What You Need
Jealousy is a lousy, lousy emotion.
Lazy and still somehow unrelenting, it’s one of the most distracting ones out there. The thing is always hulking, green and evil and powerful, in the corners of an insecure mind, waiting to take its stake in a person’s focus until they forget all they have in favor of what they don’t.
That monster was clawing at the edges of your skull as you stood outside the Nelson and Murdock office door, your heart pounding, briefcase full of files in a strained hand.
And - although earlier you had wished you could go over these files with Matt, you desperately did not want to see him right now.
Basically an hour after jealousy-fishing him in the middle of a fucking restaurant? No, thank you.
You considered knocking but decided to just try the door since Matt said he’d leave it open for you. The doorknob twisted with little effort, and you pushed lightly, letting the door swing gently open into the empty, dark space. With a breath, you stepped into the room and turned to shut the door with a careful, quiet click.
“Wasn’t sure if you’d still come by,” Matt’s voice rasped out from behind you, making you jump.
Great.
Your steps were light but still echoed over the floor as you turned around to see Matt standing in the doorway of his office. Matt had removed his blazer, but that black tie still hung from his neck, and his hands rested on his hips. You took a tired breath, and his lips quirked.
“What makes you say that?” You asked in a huff, stepping forward toward Karen’s desk - which had the perfect open space to lay the briefcase. It seemed wisest to you to focus on that vacant section of the desk instead of giving Matt any visual attention. He sighed.
“I don’t know about you, but I certainly found that to be quite the dinner.”
“No kidding.” The laughter in your voice was cold as you scoffed. “There was all sorts of tension at that table, that’s for damn sure.”
Ignoring whatever Matt’s expression may be, you placed the briefcase carefully at the edge of Karen’s desk, flipping its latch up and lifting its top half to reveal four file folders stacked atop one another, their pages slightly ruffled from moving around in the briefcase on your cab ride to Nelson and Murdock. As you fumbled somewhat in the dark, Matt moved a hand back to flip on the light in his office, the golden hue streaming past him into the main space and over the movements of your hands. Now, with the dim lighting, your movements were easier to manage, and you let out a quiet breath.
“We agreed to meet,” you chided gently, “So I’m here. The fact that it was after that dinner doesn’t change that this was the time we agreed on.”
Out of the corner of your eye, Matt lifted a hand to press the spot between his brows before letting it fall back to his side.
“Seemed like you and Tristan really hit it off.”
You turned finally to Matt, your face twisted into near disbelief.
No way he actually believes that.
Either he does, or he’s just mocking me.
“Yeah, for sure,” you laughed after a quick, confused pause. Matt only tilted his head, taking a step toward you.
“If it helps, I could tell Tristan was very attracted to you. Heart rate slightly up, hormones raging through the guy - and he was angled toward you pretty much the whole time.”
“Yeah. I noticed.”
Matt shifted his jaw, his lips moving in and out of a slight smirk, shadowed by the light glowing out from behind him. “So, you think you’re gonna make a move, or what?”
“Matt, we are not here to talk about-“
“Hey, I’m just curious. You know, as your friend.”
You just stared at him.
Okay.
So he’s mocking me.
Matt’s expression was almost unreadable, with the light behind his frame casting shadows over every edge and curve of his face. It was some strange mix of cordial concern and interest, barely covering an underlying tone of bitter scorn.
Unbelievable.
“Would you have a problem with that, Matt?” you asked in the same bitter tone, leaning forward with the question. “With me making a move on Tristan?”
He shrugged, pursing his lips, his words calculatingly cold. “Why would I?”
Your lips curved downward as you gave a series of sharp nods, turning back to the briefcase and placing your hands around the first file folder.
Not a problem to him.
Not at all.
Of course.
“Karen looked very pretty tonight,” you hummed, placing the first folder down and reaching for the next. “Thought you’d want to know.”
“I don’t need to know how Karen looked tonight,” Matt replied, unmoving beside you, even as you kept yourself turned away from him, aligning the file folders on either side of the briefcase. You almost laughed, incredulous at his words, so thoroughly unmatched by his actions.
His smile, all for her.
His laughs, all for her.
His hands - all over her.
“You sure about that? I mean, I can’t exactly hear people’s hormones, but you can usually tell when two people are attracted to each other. And if you think Tristan was very attracted to me,” you chuckled, unable to mask the bitterness within the sound, “you should have paid closer attention to the two of you.”
With all the folders aligned on the desk, you closed your briefcase, letting the latch snap shut. Matt took another small step toward you even as you kept your body toward Karen’s desk, your line of sight entirely stuck on the stitches through the briefcase’s leather exterior.
“Karen’s my friend,” Matt spoke calmly, “and nothing more than that. I care about her, and I enjoy spending time with her - but she’s just my friend.”
“Maybe you should reconsider that,” you offered, tapping your nails along the desk. “She’s a great person, you know. Smart, funny, capable.”
“She is,” Matt agreed, “but she’s my coworker and my friend. Nothing else.”
Ha.
Sure.
“Whatever you say,” you offered, sounding more dismissive than you’d intended. You reached out to the files, shifting them slightly around in an effort to make them appear perfectly neat and perfectly aligned. Matt, hoping you’d have turned to face him by now, let out an impatient huff.
“Why exactly are you pushing this?”
You shrugged, and despite your efforts to push down any sarcasm, a bit of it still leaked out in the lilt of your voice. “I’m not pushing anything. Just thought you guys looked cute together.”
And if he wants his hands on her so badly, they might as well make it an official thing.
“Bullshit,” Matt spoke, curving the sound of the word so it was less an interjection and more of a calm, calculated callout. Regardless, it still caught you off-guard, drawing a small shiver along your back.
Matt leaned his head to the side, trying to curve himself so that you’d finally, finally look at him - but you only turned your head to focus on the furthest file folder. He leaned back and, crossing his arms over his chest, spoke again. This time, though, his voice was calm, undisturbed, low and gravelly, and unshakeable.
“This is about Tristan, right?” he began, his question so low and sincere-sounding that if you blocked out all memory of that dinner, you’d have thought Matt was being nothing but genuine. You stilled, your hands still at the edges of the file folder.
