Chapter Text
Matt was just about to go out onto the roof when his phone began to chant Foggy’s name. Matt let it go to voicemail, but he waited to listen to the message before leaving, just in case.
“I’m calling to tell you that we don’t need you, Matty! We’re going for the eel tonight!” Foggy’s voice called out. Karen’s precious laughter was like music in the background. “The eel is more fun than you are anyway!”
Matt felt a pang of guilt and longing. They were celebrating a big win for Nelson, Murdock & Page, and he hated bailing on them. But a woman had been kidnapped in Hell’s Kitchen, and Matt was determined to find her.
He couldn’t waste any more time.
The next message from Foggy came around 2 a.m., when Matt was stepping out of the shower, mission thankfully accomplished.
This time, it was a text that his phone struggled valiantly to read aloud. “Thijbjd Karen needs help gerund home.”
Matt was at Josie’s in a flash.
“Toldja!” Foggy yelled victoriously.
Karen was laughing herself silly and digging in her bag. “I only have...16 bucks. I’ll have to write you a check.” She clicked a pen.
“What’s going on?” Matt said.
“I bet Karen ten thousand dollars,” Foggy said lurchingly, “that I could get you here in 15 minutes or less.”
Matt let out an exasperated sigh and took Karen’s checkbook from her hands. “Hiii, Matt,” she said sweetly as she let him take it. “We missed you.”
She squeezed his arm and Matt felt his skin begin to heat up. Things between them lately had been a wonderful, excruciating dance of two steps forward, one step back. They’d talked through a lot, worked side by side. He wanted her more than ever, but he was too worried about ruining everything to actually tell her.
She started laughing again at whatever face Foggy was making. Karen seemed to be feeling no pain tonight. At least Foggy’s ploy was truthful as far as it went — Karen would be better off with help getting home. Foggy too.
Matt asked Josie to close out their tab and accompanied them both out onto the sidewalk.
Foggy immediately jumped to hail a cab. “Goodnight to you, my partners and friends! Anon!” he yelled theatrically as he climbed inside. Matt listened to make sure he gave the driver the right address.
Karen was still all a-giggle. She took Matt’s arm in both of hers. “Let’s walk,” she said. “It’s so nice.”
And it was a lovely night. Warm but not humid. Karen hummed a tune he didn’t recognize under her breath as they strolled.
“Oh!” she said suddenly, a few blocks in. “I didn’t ask how it went tonight! With the thing you had to do.”
Even on a mostly empty sidewalk, he got a little nervous about what she might say about Daredevil without a filter. “It went fine. We can talk about it more later.”
“No work talk?”
“No work talk,” he agreed.
But they didn’t talk about anything non-work-related either, lapsing into a comfortable silence, and all too soon they were at Karen’s doorstep. “Do you have your keys?” he asked.
She jingled them proudly.
He’d been planning to say goodnight here, but she chose just that moment to stumble slightly and lean hard against him.
“Time to go up,” he said, guiding her up the stairs. He helped her use her key to open the door, and then they were climbing up to her apartment, Karen tucked against his side.
“Home safe,” he said when they reached her door.
“Thank you,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck.
He was trying not to enjoy it too much, Karen warm and soft and flush against him, but he was only human after all. He hugged back, a thrill going through him. There were certain things Karen’s body did around him — for him — that would be incredibly good for his ego if he could ever believe he was actually worthy of her.
She inhaled deeply and then sighed against his neck. “You don’t make it easy on me, Matt,” she murmured, her breath tickling his ear.
“What?” he said, his eyebrows lifting.
“I had to worry about you all damn night,” she said, her fingers edging into his hair. “And I can’t even get you to kiss me.”
“Karen,” he breathed, tightening his arms around her, not trusting himself to say more. Not trusting himself not to press her against the door and...
“See?” she said, nuzzling his cheek. “I couldn’t be any more obvious, and still...nothing.”
“Try me again when you’re sober,” he said, his voice low. “I‘ll give you anything you want.”
And maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say. Because her body immediately reacted and then her hands were on either side of his face and she was crushing her mouth against his.
And God, it was good, even through the secondhand alcohol — so much hunger in it, so little inhibition — and his own body responded in kind. It took every ounce of willpower he had, but he backed off, slowly, until he was kissing her lightly, sweetly, pulling her hands away and holding them against his chest.
“Tomorrow,” he promised. “Tomorrow.”
“I’ve heard that one before,” she said breathlessly, pressing her forehead to his.
And he smirked at his own expense, because guilty.
“Just trust me one more time,” he said, “and if you’re not satisfied, I’ll pay Foggy the ten thousand dollars.”
“Satisfaction guaranteed, hmm?” she purred.
And he couldn’t resist kissing her one more time, until she made a pleased little moaning noise in her throat. “Always,” he whispered.