Starlight, Star-Bright
You held your breath as your reflection clasped the chain of your necklace together. The final piece of the picture - other than the zipper at the back of your dress - and you were finally ready. Your makeup glowed perfectly, enhancing your features in just the way you liked, and your hair was styled loose over your shoulders. Silver in its tone, your jewelry sparkled in the low light of Matt's bathroom, three dainty crystalline gems hanging from your earrings and that thin chain around your neck.
Eyes falling to the countertop, they widened at the sight of the perfume bottle.
Almost forgot.
With a dainty grasp of your most potent attack weapon for the evening, you lifted the bottle behind your head and spritzed two pumps into the lower curve of your hairline and the back of your neck.
You knew it was an odd way to wear perfume. It would be more commonplace to spray it on the sides of your neck or on your collarbones - but you didn't want to risk anything being unpleasant for Matt tonight.
I mean, perfume doesn't exactly taste good, even for people with normal senses.
…Not that I'm assuming he'll end up tasting the sides of my neck-
-but I don't want to take any chances.
Shaking your head out of its cloud of perfumed - and otherwise relatively steamy - thoughts, you dabbed another layer of perfume behind each ear, a slight drag just beneath your chin, and gave another tiny spritz to the front of your dress. The bottle was then placed back on the sink counter with the rest of your things.
The straps of your dress, extending in purple-tinted navy from the embroidery on either side of your torso, curved from the dip of your neckline in a smooth curl up and around you. You adjusted them once more, gave your reflection a little nod of encouragement, and headed for the bathroom door.
The week had passed relatively quickly. With you having to finish your work assignments before the night of the gala - along with doing some research for Karen and drowning yourself in a bad habit of tracking Cruz's phone - and Matt also working late on his own cases and his patrols of the city, you hadn't seen much of each other at all. A few coffee conversations came and went, and brief greetings and smiles passed at dusk when your evening as an FBI agent had come to its end and Matt's night as the Devil was just beginning. That was pretty much the extent of your interactions with Matt over this busy week.
One distinct difference from the week before, though, was that Matt now joined you in his bed at night.
During some entire nights, and often at the night's start, you'd lie apart in the bed, comfortable enough in the simplicity of each others' company to sleep soundly as you were. Some wordless moments, though, would lead Matt to wrap himself headily around you in the dark. Other moments still would lead your body to drape over his, head on his chest as his arms curled around you in reverent care. So, not much conversation had passed, not many words exchanged - but the simplest evolution of your body language was enough to show that things had shifted.
Things had changed, in a meaningful way, in a manner that was quantifiable; no longer was this connection limited to what could be, to what you hopelessly pined for.
It was something real.
The push of the door was somewhat slow as you opened it. You could blame it on the jittery feeling in your chest and stomach, the buzz igniting each movement of your hands and fingers, every twitch of your muscles, and each flitter in your lungs. But you did it - and with one hand holding the back of your dress together, you stepped out of the bathroom to see Matt leaning against his kitchen island.
You had never been one to be made into some puddle of drool by a man. Life had led you to both fear them and know how to use them, evaluating for strengths and weaknesses so that you wouldn't be taken advantage of - so that you could rise to the top, scathed and bleeding but formidably there in your undeniable power. A man was either a distraction or a game to be played, a fight to be won. And you always, always won.
But this man, his hard-edged body in such a sleek, well-fitting suit, leaning nonchalantly against the counter as if this world was his and you were undeniably a part of it - undeniably and entirely at both his mercy and his wrath, should you decide you want either side of that attention?
This man had your legs shaking, your steps almost unsteady, as you approached him.
And, being the person you were - that said a lot.
Matt's head tipped up as you took a few steps toward him, your heels clicking faintly on the wood floor. In a brief flash, his lips parted, and you caught the slightest flicker in his eyes behind those red glasses. The corners of your mouth quirked up, but as they did, you realized that your lips had also parted. Your breath had already caught - it caught the very moment you laid eyes on him.
Rightfully so, though.
Matt's suit jacket practically shone in its perfection. Not a speck of lint or dust could be seen, and every thread was perfectly in line with the next, looking soft and supple at each angle and curve of his body - particularly over the impossibly broad strength of his shoulders. His tie, of the same sleek black, was draped down his front in a perfect line. Matt's stubble was carved with a sort of precision you hadn't quite seen on him before, and his hair, fluffy as always, was cleanly combed, a thin stray lock floating just at the edge of his forehead. His black leather shoes practically shone, and his well-fitting suit pants - just as flawless as the jacket and tie - were held up by a black leather belt, low and snug on his waist.
You blinked as your tongue flicked absentmindedly over your lower lip, fingers tightening at your back where they held your dress together. Sure, Matt wore suits for work all the time, but this one was particularly nice.
Or, rather, he looks hot as fuck in it.
Parting your lips was all the preparation you could manage in terms of speaking, but Matt beat you to it regardless.
"Wow," he breathed, the sound gravelly as he shifted against the countertop. His lips quirked again into more of a curve, and as you blushed, you raised your brows.
"Wow, what?"
Matt shook his head, smiling, his head tilted in your direction. "You must look beautiful."
You felt even more blush rush over your cheeks, the heat drawing your lips into a broader smile.
"Thank you," you managed. Matt straightened, and you felt your brain grow hazy at how his white dress shirt spread taut over his chest, the outline of his pecs all too apparent. "You…" you attempted breathily, Matt's brows lifting in amusement at your struggle to say something coherent, "…you look really good."
His eyes twinkled behind the glasses. Then, he smirked.
"Well, I mean - technically, I sort of don't-"
"Oh my God."
"Sorry."
Shaking your head with a grin, you walked closer to Matt, passing the couch, slowing as you reached his dining table. Blue silk swirled around your ankles with every step, and you couldn't help but notice another flicker in Matt's expression as you approached him. His chest lifted in a deep breath before falling, and you caught his lips part once more, dewy and darkly gleaming. His nose all but twitched, and he blinked slowly, his jaw shifting, tongue grazing the edge of his lips. Your mouth moved, beyond your control, in a slight curve out and up.
"Matt…" you began again. Closer to him now, you noticed the details of his face in higher definition. The slope of his nose, the plush raspberry of his lips, the smoke stubbled up his cheeks to sharpen at his cheekbones and jaw - it was everything.
He is so fucking perfect.
You took another step, then another. Matt remained where he was, though you caught his breath almost hitch before resuming as if desperate to draw in more air.
The perfume.
I knew it.
Coy and collected despite the buzz in your body and mind, you looked up at Matt, doe-eyed and expectant.
"Could you help me with my dress?"
He blinked in apparent distraction, the split-second blip barely noticeable.
"Of course," he offered. "Just the zipper?"
You nodded. After another absentminded drag of Matt's tongue across his lips, he motioned for you to turn around, and you did, pulling your hair around to spill over one shoulder. Even without superhuman senses, you could hear Matt stand up fully, could hear his perfect leather shoes click over hardwood, could hear the deep cadence of his breathing - could feel the heat of his body at your back.
Though Matt being so close to you wasn't exactly unfamiliar at this point, it never failed to send jitters through your body, to send your core melting into a molten pot of pure flame.
Your hand, curled around the zipper at the back of your dress, relaxed when Matt's fingers grazed it as he grasped the fabric. The touch, fleeting as it was, felt like pure lightning. You drew your hands to rest atop your abdomen and sucked in a breath when Matt pulled the silk taut around your torso. His fingers trailed down to the lower curve of your spine, and you shivered. All your senses were drawn alight by Matt: the light pressure of his fingertips against the small of your back, the subtle drag of a hand as your zipper was tugged slowly up, pulling silk snug into your body - and not to mention the hot flow of his breathing along the bare skin between your shoulders, the back of your neck. Every breath was full of heat, but it drew up goosebumps and shivers over you all the same.
You felt the zipper pull over the back strap of your bra - strapless, matching your underwear in black lace. One of Matt's hands held the top of the dress back against you, the simmering pressure of his fingers landing at the bare skin between your shoulder blades. The zipper stopped, and you realized your breathing had done the same.
