Black and Midnight Blue

For this first evening meeting about the Confed Global-slash-Union Allied investigation, you and Matt established some ground rules.

The first: no revealing that you know more than Foggy and Karen so far, other than what you could have reasonably gathered from your good old FBI job. That much was obvious.

The second: no revealing that your apartment was compromised and you were staying with Matt - also obvious. An even more obvious point to go along with this was hiding why your apartment had become compromised.

And, of course, there was the third rule - the type of rule that could have the potential to unravel the others, should it be broken:

No revealing that there was something between you and Matt.

Along with the basic risk of divulging too much information about your current situation, you were unsure of how it might impact the dynamic with Foggy and Karen. Foggy was already more than onto the two of you, that was for sure, but that didn't quite matter. Karen's feelings, too, were still unknown to you, and you didn't want to risk hurting her. And - there was the question of… what you actually were. A question that neither of you had time to address, and a question that you were happy to ignore while other things - like not being killed by mobsters or corrupt cops - took precedence.

But, above all, the less Foggy and Karen knew, the better. The further they remained outside of this thing you and Matt had, the safer they'd be. 

So, here you were, twisting the doorknob of Nelson and Murdock with one hand, a bag of Indian takeout hanging from the other - along with your laptop and those classified files hanging in a briefcase from your elbow.

Safer for Matt and I to arrive separately.

The conference room door was wide open, and three heads turned in your direction as you shut the main door behind you, your heels clicking toward the meeting space as a growing smile overtook your lips. The table was strewn with physical documents, sheets of notes, and three open laptops, with only minimal space left for your things and the food you'd brought.

"Welcome, welcome!" Foggy bellowed from the head of the table, stretching his arms out to the side as you stepped into the room. Karen sat at his left side and shone a warm smile your way.

"Hey, Selena!"

Across from Karen, of course, was Matt. With his glasses glinting ceiling light your way, he tipped his head in your direction. The curve of his lips was just a touch too sly for your liking, something in it showing shades of interest and intent that generated a warm twirl of irritation within you. 

"Hey, Selena," Matt greeted you, the tone of his voice all too low for what you'd agreed on. And, sure, whatever, it made your heart flutter just a bit and drew up the slightest buzz inside of you, but neither one of those things was conducive to the parameters of this meeting. Foggy's tiny smirk confirmed that.

Really, Matt?

"Hey, guys," you smiled to the entire group, breezily ignoring Matt's unnecessarily flirty hello. You stepped toward the table and placed down the bag of food and your briefcase, making sure to give Matt's chair a silent kick as you pulled out your computer and the file folder. "Hope I got everyone's orders right." 

"Pretty sure you, Matt, and I each got the butter chicken combo," Karen clarified, reaching to untie the bag, "and Foggy got tikka masala."

Karen tugged out her meal and Foggy's, and you pulled out yours and Matt's. The scent of the food, full of robust spices and the swirl of freshly made naan, filled the room with a rich, deeply flavourful aroma. Your mouth watered as you moved to place the container with Matt's meal in front of him. His hands, though, reached out as if he was searching for his food - and he made sure to graze your fingertips as his grip latched onto the box.

"Thank you," Matt breathed, taking the box from your hands and placing it before him. You shifted your jaw and grabbed a set of cutlery for him. The remnants of Matt's slight brush against your skin shot up to your brain in a fizzing hiss - one you found yourself spending far too much energy on ignoring.

"No problem," you hummed out, pressing the cutlery down in front of Matt with just a bit too much force before pulling out the chair beside him. As you sat down, you caught a flicker of a smirk along his lips. It took all the concentration you had not to roll your eyes - or blush.

"Too good," Foggy sighed over the open container of tikka masala in his lifted hands. He took another deep breath before setting the food down in front of him. The look that washed over Foggy's face was nothing short of total contentment. It was as though he was entranced by what he was about to eat - and when you opened your meal container, you immediately understood Foggy's expression. The vibrance of the sauce, the lavish spice of its scent - it made you ten times hungrier than you'd already been. The four of you dug in, happy to share a meal before tackling your other group objectives.