“You had such a wonderful time with him that your joy is just overflowing to me,” Matt continued, a spiteful edge finally beginning to crack the sureness of his tone. “You just want so badly for me to have tonight work out as well as it did for you - isn’t that correct?”
Finally, you paused, your eyes rolling back into your head as you let out a sigh. Turning to face Matt, you saw that his face was creased and crossed with pure insistence, his brows raised and jaw shifting as he awaited your answer with little patience.
“What is your problem?”
“My problem?” Matt began, calm with a slinking edge, as if he preyed on your response. “My problem is that you’re lying. I just can’t figure out what exactly it’s about.”
You rolled your eyes again. “Matt-“
“I thought we decided,“ he paused, flicking his tongue out over his lips in concentration. “I thought we decided to be honest with each other wherever we can.”
You were frozen, your feet stuck in cold quicksand, each muscle of your body shivering as it was slowly dragged beneath a rocky flow. Matt didn’t so much as hesitate in responding to you, each word shoving you further down through the current.
“Yeah, we did, but I don’t know what you’re talking about, Matt-“
“Lie. You do know what it is. You just don’t want to tell me.”
You kept your lips shut and pushed a sharp breath out through your nose, not wanting to open any more doors for Matt’s prying mind to storm through. He only smiled, tilting his head, his words breathily low - the chest-deep rumble of a predator whose claws rested just atop the belly of their prey.
“Maybe I’ll just have to work it out myself, then.”
This energy in Matt was different than usual. Sharper. It was an energy you’d seen before, as if he was on a mission - only you were the target this time. You didn’t feel unsafe around him - not at all - but this was an energy worth spine-cased shivers, worth all the fear you’d seen in his enemies so far.
The dim light streaming out from behind Matt challenged your sight in making out the details of his expression, and your eyes grew glassy on him as he continued, your teeth clenching tightly together.
Just bear through it.
This is for his own good.
For your own good.
No matter how sickening it might feel - which is ridiculous, anyway.
“When Tristan asked Karen if he was touching you right, and you said yes, you were lying,” Matt kept on. “Hell, when he asked if it was okay for him to touch you at all, and you said yes, you were lying.”
You frowned. “And?”
“And every time you would look over at Karen and I - which was quite often, might I add - your heart rate jumped, your face flushed, your adrenaline spiked.”
“Yeah. That’s called excitement for your friends.”
Matt laughed, leaning forward with arrogance written everywhere from his raised brows to his parted, shining lips. “It’s not really excitement for your friends when you’re trying not to frown the whole time,” he breathed, “is it?”
Your jaw fell, and you shut it quickly, every muscle in your head and neck tensing as your brows knit together, flame exploding through your chest in the face of his unrelenting persistence.
You admired his respect of truth, his need for justice, but right now it was nothing short of infuriating - especially after that dinner, and especially since a healthy amount of distance is what both of you needed. Your words seethed through your teeth with spitting agitation.
“Why do you even care, Matt? Why would you give a shit?”
“I care because we’re friends,” he hummed, almost mockingly, “and friends are supposed to be honest with each other.”
“I am honest with you.”
Matt’s lips curved down, his head swiveling in an impassioned shake no. He said your name calmly, collectedly, and full of near-bitterness.
“Look, we’ve talked about this. We’ve talked about being there for each other, being open with each other, after everything we’ve faced together so far - and especially with all that we’re working towards together.” He heaved another breath, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “That can’t happen if you won’t tell me the truth.”
That statement sent a swirl of raging discomfort through your core.
He needs to slow the fuck down.
I am doing my part to keep him safe.
To keep us both safe.
You shifted your jaw to speak, but Matt only kept going.
“So, sure, keep whatever secrets you want, but you have no reason to lie to me. I’m not going anywhere-“
“Maybe that’s the problem, Matt!” you snapped, the fire in you hissing. “Whatever with dinner. What-fucking-ever, okay? I was lying at the table, I was lying to Tristan, and I happened to look over at you and Karen, and yeah, sure - maybe ‘excitement for my friends’ wasn’t the most accurate way to describe what I felt.”
You paused, and Matt opened his mouth to speak, but you shut him up before he could make a sound.
“Do you have any idea how much thought and consideration I put into this… whatever it is - alliance with you? I’m doing everything with you in mind because when people align themselves with me, friend or ally, or something more or hardly anything at all - they get hurt, Matt. And because of that, I think about you all the damn time, to the point where your well-being is so persistent in my brain that it almost gets on my fucking nerves.”
You paused, needing a breath. You didn’t falter, though, not for a moment - not even as you saw Matt’s expression soften.
“If you know I’m lying and you can read my reactions and my damn body so fucking well, you can fucking figure out why I might be lying - to Tristan, to you, to my-fucking-self.” You paused. “And if the thought of me keeping my secrets from you and sharing them with some other guy bothers you that much,” you sneered, crossing your arms over your chest to mirror Matt’s stance, “maybe I’m not the only one who’s got some explaining to do.”
The two of you stood together and apart in the darkness, matching stances and a shared unwillingness to back down. The air in the room felt heated and interspersed with tension, with the insolence of your outburst and Matt’s persistent digging hitting wall after wall in echoes of silence. You watched Matt through peering, aching eyes as his chest rose and fell, tense arms relaxing only slightly. Here, with the light streaming out from behind him, Matt’s shadowed form seemed taller to you - unstoppable and unavoidable and impossible to step away from.
“So, maybe this is about Tristan,” you murmured, though it came out as more of a taunting hiss. “What, was there something wrong with him being into me? Something wrong with him showing interest - something so very wrong with him touching me? I mean, your hands were all over Karen, and I have no issue with her, so if Tristan is your problem, you’d better pull yourself the fuck together.”
Matt shifted his jaw at your narrow-eyed, fuming words, but he merely took a deeper breath, despite the tensing twitch of the muscles in his neck.
“If there’s anything you want me to explain to you,” Matt offered, his words still firm but slower and softer than before, “just ask me.”
Please.
“I asked already, but I’ll ask again.” Your tone, though sharp, carried some new broken sense of decay, the highly-towered stones around your vulnerable core showing just the first few signs of dilapidation, rumbling as tiny fissures formed at the surface of your words. “Why do you care?”