"There," Matt rasped. You stood there for a second, even as his hands - begrudgingly - parted from your dress, from your skin.
"Right," you nodded, clearing your throat. You turned back to see that Matt's skin had gained a light flush, his lips still so stubbornly parted. Your eyes felt glazy, and the words you could manage were so very meaningless - so very lacking of the tension you felt, apart from this coil of heat that fought its way through your tone. "So, you're all good to go?"
Matt shifted his jaw, nodding, smiling. "I am." You smiled back.
"Excited?"
"Ecstatic," he affirmed. As Matt spoke, you couldn't help but become incredibly conscious of the remarkable lack of distance between you two. "I mean, I'm getting an exclusive perspective on what the FBI is really like," he offered, hands at his sides close enough to brush over you if he were to lift his arms, "and I get to learn more about you."
Twisting your lips in a smirking grin, your voice was a vibrant lilt. "Gathering intel for your own purposes, hm?"
"Well, we do work as allies, but there's still room for our own missions, remember?"
"Your own mission? And what would this mission be?"
"Can't say," Matt shook his head, lips pursed. "National security and all that."
"Ah."
"I will say, though," he continued, tilting his head to the side, "it involves a very important woman."
Your lips drew up in a teasing grin.
Always flirting.
I wonder if he even knows how to stop.
"And what's your mission with this woman? I've heard you involve yourself with many," you teased. Matt ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, eyebrows lifting. The expression quickly disappeared, though, replaced by one of the more earnest kind. He shifted his jaw lightly, eyes flitting left and right beneath red. Your breath caught, and you didn't know whether to lean away or lean toward him as Matt himself leaned closer to you.
"None of them compare to her," he asserted, rough and tender. "Not by a long shot."
Your breath caught, focus jarred by Matt's proximity to you, the heat of him curling around your front, his nose maybe inches from yours.
"So this is important to you, isn't it?"
"Very." Matt's words were almost cutting in their certainty, laced with smoke and bathed in feeling. "Very important to me."
You licked your lips. Matt licked his.
A buzz burned between your legs, and your mind fell through the floorboards of his apartment to the flame of the earth below. Matt's lips, red and vibrant in the evening glare from outside, glimmered from where his tongue had wet them. He whispered your name and the sound was music to your ears, caressing your very skin in how it danced over you in waves and tremors.
"We don't want to be late," you breathed, that mere breath being all you could manage.
Matt's eyes darted from side to side, and as he ran his tongue out over his lips for the millionth time, you felt your heart flutter, felt the beat of your pulse twitch through the deepest, most hidden parts of you.
And then, Matt blinked.
"Right," he breathed, offering a tiny, bobbing nod - as if he wasn't just saying it for you but for his own sake, his own control. "Right."
In a consolation, you lifted your hands up to Matt's tie. He stilled at your touch, though he didn't pull back from you, not even by half an inch. Fixing the tie carefully - although it was already perfect as-is - drew your mind back to that night in his office.
Jealousy.
Friendship, not-friendship.
What we want, or, rather-
What we need.
You let the tie slip from your fingers and eyed Matt as you stepped backward, away from him. He tipped his head to the side, and you smiled.
"Better get there in time for you to start that mission."
This year's venue took your breath away the second you stepped out of your cab.
Chatter and buzz surrounded you at the outside of this swanky, upscale hotel. Though people still had coats on as they filed inside, you could catch glimpses of fancy gala dresses - a snatch of tulle here, a shimmer of satin there. Golden light shone out from the open doors and the surrounding windows, and you sucked in a breath as you stepped around to Matt's side of the cab, pulling your jacket tighter before wrapping your hand around his bicep.
Matt turned his head toward you, the slight indentation of his dimple betraying a well-concealed grin. You felt yourself blush - and, with a breath to shake off the feeling, you jerked your head toward the hotel's open doors.
"Ready?"
Matt grinned.
"Ready."
You strode toward the doors together, with Matt holding his cane still at his side; it wasn't needed, what with you there to guide him.
Ahead of you, just stepping through the doors, you caught sight of Ray and Seema. Close to them was Dex - seeming to be on his own.
Huh.
No more Julie?
You drew out your two tickets from your jacket pocket and handed them to one of the greeters in exchange for your free drink ticket and the extras you'd paid for in advance. Chandeliers graced the ceiling, even just in the lobby. They glimmered with the taste of status and prestige, reaching down to the earth as if they were the fingertips of a god, but with crystal acrylic nails. The floors were cream and beige colored marble, streaked with shades of cinnamon and burnt umber. Drawing your jacket off left you in the swish of silk and your heels, and you handed it to coat check with a smile as Matt did the same with his. Luckily, it wasn't cold outside or cold in here. You then regained your grasp on Matt's arm and led him straight ahead, passing the smiling faces of the front desk and following other gala guests toward the main ballroom, whose grand mahogany double doors were propped open like gates to a new world.
The ballroom was full of chatter and buzz as people milled about. Each round table was set with a lacy white tablecloth draped all the way to that marble floor. Those same chandeliers hung from this higher ceiling here, threatening to drip crystalline raindrops down on you from above. Across the large space were two expansive, curling staircases up to the next level, at the top of which you could see a wraparound balcony and different halls extending back into a low-lit maze.
It was intricate, ornate, beautiful.
Beautiful.
"Judging by this whole dropped-jaw thing you've got going on," Matt observed at your side, rousing you from your thoughts, "it's a pretty nice space."
"Mhm," you nodded. You gave a small squeeze to Matt's arm. "What do you notice about it?"
Matt tilted his head, considering as the two of you continued to walk further into the ballroom, joining the growing throngs of people as conversations abounded and a line began to grow for the bar.
"Well," he began, thoughtful as you turned your head to gaze up at him. "With the airflow in the room, I can hear crystals clinking against each other from above - chandeliers."
You nodded, and he smiled.
"I can smell the food being prepared from the kitchen - a chicken dish, a vegetarian option. Those two bartenders are mixing cocktails like their lives depend on it, and one of the guys at coat check just dropped some lady's expensive jacket." Matt winced. "She is not happy."
You glanced back to see this woman from across the room, her hair done into a tight updo with a gold clasp to match the shade of her shimmering, slinky dress. She berated this young coat-checker - who she had apparently dragged all the way into the ballroom to tell him off. He blushed sheepishly with apology as he moved her fancy tweed overcoat onto a hanger with all the care he could possibly manage. The woman's cat-eye glare drove into him harshly, and as she shook her head and made a beeline for the bar, you bit back a giggle.
Of course, Janelle would throw a fit the second she got in the door.
"You know her?" Matt asked. You snorted.
"She's my boss. Not the friendliest."
He chuckled, then drew in a breath. "Big smoker?"
"Like you wouldn't believe."
You and Matt strolled over to your assigned table for the night - table three, just in the second row from the main stage for speeches and such. The table had a black notecard propped up in the center, a deep blue number three embossed on it in swooping print.
As you and Matt moved to pull out your chairs, you saw Ray and Seema stepping toward you from the bar. Your eyes lit up.
Seema's dress was a velvety, colorfully-patterned piece, with shorter sleeves meeting the loose curls of her hair. Ray had cleaned up quite nicely himself, a spotless black suit cloaking him in prestige. He and Seema grinned at you as they approached - though their eyes did flit briefly to Matt.
"Well, look what the damn cat dragged in," Ray exclaimed. Matt turned in Ray and Seema's direction as they reached the two of you, and you chuckled as Ray went in for a hug.
"You clean up nice, Nadeem."
"Not so bad yourself, O'Malley."
You pulled away from Ray, but not before catching a little glint in his eye, a slight raise of his brow.
Yes, Ray. I brought a date. Big whoop.
"You don't nearly compete with your wife, though," you crooned, turning with open arms to Seema, who smiled back at you kindly before entering your offered hug.