"You know, in one of my Punjabi classes in college, we got to learn how to make this," Foggy told you all through a mouthful. "No way mine was as good as the authentic stuff, but I like to think I didn't do too bad."

Matt chuckled, placing his fork down.

"Yeah. I didn't stop hearing about it for a week." He then tipped his head toward you. "Thank you, Selena. You have no idea how hungry we've been."

"So, so hungry," Foggy crooned, stabbing at his meal with his fork. You gave a tight smile and noticed Karen's eyes narrow just a touch. Matt, though, wasn't letting up.

"You are completely the best," he hummed at your side.

"The best, my friend!" Foggy joined in again, pointing a finger your way.

You took a deep breath and forced your smile to remain - but nudged Matt's foot under the table. He tapped your foot right back, and you bit back a groan.

"…Thanks, guys." 

The folder of documents you'd brought was tucked behind the food bag, and you nudged your hand through the table to draw it out. "Last but not least, these," you announced, flipping through the files. "I've sent Karen most of this stuff, but I thought it'd be good to bring the real copies, just in case we missed anything." Your eyes flicked up to Karen. "Karen, I assume you've been doing what I asked?"

She eyed you with firm certainty and gave a small nod.

"Take the notes I need and wipe the docs from my computer. Done and done."

"This is unreal," Foggy breathed out, his eyes wide and brows curved in grim disbelief. "It's like we're living through a James Bond movie. Just without the fact that it's a movie, and with the fact that this is absolutely real life."

"Well, we've got a leg up on them so far," you offered, the hope in your voice admittedly minimal. "Hopefully."

"Hopefully," Matt breathed out.

"But, hey," Foggy offered, his smile returning as he gestured a hand in your direction. "What better a good luck charm than the newest addition to the case?"

You laughed, and Karen smiled as she flipped her notes open.

"If your investigative work is as good as your food choices, I'd say we're in business."

"I mean, the luck does remain to be seen," Matt crooned, leaning back in his seat. "Can't call on such a thing at the very first meeting."

Finally, you turned to face him. Matt's face was still and stoic, but that familiar coy glint remained over his lips and behind his glasses, a sheen of pure amusement. You narrowed your eyes at his sly unwillingness to leave the flirting for later.

"No faith in me, Murdock?"

He pursed his lips, shook his head, spoke with nonchalance. Beneath the table, though, his foot slid over to nudge against yours. You allowed the movement, your calves colliding, and fought a hitch in your breath as he continued.

"Didn't say that. Just saying you are a beginner at this firm. We don't know your work ethic, your motivation, not even your track record."

A shrug lifted your shoulders as you leaned closer to him, lowering your voice and fighting a smile. 

"Almost like you're hiring blind."

Matt's jaw dropped, his brows shooting up - even as his lips pulled up in a smirk. Karen snorted and quickly covered her mouth, and Foggy's eyes slid shut while his smiling mouth groaned.

"Woah, woah, woah," Foggy shook his head. "So we're going there this early in the evening?"

"Ouch." Matt lifted a hand to his chest as if in pain - though the quirk of his lips was unmistakable. "Strike one on your employment. Gonna need to bring in HR for a remark like that."

Your eyes sparkled, and you gave a short nod, eyes intently on Matt - whose lips twitched almost imperceptibly. "So, three strikes and I'm out of this… job?"

"I was thinking," Foggy pointed a finger your way before lifting his hands in the air as if to illuminate his idea. "Your title could be "Selena O'Malley, Investigation Consultant." Rolls right off the tongue."

"Until the next two strikes, at least," Matt hummed. His knee pressed against yours, and you tapped your fingertips along the table, praying that Foggy and Karen wouldn't notice anything.

As if this conversation hasn't been glaringly flirty enough.

"Well, I mean, at that point, her title would go back to Special Agent," Foggy shrugged, "which is arguably much cooler."

