Work Text:
The thing about dating in your thirties that no one will tell you is that it fucking sucks .
It’s not that Darcy wanted to wait this long to meet someone, right? And it’s not that she’s some spinster. She just had a real weird decade that means she didn’t have time for romance, beyond a few short-lived flings with other people privy to the madness. But she’s settled, now, sporting her own PhD and a permanent position at Stark Industries, and she wants to meet someone , dammit. She’s ready for some romance in her life.
It seems like the pickings are slim, though, at least if she’s wanting to meet someone age-appropriate. She’s got no problem with eccentrics, and no problem with divorcees, but it seems like everyone on these apps is either a) single for a reason (looking at you, Foot Guy), b) married and looking for a threesome (not right now, thank you), c) married and looking for something on the side ( super no thank you), or d) divorced with children (not quite the kind of situation she’s looking for right now, thanks).
That’s the terrain. You work with it, you reject it, or you get creative. And that’s how her current situation has come about.
She’d been complaining in the employee lounge, as one does when on a break and single as fuck. Peter Parker, sweet naive intern, hadn’t really needed to hear all her griping, but it’d been a particularly fruitless sift through the dregs of Bumble and she’d just needed to vent.
“You know, I might know someone you’d… okay, maybe not hit it off with, but at least get along with,” Parker offered.
“Petey, I’m not telling you no , but I am saying - we’re at pretty different stages of life, yeah? And I don’t have any real interest in dating college students, because that’s slimy as hell.”
Peter had blushed bright red. It was kind of endearing, honestly. “No! No, he’s my lawyer. I’m practically positive you guys are around the same age.”
“Parker, why the hell do you have a lawyer?” Darcy knew, of course; she’s not stupid, she knows Peter is Spiderman and Stark didn’t just consent to an intern out of the goodness of his heart, but Parker is so damn earnest that it’s fun to tease him. She’s also very much aware of Spiderman’s defamation suit against J. Jonah Jameson last year, and assumes the lawyer is related to that.
Still. It was always funny to see the kid squirm.
Sure enough: “Oh! I - uh - wanted to draw up a will. Yeah.”
“Parker, you’re, like - twenty. Aren’t you a little young for that?”
Peter had flushed bright red. “You can never be too prepared,” he’d told her weakly. “But really, I think you’d like him. He’s nice. Do you want me to pass on your number?”
It’s - unconventional, yeah, but at that point, what did Darcy have to lose? Her last date was with a guy she met through an app who had looked at her weird for ordering food at the bar. At least this guy had a mutual acquaintance to vouch for him.
“Why the hell not,” she’d told Peter. “And let him know I’m free Wednesday night, while you’re at it.”
Which brings her to now - walking up to a mid-level bar not far from her work, looking to meet one Matt Murdock.
She’d looked him up, obviously, once she’d weaseled his name out of Parker - maybe she’s got nothing to lose, but she’s not stupid . Matt Murdock doesn’t have any social media presence to speak of, but there’s articles about the work he and his law partner are doing down in Hell’s Kitchen, with pictures conveniently attached. It makes it easy to pick him out now, with those pictures pulled up in her mind. It doesn’t hurt her search, either, knowing that he’s blind; kind of narrows down the pool of potential loiterers.
Darcy likes the look of him, at least from a distance. He looks fit, in a neat gray suit with his tie loosened just enough to suit some after-hours socializing, and he’s got good hair. That’s not something to be pooh-poohed when her dating pool is what it is. What really stands out though is how he looks almost… nervous. Darcy can’t see his eyes behind those glasses, but he’s passing his cane back and forth between his hands like a nervous tick. Something about it speaks well of him, though Darcy isn’t quite sure she’d be able to describe it in words.
Taking a deep breath, Darcy plows ahead down the last half-block to get the proverbial show on the road. “Matt?” she calls when she gets close enough, lets her voice take that particular first-time-meeting uncertain tone, even if she’s pretty sure it’s him. It’s the polite thing to do.
The cane-fiddling stops as he turns to more-or-less face her, an easy smile blooming on his face. It’s a good look. “That’s me. Dr. Lewis, I presume?”
“Darcy’s just fine. I see you’ve been talking to Peter.”
That earns an equally-nice laugh. “He does like his formal titles, doesn’t he?”
“Tell me about it. It’s puppy-cute, but really unnecessary. I keep telling him just to call me Darcy, but it hasn’t stuck yet.”
“I wish you luck with that. He’s still calling me ‘Mr. Murdock,’ so I can offer no pointers.” As they talk, Matt maneuvers them into the bar, reaching to pull the door open for her with much less fumbling than Darcy would have expected for a blind man. That’s probably what she gets, though, for making assumptions.
“Damn it. And here I was, hoping to mine you for ways to break him of that.”
“Ah, he’s a good kid.”
“Maybe the least subtle person I’ve ever met in my life, though.”
Matt breaks out that nice laugh again as they get situated at a high-top. “I take it you’ve discovered his little secret, then?”
“How could I not? Honestly, I’m surprised more people don’t know. He’s so, so bad at lying. When I asked why he had a lawyer, he told me it was to draw up his will. At twenty .”
“It’s probably not a bad idea, under Mr. Parker’s… shall we say, unique circumstances ,” Matt says with a wry grin, “but I concede that as far as lies go, it’s terrible.”
And Darcy can’t help but smile and laugh right back.
It’s a good date. Conversation flows freely, even about topics not related to Peter Parker: their work, favorite restaurants in the area, funny college stories, recent books they’d read (or listened to, in his case). Matt is unfailingly polite, but seems genuinely interested in the summarized, sanitized version of her research, which isn’t a given on these things. She’s actually sad to see the night end once they finally both slip back out the door a few hours later.
“I had a great time tonight, Darcy,” Matt says, smiling in her not-quite direction. He’s not nervous anymore that she can see, like he was at the beginning of the night; his cane stays still and steady in his hands. “I’m not always one for set-ups, but I think I’ll have to thank Peter for this.”
“Oh my god, same,” Darcy says. “Maybe he’ll even be smug. I really did have a great time too.”
“Can I see you again? So to speak.”
She smiles. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
It’s a good start.
———
It all just feels so… normal , right? Like some vestige of the life she should have had before she took an internship with a mad astrophysicist and tased a god. After years of superheroes and aliens and all the bizarro things that come along with that, it’s refreshing to meet a guy through a mutual acquaintance, not through some planet-threatening event. It’s honestly ridiculous that such a thing is a novelty in her life.