"So good to see you, Selena."
"You too," you smiled as you pulled away.
"I mean, look at her," Ray gawked, gazing at his wife. "I couldn't possibly compete. Nor would I want to."
And then, the moment you'd been waiting for, nervously or otherwise: Ray turned to you and then to Matt with a broad smile and a tiny nod.
"This is Matt," you offered. "Matt, this is my coworker, Ray, and his wife, Seema."
With all the warmth in the world, Matt smiled. "Lovely to meet you both."
Seema eyed you with a raised, giddy brow as Matt held out his hand. After a quick beat, Ray grasped it, shaking firmly.
"Nice to meet you, man," Ray nodded - though he kept his wide, grinning eyes on you. You felt your cheeks begin to flush red.
Matt and Ray then proceeded to enter into a discussion about jobs and schooling and whatnot. Before you could join, though, Seema stepped forward, tugging your arm to pull you aside.
"You didn't tell me you had a Matt," she whispered as the two of you strolled toward the other tables, walking slowly and calmly as the last late stragglers filed in and began to take their seats. You laughed, the sound of it carrying a trace of bashfulness.
"It's not- I don't have a Matt."
"You have a date named Matt. I'd say that counts."
"I mean, it's just a date; that doesn't necessarily mean-"
"Selena," Seema chided, stepping in front of you. You drew your brows together.
"What?"
"In all the years Ray has brought me to this thing," she hummed, her wide brown eyes glinting gold in the ballroom lighting, "I have never seen you bring a date. Not once."
You shrugged. "People bring dates to things like this all the time."
A knowing look passed over Seema's eyes as they darted back toward Ray and Matt. You followed her gaze to see them engaged in conversation, cheery and comfortable. With your eyes locked on Matt, you didn't even realize Seema had looked back at you.
"Not you," she hummed, shaking her head. "Besides," she insisted, drawing your attention back to her as she leaned in with a smile. "He's cute."
You let out a sigh but couldn't help your lips from curving up. Teasingly, Seema giggled. Her expression, though, grew serious once more.
"You deserve to be happy, you know."
You blinked. "What?"
"You work your ass off. I know it, Ray knows it, and you should be proud of yourself," Seema continued. "But you do deserve to just be happy for the sake of it."
As she spoke, your gaze had drifted back to Matt, like he was metal and your eyes were magnets. His cheeks dimpled as he spoke, and something he said made Ray laugh hard, so much so that he slapped Matt's shoulder lightly. Your lips pulled up into a smile at their camaraderie.
"Look at you! Oh, my God," Seema laughed. "Like a nervous teenager with a crush."
You turned back to her, jaw dropped. "Hardly."
Seema's brows lifted, and she shook her head. "I don't know. That longing gaze was pretty teenage crush to me."
With narrowed eyes, you shrugged. "Maybe I was gazing at your husband."
"Well, damn. I mean, if you take Ray off my hands, then I can get a dance or two in with your-"
"Okay," you cut her off, a tiny burn sparking in your chest before you even realized it was there. "Let's not do that."
You knew what you'd done the second the words left your lips - especially as Seema's grin grew wider.
"And the jealousy? You are in so deep, Sel."
You threw your head back but couldn't stop a small smile from creeping over your face. Seema grasped your arm.
"Come on. Let's get you back to your arm candy."
You and Seema got back to the table just as the emcee for the night approached the speech podium onstage. Indira was at your table, too, along with her date and some other Two and Three agents. You tugged out your chair beside Matt, and he tipped his head up at you.
“Hey,” he whispered. Pulling your chair in, you caught Seema eyeing you as you looked toward Matt, whose smiling lips had your heart fluttering the second you saw them.
“Hey,” you whispered back. Matt grinned, moving his head closer to your ear as if to ensure that your conversation was for the two of you only.
“Your friend - Ray - really nice guy.”
You smiled at Matt’s words, though a part of your smile was due to the hazy cloud filling your brain at the feeling of Matt’s warm breath on your skin.
“Yeah?”
“Absolutely. Very funny. I’m sure working with him is great.”
At that statement, your eyes caught on Janelle’s sparkling dress, the fabric swishing with each step she took toward the podium. A part of you wanted to snort, but you held it back.
“Well, with how our boss can be, we’ve got to lean on each other.”
Matt’s eyes raised, but you barely noticed it. Your gaze was caught squarely on the purse of his upturned lips.
“Good evening, everybody!” The emcee boomed, drawing your and Matt’s attention fully to the front of the room. He wore a navy blue tuxedo with a dark goatee and mustache encircling his wide, glimmering grin. You recognized him from years past; his name was Doug, if you were remembering correctly. He worked in central administration and had hosted before - and one year got so drunk on the dance floor that he fell into the splits and tore his pants. People called him “Double Split Doug” for about a year afterward.
“I hope we’re all ready to get the night started,” Doug continued. “I won’t bore you with any long introductions - in fact, I’ll leave all that to our division director helping me lead the stage tonight: Special Agent in Charge, Janelle Griffin!”
Claps and cheers echoed from floor to ceiling as the emcee stepped aside and Janelle took the podium. You clapped, too, only softly, and placed your hands into your lap as she cleared her throat - then cleared it again.
Damn cigarettes.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen - esteemed protectors of our people, of our communities.” Janelle’s voice, though raspy, was strong as she began. Her magenta-painted lips shifted with enthusiasm as she spoke, her arms and hands joining to shape each word with extra animated emphasis.
“Hard to believe it’s already been a year since the last one of these,” she continued, “and in that time, we’ve seen long-term agents leave their posts with dignity and respect, and seen new agents rise to the challenge. A challenge, and an opportunity, it is, depending on how you look at it.”
Your eyes flitted to Ray, whose eyes darted to yours. He shrugged, giving you a look of Hey, not bad so far. You shrugged back before tipping your head back in Janelle’s direction.
“With all the work our agents commit themselves to, it is undeniable that this job is challenging. Grueling. The sort of thing that can break a person’s spirit as they’re drawn into the depths of society and back again, time and time over. And although spirits have been strained, drawn taut, none have snapped - yet.”
The room chuckled at Janelle’s joke, at her knowing smile, which then melted back into sure sincerity. From across the room, you caught sight of Dex, his lopsided grin wider than usual as he laughed.
“Because these people, these heroes of our nation, have risen to the opportunity to keep our great nation - to keep this great city - safe. These people and their heart, their wit, their willingness to be knocked to the ground and return to their feet time and time again, scathed and ready for more in the name of justice - these people represent the very meaning behind what we do. And, sure, we’ve seen our fair share of commonly-defined heroes in the past few years, avenging all over the place,” she hummed, you and the room laughing once more, “but our agents are our heroes on the ground, in the thick of it all. They save the world each day by protecting its people in the midst of life, day to day, night to night. And that, in and of itself - that is what it means to bring justice, aside from all the Tony Starks and Steve Rogerses of the world.”
Heroes on the ground, huh.
With a tug at your lip, you let your knees tip lightly to the side. Your outermost knee bumped Matt’s, and you allowed the weight of it to rest against him. Your eyes flicked to his face, on which you saw the slightest hint of a quirk over his lips. Without missing a beat, he - gently - pressed his knee back against yours.
“When you do what you must with what you have, when you see the potential in what is at your fingertips and you use it for the greater good - that is what it means to be a hero.”
Pursing your lips, you smiled - which was against your usual better judgment where your boss was concerned.
Not bad, Janelle.
Her magenta grin was mighty, her dress sparkling in that golden crystal light from above. And her voice, though still croaky, was as vibrant as ever.
“Give it up for our heroes, ladies and gentlemen!”
The room erupted in thunderous applause. Every chorus of claps echoed around each table, ricocheting from wine glasses to chandeliers and back again.
“So she’s your boss?” Matt whispered in your ears as the clapping continued. As the sound died down and that emcee returned to his post, you leaned toward Matt, keeping your voice quiet.
“Yeah. And she’s actually, usually, a bitch.”