"Track record as a Special Agent is pristine, though, for your information," you declared, your eyes falling to that folder of files. "Aside from this whole document-borrowing thing. But it's technically not even on record, so… yeah. Pristine."

"Well, it does not go unappreciated," Matt noted as Foggy laughed.

"Borrowing. Clever way to phrase it."

Karen let out a small chuckle, focusing intently on the pile of notes before her. You gave Foggy a slight, joking nod.

"And I do like the title, Foggy. I'd appreciate some business cards sooner rather than later."

Foggy nodded back, all business, and turned his head to Karen, his voice a touch too authoritative to be believable.

"Karen, you heard the woman." 

Karen didn't even look up from her notes. "And what about my business cards?"

Your laugh was light, and Karen glanced up at you, her blue eyes twinkling. The two of you then turned your sharp eyes toward Foggy, who promptly cleared his throat.

"I… think you should put in that order right away." Karen's gaze didn't let up, and Foggy snapped a finger as though he'd just come up with the idea of the century. "I'll take the money out of my own pay. How's that?"

At your side, Matt leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table as he pressed his knee gently against yours.

"You cover Karen's; I'll cover Selena's. Easy solution."

Your face grew warm, and your pulse skipped a few more beats than was reasonable.

"I love the way you think," Foggy affirmed. He placed a hand over his chest and gave a grim nod. "My bank account does not, but my heart does." 

The four of you chuckled. You moved to open your laptop, setting your food to the side, just as Foggy drew in a sharp, excited breath.

"You know what this whole new employee thing means?"

Karen pressed her lips together, flipping another page of notes. "Another salary you can't afford to pay?"

"Time for a bigger office already?" Matt suggested. Foggy rolled his eyes, holding his hands out as he exclaimed, full of energy.

"The baseball team, guys! Company baseball team! We're that much closer."

"Yes," Karen deadpanned through a laugh. "Because a staff of four employees is so much more perfect for a baseball team than three."

Matt's half-smile pulled wider along his face. "I don't think I need to remind you of the other obvious issue."

Foggy rolled his eyes. "You all have no hope." He then shot his hopeful look your way. "Selena, you in?"

You grinned, shrugged. "As long as I get to bat first."

Foggy shot a fist up into the air before pointing toward you. The rest of the room laughed, even as he spoke.

"Done. See, guys? I swear, she's the only real team player in this whole office, and she's not even full-time yet." Foggy placed his hands down on the table, tilting his head to the side as he jokingly sized you up. "You seem like you've got a few good swings in you."

"So do you, Foggy," Karen piped up, looking up at Foggy. "I mean, you knocked that guy out cold."

A wave of a different type of cold drifted over the room at Karen's reference. The night they'd told you about, Foggy saving Karen from assailants in the dark with a baseball bat. Beside you, Matt pressed his lips together, and across from you, Karen closed her eyes softly. Foggy let out a breath.

"Blame the adrenaline. Not exactly my number one idea of a good baseball game."

Your eyes fell to your laptop, to the notes and documents you had yet to flip through tonight. Matt cleared his throat.

"Guess that's our cue."

Foggy narrowed his eyes at Matt. "Wasn't my idea of a perfect baseball game, no, but Karen's right. I handled myself perfectly well out there."

Matt wasn't convinced. "I don't doubt you guys, but you could have easily ended up much worse. This way," he asserted, gesturing to the papers and computers before him, "it's the only way."

"Matt, I'm telling you-"

"We're not having this conversation again."

At Matt's side, you swallowed quietly. Karen pursed her lips, and Foggy sighed.

"Fine. But I'm getting you a baseball bat. Just in case you change your mind."

————

The four of you dove into your work. Everything was done with diligence, the sounds of typing and scrawling pens over paper filling the room. It was relatively quiet as you all sunk into focus, aside from a few thoughts here or questions there. Matt’s knee, though, remained against yours. It would be a lie to say you truly minded the contact.

“This is interesting,” Matt broke the silence at your side, shifting in his seat. “Karen, Selena - you guys have information on the Confed Global subsidiaries, correct?”