Matt blinked softly, licking over his lower lip as he shifted an inch closer to you. You kept your arms well-crossed, your stare dissecting and cold - but a shiver still danced over your skin at Matt’s movement toward you.
“I care,” he started, his voice a warm rasp, loud through the empty office - although, really, it was quite quiet. “I care because I care about you.”
You pursed your lips. “You care about me?”
“I do.”
“That’s all?”
Matt’s face contorted into a confused, sneering frown, his tipped jaw jutting forward in near disbelief. “Well, it’s not like that’s something I take lightly.”
Your memory flashed through a whirlwind of recent pictures - of Matt’s hands working to stitch you up, of his knee bumping yours beneath fairy lights at Josie’s, his arm holding you up on a stumbling walk to your bed, his smile as he handed you a cup of hot coffee. Your frown weakened, brow relaxing in surrender, and you gave a slow, resigned nod.
“Okay, fine,” you shook your head, clinging to the fire of your angry resistance with all your might. “So, you care about me, but how does that have anything to do with Tristan or you and Karen? You caring about me is just you being- being kind,” you faltered, biting the inside of your cheek. “And I don’t understand it.”
Matt’s frown relaxed but remained, his brow twisting. “Why not?”
Your brain felt like it was swirling, a whirlpool of feeling and fear and imminent disaster crowding out any other reasonable thought your mind might manage otherwise.
“If we’re not kind to each other, this doesn’t exactly work,” Matt continued, his arms releasing their strain to rest his hands on his hips. “We’re allies and friends-“
“Would you stop using that word?” You burst out, hands flying up to cover your face. A deep breath filled and left your lungs, laced with the barest hint of shaky discomfort, and you dragged your hands back down to curve each arm around your waist as if in a hug. Matt’s tense brow faded further, further from confusion and closer to compassion.
“What word?”
You ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek. “Friend. You keep calling me your friend every five seconds. Just stop it.”
Matt’s lips pursed. “I mean, we are friends, though. You said it yourself.”
“And it feels like you’re mocking me for it.”
Matt’s head tilted, and your eyes flitted up to his glasses, trying to force your gaze through all the red to see his eyes. It was to no avail, though, as the shadows cast from the light at his back made Matt’s eyes nearly unfindable behind those lenses.
“Okay,” Matt breathed, dipping his head slightly. “I’m sorry.”
You paused for a beat, then scoffed, your eyes narrowing. “So, you were mocking me? Why would you mock me for saying we’re friends-“
“Because,” Matt interrupted you, lightly hissing your name. “Fine - you want me to figure you out for myself? You want me to read your damn reactions so you don’t have to explain them on your own?” He kept his feet planted but leaned closer to you, pressing his lips together and releasing them. “I shouldn’t have mocked you. I shouldn’t have-“ Matt paused again with a sigh, leaning back. “There’s a lot I shouldn’t have said, whether it was obvious or not - but what you are not saying is the reason behind it all. Not an excuse, just an explanation-“
You interrupted him with a tone so smooth, so sharp, so certain, that it was hard to believe this was anything close to an argument at all.
“So what is it that I’m not saying?”
At that, Matt took another step toward you, leaning forward until you could finally just make out the curve of his eyes behind the red - eyes that were narrowed, focused, sharp. You gulped at how unbothered he was by your tone, how confidently he carried himself. Matt’s lips pursed before curving outwards, the line of his cheekbones and jaw drawing sculpting shadows over his skin that your focus was no match for - but God, did you ever try to keep your concentration, grasping at every thread of rage and indignation you could find.
Still, he didn’t so much tilt his head by half an inch, facing you straight-on as he spoke, sure and cutting and persistent.
“You don’t want us to just be friends,” Matt murmured, each word backlit by sparks of fighting conviction. “Do you?”
You just stared at him, eyes searching his dark expression as your lips twitched, moving in and out in pursuit of something to say, nothing but cool air passing over your tongue.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Matt pursed his lips again, tipping his head back in exasperation with a clenched jaw. You stood there, still and frozen by Matt’s assessment of your desires, and sighed - resigning yourself to the fact that this man was simultaneously all-knowing and unrelenting, and if you weren’t honest, you’d be arguing in circles for hours.
The honest truth, though, wasn’t something you could really say, not even fully to yourself. It was painful - the awful acceptance that with the life you led, even friendship was a risk, a risk laced with the taste of life-or-death, heartbreak, and loss.
You couldn’t have anything happen to Matt - and you couldn’t lose any more than you’d already lost.
Want is irrelevant. What matters is safety, what matters is purpose, consideration - calculating what’s affordable and what is simply out of reach, and acting accordingly.
You know, to keep people fucking safe.
To keep both of us safe.
No unnecessary risks.
Matt tilted his head back to face you as you spoke, each word an impassioned breath, but a shaky one at that.
“It doesn’t matter what I want.”
“Yes, it does,” Matt opposed you, his tone forceful with a slight lean forward. You caught his chest expand sharply with a pained lick of his lips before he shifted his jaw, the edge in his voice dipping into something more tender. “It matters to me.”
A blooming flower of warmth unfurled within your core, spiraling up through your chest, no matter how much you tried to force it back down. All you could do was stare back at Matt, and he focused on you, sharp and tender. His voice was a whisper of warmth, a gravelly insistence of forceful care and kind consideration - the tone of it consuming you entirely as he breathed your name.
“Tell me what you want,” Matt began, “and I’ll take you at your word.”
Your eyebrows furrowed, and Matt flipped his hands up gently before settling them back at his sides.
“Whatever way your heart beats, however your breathing changes, I won’t consider it at all. Just tell me what you want from me, and I’ll do it. You could tell me to get the hell out of this office, and I’d go, if that’s what you said you wanted.” Matt paused for a moment, his lips curving out a low chuckle. “Even though it is my office.”
You shrugged, your voice little more than a breath. “Technicality.”
Matt smiled at the break in your icy exterior and continued.
“I’ll respect whatever your wishes are, and I won’t question you - but I need you to tell me what you want.”
The curve of your brows was subtle as they drew together. Matt was persistent, sure - but he was a man of his word, you could tell. If anyone would respect a no, it would be him. You could tell him you wanted him to leave your life immediately and entirely, and he’d be gone without a trace, no matter whether your heart beat in tune with a different desire.