She likes Matt. Likes him a lot, for more than just the normal factor or the initial attraction. He’s whip-smart and kind of argumentative and this quiet kind of funny that makes her snort once the joke finally sets in. She’d worried at first that maybe he wasn’t into her the way she’s into him; there’s this thing he does on dates where it seems like his attention’s split, like he’s listening to her but also to fifty other things his ears pick up. He keeps asking to see her again, though, and calling her, and looks so damn happy when he catches the sound of her voice whenever she shows up to one of their dates. You can’t fake that, Darcy figures, so it seems like he might like her too.
(Besides, Darcy reasons, she gets plenty distracted by the things she sees; there’s plenty in New York to catch the eye, in all its eccentric glory. Considering that Matt processes so much of the world through hearing… well, there’s plenty of things to catch the ear as well. It makes sense. She’ll excuse it.)
“So, does he know about… I guess, the weirder part of your life?” Jane asks on their weekly videocall. Jane’s off gallivanting somewhere in space; originally, she was supposed to be taking a little trip to Asgard in the name of research, but somehow that’s expanded. It’s up in the air whether Jane’s adventures into even deeper space were her idea or Thor’s - or maybe some unholy combination of the two. Regardless, Darcy’s glad she and Jane were able to put together a decent hand-held prototype of an inter-galaxy communicator.
Right now, though, she could do without the interrogation.
“Oh god no,” she snorts in response to Jane’s question. “We are not opening that can of worms yet.”
“Why not?”
“Uh, have you tried to explain our lives recently? Because it sounds insane , Janey.”
“Yeah, but if you want this to go somewhere…”
“I know,” Darcy says with a heavy sigh. “Just… not yet, alright? Let us settle into this a little bit first, figure out whether this is even going anywhere. Then I’ll spring the superheroes-and-aliens card on him.”
“Alright, if you’re sure.”
Darcy’s not - not really - but it really doesn’t feel like the right time right now. And maybe she’s being selfish, too - because the whole thing has made things weird in the past, this revelation that she works just down the hall from Tony Stark and eats Pop Tarts with Thor.
No, it’s better to establish a more stable foundation for whatever she and Matt are, first. There will be plenty of time to tell him the details later.
———
She’d known Matt was Catholic; it’d come up as a throw-away detail in a conversation she otherwise doesn’t remember the specifics of pretty early on. Darcy hadn’t really understood the extent of that, though - because plenty of people are Catholic, right? Lapsed or otherwise. And are perfectly normal people otherwise.
But it turns out that Matt Murdock’s super Catholic. Like, sex-averse, probably a guilt complex about it, Catholic Catholic. Which, just… seriously? When he looks like that?
(Though Darcy has to admit: if this is the biggest downside to the man, that’s not bad at all.)
They’ve had a few dates now - drinks and coffee and dinner and one memorable trip to a bar they didn’t realize was hosting an open mic poetry night - and Matt had invited her over to his place to cook dinner. So sue her if she thought this was heading for the bedroom. It’d been a great night too, standing in the kitchen together and bumping shoulders prepping vegetables for stir fry before digging into their meal at the counter. And when things had migrated to the couch…. she’d made some assumptions.
When she starts pulling that damn button-down out of his pants, though, seeking skin - you know, the next step in any top-notch make-out session like they’re engaging in now - he gently pushes her hands away.
Darcy pulls back from the kiss with great reluctance. A true feat of strength, if you ask her, and she knows fucking superheroes . “Everything alright?” she asks, her voice exactly the right amount breathy, thank you very much.
“Yes, of course,” Matt hurries to assure her. There’s a long pause where she can see him trying to find his words; his hands keep trailing absentmindedly against her legs where she’s straddled his lap, though, which is oddly comforting. It probably doesn’t do anything to help him organize his thoughts, though, since he still doesn’t seem to know what to say once he finally opens his mouth. “This is… great. Just…”
She finally takes pity on him. “You’re looking to slow it down a little bit?”
“Yes.” The relief that crosses his face is almost pitifully obvious. “Not necessarily forever, just… we’re still getting to know each other, right? No need to rush into bed.”
And it’s… fine. He’s worth it, she’s pretty sure. But right now, when she wants him , it feels a little like the end of the world. Darcy groans for dramatic effect as she tips back forward to bury her face in his neck, making Matt chuckle underneath her. “Alright,” she mumbles into the sensitive skin. “Okay, we can do that. But you’re killing me, you know that?”
Matt’s still laughing when he tilts his face to kiss her hairline. “Oh, I’ve got a pretty good idea.”
(Ok, so he never explicitly says it’s a Catholic thing - but Darcy can connect the dots, and sometimes one plus one equals religiously based repression.)
(Plus, apparently, his ‘won’t get naked’ thing doesn’t keep him from being willing to go down on her. So there’s that. Darcy’s not even going to try and parse out any of the logic there, not when she’s getting stellar orgasms out of the deal.)
———
If they go someplace after dates to talk or hang out or make out, whatever, it’s always his place. Matt doesn’t actually know where she lives, because she’s still living in Avengers Tower right now, and there’s just - there’s no way she can just drop that in conversation without explaining a lot of other things, right? Like what kind of mundane Stark Industries employee receives those kind of perks, without going into the whole thing where she goes way back with Thor. She likes Matt, sure, likes him a lot, but they’ve gotta settle into this a little bit more before she’s willing to divulge the things that make her a little more than just your average academic .
Still, sometimes, Darcy finds herself imagining what it would be like, to bring Matt back to her space. What would he look like, lazing out across her couch? Framed by the skyscraper’s huge windows? Bouncing around her kitchen, side by side?
(She wants that , no matter how much the idea of telling him freaks her out, but it’s not the right time. Not yet.)
———
Darcy almost doesn’t pick up the phone. Inspiration feels like it’s coming fast and furious, and she’s so close to a breakthrough. Interruptions are dangerous when all her thoughts are falling into line so neatly. She’s got half a mind to just chuck the damn buzzing thing across the room - but then she catches a glimpse of who’s calling. Matt. His contact pic fills the whole screen, making Darcy smile despite herself. They’d gotten drunk off margaritas at some hole-in-the-wall Mexican joint and Darcy’d ambushed him with a noisy smooch to his cheek, snapping the selfie just as he’d started laughing. There’s salt evident on his upper lip and the crinkles by his eyes are on full display, just peeking out from behind his red lenses. Every time Darcy sees the picture, it sets off this warm, fluttery feeling inside her - happiness, yeah, and attraction, but something else too. Something special to Matt.
She likes it.
Darcy doesn’t even manage to get a greeting out once she answers before Matt’s already apologizing. “Darcy, I’m so sorry, we just took on an embezzlement case and I completely lost track of time digging through financials.” There’s a noise in the background, and in his voice, like he’s running - a rushing of the wind and a slight shortness of breath. Darcy can’t hear the tapping of the cane in the background, so he must just be counting on people getting out of his way as he hurries down the sidewalks.
