Work Text:
There are exactly three things the staff at Parker, Kent & Specter know about Matt Murdock:
1. He's blind.
2. He's terrifyingly good at his job.
3. He leaves at exactly 17:30 every day with the punctuality and determination of a man who has somewhere much better to be.
Everything else is wrapped up in a cloud of quiet mystery.
Which is why, on a Wednesday morning, the entire bullpen becomes extremely interested in his personal life.
Matt is sitting at the conference table with a few helping hands in the form of junior associates and a paralegal, fingers dancing over his Braille reader when his phone — poking out from under some files — buzzes. He doesn't pick it up because he's in the middle of reading a brief.
Facing up, the phone lights up, and on it:
Karen Page, laughing, with her head leaning against his shoulder while he kisses her forehead. Stupidly affectionate. The kind of picture that can only happen when someone is so deep in love they don't even realise the look on their face.
It's loudly, vividly, undeniably couple-y.
The notification over it reads:
REMINDER: Buy milk.
And underneath, a few messages from Karen:
I guess I missed you this morning
Don't forget the milk btw
Love you, baby
There is a collective, stunned silence.
Someone finally blurts, "Uh... Murdock? Who's the woman on your lock screen?"
"On my what?" Matt asks.
"The... lock screen. You know, the picture"
"The picture on your phone", another adds, helpfully but badly.
Matt's brows pull together, the smallest frown. He reaches over and taps his phone screen with practiced movement.
Over his shoulder, Foggy chirps, "It's been there for a while buddy. Karen set it, apparently. It's a picture of the two of you."
"...Ah." Comes Matt's realization.
The room waits for embarrassment, explanation, anything.
Instead, Matt nods once.
"Oh. Yes. That's my girlfriend."
"Your—" the paralegal sputters. "We didn't know you were seeing someone."
Matt shrugs mildly. "It's not a secret, you just didn't ask."
Someone else bubbles up, "You're just walking around with that on your phone?"
"It's my phone," Matt says calmly, taking a sip of his coffee, "Karen likes pictures. I like her. If she wants my phone to look like that then she can."
Half the room melts on the spot.
A junior associate stares at him, "Dude, you're in love."
Matt doesn't even hesitate. "Yes, I thought that part was implied."
The room collectively short circuits, meanwhile Foggy is silently losing it.
Another junior associate starts, "But you didn't know that was your lock screen?"
"No." Matt slips his phone into his pocket. "I can't see it."
"Right, right, sorry." They all nod too fast, trying to play it cool.
Matt, says, perfectly zen, "It's fine. Karen probably set it when she was helping me read out an email. She does that."
"Does what?" Someone asks, fascinated.
"Whatever she wants."
Foggy actually chokes.
Matt finally turns back to the laptop and braille reader in front of him.
"Anyway," he says casually, "we need to finish reviewing this deposition. Good talk."
He leaves the room in stunned silence.
The bullpen is still buzzing — whisper-yelling, sending Teams messages they think Matt doesn't know about — while he tries to sit at his desk and actually open the file he needs to review.
He makes it three minutes and twelve seconds into reading before someone materializes at his desk with the hesitancy of approaching a live bear.
"So... Matt?"
He sighs softly, closes the file and tilts his head up at the voice.
"Okay." Standing up, he sets his hands on the desk, palms open. "You get five minutes. Ask whatever you want. After that, you're all going to go back to work."
The bullpen freezes.
Someone whispers, "He's giving us office hours—"
Someone else: "Shh don't waste the time—"
Matt lifts an eyebrow. "Four minutes and fifty two seconds."
Chaos ensues.
Hands shoot up even though he cannot see them.
"How long have you been together?"
"Four years," he says easily. "Four very good years."
"Did you meet here?"
"No."
"Did Foggy introduce you?"
Foggy: "Absolutely not."
Matt: "In a way, yes."
They look at eachother. "Well," Matt starts, "You did give Bess those cigars."
Foggy sputters.
"Do you live together?"
"Yes."
The entire bullpen gasps like he just revealed himself to be Batman.
"We share a home. It's not that dramatic." Matt says.
"Do you cook together?"
"Yes."
Pause.
"Well, I cook while she exists nearby."
"What's the most romantic thing she's ever done?"
"She let me sleep in on my birthday."
"Aw—"
"By taking my phone and answering my calls for me."
"Wait—"
Foggy starts, "We do not talk about that day."
"Are you gonna marry her?"
He doesn't even blink when he says, "Probably."
The bullpen absolutely combusts. Foggy starts fanning himself with a legal pad.
"Wait — probably?" Someone squeaks.
"Yes." Matt says, like he's confirming the sky is blue. "She's... Karen."
A chorus of Awws and Oohs arise.
"Do you have any pictures of her on your phone besides the wallpaper?"
"I don't have many pictures, if at all, it's not like I can see them. But if I do, they're probably of us."
Everyone melts again.
"Do you have a pet together?"
"Yes."
"What is it?"
"A cactus."
"Why a cactus?"
"Because she said it reminded her of me."
"Can we meet her?"
"No. Absolutely not. She's not even near the building and you're all already like this."
There's a short silence as everyone tries to think of any last questions.
"Do you... love her?"
"Of course. I thought that was obvious."
Matt taps a folder on his desk. "And your five minutes are up. Back to work."
Someone opens their mouth to protest.
Matt doesn't even look up.
"Times over."
And somehow — somehow — the entire bullpen obeys him.
Foggy claps him on the shoulder on his way back to his desk.
"Nice one, buddy."
Matt just smirks.