And he’d understand.
He’d understand why I have to protect him.
To protect myself.
But the true question was - would pushing him away be a genuine act of mutual self-preservation, or would it just be your sorry sense of constant loss, shoving you down into the depths of your own life-stopping fear, the self-fulfilling prophecy of a lonely soldier’s destiny of solitude?
The air in the office was almost as still as the two of you standing in front of Karen’s desk. You could have glanced over her belongings, could have examined the way she organized the space, the way you’d spread all your files overtop of it - but you didn’t.
Your attention was entirely caught on Matt - on the shadowed concern in his lined brow, the line of his nose, the dip beneath his cheekbones, the cutting edge of his stubbled jaw. Your eyes drifted down as if in a scared, anticipating trance: down the length of his tie, to the belt around his waist, to his hands, now forced into relaxation at his sides - although you caught a nervous twitch here and there.
His hands.
His hands that graced over Karen’s face, over her high cheekbones.
The thumb that ran down the slope of her nose, making her laugh, all light and pretty and perfect.
The very thought of it brought a sick swirl through your stomach.
And you liked Karen, you did, you liked her a great deal - but this wasn’t about her.
Your eyes flitted back up Matt’s torso to his face once more. His brows drew together and apart, causing you to focus on your own brow - which, at your previous thought, had grown tense. Forcing relaxation over your face was challenging, to say the least, but you tried.
“I…” you began, struggling to find the words, struggling to shape the right syllables, to curve your tongue and lips in a manner that would give you just the right sounds for what you had to express. Matt waited patiently, some part of him melting from harrowing conviction into earnest, patient waiting, his lips parted as he hung entirely on the simple sound of your voice. You swallowed, shutting your eyes with a hard blink, before training them on Matt’s glasses - behind which, if you really focused, you could make out the certain, searching shape of his eyes.
His eyes - eyes that had drifted peacefully as his hands found a slow pace across Karen’s skin, their intimacy on full, open display, right in front of you. It was a gentle moment, but to you - to you - it was undeniably full of fire and ice and rage and pain.
Shouldn’t have been.
But…
You clenched your jaw and released it.
It was.
It hurt enough to be unable to even consider what you truly wanted. It hurt even more to see it happen for someone else, right in front of your eyes.
You didn’t have to claim Matt - you were nowhere near that ability, nowhere near the right for that sort of desire. And he didn’t have to claim you.
All you truly wanted in this instant, you found, was something simple. Nothing life-changing, earth-shattering, mind-blowing - not a declaration or a commitment, not a single minute of explanation, or expression, or even a breath of a promise.
All you wanted was a moment.
Nervous heat rose up within you, sputtering and spilling from your veins into your bones, through your brain, and into your very lips. They parted and closed and parted again, and Matt only waited, silent and patient. Even his tense hands seemed to have lost their strain.
"Matt, I-" you started again, your eyes searching Matt's focused expression. They traced the lines across his weary face, paths of both exhaustion and determination that you were sure could be found across your own skin - different from lines of laughter or love, you surely both knew.
I wonder if he can feel the difference.
Maybe he will.
You let in a final deep breath before plunging yourself forward.
"I want you to touch me," you breathed, your low admission releasing from you like a heavy rope letting you go, letting you finally fall to your knees in open, unbound admittance. You tugged your lip between your teeth briefly, in a mix of nervous regret and no-I've-said-it-and-I'm-not-going-back, and it dragged softly back out from beneath the light grit of your bite - images of that dinner flashing through your mind. "The way you touched Karen."
Matt's brows flew up, his lips parting slightly. You twisted your lips, hoping, praying that he'd react well. After a breath, he gave a tiny nod.
"Okay," he breathed. "Okay."
Okay.
Your breaths felt still and shaky as you watched Matt's hands slowly rise from his sides. Your feet drew you closer to him, close enough so that you could once again feel the warmth of his body radiate over yours. The inside of your mouth was dry, your tongue like flat sandpaper, and somehow it felt as if it was watering in anticipation at the same time.
You could feel the heat of Matt's hands as they rose up in front of your body with no need for guidance. An open-mouthed gulp pulled some of your nervous energy downward - which only then multiplied into a silken buzz through your torso, vibrating and hissing out through your limbs as if in a heated, good-feeling pressure of pins and needles over your skin.
Matt's chest rose and softly fell as he breathed through parted lips, and you watched the fabric of his dress shirt shift as his arms lifted in slight, slow movement. As the heat of his hands lifted just over your shoulders, your eyes wanting to flutter, his fingers curled - and you felt yourself wanting to just grab his hands and press them into your skin already.
"Are you sure?" Matt asked earnestly, patient and honest in his desire to make sure you were entirely comfortable - unlike Tristan. You eyed him for a moment before nodding.
"Yes. Yes, I'm sure."
At your assurance, the corner of Matt's lips twitched, and he lifted his hands further. You basked in the heat of them, feeling his very aura creep out over your neck and face, over your jaw, your chin, your cheeks, and you found yourself willing him closer with your mind - until he finally, finally touched his fingertips to your skin.
You let out a long, low breath - and it was the type of sigh that wasn't just born from the heat of a single moment, or even from the pressure of something a bit more extended.
This was a breath you'd been holding for a long, long time.
Matt's fingertips landed at the curve of your cheekbones, just down from your eyes, and they splayed gently across your cheeks. You felt his fingertips tilt until the pads of them were paired with your skin, the gentle pressure nothing short of perfect. He stepped an inch closer and let his fingers stretch their entire lengths along your cheeks, slow and steady, until his palms flattened out to settle against the skin beside each corner of your mouth, the heel of each hand curving beneath either side of your chin.
Matt's skin was warm - hot, even - and you welcomed it. God, you found you had to stop yourself from pressing your face harder against his hands. The pads of his fingertips toyed the edge of calloused and purely soft - ridged and hard at some points, plush at others. This same theme danced across the rest of his hands, down his fingers, across the beds and dips at the height of his palms. He was rough and hard-edged and worn, and he was supple, silken, warm - and you couldn't get enough of either sensation.