“Yep,” you nodded, reaching for the document folder. Karen clicked through her computer, eliciting a chorus of beeps, and nodded as well.

“Uh-huh.”

Matt clicked through his braille translator, running his fingers along it. “Can you tell me if… Westmeyer-Holt Contracting is on the list?”

You promptly flipped open the folder to the appropriate page in Confed Global’s files. Running your finger along the table-of-contents list of subsidiaries, you reached the W section - and promptly found what Matt was looking for.

“Yeah,” you nodded, just as Karen shot you a look with a nod of her own.

“It is,” she affirmed. Matt kept on, grimly.

“There are half a dozen complaints against them for doing the same thing they did at Elena’s tenement.”

“Confed Global’s trying to force people out of their tenements?” Foggy chimed in.

“What about Elena’s landlord?” Karen offered. You nodded her way.

“The Tully guy? Yeah, I bet he’d know something about this.”

Foggy moved to stand up. “Let’s see if we can find the guy-“

“Use the phone,” Matt cut him off. Foggy sighed, sitting back down in his chair.

“Not loving these rules, Matt.”

“I’ve gotta say, Foggy,” you started, pressing your lips together as your brows lifted. “Matt’s right. It’s not a good idea to go looking for trouble out there.”

“You too, Selena?” Foggy shook his head, resigned to his suffering. Matt offered a half-apologetic smile.

“She is the FBI, Fog. She would know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Foggy waved a hand, returning to his laptop. Karen giggled at Foggy’s side, clicking over her keyboard - and her eyes went a shade wider at whatever was on her screen.

“Oh my God.”

“Find something?” you asked as her eyes darted over the screen. She gulped.

“No, no, it’s not- um,” Karen stuttered. “The New York Bulletin online just reported - remember that cop that got shot? In the bombings?” 

She looked up toward you, to Matt and Foggy, and the three of you leaned in closer, waiting for Karen to continue. She cleared her throat.

“He just regained consciousness.”

For a moment, you could hear a pin drop in the room. Your mind raced back to that fateful night, those explosions rocking the city as they rocked Jessica, you, and Matt - a disaster that was promptly and wrongfully pinned on none other than the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

At your side, Matt took out the one headphone hanging from his opposite ear. You sensed a shift in his energy, knew the small wave of adrenaline that must have begun to rise within him as he spoke.

“Detective Blake?”

“Yeah,” Karen nodded. Foggy grimaced.

“Guy’s a real dick,” he added, his tone sombrely low. “Still, he didn’t deserve a bullet from that masked douchebag.”

“Okay, okay,” Karen cut him off, shaking her head. “Nobody knows what really happened out there.”

The hope that she had in the Man in Black - and, by proxy, Matt - was a great thing. A lovely thing.

Still, it made you worry. 

You pulled your knee away from Matt’s, crossing it atop your other thigh. His shift in his seat was negligibly small but still present.

“Detective Blake might know,” you offered. Foggy pursed his lips.

“I’d be interested in what he has to say.”

“Yeah,” Matt mused, his words laced with conviction. “So would I.”

————

As your efforts had dragged on late into the night, Foggy and Karen cleared up their belongings and left soon after the Detective Blake revelation. It was just you and Matt in the conference room, the windows shining a dark gold over the otherwise shadowy space. You turned to him, gaze stern, with your lips pressed tight together. Matt, sitting back in his chair, shot you a look.

"What?"

"Could have toned down the flirting, you know."

Matt sighed. His lips curved out in a smile as he leaned toward you. "They don't know anything."

Matt's lean in your direction drew your head to dip lightly forward. Your lips quirked up, but otherwise, you remained where you were - one arm resting on the table, the other hand on your hip. 

"They're smart, Matt. They're fully capable of picking up on this sort of thing." A light groan left your chest. "Foggy basically already knows."

"Well," Matt began, lifting a hand to rest atop your forearm on the table. You watched his thumb stroke gently over your skin before pulling your eyes back up to his, the wariness in your gaze offset by the soothing tranquility of his low, smiling voice. 