Matt just barely held back a snort. You grabbed your water glass, lifting it to semi-smiling lips.
“Good speech, though, I’ll admit.”
Dinner was served shortly after that. Although it wasn’t the best meal you’d ever eaten, it was good enough - especially coupled with thoughtful conversation and good company. You mostly tuned out the rest of Janelle’s speeches and the statements made by other higher-level agents and associates, though you made sure to clap at all the appropriate times.
Matt held his own, and well. He never wavered in the conversation, never seemed uncomfortable for a moment. Every story or response to one was doled out with exquisite manners and the compassionate intelligence you could only really find… well, nowhere else, really. You caught yourself staring at him in admiration more than a couple times - and so did Ray, shooting you teasing looks of no-fucking-way-my-friend-has-FEELINGS.
You’d shoot him a look of get-over-yourself in response, but it could never fully hide the sparkle in your eyes.
After you’d cleared your plate and Matt had cleared his, you dragged him to his feet.
“Let’s go to the bar,” you hummed. Matt stood, but gave a twinge of minor, joking protest.
“You know, I was really having some great discussions there. All sorts of justice problems and whatnot.”
“Yeah, well, those justice problems can remain unsolved for one more night.” You pressed your lips together, grabbing Matt’s arm. “Besides, I owe you a drink, don’t I?”
He chuckled. “And who would I be to turn down such an offer?”
“Exactly,” you hummed. You reached for a drink ticket as Matt grabbed his cane, and the two of you strode off toward the bar - which luckily had no line, as many people had already gotten their first round and some were still eating. Most people at this point, though, were milling around the room in conversation, enjoying the first few plucks of music of the night as the dance floor gained one or two new members.
The bartender reached you and Matt just as you placed your drink ticket on the counter. You and he leaned forward against the bar, heads turned at attention toward this young bartender.
“For him,” you said. You opened your mouth to order him something fancy, something fabulous, but he beat you to it.
“I’ll have a Macallan, please, if you have it. Neat.”
You gawked at Matt as the bartender smiled, his all-black button-down tucked tight beneath an apron.
“Excellent choice, sir.”
The bartender took the ticket and stepped back to pull out the whisky Matt had ordered. Meanwhile, you narrowed your eyes at Matt, jaw still dropped. He laughed.
“What?”
“You buy cheap ass beer, and then you come out here and order a Macallan?”
“Hey, you’re paying for it,” he shrugged, cheeks dimpled with boyish mischief. “Can’t blame me, can you?”
You scoffed. “I’m just surprised. Didn’t expect a guy who practically defended some cheap beer with his life to have such an expensive whiskey as his drink of choice.”
Matt’s grin peeled wider, and he stepped an inch or so to the side, his elbows sliding along the bar as he drew closer to you.
“Maybe there’s more to me than you think.”
Light flashed off his glasses as he turned his face toward yours, and you felt your soul swooning. You smiled.
“Maybe so.”
Matt pursed his lips. “And you? How about your drink of choice, when it’s covered by the FBI?”
“If mine was covered by the FBI. I used my free drink on you and your single malt, remember?”
“Of course,” Matt hummed. “God, what an honor. Me and my single malt are eternally grateful.”
“As you should be,” you giggled. Your eyes drifted to the bartender, who placed Matt’s whiskey in front of him, the honeyed amber brown of it deep and luxurious in color as it lined the lower quarter of the glass. Matt thanked the bartender and drew the drink to his lips for a sip, just as you realized you’d left a drink ticket of your own at the table.
“Shit. I’ve just gotta grab my ticket, okay?”
“Forgot your ticket?” Matt narrowed his eyes behind his glasses, pulling the glass to the edge of his lips for a second sip. “Someone’s distracted.”
“Oh my God,” you huffed, swatting Matt’s shoulder. He grinned into his glass.
“I’ll be right back, you Macallan-loving loser.”
“I’ll be here,” Matt purred as you strode off, your silk dress swishing with each step.
Stepping up to the now-empty table, you scoured it for your ticket. Everyone else had dispersed either to the bar line or the dance floor, but staff hadn’t yet come by to clear. Napkins were strewn all over, empty and half-empty plates scattered in a smattering of cutlery and glasses at varying levels of fullness.
Out of the corner of your eye, though, you caught sight of a man striding in your direction.
And it would have been fine, sure, if you hadn’t noticed the scraggly, unkempt length of his beard, the awkward lankiness of his height - though he wasn’t a small man.
Just a horrible excuse for one.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
The adrenaline spike was both physical and psychological. Your breathing promptly shallowed, heart rate quickening, and your brain grew frazzled, unfocused, as you desperately flicked your eyes every which way over the table, hands shifting what you could.
Ticket, ticket, ticket, you panicked. Where the hell is it?
Bile had reached the back of your throat just as the glint of goldenrod yellow finally winked up at you, half-draped over by the edge of a white cloth napkin. You grasped the ticket nimbly and spun on your heel -
- just to nearly spin face-first into Murph.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Whoa, there,” he bellowed, laughing - but not stepping back. “Big rush for the bar?”
Awkwardly, after the shallowest breath you may have ever taken, you sighed out an even sorrier excuse for a laugh.
“Well, I gotta get there before they run out for the night.”
“Ah, you’ve got plenty of time,” he hummed, staring you down with those icy, empty eyes as they feigned their classic smile. When you didn’t speak, he cleared his throat.
“Killer speech Janelle gave,” Murph croaked, swirling his glass of who-knows-what - looks like vodka. You drew in a breath, and the rubbing-alcohol scent confirmed your suspicions as Murph’s words continued to tumble out. “Almost couldn’t hear that cig-crackle in her voice.”
“Right,” you half-laughed, wholly awkward from the twist of your fingers together to the dart of your eyes toward the bar, which was now crowded with patrons.
Matt.
Matt.
Get over here, Matt.
“I’ve got to say,” Murph crooned, sidling himself closer to you. “Wished she would’ve given somebody else the stand for a second or two.”
Your body curved away from him instinctually, desperate to avoid his vodka breath, his sweaty aura, that cheap and god-awful cologne. You now stood opposite Murph with your back to the bar, but hey, better that than being trapped between him and the table.
“Oh?”
“Definitely,” he drawled. The man took a sip of his drink, and you were somewhat surprised it didn’t soak his mustache, what with how he flipped the glass up with such intent.
Disgusting.
Matt.
Please.
“I bet you’d have a lot to say,” Murph drawled again. He took a careful step closer, and you stepped back, but it wasn’t enough. You could feel his humid breath on your skin, even though he was still something like a foot away.
“Me?”
“You.”
You pulled a face, shook your head. “I can’t think of anything I’d say.”
“Well, then,” Murph purred, the sound of his voice sickening in how it sent your stomach into a churn. “Maybe I’d have to speak for you.”
You only stared into Murph’s glassy, unfeeling, predatory eyes, the pale blue of them suffocatingly clear - as if any semblance of light or care or goodness had been slurped out and spat onto the ground. Murph’s lip curved as if it filled him with joy to see you so dumbfounded, so frozen, so…
Afraid.
“I think I’d make sure the whole room knows what a catch you are, Sel,” he murmured. “And how much of a win it would be to catch you.”
Your nose twitched. You stood your ground, though - but at this point, you could no longer tell whether you were standing your ground or just painfully tethered to it.
Murph tilted his body to the side, his sharp eyes remaining wholly on yours as he placed his glass on the table. He then made a point of standing tall, licking his thin, conniving lips.
“Think you know by now, I’ve got a tendency to win.”
Murph’s thick, grimy fingers reached down, grazing your wrist before floating back to his side. His skin felt coarse on yours, felt diseased, like this one touch would cause your skin to wither, cause your blood to run dry and crust off into stale air.
A shudder wound through you from your wrist to every inch of your bones. Your breathing picked up, hiccuping in your chest as if in some new, fearful heartbeat. Part of you wanted to run, part of you wanted to kick Murph to the ground, finally see him bleed. Feet frozen in place, though, you were stuck.