“Slow down, Murdock. What’s the rush?” They’re supposed to meet tonight, she knows, but that’s not until 8:30. Considering that last time she checked the clock, it was barely past 6:00, they’ve got plenty of time.
In the background, Darcy hears the frantic pound of his feet slow down to a reasonable pace. “I’m late for drinks, aren’t I?”
“No, you’re -” It’s only once Darcy starts speaking that she glances at the clock on her computer, just to be confronted with a much different number than she expected. 10:41, Jesus fuck almighty. “Ah. Yes. You are.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “You’re not… mad?”
“I’m gonna level with you, Matt, I fully thought it was still seven o’clock, and I have no idea where the last four hours or so went. I kinda got caught up at work too, I guess.” She pauses. “In my defense, I think I might be on the edge of a breakthrough. Maybe.”
“I thought the same,” he laughs. “Sorry about this.”
“Honestly, if we both have to apologize, I think neither of us have to apologize,” Darcy laughs. Something about his frantic words as he answered the phone finally sink in, though. “Have things like this been a breaking point in previous relationships?” she asks.
“You have no idea.”
She does, though - because she’s dealt with the same thing. “Tell you what, let’s make a deal.”
“I’m listening.”
“We’re both types to get sucked into our work, right? So let’s agree not to hold it against each other, because I think you and I are going to be equal offenders here. Just - call me if you think you’re getting caught up, alright? Or if I miss something. And I promise to do the same for you.”
“You’re really being very reasonable about this,” he observes.
“Yeah, well, it’s the least I can do when people have been less than reasonable with me in similar circumstances in the past.”
“Fair enough.” Matt chuckles a little before falling quiet. “You know, if it weren’t for your equipment, I’d have half a mind to invite you over. Get takeout, just work next to each other for a few hours.”
It feels like compromise, in a way she’s not used to. Most guys don’t understand the way her research can take over her life when she’s in the midst of a brainstorm, but Matt operates in such a similar way. It gives her hope that maybe, this is something that can last for the long haul, even if they’re in the early days still.
“Not tonight,” she tells him, though she regrets it all the while. “I need the desktop for calculations. But some other time, maybe? Raincheck?”
“I think we can manage that.” Darcy can practically hear his smile through the phone, setting off a sort of warm glow inside her. “You want to try going out the day after tomorrow? If you think you’ll have resurfaced then.”
“Yeah, sounds good,” Darcy smiles right back. “You know, I think you’re the first guy who’s been so chill about the way I get distracted by work.”
“Well, I think you’re the first woman to react the same to mine, so we’re even.”
“Mmmm. I like that.”
“Let me know if you need anything, alright?” Matt laughs. “I can arrange for dinner delivery, or whatever you need, you just have to let me know.”
“Thanks, Matt,” she says softly. “Get home safe, alright? And get some sleep. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Yeah. You too, Darcy, don’t run without sleep for too long.”
The warmth generated by his words lasts long after he hangs up - and even after the inspiration fizzles out.
(Matt knows she works for Stark Industries - he knows Peter Parker has an internship there, after all, and that Peter knows her through his company - but he doesn’t exactly know the extent of her role. He doesn’t know that she lives on-site, or that her lab is literally right down the hall from Tony Stark’s. It hasn’t come up, you know? Matt has no reason to assume that just because she works at SI that she works closely with Stark, even if it’s oftentimes true. Besides, the couple of times she’s been honest when some guy has asked whether she ever sees Tony Stark, they’ve gotten weird about it. Yeah, she trusts Matt to be mature about this and not suddenly start treating her like his ticket to meet someone famous - but it just feels easier for now not to bring it up. Even if there is a part of her that wants to be able to invite Matt up to her lab and see how he looks in her natural habitat.
Then again - not even a week and a half later, Matt calls her in a panic because tell of yet another explosion at Avengers Tower has hit the news, and it’s weirdly nice to be able to pretend that the hoopla was nowhere near her. He still swears he can smell smoke on her when she finally makes her way to his place for a well-deserved drink (probably because, you know, the explosion was literally right down the hall thanks to some ill-advised experimenting), but at least her false insistence that she’d been nowhere near it all keeps his fussing to a minimum.
So maybe she’ll tell Matt next month, instead, once this has a chance to fade from his memory a bit.)
———
Meeting Matt’s friends feels like a rite of passage, somehow. Probably because it is. It’s a sign that a relationship is going somewhere, right? A low-level form of commitment, these introductions like she’ll be around for a while. It’s exciting, but also nerve-wracking; Darcy can’t remember the last time she went through this ritual. Maybe she hasn’t. It’s hard to remember.
(He’s asked about her friends, before; it’s kind of the point in their relationship for that, Darcy supposes. It isn’t quite a lie when she says she doesn’t really have many people outside of work - Thor and the Avengers kind of count as work-adjacent, if you squint - but it isn’t quite the truth, either. She makes sure to mention Jane, the best friend and former mentor who’s “currently conducting research abroad.” That’s definitely a bigger stretch of the truth, but what the hell else is she supposed to say? My bestie is currently in space with her boyfriend, the Norse god of thunder ?
Some things it’s just easier not to bring up. At least not until she can introduce Jane in person.)
Matt doesn’t have a lot of people he calls friends either, she knows, which somehow makes her even more nervous. Because the people in there? Inside this frankly shitty bar? They matter to Matt, in a way that means she can’t fuck it up if she wants the two of them to keep being a thing.
“It’ll be fine, Darcy,” he soothes. Matt’s fingers are curled gently around her wrist, lingering at her pulse point where her frantic heartbeat is all-too-evident. “They’re going to think you’re great.”
“You don’t know that,” Darcy argues back.
“Maybe not, but I’d be shocked if they didn’t,” he concedes. “They’re already predisposed to like you, just based on what I’ve told them. And besides, I’ve told them to be on their best behavior. And Foggy is pathologically friendly. They’ll be nice regardless.”
“That is not nearly as comforting as you think it is, Murdock.”
“I’m happy to say something else, if you think of something better.”
She doesn’t, of course. Instead, Darcy settles for groaning dramatically and crashing her face into Matt’s shoulder.
He just chuckles, though, slinging an arm around her back. That bit is pretty comforting, actually. “That’s what I thought. Now c’mon, you can do it. Once more unto the breach, etcetera, etcetera.”
Josie’s isn’t any less sketchy on the inside, but it all kind of makes sense in a way. Like - of course there’s a cluster of middle-aged bikers around the pool table, and of course there’s a guy in the corner who looks about two sips away from just passing out against the wall. Darcy hasn’t touched the bartop yet, but she thinks she already knows just how sticky the battered wood will be under her fingertips. The one thing that doesn’t seem to fit is a blonde man in a suit with a physique she’d call cuddly if pressed. It doesn’t take a doctorate to deduct that this is the infamous Foggy, but - well, Darcy’s got one of those.