"So," you began, your voice softer than you expected it to be. "You've done this with all sorts of women, huh?"
Matt chuckled with a shift of his jaw. "Is that really your focus right now?"
"I'm just saying," you joked, your voice still breathy at the feeling of his hands pressed flush against your skin, waiting there in simple feeling, simply absorbing the sensation of you. "That was sort of Karen's implication."
At that, Matt's brows raised and his parted lips curved in a somewhat-impatient half-smirk, his pinky and ring fingers spreading slightly outwards toward your hairline. "Are we gonna talk about Karen all night, or are you gonna let me give you what you asked for?"
"Wow," you teased. "All night? Are you saying this took all night with all those women before?"
Matt shrugged, his smirk a bit wider, that voice drawing in a new, low rasp.
"If that was what they wanted."
You pressed your lips together, a slow heat rising in your cheeks beneath Matt's hands.
Matt's index fingers drifted over your skin toward your nose, landing just beneath the inner corners of your eyes before tracing up slightly. They moved in tandem over the delicate skin just beneath your waterline. You wondered if he could feel the ends of your lower lashes, wondered if he could feel their tiny spires catch on the ridges in his skin. Your eyes fluttered, and you felt your lashes blink against the very tips of his fingers.
"Still okay?" Matt stilled, his index fingers now beneath the outer corners of your eyes. You nodded. Matt only tilted his head, his now-quiet brows lifting.
"Yes," you breathed. "Yes."
His mouth quirked outwards, head tilting by just a touch.
"With the way touch works for me," Matt spoke, "I can get so much out of a simple brush - even just by dragging a finger over something."
You nodded slightly. "So, this-"
"This gives me so much more," he continued. "It might sound weird, but it's like I can feel all your feelings, all your thoughts - even the little movements you make that you can't even feel."
Not yet willing to be overtaken by Matt's charm, you narrowed your eyes, lips in a light smirk. "So you know more about me than I know about myself?"
He laughed. "If you want to put it like that, sure."
"Sounds suspiciously like a line, Matt."
Your insistent coyness drew the thinnest line of tension up within Matt, and his eyes narrowed. "Not a line. I will admit, though - it tends to… how do I put this-"
"Make all those women want you - even if you can't talk about your little superpowers?" You hummed. Matt's smile, though wide and bright as always, was darker - and not just because of the shadowy feel of the office after hours.
"It's an intimate sort of thing to say, I know." Matt paused, his smile seeming to curve even more slyly. "But it's not my fault they like hearing it."
Your brows flew up, but the quirk of your lips remained unchanged. "So, you also admit you're a flirt, just like Karen said."
"Stop talking about Karen."
"Fine," you blinked. "But she was right." You tilted your head back at Matt, eyeing him as his expression flickered in and out of focus, in and out of light and dark. Your smirk was lighter, darker, wilder. "Player."
"Please," Matt huffed. "Only a player if my charm actually works."
"Does it work, then?" you shrugged, tease filling the tiny movement. Matt, unfazed by the mischief in your words, leaned in closer - just close enough so that the whisper of his breath drifted soft and warm over your skin, his curved lips teasing, lifted brow smiling, each word little more than a slinky, gravelly murmur.
"You tell me."
Stilled and warm and hazy, your brow lifted, but no words came - every ounce of your attention caught once more on Matt's hands against you. Matt's smiling lips relaxed and parted, and he tilted his head to the other side, his palms sliding up further until they cradled your cheekbones. You drank in every slide and drag of his skin over yours, let your eyes flutter closed as his fingertips landed at your hairline, his thumbs sliding across your eyebrows. They drifted back to land gently at the inner corners of your closed eyes, feathering softly over the lids. That softness on such a delicate region of your skin - that drew another breath from you, even as his thumbs reached the outer corners of your eyes.
"Matt?" you breathed, letting your eyes flutter open. Matt stilled, his brows raising.
"Yeah?"
You pressed your lips together, your focus frayed with the tracing of his fingertips down your hairline to land on your temples, his thumbs still placed at the outer corners of your eyes.
"This might be a stupid question, but-" you bit your lip, watching as his shadowed eyes took on an attentive curve.
You had to know, though.
If he cared as much as he said he did - there had to be a reason, and you needed to know what it was.
"Why- when I said we were friends- look, I know I didn't exactly make the greatest effort to call you, but-" you sighed. Matt's hands still cradled your face, patient as you searched for your words. You settled yourself, trying to pull your warped focus away from Matt's touch.
"Why didn't you call, or stop by, or-" you paused, eyes catching on the way his eyes shifted. "Why did you pull away?"
Matt tilted his head, his fingertips drifting down your temples, curling slightly so his nails traced over your skin. You shivered at the difference in feeling, small as it was - scraping and trailing and tasting, far from desperate but so much further from indifferent.
"You made it clear that you wanted space," Matt shrugged. "I wanted to respect that."
As much as you wanted to be mad at Matt for letting the distance grow - short-lived as it was - you couldn't help but feel warm at this respect of your wishes, even though it was basic.
There he goes again. Being a good person and all.
Your tongue flicked out over your parted lips, brow curving but relaxing back as Matt's fingertips moved to curl your hair behind your ears. His touch dragged down behind each ear until each palm held the corners of your jaw. Instinctively, your head tilted up at his hand placement.
The breaths you were taking seemed to grow quicker, and you worked to slow them, inhaling deeper into the depths of your lungs as if the oxygen would come close enough to meet the flame rising in your core.
"Besides," Matt continued, his smile drawing levity to each word, low as his tone was. "We've established many times over that you can protect yourself."
You laughed. "Until I get my ass beat. Many times over." You lifted your hands to make air quotes around the statement Matt had made at dinner. "'For lack of a better phrase.'"
Matt tilted his head back in light exasperation, though his hands remained where they were, cradling your jaw. Your hands floated down to fiddle with the waistband of your jeans, lips curving, and Matt tipped his head down again to face your laughing smile.
"Sorry about that one."
You shrugged. "Don't worry about it. You were just a little jealous, that's all."
Matt's brows shot up, his voice still low but questioning. "Jealous?"
"If it helps," you continued, ignoring the incredulous look on Matt's face, "you are much better at this than Tristan."