Matt, please get back here.
Please.
And, as Murph opened his nasty little mouth to spit up something viler, his eyes finally lifted off yours. The lines around his gaze deepened as his eyelids narrowed on the space just behind you, past your side. A quick series of sparse clicks sounded out from behind you - the type of quick clicks that came from a cane tapping so swiftly along the floor, it was as if it wasn’t even really needed. You then felt heat extend along your body, felt a warm hand slide strong and certain over the small of your back to curve in a rigid clamp atop your hip. Cinnamon filled your lungs, and that chain of tension strangling your breath finally split.
Tilting your head to the side, you couldn’t hide the lingering fear on your face as you looked into Matt’s glasses. His expression was placid, peaceful, even happy - but you knew the telltale lines around his eyes and mouth, those of concern. You plastered on a smile, grateful as his hand around you pressed tighter.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Matt hummed. He then let his brow furrow jokingly. “That is you, right?”
An only-slightly-shaky laugh rocked through you. “Yeah, it’s me, Matt.”
You beamed at him, and he turned his head back toward Murph, not lightening his grip on you for even a moment. A flicker sparked tension over his jaw as it shifted.
“Who’s this?”
Calming butterflies danced through your still-anxious stomach. Murph’s eyes went wide.
“Craig Murphy,” he offered, sticking out a thick hand with an even thicker smile - before awkwardly drawing it back to his side. “But everybody and their mom calls me Murph. Kind of an endearing nickname, as far as nicknames go.”
“Matt Murdock,” Matt offered, sticking his hand out, which Murph shook. “Nice to meet you, Craig.”
Murph’s jaw clenched, and you fought off the urge to snicker.
“Right, well…” Murph trailed off. He reached back to grab his nearly-empty glass and lifted it in an exaggerated display. “About time for me to pay that bar another visit!”
Matt laughed. “Enjoy yourself, pal.”
With that, Murph awkwardly stepped around Matt and made a beeline for the bar. Even with him gone, though, your entire core felt wrapped in knots, tight and encrusted with fast-drying glue. The slip of Matt’s hand to the small of your back brought you somewhat back, creating a soft-edged salve for your discomfort.
“Hey,” he whispered, stepping in front of you. “You okay?”
You pursed your lips and nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
Matt frowned.
“I’m fine, Matt. I- I’m glad you came.”
Matt shifted his jaw. His voice was low and soothing as he spoke, that hand rising up to the middle of your back, thumb dragging over your dress in slow, sure strokes. “I get the sense it wasn’t just the alcohol making that guy act like a creep.”
“You would be correct in sensing that, yeah,” you nodded. Matt’s brows drew lightly together. You sighed.
“He’s done it to so many other women, not just me. We’ve tried, but there’s never enough proof, or whatever garbage the Bureau argues.” Your voice began to shake, and you drew a sharp breath, forcing calm back into your words. “We think he’s got some shit on a higher-up, or he’s in leagues with powerful people - no one really knows.”
Matt’s head tipped, tilted slightly, and his nostrils flared. “He works for the damn country. He should not be getting away with that sort of thing.”
“But he does,” you shrugged bitterly. “I’d do something myself, but he’s too close to home. And, like I said, people have tried over the years, but it’s never worked. Some classic patriarchal bullshit. Protecting the nation, and yet you can’t protect your women.”
It was painful, really, and horribly ironic. You were so powerful in some senses, having drawn so many evils and gods and men to their knees, left them crawling through their own blood as they searched for escape, searched for some path back to the life they lived before you’d disrupted its perfect pattern. None of that mattered when it came to Murph. No matter the power you held, this sleazy, sorry excuse for a man still sent you reeling back into the terrified agony of a little girl, crying at some horrid monster as it threatened to smother you in your Disney Princess bed.
Matt shifted his jaw. He drew one of your hands up to curl around his arm as the two of you stepped away from the table together, and his voice hit your ear in little more than a whisper.
“Don’t worry about him, sweetheart,” he breathed, a prominent streak of fire in his low, calculated tone. “A man like that is sure to meet the Devil sooner or later.”
You blushed. Matt’s hand - still on yours, where it curled around his arm - pressed against you tighter, all calloused heat. His purr was still sharp with predation, but tender toward you.
“Let’s get you that drink.”
You bit your lip and nodded. Still blushing, you couldn’t come up with a response, couldn’t seem to work your lips. All they seemed to want to do was part - particularly when you felt the flex of Matt’s bicep as he walked alongside you, warm and thick and strong in your grasp.
Death of me.
The Devil will be the death of me.
After you got your drinks, you and Matt returned to the table for a moment before stepping out to mingle. He fell off into the crowd, having caught the eye of some NYPD officers he knew through the system. You made your own way through conversation, laughs, and storytelling in flowing abundance as you spoke with people from the NYPD, your own division, even the mayor's office. It was something you enjoyed, all the conversation, the reconnection with people you hadn't spoken to in a while.
Eventually, though, you found yourself drawn back to the edge of the room, eyes locked on the dance floor.
The music had entered into a slower section, meaning it was that time of the night when any and all couples shone as they held each other close in varying levels of romantic sway. It had always been pretty to you.
Well, more than pretty.
Stunning, glamorous, elegant, from the golden glow of chandelier light above to the twirl of long skirts and well-shined shoes over the floor.
It was also, again, undoubtedly, something of romance. The way each couple seemed, perhaps, lost in each other's eyes, lost in each other's smiles, or simply lost in pure peace where they danced close and slow - it was moving.
And you'd never been someone so easily moved. But still.
It got you, this part of the night, this part you'd never been a part of. Each year, you caught yourself in this same spot, in this same state of mind, the little girl inside you wondering when it would be her turn to be asked to dance.
"There you are."
Matt's voice made you jump, what with how caught up you'd become in your thoughts and how adept he was at sneaking up on people - even you. He laughed.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."
You eyed Matt where he stood at your side and smiled. His lips pursed, and he nodded toward those couples you'd been so focused on.
"Seems like something really had your attention."
A rush of pink flooded your skin. You shrugged and offered Matt a small smile before turning your head back toward the dance floor.
"The dresses are just so pretty," you offered, your voice softer than you'd meant for it to sound. "Every year, I swear someone goes more all-out. I never think it's possible, but it happens."
Beside you, Matt took a step closer to you so he was directly at your side, his arm a breath away from touching yours. "Tell me about them."
"What?"
"The dresses," he explained, his voice also soft. "Tell me what they look like."
"Oh," you nodded, something warm in you sputtering alight. "Okay."
You bit your lip.
He can't see them, but…
I can help him try, in a way.
"Well, there's this green one on one lady - it's this mermaid-looking thing, all sparkly at the top in some sort of mesh corset, then it's tight around most of her legs, and it flares in this great big tulle skirt at the bottom. Her date's dress is almost exactly the same, just gold - but they keep stepping on each others' skirts."
Out of the corner of your eye, Matt nodded. "Are they the ones laughing?"
"Yep," you smiled. "Very sweet." Your eyes drifted for another example and landed on Indira and her date, the two of them smiley and close. "Then there's Indira's dress - one of my coworkers from our table. It's light blue, with very pale silver detailing along the top. Sweetheart neckline, but an A-line dress."
"Remind me of what that means?"
Turning to Matt, you half-laughed.
"Right. It- hm," you stuttered, not knowing how to explain it well enough. Matt's head tilted to the side - and an idea sparked.
"Can you hear this?" You asked, dragging a finger down the side of your dress. Matt nodded. His lips also twitched, but you worked to ignore that part out of respect for your own focus.
"Okay. It has this slight wave shape over her chest, like this."
The finger you lifted felt simultaneously light and full of lead as you drew it up to your chest. Silk hit your skin cool and soft where you pressed your fingertip into the outer edge of your dress's upper line, and you eyed Matt carefully as that finger drew a slow, swooping curve above your breast. A tiny fissure of a flicker flashed in his jaw as your finger dipped just slightly at your sternum before swooping up in another curved drag. When you finished your sound description of the neckline, you paused briefly, locked in Matt's observation of your movements.