“Hey, good to see you, man!” probably-presumably-definitely Foggy all but twinkles, clapping Matt on the back. “Karen’s almost here, so I went ahead and ordered a first round of beers. I hope that’s alright,” he adds, looking at Darcy.
“Fine by me, I’m not picky. Well, at least not with booze,” she concedes. “Darcy Lewis.”
“Foggy Nelson.” They shake hands like adults, but Foggy was definitely the guy in college who’d tip an imaginary hat at you. Darcy would eat her own imaginary headwear if that’s not the case. “It’s really nice to meet you. Seriously, this guy here —” he jerks a finger at Matt — won’t stop talking about you.”
“Nice things, I hope.” Matt’s right, she thinks, taking a sip of the beer Foggy had slid her way - Foggy really is ridiculously friendly. It makes things easier.
“Oh, for sure,” he grins at her. “Though I was kind of surprised at first, because Matt’s usual type is gorgeous women of questionable character.”
“Oh good Lord , Foggy,” Matt groans. “Do you want to rephrase that, counselor?”
The implications seem to hit the poor guy just a second too late, making Foggy flush bright red. Darcy can’t even take any offense when he so obviously just didn’t think before he spoke. “Not that you’re not gorgeous, because you are!” he hastens to add. Matt’s head drops to where his arms are folded on the bartop in exasperation. “Really, really beautiful, I don’t know how he senses these things. And come to think of it, who am I to comment on your character, we’ve only just met —”
“Take your foot out of your mouth and breathe, Foggy,” a tall blonde woman cuts in, sliding into the open barstool at Darcy’s other side. “He means well, I promise,” she says, sticking out her hand. “Karen Page, former woman of questionable character.”
“Darcy Lewis, current woman of yet-to-be determined character. Though that last part’s only if you ask Foggy, I think.”
“I knew I should have brought Marci,” the man in question bemoans. “She keeps me more on the straight and narrow, but I just thought it’d be better to hold off on that…”
“You thought right,” Matt tells him, before turning his attention back in Darcy’s direction. “Foggy’s girlfriend is… intense.”
“By which he means that Marci is terrifying and we are all lucky she mostly uses her powers for good rather than evil,” Karen translates for Darcy, sparing a quick nod for the bartender when she slides a glass of something dark on the rocks over.
“You’re one to talk,” Foggy scoffs, though the sound doesn’t manage to actually hold much derision. “Where’s your significant other?”
“Working late,” she says around a sip. “You know how it goes.”
“Ah, yes, the punishing work schedule.”
“Nothing like that.” As Karen rolls her eyes, Darcy can’t help but feel like she’s missing something - but that’s friend groups, isn’t it? All kinds of references and inside jokes you have to stick around long enough to understand.
Matt’s nudging at her side, though, like he’s trying to steer the evening back on track. “Karen was our very first client, actually.”
“Oh yeah? What for, some kind of labor dispute?”
“Murder, actually.” Karen says it calmly, but Darcy struggles not to spit her beer out, choking inelegantly. “Don’t worry, I didn’t do it.”
“So you weren’t kidding about the questionable character, huh?”
“Not even a little,” the other woman laughs. “It all turned out okay though. They got me released, obviously. Even got the charges dropped.”
“So how’d you go from… that, to this? I mean, I know Matt and Foggy have been friends since college, but somehow Matt failed to mention your little backstory here.” Almost like he can sense the fake glare Darcy is directing his way, Matt shrugs, clearly unrepentant.
“I mean, it’s a little bit of a complicated story, but the gist is that I offered to be their secretary. One crime boss, several years, and an eel later, we’ve kind of bonded.”
There’s… several things to unwrap in that sentence, but for whatever reason, Darcy’s brain stutters on that last point. “I’m sorry, I must have misheard you, because it sounded like you said ‘eel.’”
“She did,” Foggy throws in helpfully. “We could have just been coworkers, friendly acquaintances, but then! She drank the eel. And I drank the eel. And once you drink the eel, my friend, you can’t go back. That’s a lifelong bond.”
“Josie offers some less than conventional spirits,” Matt adds, like that will clear up anything. And maybe it does, a little bit - but while it answers some questions, it raises others, like where Josie is getting eel booze and why, that Darcy just won’t be asking.
“Hey, now there’s an idea,” Foggy says, his face lighting up with his excitement. “What better way to welcome Darcy than with the infamous eel?”
“Oh, Foggy, that’s such a mistake,” Karen groans. “I still remember that hangover.”
“Ah, but a memorable mistake,” he coaxes. “C’mon, Darcy, what do you say?”
Darcy looks at Matt for guidance, but he only shrugs, a smile teasing at the sides of his mouth. “It’s up to you. It’s… an experience.”
She doesn’t quite know what an experience will entail, but Darcy Lewis has faced down gods and aliens. She’s not scared of anything, let alone a little alcohol.
“Why the hell not?” she agrees, making Foggy whoop and Karen groan again. “I’ll try anything once.”
“You know, Lewis,” Foggy tells her as he flags down the bartender, “I think we’re going to get along just fine.”
———
It’s nice. Darcy likes Matt’s friends - even the just-as-terrifying-as-promised Marci - and they seem to like her right back. Sure, there’s still these little moments between their group that she doesn’t quite understand yet - for instance, why exactly Foggy had laughed himself to the point of tears when Darcy had stuck her devil horn headband on Matt when they all went out drinking for Halloween - but that’s normal . A wonderfully, beautifully normal problem to face in a relationship. It’s early days, still; she’ll find her footing in their dynamic, bit by bit.
And one day, hopefully, she’ll work up the courage to introduce Matt to her friends in turn.
———
Matt doesn’t sleep much, or at least not well. At least, Darcy thinks he doesn’t; she can’t attest firsthand, due to the aforementioned sex hangups, but she can read the signs. He doesn’t complain, but Darcy can see the way exhaustion practically hangs off Matt’s shoulders. And that’s not even getting into the way Foggy casually mentions him falling asleep in the office, like that’s a normal thing. Darcy’s seen this enough on Jane - hell, on herself - to recognize the flashing neon lights that say someone’s working longer hours than they should.
The real breaking point for Darcy - well, maybe not breaking point, that makes this sound worse than it is, but point of real serious concern - is a matinee orchestra concert at one of the local colleges. Matt had brought it up in the first place, and seemed excited about going, but every time Darcy glances over as they listen, he seems to be keeping himself awake through stubbornness alone. He’s even doing the head nod.