Matt's smile remained, his fingers rubbing gently over the spaces beneath your ears, but his jaw clenched. "We're not talking about Karen, and we are certainly not talking about Tristan."
"There it is," you cooed. "Jealous."
Matt ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, and you knew that although you couldn't quite see it in the dark, a blush had to be running hot and red over his face. "Not to rehash this, but you're one to talk."
"So we were both jealous, then," you purred. "No need to be embarrassed. It's natural."
Matt's thumbs pulled over your jaw to land beneath each corner of your lips. He sighed gently. "Especially when someone else has what you want."
Those thumbs pulled up to land on either side of your mouth, dragging Matt's hands up slightly further on your face. He pulled his right hand further toward your chin until only his fingertips were connected with your skin. They dragged in light and feathery purpose as his right thumb landed on the opposite corner of your lips.
You swallowed, but your eyes returned to their familiar narrowed gaze, despite the buzz in your body at Matt's words, his touch, his attention.
"And what is it that you want, Matt?"
Matt only smiled lazily, intently, and pulled that thumb gently over your parted lips, the split of them open and patient and waiting in anticipation for... whatever they were waiting for. The tip of his thumb grazed across the plush pouch of your lower lip, the edge of his thumbnail tracing beneath your upper lip in a tickling scrape. It was all you could do to just keep breathing, just keep standing, just keep your eyes open.
And they were open, sure. They'd just fallen to Matt's lips - parted and patient and waiting, much like yours.
"What is it that I want?" he asked softly, the slow pace of his thumb finally reaching a halt on the other end of your lips. "I think it'd be easier for me to tell you what I don't want."
Now free from his touch, your lips pursed - before parting all over again. It was as if you simply couldn't help yourself, simply couldn't keep them together in this moment.
You watched Matt's shadowed expression, your gaze flitting from his narrowed eyes to his parted, reddened lips, up and down and back again as he tipped his head impossibly closer to yours.
"Okay," you breathed, the sound of it almost trembling with how close Matt was, with how every inch of his skin, ignited with warmth, was igniting yours, too. "What is it that you don't want?"
Matt's smirk was barely-there, his voice almost conniving in the smoky, coarse way it traveled through the empty office - pouring into your brain from all sides, leaving every inch of your consciousness drenched in pure, unadulterated want.
"I don't want us to just be friends, either."
As his words echoed through your head, that want spread further through your body, like a river of gasoline running dangerously close to some adrenaline junkie's lit match.
No.
Not want.
Need.
Matt's hands slid slowly along your jaw until his palms cupped the corners of it, his fingers stretching into your hair and along the back of your neck - pure care, pure pressure, pure heat, as they dragged tiny patterns over your skin. You only watched him, your lips left ajar, as he flicked his tongue out over his own. One of Matt's thumbs slipped beneath your jaw, tipping it up, and you obliged eagerly, your eyes catching on everything from Matt's shadowed glasses to his relaxed but strong brow - to his stubbled jaw, his parted lips.
A whirlwind swirled in your core, hot and melty and extending its intoxicating buzz through every part of you. Gaze falling lower, your hands floated forward to land on Matt's waist.
”This okay?” You asked, your fingers curling back. Matt only nodded slowly, the tip of his tongue tasting headily over the pouch of his lower lip before dipping back.
Okay.
You watched a shaky breath pass through Matt as your fingertips jumped to his midsection, tracing onto the front of his shirt. Despite your subtle, soft touch, you could still feel the pure strength hidden beneath his button-down. Trailing your hands up his chest, you felt his breath hitch just as yours did - your hands bringing a new awareness to every dip and peak of thick muscle, his chest and abs just slightly flickering with tension as he worked to keep his breath steady, you were sure.
And, in the dark of the office, the only light being Matt's, streaming out low and golden from behind him and extending into shadow - you couldn't help but picture what this would look like without the tie, without the shirt.
Your eyes caught on the shoulder of his shirt - the shoulder that Karen had tapped earlier, all innocent and flirty and blithe - and you dragged your hands up his chest to land on each broad shoulder, your core roiling in heat. The corner of Matt's mouth twitched as if he knew exactly what you were thinking:
Not Karen's.
Not hers to touch.
You didn't go as far to think that he was yours to touch - but he certainly was not Karen's, and your hot, careful hands made a sure reminder of that.
The fabric of Matt's clothing grazed beneath your fingertips as you slid your hands in toward his neck. As your fingers caught his skin, he gulped, his jaw flickering, parted lips traced by a slow movement of his tongue. Matt's grip on you almost grew warmer, and he pulled you in closer, his hands around your neck something solid and sure and sending licks of shivery flame down your spine. You slipped your hands down from his neck to land on his tie, and you dipped your head to follow the movements of your fingers - but Matt's thumb tipped your head right back up to face him as if to say, sure, I'm yours to touch - but you are mine.
You smirked.
"So, if you don't want us to be friends," you breathed, your whispery voice a bit stronger than you thought it'd be, "what should we be?"
Matt's smirk was warm. One of his hands slid down your neck, his thumb tracing your collarbone. "Depends," he murmured, sly and slinky and just raspy enough to send your entire soul into a shiver. "Think we should keep it professional?"
You ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek, still grinning as your lips lay inches from Matt's. "I mean, we do technically work together."
"Mhm."
"And it's important to stay focused when you work with someone."
"Definitely."
"And, with what we do," you hummed, tugging your lip between your smiling teeth, "I might just end up needing a lawyer."
Matt's lips spread into a grin. "Needing a lawyer?"
"Yes. And," you continued, inching yourself closer to Matt - which was so close now that your shoes almost bumped his. "It's not a good look, being unprofessional with your attorney - or with your client, for that matter."
"Of course not."
"Bias and all that, you know."
"Oh, for sure."
Your hands had slid down Matt's tie to clasp around the middle of it. With your fingers wrapped tightly, you tugged - and, as Matt leaned closer, he also stepped forward, walking you back with a few tipping strides. The two of you stopped just before the end of Karen's desk, your legs brushing each other, hips just shy of meeting.
Matt's hand slid down your arm in a soft, slow trail before slipping onto your waist. Your breath hitched as his palm pressed flush against you, warm fingers extending in gentle pressure, his other hand still cupping your jaw.