"And then," you started, needing to clear your throat at the sight of Matt's face flushed, his cane gripped just a touch tighter at his side. "And then, it pretty much falls straight down from her ribs, but it does catch on her curves. Quite lovely."
"And you said it was light blue?"
"Yeah. More like sky blue. Like the silver could be a line of clouds, almost."
Wonder passed over Matt's expression in a thin, translucent wave. It took all your energy to break your gaze off him and glance back to the dance floor - where your eyes caught on Ray and Seema. You grinned.
"And then Seema's dress, I absolutely love. It's made up of gold and orange and navy patterning, like… geometric lines and crosses over her - almost like a super high-end carpet," you explained, "but it doesn't look like a carpet. It has a scoop neckline, like this," you drew that hand back up to draw a simple swoop across your chest, "and her sleeves end just before her elbows. The fabric looks soft, almost like velvet."
Matt smiled at your slightly more excited description. "And she's Ray's wife, right?"
"Yes."
You watched them for a second, admired how they smiled at each other through whatever conversation they were having. A cloud of peace floated through your chest as you caught sight of Ray's smile in particular. It always felt good to see your friend happy.
"They're really good together. Seema can get worried about the day-to-day, and Ray's big promises keep her collected - even when she doesn't really believe them," you kept on, Matt nodding at your side. "And when his worries spiral, she's always there to help bring him back to earth."
And it was true; they were excellent for each other. Friends and lovers, they took care of one another in a manner more genuine than many people these days thought was possible - including, usually, you.
How can two people be so perfect together?
So in love?
While you were caught up again in your thoughts, Matt's voice sounded out at your side. You were too distracted to catch what he said and turned toward him.
"Hm?"
Matt chuckled, but it was soft, cautious. He licked his lips and turned his head toward the dance floor before turning it back to face you. "You've been watching all these people dance for - I don't know how long."
"Yeah," you nodded slowly.
"Yeah," Matt affirmed. He pressed his lips together, and something inside of you buzzed at the realization of what he might be saying. Matt opened his mouth, and you felt all your limbs go weak with every tender word he sent your way.
"Why don't we join them?"
Against your better judgment, your usual handle on knee-jerk reactions, your jaw dropped. You tried to speak, tried to shape your lips and tongue into something resembling a word or two, but it didn't seem possible.
He wants to dance with me.
With the couples.
On the dance floor.
Matt pressed his lips together, shook his head, flipped his hands up.
"Only if you want to- "
"Yes," you breathed, your control returning to you just in the nick of time. "Yes, Matt, I- I would love to."
Matt's lips pulled back into a warm smile, his cheeks dimpling, those cheerful lines around his eyes just barely visible. He gave a small nod to the side.
"Then let's get out there."
Before your nerves could get the better of you, you wrapped your hand around Matt's arm and started toward the dance floor - though every inch of you felt like it was shaking, almost shivering. Matt moved instantly with you, dropping his cane on a nearby table as you walked; he held no concern for what happened to it, so long as he was getting to dance with you.
You and Matt entered the floor and worked your way to an open space just off from the center of it. As you pulled your arm out from his, Matt turned to you smoothly, pausing a moment. While the couples around you swayed to the music - which currently was a softer song, something slow and slinking and smooth from its beat to its soothing tones - Matt took a step closer. Your breath hitched and sputtered hot and cold as Matt's hand floated into a gentle grasp on yours, and you let your fingers relax into intertwining with his, his guiding strength lifting your arm with care.
His other hand lifted and landed at your waist, and he stepped closer, sliding that heated hand across your silk-laden body until his fingertips brushed your spine. You lifted your free arm to gingerly rest it on Matt's shoulder, your fingers landing at the base of his neck, thumb drifting up the skin of its side. His muscles tensed under your touch in a shiver, and you would have smirked at him in jest if you hadn't been wracked with your own shivers of his doing.
Finally locked together, you began to move with the music - with you mainly following Matt's lead.
"So, you can cook, and you can dance?" You joked. "So many secrets, Murdock."
"You know more than most by a wide margin." Matt dipped his head closer to yours, sending a shudder from your neck all through your body, where his lips grew closer to your ear. "At this point, it's hard to think of what you don't know."
"Hm," you managed, fighting off any struggle to speak. "All that in a few short weeks, huh?"
Matt all but sighed.
"It's been months, sweetheart."
Your eyes flicked wide in a split-second of clarity. "Seriously?"
"Well - close to two or three. But it counts."
"Wow," you breathed. "I mean… yeah. That's right. Wow." You'd been so caught up in everything that it hadn't occurred to you how long it really had been.
Still, you crafted a sleek smile over your shivering lips, keeping your tone low.
"Hate to break it to you, but I still have a few secrets left."
Matt's grin was more than apparent in his voice.
"I look forward to learning them."
"And what makes you think they're yours to learn?" You teased. "Bold assumption."
Matt didn't miss a single flirtatious beat.
"Educated guess."
Shaking your head, you tucked yourself closer to Matt, his heat and broad body enveloping you.
Unbelievable.
As you pulled yourself closer to Matt, his hand at your dress slipped up further. His palm reached the center of your back, and you noticed his fingers rubbing lightly back and forth as they extended over silk. His chest just barely pressed against yours, and your legs brushed as you moved. Your head, pulled into the crook of his neck, felt light, almost woozy.
Voice low, you elected to keep the conversation going, as much as you were struggling to focus on anything other than Matt's presence, his touch, his cinnamon scent. You swayed together until dim and golden chandelier light, other couples swirling around you.
"What do I have left to learn about you?" You asked in a whisper. Matt laughed.
"Well, now I'll have to think of some secrets to even the playing field." Matt paused, and you noticed his hand slip down again to palm the small of your back. "But I can think of a few, off the top of my head." He pressed that hand into you tight, and your lips parted. "A few things we haven't shared yet."
Though it was a struggle, you did manage to still, somehow, speak, soft and quiet and drained of all strength by way of Matt's hold on you, literally and figuratively.
"And what would those be?"
A beat passed, the two of you enveloped in each other, your question hanging in the air.
"Well," Matt began, each hand gripping you firmly. His voice was all slink and gravel, and the second it hit your ears, you somehow melted even more than you already had.
"Those would be the sort of things we don't share in public," Matt purred, half-cautious, half-confident, hand sliding further at your back to curl you more tightly into him. You swore you could feel him lick his lips before speaking gently, warm and dark, into your ear once more. "The sort of things we save for when it's just you and me."
"Oh," you breathed, half-shaking in Matt's strong embrace.
Oh.
OH.
"Well," you managed, feeling sweat bead at the back of your neck, feeling that familiar melting sensation deepen itself between your hips. "Whenever you want to share that sort of secret, you just let me know."
Matt pulled his head back just slightly, and you swallowed at the sight of his both awed and focused expression. You smiled.
A breath, and Matt matched your smile softly before tugging you back into him.
“So he put all your furniture in another dorm?”
“Yep.”
You laughed but half-winced. “Mean joke to play on a blind guy.”
“I don’t know, I thought it was funny. I mean, I already knew, right, so I played along. That’s something I really appreciated from Foggy, though - he didn’t walk on eggshells around me. Didn’t treat me like some suffering, poor guy. In the best way, I was always just a guy to him.”
Reaching the last step of the staircase, you nodded, smiling softly. “Makes sense.”
Once the music had picked up and many others had joined the floor for what felt like more of a school dance, you and Matt had elected to sneak off and explore the place a bit. Sure, you loved dancing to good throwback songs, thoroughly enjoyed rocking out to a Timbaland mix or two while getting a bit more than tipsy - but another adventure with the Devil?
Not something you wanted to pass up.
The two of you now stood at the top of one of those vast, curling staircases. You glanced down at the ballroom below, full of people dancing and singing and somehow managing to keep their conversations going with the blare of music. Doug was, naturally, near the center of the dance floor, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his slightly gawky, sputtery dance moves.