Darcy makes a split-second decision during the brief intermission. Matt isn’t making any case for himself when he obviously jerks back to attention at her gentle nudge to his arm. “Hey, let’s get out of here,” she prods, tugging at his hand. “Get you home to bed.”
“Oh, no, Darcy, I’m fine,” he protests. “Don’t you want to stay for the rest?”
“Honestly, I could take or leave the rest. You need sleep more than we need to be here.”
“Really, Darce -”
“I’m not arguing this with you,” she says firmly, with every bit of finality she can muster. “Is there any reason you’re determined to stay besides not wanting to inconvenience me, or whatever?” Matt’s silence is telling. “Yeah, I thought so. You’re not inconveniencing me, I promise. Now up you get, let’s head back to your place.”
When they arrive back at Matt’s apartment, Darcy’s somewhat surprised when he draws her inside with him, tugging her towards the bedroom along with him. In light of his request to take things slow, Darcy hasn’t even spent a clothed night here. She’s kind of sad about that, truth be told, but it’s easier in some ways - no worrying about getting home in the morning, and it helps hide the worst of her own sleep habits.
“You sure?” she asks before moving to even take her shoes off. It feels important to get that confirmation, somehow, before they do anything else. No matter how tame.
Matt smiles, presses a gentle kiss to a bit of skin right above her eyebrow. “Yes, I’m sure. You’re right, I need the sleep - but I’m not quite ready to let you go yet. So… stay. Relax, have a nap with me.”
“You’re not concerned that I’ll jeopardize your virtue?”
“I think I’ll manage,” he laughs. “Now c’mon, take off your shoes. I’ll get you a shirt if you like.”
Things Darcy learns that afternoon: when Matt lets himself slow down, he sleeps like the dead - and he’s a first rate cuddler.
Who’d have thought?
———
Matt’s got a busted lip next time she sees him, and honestly, Darcy thinks she might be more concerned about it than he is.
“It’s easy to get hit by doors when you can’t see them coming,” he explains as she strokes her thumb over the scab and swelling. “You should have seen me in law school - I’m told the broken nose was very impressive.” His look of contentment is an odd contrast against the appearance of his face; if he hadn’t told her otherwise, Darcy would have assumed Matt got beat up. Mugged, or something. But he still manages to look so goddamn happy , apparently just because he gets to sit there and hold her between his legs while she tries not to poke at the cut too hard.
His hands feel pretty nice on her hips, so - you know. She’s not going to complain.
“We should start a petition,” she decrees. “Make them put bells on all the doors so you can hear them coming.”
Matt’s lips are twitching, like he’s trying not to smile. It’s pretty cute, actually. “All the doors?”
“We can start small, aim for all the doors in Hell’s Kitchen first.”
“That’d do it. I don’t wander too far.”
“Right! And, I mean, we don’t really need them for your office. Foggy already knows better. It’s everywhere else that’s the real issue.”
“Alright, you’ve convinced me,” he laughs. They both wince when it opens up the scab again. Darcy reaches for a napkin as Matt continues teasing like the beading blood doesn’t even register with him. Weirdo. “You start the petition, I’ll contact my representative, and we’ll get Foggy to put up fliers.”
“Deal.” When Darcy steps back out of his space, Matt’s hands trail along with like he’s forgotten to let go of her waist, setting off little chasing bits of sensation that almost make her shiver. In public . And he’d know it, somehow, she just knows it. “You need a beer to drown your sorrows, then?”
“Mmm, thought you’d never offer.”
———
It’s one of those rare days where Darcy can pry herself out of the labs around lunchtime, and the need for a hard reset seems like a perfect excuse to go bring Matt lunch in the dingy little office above a dingier bodega. He doesn’t have to be in court until Thursday, but Darcy knows he’s probably so deep in prep that lunch is the last thing on his mind. They’re alike, in that way - the singular focus that makes them damn good at their jobs, but sometimes at the expense of everything else. Including relationships.
A matched pair, maybe. As long as he doesn’t get weird when she finally tells him about the weirder side of her life.
Darcy’s got three reubens from the deli down the block in a bag when she starts up the stairs to Nelson & Murdock. Strictly speaking, she probably doesn’t need to feed Foggy too, but she’s grown fond of him in the course of her and Matt’s relationship through Matt’s stories. Plus, she likes hearing his odes to deli meats. So sue her.
She can just hear them inside the office as she approaches the door, Foggy’s voice having a particular carrying quality to it that you wouldn’t expect from such an even-keel type of guy. She doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but - well.
“You’ve got to tell her, Matty,” Foggy says inside. “Seriously, you’ve got to -”
“Not right now, Foggy.” There’s a weird warning note to Matt’s voice that draws her up short outside the door. She should go in, but -
“If not now, when?” Foggy tosses back. “She deserves to know, Matt. Stop making excuses and just tell her .”
It draws Darcy up short for a moment, because if she’s reading this right… it almost sounds like they’re talking about the L-word. The big L. The love confession, the thing that could change everything. And it’s - she likes Matt, right? Really likes him. Wants to keep seeing him and see where this goes. But they’ve only been together a couple of months, and she’s just not ready to get into that, you know? It’s too soon.
“I know, Foggy, just - let me judge the right time, alright?”
Darcy opens the door and busts in before either man can say anything else. “Hey guys, sorry to drop in like this,” she interrupts. Don’t ramble, don’t ramble. “Needed to get away from the lab for a bit, so I brought sandwiches. And pickles on the side for you, Foggy, before you ask.”
“Not a moment too soon,” Matt smiles. He reaches out for her, feeling through the empty air, until Darcy steps close enough for him to reel her in. “Hey, you,” he smiles, dropping a light and quick kiss on her lips.
“Hey.” Even with the uncertainty of whatever she overheard chasing through her head, Darcy can’t help but smile back. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“Never,” he promises. “You get those chips I like?”
“You and your kettle chips, I swear. Yes, I did.”
“Thank you.” When he kisses her this time, it’s a little deeper - enough to make Foggy clear his throat pointedly until they break apart, though they otherwise ignore him. “I’m glad you’re here. This is a nice surprise.”
“I’m glad to be here.” Matt starts a little when she slips a hand into his back pocket and squeezes, but you know what? That’s her prerogative as a girlfriend. “C’mon, we gotta feed Foggy before he gets hangry.”
“Can’t have that, can we?” he says with a final squeeze to her hip.
She really, really likes him, in all his cheeky glory - might even more than like him, if given enough time. So Darcy pushes that conversation that she wasn’t supposed to hear to the back of her mind and lets Matt lace his fingers through hers, pulling her along to Foggy’s desk to spread out their sandwich feast.
