, you would manage just fine.
Matt gave you his address and a golden-yellow cab - not Veles Taxi, thankfully - pulled up just as you finished typing it into your phone. You glanced back at him as you got in the car, and he gave you a small half smile, the gleam of streetlights glinting off his glasses in the dark.
The car pulled away from the curb and you turned back to face forward in your seat, feeling a smile of your own creep over your lips.
So much for my night off.