Turning back toward this second-floor balcony you and Matt were now on, you admired the elegance of the space, dimmer and imbued with a sense of secrecy.
You and Matt stepped forward down the carpeted hall before you. The first hallway at your right was a darkened one, its rich mahogany walls illuminated by ornate, golden light fixtures at varying spots along each side. Glancing down the hall as you approached it revealed what seemed to be another turn to the right at its end.
You turned to Matt. “Wanna explore?”
He nodded at you - but something different flickered in his expression. His brows knotted together, and you frowned.
“What?”
Matt grasped your arm and pulled you down into the hallway. You walked with him, passing light fixture after light fixture, but blanked on what exactly was going on.
“What, Matt?”
“Shh,” Matt interrupted, stopping you just before that right turn down another dark hall. You looked up at him, confused, and with a press of his lips together, he jerked his head to the side, motioning for you to look down the hall.
Must have heard something.
But… what?
After a wary look toward Matt, you gulped and stepped closer to the hallway’s entrance.
At the end, in the corner, stood a woman in a pink, flowery dress, her tight ringlets bouncing as she shook her head vehemently at the man in front of her - who seemed to be crowding her further back into the corner.
You recognized the woman. A Level Three, fairly new to the division.
And you recognized the man, too - recognized the edge of his scraggly beard, his hulking stance, your heart dropping through your chest to crack open coldly on the ground.
“Oh my God,” you hissed, jerking yourself back. Matt nodded at you grimly.
“Murph.”
You shook your head, horrified at what could be happening down that hall. “Can you hear what he’s saying?”
Matt tipped his head to the side, and his lips pressed together. He swallowed, and you caught a tight flash in his jaw.
“He’s got her pretty much cornered. Hasn’t put his hands on her yet, but… Jesus,” Matt breathed, whispering your name. “The filth coming out of his mouth, I don’t think I can bear to repeat.” Matt straightened with severity. “We should go back there.”
Matt stepped forward, but you grabbed his arm, stopping him. He narrowed his eyes.
“We have to do something.”
“I know,” you nodded. “But… if we just go down there and split them up, he could easily get to her again.” You clenched your jaw. “We need to do something bigger if we can.”
Something flickered in Matt’s neck, and he gave you a short nod. He tilted his head again, seeming to scour the space for something that would help - and straightened, his expression sharpening.
“There’s a fire alarm just across the hall,” he whispered. “If we can get to it, if we can set it off - she should be able to reasonably run out to safety.”
You pressed your lips together. It was an option, but how reasonable, really?
“Matt, we can’t just run out there and pull the fire alarm. That is probably an entirely awful faux pas, especially when Murph sees it and tells somebody.”
Matt pressed out a sharp breath. “Well, what other choice do we have?” His head, again, jerked slightly to the side, and his nostrils flared. “He’s getting closer. She’s trying to shove him away, but - fuck. We have to move.”
Fear rose in your gut. You knew how it felt to be that woman, to be the person trapped and afraid, with no justice to be had, no real escape to be seen unless you could manage to punch your way out of the situation.
You, though - you had remnants of fucking super soldier serum at your aid.
She did not.
“Okay, okay,” you nodded in a quick whisper. “How are we going to get the fire alarm without being caught?”
Considering for a moment, Matt shifted his jaw. Then, his brows lifted, and he pursed his lips.
“Well,” he whispered. “If we’re drunk, we can’t be fully blamed.”
You tilted your head to the side, brows knitting together. “Okay, so we’re drunk and just run up to the alarm and pull it? I don’t think that’s very believable, Matt. We’re not in high school.”
Matt pressed his lips together. “We could be… otherwise distracted.”
You narrowed your eyes, not quite following. Matt ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek and kept his voice remarkably low.
“Why would two drunk people sneak off to a secluded place at an event like this?”
Your eyes flicked wider, and you seemed dumbfounded as the words left your lips.
“To hook up.”
“Exactly.”
Your brows lifted as Matt continued to speak.
“So, if we’re tipsy and… distracted, in that way,” he whispered, “it’s entirely plausible that we accidentally bump into the wall and knock the fire alarm.” Matt leaned an inch forward, and you grew incredibly conscious of his height, of his heat. “Especially plausible, considering the fact that I’m known to be, evidently, blind.”
Though it was a smart idea, a strategic one at that, you felt new curls of heat tighten inside of you.
“I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” Matt assured, with urgency lacing his words. “But if we’re gonna do something, we have to do it now.”
“No, no,” you shook your head. “That works. That- that should work.”
Matt nodded, though you caught a flash of something otherwise playful from what you could make out beneath his glasses. You brushed it off, even as you felt your lips part, felt butterflies crowd your stomach.
“So, we’re tipsy, and we’re stumbling around,” you managed, taking a small step closer to Matt, “and we just can’t get enough of each other?”
Tongue grazing his lips, Matt nodded. “That about sums it up.”
Matt leaned in and lifted his hands to your hips, catching you somewhat off guard, even though you knew it was coming. He dipped his head near your ear.
“Don’t hold back,” he whispered, hot breath feathering over your skin as his firm grip moved you around. “We need them to believe us, so touch me… in whatever way you think is most believable.” You stepped with Matt’s pressure as he angled your body so your back was just across from the hall’s opening, noting his likely plan of walking you back toward the alarm. He breathed again, the heat of it grazing over your neck. “Touch me however you want to.”
You only managed a nod, and Matt pulled his head back, his face an inch from yours. His eyes flitted left and right over you, and he gave you a tiny nod back.
“Do you trust me?”
Your eyes fell to his lips.
“I do.”
You grit your teeth, preparing yourself for whatever Matt’s plan was - whether it was just pressing you back or… or finally pressing his lips against yours, you had no idea.
When he pushed you backward, you lifted your hands to land on his arms and walked with him readily, following his strong lead as if it was all you knew. That, you were ready for.
But, even so - no amount of trustful preparation could have readied you for the way Matt’s head dipped entirely down, his lips latching onto your neck.
Pleasure rippled across your sensitive skin there as his mouth moved against you, headily, hungrily, in tune with the hard drag of his hands along your torso. He forced you backward, and through your struggling-to-focus blinks, you watched as the outer balcony in your field of view became the opposite wall of this hallway, the two of you drawing closer and closer to your target. Your hands moved instinctively up to Matt’s broad shoulders, pressing up and over the top edge of his back, one hand stretching up into the back of his scalp.
The way his lips pressed into you - fuck.
It was almost too much, almost too good to be real.
“Oh my God,” you whispered, just as Matt knocked you back into the wall with no lack of force. His lips, working expertly at your skin, drew up further around your neck. His nose pressed just into the back edge of your hairline, and you felt him sigh into you, hips pressing gently against yours, locking you between his body and the wall. His teeth grazed at your skin with all the electricity of a lightning strike, just sharp enough to force a deep breath from your lungs. Matt’s tongue quickly darted over the graze, soothing over it as if he wasn’t just kissing you but tasting the very sensation of your skin.
“Fuck,” he half-breathed, half-groaned, drawing another deep breath as his large hands drew up along your torso. You half smiled, finding it difficult to shape your words but trying nonetheless.
“What?”
“Just - nothing.”
Your eyes darted to the side. The woman had noticed you and Matt, and maybe Murph had, but he wasn’t showing it. You shifted your jaw - and you were immediately brought back out of focus by another graze of Matt’s teeth over your skin.
“It’s the perfume, isn’t it?” You teased lowly, drawing your nails up and over Matt’s scalp. His chest bumped yours, and you felt another groan release from him, all throaty and impossible to contain. You smirked, despite your own light nerves. “Or are you just really committed to this role?”
Matt chuckled into your neck before drawing his head up and out to make work of the other side. His whisper was dark and sharp, lilting and coiled with smoke.
“You think I’m playing a role, sweetheart?”