———
(In retrospect, though there’s no one moment to prove it, Matt Murdock was probably one big walking red flag. Well, maybe not a red flag - nothing that obvious - but maybe something like the warning light on a car dashboard: that little quietly blinking symbol that something’s not quite right with the system. Matt’s like that, probably, but Darcy’s got plenty of red flags of her own after everything that’s happened since Thor touched down. It turns out, maybe her baseline for normal has shifted so much that she just isn’t concerned about things anymore that would give anyone else pause.)
———
The whole thing comes to a head with a kidnapping. Because of course it does; that’s just the kind of life Darcy leads, and she’s deluding herself to think otherwise.
As far as kidnappings go, these circumstances aren’t so bad. AIM may be pests, but they’re more interested in research than in hurting her, as per usual. Mostly, even though the zip ties on her hands and ankles are annoying, Darcy’s pissed that these assholes only asked her about Jane’s research. Again. If she’s going to be kidnapped, she’d rather it be on account of her own research, you know? Taken for her own merits, instead of just because she’s this weird, less-protected extension of the Avengers.
Anyhow.
The really fortunate news is that Darcy will likely be noted as missing pretty quickly. She’s supposed to be meeting Matt for drinks, and had even texted when she left the office before being snatched up. By now, he’ll know there’s something wrong since she hasn’t shown up - which is more than she can say for the last time this had happened, when it took Jane the better part of a day to notice that Darcy never came back from the lunch run. Matt will call the cops, and someone will alert the Avengers, and she’ll be back home in her pajamas before she knows it.
Being restrained really is annoying, though. The yellow-suited dipshits had come through maybe a half hour before, run through the regular questions, and run back off to their labs when Darcy “accidentally” mentioned a supposedly-recent area of investigation. It’ll take them nowhere, of course; she and Jane had determined that that particular train of thought was a dead end not long after the previous kidnapping attempt. But it sounds good enough to keep these idiots busy, so Darcy drops the reference without shame, just to secure some time alone to try and see about escaping.
AIM never really manages to create a holding cell worthy of the description, more worried about the science than the practicalities of pulling off a kidnapping, and today seems to be no different. By all appearances, they’ve left her in an unused lab space. There’s metal workbenches and computers running a star screen saver and even tools left scattered around, for fuck’s sake. There’s not even a fucking door. The only points she can award are for not tying her to a rolling chair.
Darcy’s just starting to put together a plan - if she can just manage to wobble her chair over towards that countertop, she can probably manage to grab something to help cut her restraints - when the lights abruptly cut out. It’s good news, she thinks; somehow, she doesn’t see these bozos willingly leaving themselves in the dark, so it’s probably the rescue squad. Things are a lot… quieter than she expected, however. Usually, when the Avengers or cops bust in, there’s a good bit of hubbub - hollering and shots and repulsor blasts and all the rest of it. This is just… silence. Waiting. Darcy wonders, briefly, if she’s maybe just too far away to hear, before dismissing that as unlikely. She’d have to be actual stories away from the action for that to be the case, and if the view just visible outside of the tall, narrow windows is any indication, that’s probably not even possible.
And that’s when the baton flies in, knocking out the one and only security camera in the room. A figure steps into the room moments later, horned helmet casting interesting shadows across the floor, the red of their suit an eerie crimson in the faint light put off by the emergency exit indicators. Darcy’s read enough local blogs to recognize them on sight: Daredevil . Darcy’s in a happily committed relationship, but seeing him standing across the way, she can’t help but admire the view.
“I’ve got to say, you’re not who I expected,” Darcy comments as he moves to untie her, reaching for the same wire cutters she’d had her eye on.
“I’ll try to take that as a compliment.” Something about his voice is… familiar, but Darcy can’t quite place it.
“I mean, it’s certainly not an insult. I’m not complaining.” With a quiet snap, her hands are free. Darcy hisses as the blood rushes freely again, but it’s a good kind of pain, really. “Oh thank fuck,” she sighs. Daredevil makes a noise that almost sounds like a stifled laugh, and that - that’s ringing some bells too. “I hate that part. Anyways - definitely not a complaint, just surprised to see you. I thought you stuck to patrolling Hell’s Kitchen. Unless I’m totally off-base about wherever the hell this is? I’m going off what’s outside some pretty small windows, honestly.”
“I'd argue that a woman kidnapped from Hell’s Kitchen certainly falls within my scope.” As he moves around to clip the zip ties at her ankles, Darcy catches a glimpse of the visible half of his face. That jawline almost looks like - but that can’t be true. Surely not.
Holding out a hand once she’s fully untied, Daredevil pulls her to her feet, which does not help the suspicion pulling together in Darcy’s brain. “Are you good to walk?”
“Maybe even run if I’m motivated enough. I’ve had worse.”
“Good, good.” He turns away from her for a moment, tilting his head like he’s listening, back to Darcy, and it’s crazy, it’s crazy , but -
What the hell. She’s asking anyways. “Matt?”
Darcy’s never seen a genuine, unexaggerated full-body sigh before. Turns out, it’s a night full of firsts. When Daredevil - Matt speaks again, his voice is back to its normal register. “Is it that obvious?”
“No! No, I just… know you pretty well at this point. Or so I like to think,” she rushes to explain.
“What gave it away?”
That’s… a little more complicated. “I mean, it wasn’t one thing,” she hedges. “The head tilt. Your voice was familiar, even if it wasn’t quite right. I recognized your jawline. And, uh - your ass.”
There’s the laugh. “My ass? Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. I’ve spent a lot of time staring at that ass. I don’t think it’s totally out there that I could recognize it in red kevlar.”
“Alright, fair enough,” he says, lifting his hand in mock-surrender. “Strangely enough, you’re not the first girlfriend who’s used that particular method.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“All the more proof that it’s distinctive, then.”
“Whatever you say, Darcy.” He’s doing that listening thing he’s done since day one again; Darcy realizes, now, that there’s probably something going on there that she doesn’t know about. “Are you ready to go? They’re all distracted, trying to get a generator up and running. I can get us both out of here.”
“Sure, just let me grab my purse.” It’s right there on the table in plain sight, of course, because - say it with her now! - AIM is fucking stupid . When Darcy checks the contents, her taser is still right where she left it, but her phone is gone.
Oh, Matt is not going to like what she’s about to suggest.
He already looks wary when she whips back around to face him again. “What crazy idea do you have now, Darcy?”
She grins. “So how about a little detour, first?”
“No. Absolutely not. We’ve got them distracted right now, we need to take advantage of that.”
“They took my phone, Matt!”
“You can replace a phone, Darcy .”