"If all they know is that I like you, and you like me," Matt offered, the window glow at his back illuminating his smile with gold, "I don't think that's so much of a problem."

Though you wanted to be careful, of course - your lips twisted up. The air of the room felt pleasant in your lungs, and you couldn't help but be mildly convinced by the cadence of Matt's words.

He does… have a point.

"That cop," you noted, clearing your throat. "That cop could get us a lot of intel."

Matt sucked in a breath, nodding as he pulled his hands back to close his laptop. "I'll see what I can do."

You frowned. "Or I can."

Matt didn't bother turning your way, but he frowned just the same as he worked to pack up some of his belongings. "You're laying low, remember?"

"And the cops think you're a terrorist." 

Matt stilled and pressed his lips together but otherwise didn't budge. You sighed.

"Fine. I've actually got something else I need to tie up this week, anyway."

"Oh?" Matt turned his head your way, his laptop and other files stacked in a neat pile.

You nodded. "Cruz. I've been tracking him, and I was able to hack through my own software to get into his phone, intercept his messages." You caught a protective breath rise in Matt's chest, but interrupted his train of thought before it could careen through your intel. 

"It was a pain in the ass, but I got through," you continued. Janelle likely would not be pleased with how many work hours you'd spent on this, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. "He had some cryptic exchanges with a blocked number. Gave coordinates, and I know that's a weak connection, but you remember what other partnership used coordinates?"

Matt let out a breath of understanding, a small nod. "The Russians. And Fisk."

"Exactly." You reached for the documents left in front of you and stacked them atop your laptop, tossing your empty butter chicken container back into the plastic bag the meals came in. "So, after hours of breaking in and deciphering shit, I got a meeting time and place. It's this high-end, private dance club in the Lower East Side. Inframundo."

Matt's brows flicked up as you grabbed his empty container and tossed it in with the other garbage. "When?"

"Thursday night."

Matt pursed his lips.

"Well," he started as you placed your notes and laptop into your briefcase. "You're not going alone."

The briefcase went back onto the table, and you turned your head toward Matt, a tiny grin playing on your lips.

"I know." 

Matt tilted his head, some mix of confusion and intrigue passing over his features. You only gave him a shrug as you turned in your chair to face him fully.

"I'll need to borrow your ID, though. Gotta make you a fake before I get us on the list."

"Fake IDs?" Matt laughed. "Feels like high school."

It almost made you laugh - just how easy this was. You didn't even need to convince Matt to accompany you. In fact, he'd assumed he would have to convince you to allow him to join. He didn't question your work, the fake IDs - his only concern was your safety.

If that isn't a recipe for butterflies, I don't know what is.

You smiled at him, a twinkle of that golden window glow sparkling over your eyes.

"Any name requests?"

Matt's leg slid toward yours under the table. You met his touch, letting his knee rest against yours, your shoes bumping one another over the hardwood.

"Surprise me," he hummed. "What's yours?"

With an esteemed smile, you spoke as though you were some socialite living at the top of all society, with diamond-encrusted stilettos and the rest of the world beneath you. 

"Carmen Harlow."

The name was from one of the first undercover missions you'd completed, something so long ago that it was feasible to reuse and had somewhat of a story and reputation already established. Holding out a dainty hand, you smiled at Matt. 

"Pleased to meet you."

"Charmed," he murmured, grasping your hand. He then pulled it to his lips, pressing a gentle, slow kiss to your knuckles. Part of you wanted to laugh at the over-the-top joke, but the rest of you found yourself entranced. "I like it," he purred.

You blushed as Matt drew his hand to rest on the table, taking yours with it. No part of you resisted; instead, you let your fingers tangle with his.

"Let's see," you hummed, narrowing your eyes and looking to the ceiling in mock thought. "What's a guy's name that means 'sexy'?"

Matt gave you a joking scoff, his grasp pulsing over your hand on the table. "Might as well just keep me as Matt Murdock, then, if accuracy is your goal."