Those lips latched eagerly onto the other side of your neck, and your back all but arched to press you further into him. It was, again, on instinct, and you felt yourself blush again - but Matt went with it, pulling you tightly against him with a firm tug at your waist. Whether he knew you weren’t acting or not, you weren’t sure.
“Gotta move you over,” he huffed. You nodded, and he pushed you over to the side, closer to the alarm. The bare upper end of your back slid against the wall, the lower silk making a light sliding sound with the friction. At your neck, you felt him slightly frown, pausing in his work against you; the fire alarm was just a touch higher than he’d thought, and though your head was immediately beneath it, it wasn’t quite close enough to reach it.
You turned your head to the side for a split second to see Murph closing in more sharply on the woman, apparently totally unconcerned at the fact that you and Matt appeared - and likely sounded - to be getting hot and heavy in the exact same hallway.
Bastard, you thought to yourself, clenching your jaw.
Matt’s grip on your body tightened, drawing your focus back to him.
“Trust me?” Matt hissed into your ear. Your brows drew together, eyes narrowing, and you nodded, unsure of what he planned on doing.
The second you nodded, Matt’s hands slid down your torso to your hips. He slipped one hand down to the inner edge of one of your thighs, pressing it to the side. Though your breath hitched, you obliged - and Matt shoved himself against you, pinning you harder to the wall as one of his thick thighs drove between your legs.
You had no time to think, no time to do anything but feel as Matt’s hands slipped just beneath your hips, gripping your body tight. His thigh pushed you up the wall, your feet lifting from the ground - though still brushing it slightly - and his fingers pressed hard beneath your hips as you were lifted high, your back digging against the wall as it slid up its ornately-wallpapered surface.
Heart rate hitting a fever pitch, you gripped at Matt's shoulders as your body became totally at the mercy of his.
Fuck.
I- fuck.
The friction of Matt’s thigh between your legs drew up a hazy grind of pleasure you hadn’t quite been prepared for. Lightning flashed behind your eyes, shot up in hot strikes from the friction between your legs and multiplied as his lips dragged down to press just above your collarbone. His teeth grazed your skin gently as his leg lifted further, his knee driving against your clit, and shivers wracked through your body. The heat in your core was indescribable, incalculable, almost impossible to comprehend, Matt's presence and touch overwhelming you with pleasure - and he wasn't even inside you, wasn't even kissing your lips.
I cannot even begin to imagine how it'll feel when we get that far.
You bit your lip to keep from crying out, and your fingers pressed hard into the back of Matt’s neck, nails at his scalp digging deeper than you’d intended.
Matt’s head nudged up at your chin. It took you a second to break out of the spell his body had you under, but you quickly realized what he was getting at, feeling the fire alarm finally at the back of your head. Swiftly and carefully, you lifted your hand - the one Murph couldn’t see - and tucked it behind your head, finding the right spot on the alarm with your fingers. Just as you managed to press down on it, Matt’s leg lowered you slightly to make it seem like it was just your head knocking into the alarm.
Not a second later, a chorus of three shrieking blares sounded out from all around you.
You breathed a sigh of relief but quickly drew your expression up into one of hazy surprise. Matt did the same, letting you down from the wall, his hands moving to grip your waist as his thigh pulled away and your heels hit the floor.
“Oh!” You gasped, pulling your hands back to press squarely over your mouth in feigned tipsy shock, especially as the alarm repeated on cue. “Oh, shit!”
Matt’s brows raised exaggeratedly, and he giggled - doing a great job at seeming and sounding just a touch too drunk. “Oh my God.”
“Wow, I-“ you whisper-laughed, turning your head in the direction of Murph and the woman. You widened your eyes at the sight of them freezing, the woman managing to spin on her heel and soar down the hallway. You breathed a sigh of relief - but the game wasn’t over yet, and you drew your wide eyes back to Matt with a giggle of your own. “That’s so embarrassing!”
“Shh, don’t worry, don’t worry,” Matt chided, only a touch too loud of a whisper to sound sober. “Maybe they won’t realize it was us.”
At that moment, you saw Murph storm out of his spot in the corner, and your face flushed red as his icy eyes snagged on yours. He glanced at Matt, standing in front of you with those hands still on your waist, and scoffed.
“Nice going, O’Malley,” Murph huffed as he stalked out of the hallway and back toward the main ballroom, that constant three-chorus alarm still deafeningly sharp through the space.
Your eyes darted back to Matt, expectantly waiting on some sort of update. He tipped his head to the side, and all his usual composure returned as he spoke, soft and quick.
“Her heart rate spiked, but now it’s settled. She got out of the ballroom, trying to get her coat - oh. She just left.” He tipped his head again in a slight twitch. “Big crowd - they’re just evacuating everyone.”
“Okay.” You nodded. “I’m just glad she’s safe.”
“Me too.”
A smile crept over your lips, and you again grew conscious of Matt’s hands, still palmed against your waist. He seemed to realize his grip on you at that same instant and drew his hands off of you, a light grin gracing his expression. As he took a step backward, you followed, the two of you walking side by side toward the hallway entrance.
“Well done, Jack,” you hummed.
“Back at you, Eve,” Matt offered at your side. He took a breath, and you turned your head to look at him just as he blushed and drew up a hand to rub the back of his neck. “Sorry if that got a little intense.”
“No, no,” you insisted, heat pooling beneath your cheeks just as it remained, strong and steady, between your legs. “I- nothing to be sorry for.”
With a shift of his jaw, a drag of his tongue across that grinning lower lip, Matt’s brow lifted, and he let his hand fall back to his side. The two of you reached the balcony - where you saw the crowd filed tightly at the door. You and Matt hopped down the staircase, striding together - and you were careful to ensure you had a hand wrapped around his arm, for appearance’s sake.
The two of you followed the throngs of disheveled guests in varying states of intoxication through the ballroom’s grand double doors. You each feigned as much surprise as was reasonable, and as you made it closer to coat check, you saw a group of clamoring guests trying desperately to get their jackets before they were forced outside. From what you could see through the now-open main doors, it had begun to rain.
“I don’t think it’s worth it to wait for our coats. Besides,” you whispered, “what if Murph tries to rat us out?”
“Good point,” Matt nodded. Quickly though, he shook his head, pressing his lips together. “Getting a cab will take forever.”
“I mean, your place isn’t all that far,” you offered, turning to face him. “And I don’t mind the rain.” Matt’s brows lifted, and he let out a half-laugh. You drew your brows together, smiling up at him. “What, do you?”
He shook his head, expression relaxing, eyes soft. “No.”
You nodded. Out of the corner of your eye, though, you caught a glimpse of Murph, fighting for his coat - before his rageful, cold eyes landed squarely on yours, sharp and bitter and less blue than icy white.
“Shit,” you and Matt hissed at almost the same time.
Swiftly, the two of you shoved forward through the guests. You bumped into a few others and quickly apologized, but you didn’t slow, pushed forth by the adrenaline of a possible confrontation with Murph.
Not happening.
Absolutely not happening.
Finally at the doors, you shoved yourselves out onto the sidewalk - and were promptly greeted by a glittering chorus of nighttime raindrops, crashing cool and splashing against you in the low city light and the glow of the moon above.
You turned to Matt to see his dark hair growing wet, droplets clinging to his glasses. He half smiled, and you walked together out of the crowd, a quick glance back showing more and more guests filing out of the building.
With a tug at your lip, you drew your hand down to Matt’s, grasping it tight between your fingers. Your eyes met his glasses, and his fingers locked just as tightly with yours.
“Let’s go,” you breathed, nodding toward the semi-empty sidewalk ahead of you, away from the crowd of the party at your back. Matt nodded, and you took one step forward into the rain, then another, and another.
Before long, the two of you were running together, dodging passersby and rainfall in the dark. Your hands remained grasped together still with every sprinting, grinning, laughing stride you each took toward the rest of the night. It was as if the two of you were chasing a wish on a star, so close to your mutual reach that you could finally, finally taste its glow.