“Can’t replace the research on that phone. All the fragments of thoughts I haven’t had a chance to chase down yet… you don’t want that in the hands of scientific terrorists, do you?” She’s almost got him. She can tell by the way his hand comes up to drag across his face, one of those exasperated tells that manages to have translated from Matthew Murdock, attorney at law to Daredevil, vigilante of justice. “Please, Matt. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
He sighs, and Darcy knows she’s won. Score . “Alright, just - if I tell you to do something do it, alright? No matter what. And have your taser out and ready.”
“Locked and loaded, devil-man.” Matt doesn’t quite smile, but the edges of his mouth twitch like he wants to, which feels like enough of a win. Makes it easier to reconcile Matt, her lawyer boyfriend, with the guy she’s been reading about in local blog spaces. There’s a brief moment of hesitation before he reaches for Darcy, drawing her in to press a brief but tender kiss to her lips.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he murmurs.
“I’m pretty glad, myself,” she replies, stealing a kiss of her own. And then tweaking his ass, because - well, why not. He looks fine in those tight pants.
Matt jumps a little, but otherwise just rolls his eyes fondly. “Put a pin in that for now.”
“Anything you say, tiger.”
“You know, I’ve got some questions about I’ve had worse ,” he comments as they start down the hall. It’s an abrupt return to reality from their unexpectedly flirty moments in the middle of a rescue operation.
“Yeah, I don’t blame you,” she sighs. “We’ll talk once we’re both out of here. There’s some things you should probably know.”
———
They go back to Matt’s apartment, eventually. Watching him work, knocking out and beating up the AIM dipshits, had been fascinating - a brutal ballet that had reminded Darcy she maybe, possibly, has some sort of competence kink. Who could blame her after the superheroic turn her life had taken the last couple years?
(Besides - there’s the hint of a grin around Matt’s mouth when Darcy discharges her taser into a yellow-suited freak who gets just a little too close. So he doesn’t really have room to judge.)
Matt almost looks surprised when he opens the door at her knock, like he’d been expecting her to cut and run, and maybe he had been; she’d had opportunity, after all, though no inclination. She’d taken a cab to his place, while he’d disappeared over the rooftops in some crazy acrobatic move. As the taxi winds its way through Hell’s Kitchen, Darcy thinks sometimes she catches a glimpse of something - someone - vaulting the gap between buildings, and knows it must be him.
It’s an easier idea to get used to than one would expect, really.
He’s in a weird in-between state between armored and casual once Darcy gets a good look at him, the door securely closed and locked once again. The pants and top are still on, but the helmet and boots are off, Matt padding barefoot around his space like she’s seen so many times before. The trunk she’s seen in his main closet before is pulled out, open and yawning to show off a collection of batons and several pairs of boots and some dark, folded clothing, his horns resting on top of the whole thing.
“So.” Matt’s obviously nervous as he leads her towards his sofa - or tries to, at least. His hand kind of darts towards her waist and then away again, like he’s not quite sure he’s allowed to touch anymore. “There’s, uh - well, there’s some things I’ve been keeping from you. I assume you have some questions.”
Darcy snorts. “No shit, Matt.”
“Hey now. You want to hear the whole story, or do you want to act smart?”
“I can multitask.” That makes Matt laugh, at least, cutting some of his residual nervous energy. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”
“Okay.” He pauses, like he’s trying to gather his thoughts - and evidently comes up blank. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“I’d recommend the beginning, personally,” Darcy suggests.”
“Alright. The beginning - you know about the accident, right? Where I lost my sight?” Matt waits until she nods - God, it’s so weird that he can somehow sense that, it’s going to take some getting used to - before continuing. “I don’t know what that truck was carrying. I’ve never been able to find out - it’s been more than two decades now, and it was already fifteen years in the past when I started trying to dig. There’s just not a paper trail to follow anymore - the records are, presumably, gone. Whatever it was carrying, though… when it got in my eyes, it blinded me, but it enhanced my other senses.”
“What, like superpowers?”
“I suppose so. Yes.” When Darcy just stares at him expectantly, Matt huffs out a little breath that almost sounds like a laugh. “I can hear your heartbeat,” he tells her. “Mrs. Chen next door has a carton of eggs that just went off - I can smell that. There’s a couple at the end of the block who are heading for divorce, I think, because I can hear every word of every argument they’re having. I can feel individual shifts in air currents, the way air shifts in a room every time someone moves. All of it taken together - it’s not a replacement for my sight, not really, but it paints a picture of the world that’s vivid in a different way.”
“And it’s been like that, ever since the accident?”
“No, not always. I had to hone it. When I first woke up in the hospital, it was like a wall of input. Too many sensations all at once. When my father was alive, I centered myself by focusing on him - his heartbeat, the creaks and pops of his joints, the way he scuffed his feet and always seemed to jiggle his knee - but after he was gone…” Matt trails off. There’s a lot of story in that pause, and a lot of pain, but that’s not the point of this, so Darcy lets it be. He’ll tell her more when he’s ready. “I didn’t really get my senses under control in any permanent way until after he died. When I was in the orphanage - things were worse than ever, at first. I used to lay there in bed and cover my ears, crying from all the stimuli. It was… suffocating. One of the nuns, she found a man named Stick, who was supposed to help me. I suppose he did; I learned how to filter through everything I was sensing, at least.”
“Sounds like there’s a but coming.”
“Stick was a man who viewed existence as a battle. He viewed me less as a mentee and more as an apprentice warrior. I was ten, and should never have been put in that position.”
“Matt…”
“No, there’s no need for pity, or apologies. The things I learned from him are why I can do the things I do today. It’s…” Another pause, like he’s searching for the right words. “I have all these tools at my disposal. I can do a lot of good in my neighborhood. It’s my duty to see that through.” As Matt finishes speaking, the words hang in the air between them. Darcy tries to process quickly, knowing he’s waiting for her response, but - well, it’s a lot to take in. Sure enough: “This is usually the bit where you’d decide that you don’t think you can handle a relationship with a vigilante, or get mad that I kept this from you,” Matt says, chuckling nervously.
It hurts her heart a bit, that he’s seemingly had to choose between his after-hours work and his love life. It hurts, too, knowing that she’d given him no reason to think she’d take this better than most. “Do you want me to do that?”
“Not remotely, but I won’t pretend I’m not confused. You’re taking this whole evening remarkably well.”
Well, he’s got a point there - at least when he doesn’t have any idea about the nature of the things she’s hiding. No better segue, she supposes. “Do you know how I got into astrophysics?” she asks.
“I believe you said there was an internship involved.”
“Yeah. I was a poli sci student, but I needed hard science credits, so I took an internship with this astrophysics professor. Total crackpot, most of us thought, had all these ideas about bridges to other worlds. I didn’t really buy into it, but it let me travel with her, so that was alright. And I was pretty good at the data entry. I didn’t really need to understand or care about what I was working on to do a… okay, maybe not a good job, but an acceptable job.” It draws a laugh out of them both - a cleansing kind of laugh that takes the tension of the situation down yet another notch. “But then, Jane hit a weird guy in the desert with our van.”