"And that's my cue to take you down a notch," you laughed, drawing your narrowed eyes down to Matt - who was shooting you a self-satisfied grin. "Thoughts on Bob?" You giggled. "Oswald?"

Matt snorted out a laugh as you chuckled, but he shrugged. "Call me Ozzy, and we should be fine."

You pursed your lips. "Uh-huh." Matt narrowed his eyes, his brows knitting together.

"Are you telling me you wouldn't want me anymore if my name was Oswald?" He leaned in toward you, placing his free hand on his chest. "That hurts, Carmen."

"I'm sorry," you whispered in excessive apology, lifting your free hand to slide over the stubble of Matt's jaw. "Let me make it better."

Matt smiled, leaning in, but paused before he hit your lips. 

"But not all the way better, remember? Like we agreed," he hummed.

You stilled, a breath stirring within you as you eyed Matt, stroking your thumb along his cheek. He leaned into the touch, and whether it was entirely intentional or just an instinct, you couldn't quite tell.

"So it's an official agreement, then?"

"I'd say so."

"Hm," you remarked, a pleasant comfort washing through you as Matt's fingers laced with yours on the table. "You're more on top of this than I expected."

Matt paused momentarily, his brow stiffening, before moving his free hand to rest gently atop your knee.

"Of course I am. It's what you want. I don't want to do anything you're not comfortable with."

In front of Matt, you couldn't help but sigh. His efforts to make sure you felt safe and respected enough to go through these different stages on your own terms almost turned you on more. Still, though, you bit your lip. You didn't want there to be any chance that he took this thing the wrong way.

"It's not that I'm not attracted to you. I just have to make that explicitly clear." Matt's brows lifted as the curve of his lips did, and you fought a blushing grin as you continued, a flicker of nervous tension spilling over in your chest. "It's just that this, with you - it doesn't feel casual. I don't want to risk treating it that way. And I'm not even that much into… casual sex." Your eyes widened slightly, and you backtracked, your grip on Matt's hand tightening. "Not that I'm not into sex. That is very much not what this is." Matt tipped his head to the side, his lips twitching as his eyes narrowed, and you drew your hands up to cover your mildly red face, speaking into your palms. "Can you tell how horribly I'm rambling right now?"

Matt laughed. "It's cute. Don't worry." 

You peeked out at him through your fingers to catch his warm smile. 

"I won't lie to you," Matt offered as you drew your hands into your lap. "I've had my fair share of more casual experiences. Or," he paused, something wistful breezing through his tone, "at least, things that ended up just being casual."

"I don't blame you." You gazed over his features, every word a murmur. "Looking the way you do."

"You're one to talk. I'm a bit surprised you don't take advantage more often."

That heat in your cheeks returned at Matt's remarkably quick point. "You know you can't see me, right?"

Matt sighed, licking over his lower lip. 

"I don't need to see you to know how attractive you are." 

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. Nothing but a glittering buzz in your center, rising up to sparkle through your mind. That feeling only grew as Matt continued to speak, his voice rasped with sincerity.

"But, as fun as it can be in the moment, I would much prefer to have that something more. Especially with you." He tipped his head toward you, earnest and honest and offering. "I'm happy to take things slow."

Though you were smiling, you narrowed your eyes at him.

"So, you swear," you began quizzically, noting the way Matt seemed to stifle a groan, "even if I throw myself at you-"

"-that I will not let you have sex with me under any circumstances."

"Woah, woah," you frowned, your words coming out in a laugh. "That is not what-"

"I'm kidding," Matt chuckled. He then reached into your lap, grasping your hands, and held them tight in the space between the two of you with all the vulnerability of a prayer. "I swear, that no matter how desperate you are to sleep with me-"

"Matt."

Though you wanted to be annoyed, all you felt was warmth.

"Sorry." He smiled. "I'll make sure we take it slow."

"Thank you."