You licked your lips, struggling to keep your head above the water that was Matt's overwhelming presence, his intoxicating touch.
"Unless you handle all your clients like this, you're getting dangerously close to bias, Matt."
His chuckle was soft and low, and you felt the heat of it dance over your skin. "And we can't have that," he murmured, the sound of it curved in a silken smile. "If we're keeping things professional, of course."
You tipped your head to the side, Matt's hand moving with you, and narrowed your eyes. "If you want to win any sort of case for me, maybe you should keep your hands to yourself."
"You're one to talk," Matt whispered, gravel and pure smoke. "If you want any credibility as my client, maybe you should get your hands off my tie."
Your lips pulled up in a half-smile, eyes glinting in amusement. "Maybe I like your tie."
Matt's grin was bright, despite the shadow of the office, dark edges lining his face. "And maybe I don't want to keep my hands to myself. If you don't mind, of course."
The breath in your lungs was light, hitched on every sense of Matt you could cling to - his hands pressed into you, the sight of his chiseled features, dark hair, broad chest and shoulders, the scent of smoke and cinnamon laced with vanilla that always seemed to send your brain into a scattered, soft frenzy.
"Don't mind at all."
Matt pursed his lips before pressing your head back up to face him head-on, that hand on your waist pulling you close with gentle pressure until your hips were pressed flush against his.
Needless to say, it took you a moment to find your voice again.
"Guess we aren't keeping things professional, then," you breathed.
Matt smirked, his low voice rough and heated, those parted lips glistening something dark - the same thread of teasing, gripping intent matched in the rest of his expression.
"You and I both know we were never going to keep things professional."
The buzz between you and Matt was so electric that you could feel it across your lips, feel it pull a steady stream of shaky light through your chest until every breath was a shallow chorus of sparks, each beat of your heart a lightning strike. You could tell Matt felt the same, his lips thoughtlessly, patiently parted, that tongue darting out over them.
You wanted so badly to taste Matt, to feel him work his lips against yours until your mind melted, until your heart pounded so hard in your chest that he could feel it thumping against his, hearing it echo through your body with the knowledge that every feverish, stuttered beat was purely for him. And, with your hips against his, your core pressed against his own by way of that hand on your waist - fuck, you wanted more. You wanted his hands lower, his mouth lower, his body entirely yours to use and be used by.
All those desires were like slick honey over your hazy brain, dripping syrup through each stray consideration in your head until any irrelevant thought disappeared - leaving nothing in your mind but the persistent, gripping need of Matt's lips against yours, of his tongue, his hands, his everything.
Matt's lips curved and relaxed, still plush and parted, and you tugged on that tie once more, dragging him in. You felt his breath on your skin, felt the heat of his face over yours, felt his fingers dig further into your waist, press harder against the back of your neck.
And, above all, you felt the buzz of his lips just a breath away from yours, so close to everything you wanted, everything you needed, close enough that if you shut your eyes and simply imagined him against you, it'd be like he already had his mouth on yours-
-and before you could let your eyes flutter closed, he pulled back slightly, tipping his head to the side.
You were too caught in a haze of desire and heat to process the movement right away, so you just stood there, frozen, your fingers still loosely curled around Matt's tie. His brow twitched.
"Is something wrong?" you breathed, your voice coming out weaker than you'd meant for it to. You cleared your throat, and Matt furrowed his brow.
"No, no, I just-" Matt paused, clenching his jaw. He stepped back from you, his tie falling from your hands. You frowned and stepped toward him.
"What-"
"Nothing's wrong," Matt huffed, his cheeks flushed, even in the dark. Your hand flew up to land on his arm, and he whispered your name - fast, quiet, rushed. "You're gonna want to- "
The doorknob turned in a soft squeak across the room, and the door swung open with a creak. Matt turned to face Karen's desk, and your hand flew back to your side just as your wide eyes caught Foggy's - whose gaze was just as round and stunned as the circle of surprise that was his mouth.
"Uh, hey… guys," Foggy stammered. "I wasn't, uh, wasn't expecting-"
"Hey, Fog," Matt greeted Foggy, his hands landing on his hips as he turned to face his friend. With your brief stupor finally broken, you lifted one hand to your hip, letting the other fly up in a small, awkward wave.
Foggy's lips formed a firm line, and he gave a single sharp nod, his still-wide eyes falling to the floor in front of him. "I was just - I left my apartment keys here by mistake, so I came right from my parents' place, and-"
"How are they?" Matt asked, his voice so calm and collected that anyone listening would have no idea what had almost just happened. You only watched Foggy, his hands dipping into his pockets as his eyes flew back to Matt - finally less wide.
"Good, good. Almost forgot it was their anniversary. My brother wouldn't have let me live it down if I didn't show up. Neither would my mom," he chuckled. You smiled and nodded.
Matt laughed. "That's for sure."
A pause fell over the three of you. Foggy furrowed his brow and gestured toward his office.
"I'm just gonna-"
"Yeah, yeah, of course," Matt waved his hand. Foggy stepped quickly over to his office, giving you an awkward half-smile as he stepped past you and opened his door, flicking the light on.
You looked back at Matt, his face now illuminated, and pressed your lips together. Matt's lips drew up in a tight half-smirk, his eyebrows raising. Behind you, Foggy seemed to be rummaging through his drawers like his life depended on it, papers swishing and coins and paperclips clanging, before it all finally stopped.
"Found them!" He called out.
"Great," Matt bellowed, a twinge of impatience tainting his voice, especially as he sharply emphasized the last letter of the word. You ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek, fighting a grin.
"Probably would have had to sleep in the office if I didn't find these," Foggy shook his head as he shut off his office light and strode back into the main space. "Or-" he stammered again, turning toward the two of you - with the slightest glimmer of amusement in his expression. "Well, if it was already taken, I could have crashed at my mom's."
You and Matt both shook your heads.
"It's- it's not taken, Foggy," you assured.
"Nope," Matt insisted. "Not taken."
Foggy nodded, his brow furrowed, tight lips fighting a smirk. "I assume dinner went well?"
Matt shrugged, his lips curving down. "Yeah, it wasn't too bad."
"Food was great," you offered. Matt nodded again in agreement.