And oh, does that activate the lawyer side of Matt Murdock. “Darcy, please tell me this isn’t a tale of vehicular manslaughter,” he asks warily.
“Oh god no,” Darcy assures him. “This is the tale about how we made first contact with Thor.”
“... I can’t say I saw that coming.”
“Not exactly how you’d think that story turns, right?” she asks with a wry smile. “But that was the turning point for me. There was a definable goal, and an endpoint, and trying to figure out how we could get from point A to point B without the help of magic. And when I started having my own ideas of things to explore…” she trails off, letting the things she’s not saying speak for themselves. “Game over. I was in too deep, and happy to be there.”
“So you’re no stranger to unusual situations.”
“Not even a little bit. Not even a week after Thor crashed down, we were dealing with a great big metal murder-bot. And don’t even get me started on the Dark Elves. Such a shitshow.”
“... we might have to come back to that later.”
“Greenwich, England?” she prompts. Something flashes across Matt’s face that might be recognition. “You probably heard about it on the news. My point is that, uh… my life is already pretty weird, and sometimes dangerous, even without whatever you get up to. And I’ve technically been hiding things from you,” she tells him. “So yeah, as long as you think you can forgive me for that, I don’t see any reason why I wouldn’t forgive you.”
“You don’t have to worry about that.”
“I didn’t think so,” she assures him. When he doesn’t respond immediately, Darcy can’t help but prompt him again. “Anything else I need to know?”
“Probably,” Matt laughs. He doesn’t apologize, but Darcy hears it regardless - and she doesn’t need the apology, anyway.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” she offers with a wry grin.
“Deal.” He agrees to it easily, but there’s a moment before he finally speaks. It’s very… Matt; thinking through all his words, all his moves before he makes them. “I’ll start out easy, I guess. Foggy and Karen both know about my, uh - extracurricular activities.”
“Makes sense,” Darcy nods. “Alright, in that vein: Jane isn’t ‘abroad’ so much as ‘in some uncharted area of space with her Norse god boyfriend.’”
“I’m in a sort of detente with the head of an organized crime ring.”
“There’s a, like, hundred and five percent chance I’m going to get mixed up in some alien bullshit again. So that’s something to be aware of.”
“There’s nearly as high a chance that I’m going to show up at your place someday covered in blood.”
“Not to burst your bubble, but I actually live at Avengers Tower, so maybe don’t do that unless you want to throw your lot in with the superhero crowd.”
Matt pulls an incredulous face. “Seriously?”
“Dead serious.”
“Well, that explains why I haven’t been to your place. I suppose it would be hard to explain living next door to Thor.”
“I don’t live next door to Thor and Jane anymore, thank god. He’s got no volume moderation. You’d hate it - I hate it,” Darcy tells him with a vehemence Matt more than likely did not expect. “No one needs to know that much about their sex life. No, they live on a different floor, and I’m next door to Sam Wilson. Much more polite.”
“But somehow, nearly just as odd to explain.”
Darcy grins sheepishly. “Is this the point where I mention that my lab is also on the same floor as Stark’s?”
“I kind of figured you were closer to that explosion than you were letting on. Your hair reeked of smoke.”
“Yeah, well, you might have to get used to that, periodically. Kind of a side effect of the job. Now c’mon, your turn,” Darcy prompts with a wave of her hand.
“I guess… Karen’s boyfriend is the Punisher?” It probably shouldn’t be a question, but, you know, it’s a night for all kinds of weird developments.
“Not technically your secret to tell,” Darcy points out.
“Everyone else knows,” Matt says dismissively. “It just feels rude not to tell you at this point.”
“I’ll allow it.” It takes a moment to think of her next confession, but they’re on a roll . Darcy can’t be the one to stop it now. “I was eavesdropping on you and Foggy. Last week, when I came by the office with lunch.”
“I know.” When Darcy hums in question, Matt explains further. “I can hear your heartbeat, remember?”
“Oh, right.” That’ll certainly take some getting used to. “Was that about this? The Daredevil thing? Or…”
“Yes. I hid it from Foggy for… much longer than I should have. It made him feel strongly that you deserved the whole truth.”
“Oh thank god,” Darcy breathes out with a sigh. “I thought he was trying to talk you into a love confession or something.”
“No!” Matt’s reaction is immediate, near frantic; the red blush only comes afterwards, alongside the backtracking. “No. I mean - not that I don’t have feelings for you, but - ”
“It’s too soon. Especially since we were both holding some major things back.”
“Exactly.” She’d laugh at the relief currently written all over his face, if not for the fact that she’s sure she’s wearing the same expression. “I do like you though, Darcy. A lot. And I think this could really be something, if we give it time and put in the effort.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” With the worst of it through, Darcy stands from the couch, moves to where Matt’s finally stopped his nervous pacing. The suit has a curious texture under her fingertips when she slides her hands up his chest, but she assumes she’ll get used to it in time. “So. Confessions over?”
When Matt smiles this time, there’s a little edge to it that Darcy can’t quite identify. She doesn’t think it’s bad, per se, but it’s - something. Mischief, maybe. “There’s one more thing. Just the one.”
“Alright, let’s hear it.”
“You know how I suggested I had some sort of moral opposition to sex?”
Yeah, she remembers it alright. It’s been frustrating her for ages, though she’s been externally understanding. The implications of what Matt’s saying hit her all at once. “You’re kidding me. We’ve been holding back for no good reason?”
“I couldn’t figure out how to explain the scars on my chest. They’re pretty large and there’s several, from before I got decent armor. It seemed… easiest to keep my shirt on.”
“I can’t believe you.” Darcy hits at his chest in emphasis - not that it does much good, what with that superhero physique and all. Matt gathers her hands up instead, pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles - which doesn’t make Darcy melt at all . “What does it say about me that this is the thing I’m most insulted about?”
“Just that you’re a woman that knows what she wants.” This time, the kiss lands on her lips - quick as it is. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“You’d better,” Darcy grumbles, though there’s no real heat behind it.
Matt hums a little noise before letting go of her hands, dropping his own to her waist instead. “Do you have anything you need to get to tomorrow morning?” he asks, pulling her slowly towards his bedroom - and oh, Darcy likes where this is going.
She grins in return, snaking her hands towards his waistband. Figuring out how all this comes off - well, that sounds like just the kind of scientific study she’s up for. “Not a damn thing,” she tells him.
Darcy looks forward to whatever kind of making up Matt deems necessary.