"…Even when you want nothing more than for me to-"

"Matt." You pulled your hands from him, only to lean closer as you crossed your arms over your chest, spitting your words out through a hotly-formed grin. "You are unbelievable."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Matt pleaded, laughing. He moved his head in front of yours until his lips were a breath away. You didn't move any closer to him - but you weren't complaining.

"Can I make it better?" Matt purred, lifting his hands to tuck your hair behind your ears, cup one side of your face, slide the other hand down the opposite slope of your neck. He smiled at the shudder that wound through you at his touch, but narrowed his eyes in clarification. "But not all the way better. Promise."

"Whatever," you breathed, stamping down your smile, Matt's lips just brushing over yours.

"Whatever," he murmured against you in a grin, before kissing you completely.

You let the movement of Matt's lips encourage yours into moving as well. With a small sigh, you lifted your hands to his jaw, feeling his stubble scrape against your open palms. His fingers traced along your neck - the movement shifting to a tap where he met a minimal layer of makeup.

Had to hide the hickeys somehow.

"Sorry about that," Matt whispered. It seemed as though there was genuine apology in his voice - twisted, of course, with wary flirtation. You shook your head, eyes sternly certain.

"Oh my God, no. Do not be sorry about that."

A beat passed, and - as though he'd determined you really didn't mind the marks he'd left - Matt chuckled. His tongue slipped over your bottom lip, and you tugged him in by his collar. He groaned, leaning closer to you in his chair, your thighs pressing together. The darkened room was nothing to the two of you - bodies blazing, fiery and full of need in the night.

Again.

Fantastic start to this taking-it-slow thing.

So good at restraint, huh?

Those passing thoughts hardly mattered, what with all your concentration stuck on the greedy slide of Matt's tongue. His thumb stroked down over your cheek before he pushed his hand further back, fingers reaching into the edge of your hair, that thumb sliding down your jaw to tip your head further toward him. You moved with the guiding motion of his hand, all too willing to accept whatever it was he had to offer your aching, wanting mouth.

Besides…

Not going all the way, right away, doesn't mean we have to restrict ourselves completely.

Your nails pressed up somewhat roughly into Matt's scalp, tugging him closer as he had with you. He kissed you harder with a light sigh - as expected. Seemed he had an affinity for any form of touch you wordlessly proposed, gentle or otherwise.

You slid your tongue against Matt's, matching his energy, his rhythm. His lips curved against yours as if he was entertained by your engagement. It wasn't a competitive thing - but the thought crossed your mind of that sense of competition being some eventual possibility, somehow.

…When we get there.

The heat between you and Matt filled the room, the office, stifled any of your senses beyond him. Still, though - it wasn't enough to mask the click shut of the front office door and the quick clack of heels along hardwood.

Shit.

You pulled your lips off Matt's, catching his equally flustered and startled expression. In what split second you had left, you tried to tear away from him completely, tried to shift your chair away as he drew his hands back to himself, tried to drag your body away from his entirely so that you could curl into a ball on the floor.

Not even the slightest bit of that, though, was manageable.

Karen had always been quick, anyway.

She stopped at the doorway, and you whipped your head around just in time to catch her jaw drop. It was slight - the part of her lips, the widening of her eyes, the way her ringlets spilled over the front of her shoulders with that abrupt stop - but it was beyond a doubt that your position was more than obvious.

"Hi… I- keys," Karen stammered, pointing to the table. "Forgot my keys." 

At your side, Matt pressed his lips together, his hands clasping in his lap. Karen reached for the center of the table and lifted this object of your interruption, the ring and its contents glinting an all-knowing glare in your direction as they swung in her grasp.

"Get home safe, guys," she offered breezily, her smile a bit haphazard, eyes still bathed in shock. She then promptly spun on her heel and made a beeline for the door.

"You, too, Karen," you called out.

"See you tomorrow," Matt offered. The shut of the door was her only response.

Any heat that had once extended through the office, by way of you and Matt, had fallen flat on the floor.

You sighed, tension stringing through your neck and shoulders. "That went well."

"I would have warned you if I'd noticed her coming," Matt sighed, turning his head in your direction again. He offered you a small smile. "Admittedly, my focus was elsewhere."

