Chapter Text
That night, they eat at the table of their conference room, Peter and Matt beside each other while Foggy and Karen sit in front of them.
Their chairs are stuck together by the sides with how close they want to be – the arm rests the only things separating them, but Matt quickly remedies that by placing his right forearm on the cool surface of the arm rests and lacing the fingers of Peter's left hand with his.
Then, he'd frequently squeeze Peter's hand gently, or rub small, soothing circles on the back of his hand. Sometimes, Matt would duck his head to place a kiss on the tip of Peter's shoulder.
Peter blushes a deep scarlet whenever he does, and Foggy and Karen don't mind their affection.
Not until they're packing up their dinner trash and Matt tilts his head down one last time to kiss the area where his collarbone meets his shoulder – Peter, anticipating it, nuzzles his nose on Matt's fluffy hair and does a sniff-kiss.
Matt jolts in surprise, and Peter huffs out a laugh.
His gaze stays on Matt's profile, watches the corner of his lip quirk up before he shakes his head fondly and leans forward to press his lips to Peter's.
Peter's smile widens as he closes his eyes – savoring the kiss.
When Matt moves back, Peter darts forward to kiss Matt's cheek in response.
Then—
“Eugh. They're disgusting, Karen. So icky, icky sweet.”
Foggy makes a fake gagging sound, brings a hand up to his mouth and makes a motion of throwing up.
Karen laughs, leans back on her seat and smiles at Peter fondly.
“Leave them be, Foggy. They're high off of freshly becoming boyfriends.”
Peter blinks, lets the word sink in.
… Boyfriends.
He feels his face burning, makes this embarrassing squeak, and hides his face behind his free hand.
(Matthew, meanwhile, bites his bottom lip – feeling kind of giddy as something warm spreads from his chest.
Ultimately, his smile prevails, and he brings their laced fingers to his lips, kisses Peter's hand sweetly and almost reverently.)
“Yeah. Boyfriend sounds perfect, right, baby?”
Feeling like his heart's gonna break out of his chest with how strongly it's beating, Peter stands up abruptly and snatches his hand away from Matt – starts stacking their trash,
“L–let’s get going, yes? I think it's time to retire for tonight. Yeah, yes, definitely. Definitely, it's time, we should head back. Stand up, Michael, we're going back to your place.”
Matt's smile softens but brightens. He leans his temple on Peter, closes his eyes, and rubs his head on his boyfriend's waist with the difference in their height now.
“Okay. Let's head home.”
Matt stands up and reaches for his folded cane that's on the table, and Peter just puts their trash back in the paper bag their food came in when Karen grabs it from him.
His eyes dart to look at her, wide with surprise and a bit of confusion.
Karen just smiles at him.
“I'll handle the trash, Pete – you can go ahead with Matt. After all, we know that you guys still have your… after-work activities to attend to.”
Foggy gasps, exaggeratedly.
“Karen. Are you insinuating… not safe for work plans for these two?”
A beat.
Then—
Karen pinches the bridge of her nose like she's fending off a headache.
“Jesus, Foggy.”
Matt snorts.
"Why're you asking, Fog? Is that something you'd be up to seeing?”
Peter promptly chokes on air,
“Matt!”
“God, give Peter a break, would you guys? He can be a stoplight with how red he's turning.”
Foggy laughs loudly as Matt chuckles and holds Peter's hand again, starts pulling him away from the group.
“Alright, good night, guys. We'll be heading off for our… not safe for work activities.”
Peter bashfully smacks Matt's arm with his free hand,
“You are horrible, Red. Absolutely, positively horrible.”
Matt just laughs at him, squeezes his hand once, and leads them back to his apartment – Matt's.
On the way, Peter stops them and asks,
“Wait a second. We're really going back to your apartment?”
Matt pauses, faces Peter, quirks his head to one side.
“Uh, yes? Is there something wrong?”
The lamp of the sidewalk illuminates matt's face – and peter’s heart slightly stutters at the sight of Matthew Murdock with his glasses sliding down a bit on the bridge of his nose, light turning his hair a brownish-reddish shade, and his necktie untied, shirt opened by two buttons at the top.
He looks like a puppy.
(Matt smirks at the silence, paired with Peter's heart rate quickening, taking in a deep breath.)
With his index finger, Matt tilts Peter's head up, like he's saying my eyes are up here.
It turns Peter's cheeks pink,
“N–no! Nothing's wrong just…”
He shakes himself out of the spell that came from ogling Matt, turns his head side to side to deem their surroundings safe – but still steps closer so what he says stays between them,
“You don't have your suit with you?”
Matt blinks once, twice.
He chuckles.
“Unfortunately, Peter, I don't wear my suit under my work suit.”
Peter raises an eyebrow at that,
“... But why not?”
Matt huffs.
“My suit is made of kevlar, Webs. Not everyone can have a spandex suit that's enough to protect them because they've got arachnid qualities that speed up their healing if, say, they're shot. Kevlar is too bulky and traps too much heat – I'd be all sweaty and panting before I could even get to doing my patrol at night.”
Peter pouts, and in a bout of no restrain—
“I wouldn't be opposed to the sight.”
A gush of the cold night air blows past them at that exact moment of silence between them – Matt flabbergasted at Peter's words, and Peter only letting what he said sink in.
Matt barks out a laugh, at the same time that Peter whines in embarrassment. He pulls away from Matt's hold, walks ahead while repeatedly slapping the side of his head like he's smacking the shamelessness out,
“That was so— embarrassing, stupid. Pretend I didn't say that, oh my God.”
Suddenly, there's an arm hooking around his waist and pulling him until his back is flat against Matt's front. Matt presses his grin to Peter's temple.
“Nuh-uh. Can't do that. Not when it was proof of my boyfriend being cute.”