"Really great."
"That's great," Foggy hummed, his eyes flitting between you and Matt. "And, I assume you had to meet about - well, Selena's work stuff?"
You knew Matt had told Foggy he was helping you with a few legal questions on a current assignment so he wouldn't get suspicious about anything. You nodded at Foggy. "Yeah. Just had to go over a few more details."
Foggy nodded, his eyes narrowing. "After 10 on a Friday night?"
You opened your mouth, but no words came. Matt jumped in with a shrug.
"Busy schedules. Hard to find time - you know how it is, Fog."
"Oh, for sure," Foggy nodded sharply, pursing his lips. His lips relaxed into a light half-smile. "Well, I should probably get on home."
"Sure, sure," Matt replied.
Foggy nodded. "You both have a great rest of your night."
"You too," you smiled. Foggy turned to the door but paused, turning back with his brow still furrowed, his lips slightly upturned.
"But, uh… if you guys could just keep it to Matt's desk, that'd be great."
Oh my God.
Matt tipped his head back in exasperation. Your hands flew up to cover your face, which was undoubtedly bright red with the heavy blush you knew was now covering every inch of your skin.
"Seriously?" Matt's irritation carried out over his voice, and you pulled your hands back down to cross over your chest, watching as Foggy's eyes grew wide again, his lips parting in an open-mouthed, self-defensive smile.
"Hey, I'm just saying-"
"Bye, Fog," Matt hummed, his lips a thin line. With a raised brow and a tight-lipped smile, Foggy flipped a hand up in a brief wave and left, letting the door swing shut behind him.
Alone again, you and Matt stood in silence for a moment. You heaved a sigh and drew your eyes back up to Matt’s, trying and failing to fight off your smile - and finding that Matt was failing in the same way.
“So that’s what you were warning me about.”
“Yep,” Matt nodded, firmly enunciating the last letter.
With most of the energy in the office having dissipated - thanks to Foggy’s grand entrance - your focus fell back to the files resting atop Karen’s desk.
“Well,” you began, “in the interest of keeping professional, the files I’ve got are on James Wesley, Confed Global, Leland Owlsley - and Fisk. There’s almost nothing on Fisk and Wesley, though.”
Matt nodded, his smile fading at the lack of information on your primary targets. You continued.
“I was thinking, maybe you could take one file, and I’ll hang onto the rest? Just in case anything happens - easier to cover up if I have to return them or something.”
“Makes sense,” Matt hummed. “I can look into Owlsley, if that works.”
You nodded, reaching out to collect the rest of the files and settling them into your briefcase. Matt reached for the one you left behind, pulling it toward him. You shut your briefcase with a click and lifted it off Karen’s desk, turning back to Matt - whose brow was furrowed. You frowned.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. His lips opened and shut again, pressing together in a tight line. You narrowed your eyes.
“You sure?”
Matt hung his head, releasing a sigh, and lifted it again to face you. The ghost of a smile was painted plainly over his lips, faded and weakened. His expression was still strong, sure - but something else was crossed through it, something like hurt.
“What you said at dinner,” Matt began. “Look, I know we were both caught up in the moment, but I need to know if you really believe what you said.”
Your eyes softened. “What I said?”
“I know what I do is dangerous, and I know there’s a lot of risk that comes with it,” Matt continued, “but it hurt to hear that from you. Especially when it was so…” Matt paused, searching for the right word and landing on it with a pained flash over his lense-covered eyes. “Harsh.”
Oh.
You remembered the dig he was referring to, regret dripping through your chest.
“Only thing he seems to know how to do is create more danger for those around him.”
“Shit, Matt, I- I’m so sorry,” you breathed. “I mean, it was in the moment, and it was under that stupid argument about you setting off the bombs - but that doesn’t excuse it. I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head. “No, don’t- don’t worry about it. I mean, it’s true,” he shrugged, the movement almost dejected. “Job hazard, I guess.”
Your brows drew together, curving up as you watched Matt’s expression - still warm but now tainted.
“It’s good, what you do, Matt,” you nodded emphatically. “You’re helping and protecting a lot of people.”
“And putting others in danger in the process.”
“But you have to do what you have to do,” you continued, stepping closer to him. “If anyone understands that, it’s me.”
Matt let out a deep breath, tilting his head to the side. You stepped forward again, your legs once more brushing his.
“I don’t want to put anyone in danger if I don’t have to,” Matt breathed, dipping his head a touch lower. “Especially not you.”
Your lips quirked up softly, and you smiled. “I can handle a little danger.”
That sent Matt’s lips into their own upward quirk, and his brows raised slightly, his free hand floating to your shoulder. He dragged his thumb back and forth for a moment before slipping his hand back up to cup your cheek, and you leaned into his touch without thinking.
“I know,” he murmured, “but that doesn’t mean you should have to. Isn’t that why you pulled away in the first place?”
Now it was your turn to sigh.
“I did that to protect you.”
Matt sighed back, shaking his head. “You don’t need to protect me, sweetheart-“
“But I do,” you insisted, the buzz in your core returning just slightly at his use of that name for you. “I- you have no idea what I’ve been through, the enemies I’ve made, what I’ve done - what I might be capable of doing.”
None of your words seemed to faze Matt, no matter how much part of you wanted him to be scared away for his own sake. He simply dragged his fingers back and forth against the side of your neck, stroking his thumb along your cheek as he shrugged.
“Maybe we can protect each other, then.”
You dipped your head in a bashful smile, tilting it back up to see Matt smiling in the same warm way.
“I should probably get home,” you hummed. Matt nodded, stroking your cheek once more before letting his hand drift down your arm and back to his side.
“Of course.”
Matt walked you to the door and pulled it open for you.
“Call me if you find anything?”
“Will do,” he smiled.
You smiled back at Matt, taking a moment to admire his presence, the shape of his mouth, his nose, his jaw, even the darkened shine of his glasses. After one final breath of Matt’s warmth, you turned and stepped out of the office, not hearing the door shut softly behind you until you reached the bottom of the stairs. Your impenetrable grin only grew wider at this new memory of Matt’s hands on you, of his raspy words, both calming and igniting - his touch and his tone having painted a glowing, heated promise of what may be to come.