The breath you expelled was more of a heave. Your hands floated to your forehead, pressing against your temples as your mind began to race - but Matt reached up and grasped your wrists. Your stiff muscles relaxed at his touch, and you found yourself calming, bit by bit, as he drew your hands back into his.

"Hey," Matt whispered, leaning closer to you, offering a pulse to each of your hands. "We'll figure it out. Don't worry about it."

Even as you remained stiff with tension, Matt kissed you, his lips gentle and soothing. You kissed him back - but you couldn't help but inwardly groan.

Why do people keep leaving their keys in the office at the worst possible times?

————

Later in the night, you and Matt lay together in his bed, his arms around you as your head lay back on his chest. On a typical night thus far, such a position would have brought you calm comfort, his stroking fingertips and steady heat lulling you to sleep. 

That wasn’t quite working tonight.

Your mind couldn’t stop rushing back to Karen’s wide eyes, the mildly - but genuinely - surprised circle shape her lips had taken on. The sound of her heels clicking briskly out of the otherwise silent office replayed over and over in your head, like the cadence of an old clock, wound up and eternally ticking. Matt’s slow fingertips along your skin were soothing, sure, but there was only so much his touch could do for your racing thoughts right now.

Chewing on your lip, you spoke out to Matt through the quiet of the dark room, the sound of your voice feeling somewhat quieter than the air it floated through.

“Do you think Karen’s okay?”

Beneath you, Matt shifted slightly. “I don’t see why she wouldn’t be.”

“Was she into you?” Before Matt could respond, a tiny smile crept onto your face. “I mean, I don’t doubt it. I don’t see why she wouldn’t be into you.” You took a breath. “I just hope it wasn’t anything… more.”

Matt’s pensive sigh shifted you gently. “I really don’t know.” You drew in a slow, controlled breath, each word coming out at a volume close to silence.

“I hope I didn’t hurt her.”

The grip of Matt’s arms around you pulled tighter, and you felt his smile grace your temple before he kissed it softly.

“You’re very thoughtful,” he breathed, “but nothing’s ever happened between me and Karen. I wouldn’t overthink it.”

“Other than you saving her life. As a lawyer and as a vigilante.” You shut your eyes in exasperation, the sight of Karen’s very likely longing gaze toward Matt something you wished you could burn from your memory. “And that stupid double date thing.”

At your continued stress, Matt shifted himself out from underneath you. His hands remained on your body, and you slid onto warm silk, watching his movements in the dark - along with his mussed hair, his shadowed, kind eyes. You watched him, still, as he shifted his body over yours, gazing up into his eyes as he moved his knees between your legs, his hands on either side of your shoulders. The warmth from him contained you on all sides, and you couldn’t help but feel comforted.

“You think I held out this long for you, just to run off with Karen?” Matt whispered, his smile charming in the dark as he dipped it toward you, every shade of his voice breathy and calm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You smiled up at him, shaking your head.

“I’m not worried about that.” Matt’s eyes, soft above you, drew your heart into a thumping pound as you spoke. “I just don’t want her feelings to be hurt, if those feelings were there.”

Matt sighed before leaning down to press a series of gentle kisses to your lips.

“It is beautiful,” he murmured, kissing you once, “and painful,” he murmured, kissing you twice, “how selfless you are.”

You laughed, lifting your hands up to rest around his shoulders.

“You are so one to talk.” Matt chuckled, and you bit your lip, letting your head tilt to the side. “I’ll try not to worry about it.”

“There we go,” he sang quietly before offering you another grinning kiss. You laughed.

“Better?”

“Much better.”

Matt then tucked himself back around your body, kissing you the whole way there. You smiled into his lips, smiling still when he moved them to press in a pulsing rhythm against your temple. Some of your nerves remained, but they were further assuaged by the feeling of Matt’s large arms curling once more around your waist. You fell asleep, then, to the feeling of your body in his certain grasp - to the feeling of his lips on your skin.