And, oh—
Peter melts.
His legs turn to jellies, and Matt makes an alarmed sound at having to carry Peter's weight with one arm.
One firm, muscled arm.
Well, that thought does more things to Peter.
Matthew chuckles, and Peter can feel the rumbling of his chest with how they are. There's the distinct sound of his mobility cane folding, and Peter guesses that he pockets it because at the next second, another arm wraps around him – lifts him up a bit so his feet can't touch the ground.
Peter yelps, but doesn't retaliate or make any effort to be let go.
Matt walks a few steps forward, then whispers in his ear.
“Keep that up and we'll be trading in our “not safe for work” activities for an actual one.”
Peter's breathless, wants to bite his lip from the giddiness he's feeling, but decides to play along,
“What do you have in mind?”
Matt sets him down on his feet, but pulls him back in – until they're breathing the same air.
“Something along the lines of trading our hero suits for nothing. Tumbling around in my sheets instead of a lame fight with Poindexter or any one of his minions. Besides, I'd love to get to know Spider-Man outside of his spandex.”
With a distracted gaze, Peter looks at Matt's lips – captivated.
Matt's unseeing doe brown eyes and lips and warmth and tempting words and the teasing sight of what can be seen of his chest are distracting Peter, have him nearly forgetting that Matt promised him they'd go on a recon mission tonight.
He lifts himself to his toes, until their lips are a hair's width apart,
“Oh, yeah? What d’you think you'd find?”
Matt bites Peter's bottom lip with his incisors for a second, just enough to rile him up.
“My boyfriend.”
<------------------------------>
It's a miracle that Matt kept his hands off of Peter for the last block and a half to his apartment, and even all the way up the stairs.
All hints of restraint come crashing down, though, when Matt unlocks his door – Peter's turned around with his back on its wooden surface at the millisecond that it's still unopened, lips crashing onto his.
He moans, but Matthew is greedy, so greedy, because even that he muffles and swallows down with another kiss as he turns the doorknob. The door gives, and Peter almost yelps as he loses his balance, only for an iron arm grip to wound around his waist while Matt's other hand goes to the back of his head to cushion their collision with his apartment wall.
Peter didn't even notice that Matt had dropped his suitcase and taken off his coat, kicking the door close as well. His mind is too caught up in lips pressed against his, their labored breathing, and Matt's arms unwinding around his waist just so he can mold his hands to the curve of Peter's waist.
Their lips separate with a wet sound, and Matt kisses his way down to Peter's jaw then neck.
Matt tries to walk them somewhere – probably his bed, or his couch, at least – but Peter finds that he can't. He can only moan in pleasure, head tilting up to the ceiling to give Matt more room in his mission to make lasting hickeys on Peter's neck.
He moans loudly and shakes his head when Matt tries moving them again,
“Matt. Matthew, Michael. I can't, oh my God.”
Matt chuckles, has Peter’s hands scrambling from gripping Matt's biceps to encircling his neck.
Suddenly, hands are on the back of Peter's thighs and lifting him up – he yelps in surprise but recovers when Matt sucks at the skin near his jugular. Matt walks them forward in the darkness, but then, Peter is pinned to the wall just by the entrance of his bedroom.
Peter laughs breathily,
“What's the matter, Red? Couldn't even get me to your bed?”
Matt smiles in return.
“Not my fault you're so hot, Pete.”
Matt nudges a leg in between Peter's, uses it to support him. Then, his hands reach for the hem of Peter's shirt and ruch it up, all the while kissing and sucking at Peter's neck.
Peter turns his head to the side in pleasure, and when he opens his eyes, it's to the sight of blue and red lights coloring the dark of Matt's apartment.
He huffs out a laugh, wonders if this is the universe calling him to snap out of his sheer horniness and go back to their original plan tonight.
He's just about ready to tell Matt to stop when he feels Matt pause, feels the brush of Matt's lashes on the skin of his neck.
Peter hums in question,
“Matt?”
Matt doesn't answer for a few beats, then presses his forehead to Peter's neck as he chuckles.
“You really were serious when you asked me why I don't have my suit with me.”
And, oh.
Peter forgot that he wore his suit underneath his clothes today with the lack of a backpack to keep it in. And with Matt pulling up his shirt to lay his hands flat on Peter's waist, his hands landed on spandex instead of skin.
Peter breaks into giggles, nose scrunching in laughter as Matt follows after him – pressing one last kiss to the underside of Peter's jaw before letting him down from where he's pinned to the wall.
Like this, Peter's back to Matt having a height advantage on him. So, he pulls Matt closer until their chests are pressed together and tucks his head under Matt's chin,
“I'm surprised you didn't smell the spandex the whole day.”
“There's a lingering scent of it on you, Pete, so I thought it was just that. Plus, you can't blame a man for being so smitten that his senses don't work properly.”
Peter smiles,
“Enhanced senses, actually.”
“Mmh. Still in love.”
Peter's breath stops, and he pulls away just enough to look at Matt's face.
In love.
Maybe he should be freaking out more, actually.
But when he looks at Matt and takes a moment to himself, he realizes that, yeah.
That's where this is heading to.
He goes to his tiptoes a bit to press a kiss onto Matt's chin.
Love.
That doesn't sound so bad.
He slides his hands down from around Matt's shoulders to his chest,
“In love or not, I'm gonna need my boyfriend to be suited up and right next to me when we do recon so…”
Matt's hands are still on his waist as Peter shrugs off his long-sleeved button-up and reaches for the hem of his shirt himself – pulls it off and obtains his mask and gloves from his pants pocket. Then he unbuttons his pants, lets it fall to the ground.
All the while, he stays gazing at Matt's unmoving eyes – his profile lit solely red now by the light from billboards outside the room,
“Suit up, Devil.”