( closed ) blind ninja meets whatever it is she is

[fogwells]

who: Matt Murdock & Jessica Jones
what: Super cool neighbors have a super friendly meeting!
when: August
where: Floor 9 of community housing
warnings: None, of course, absolutely nothing can go wrong!

[ He'd check to find out if Foggy and Karen were here, if they'd somehow been displaced like he was. Finding no hint of them, he wasn't sure whether to take it as something of relief or not. Not knowing enough about this place, it was hard to tell whether it was safer or more dangerous than Hell's Kitchen. Whichever was the worst, Matt didn't like not being with them to protect them.

The day had already been long, but it was just the beginning of his research, deciding to take it all one step at a time — all as Matt Murdock, and Matt Murdock alone.

Cane clutched in hand, he makes his way down the hallway of his floor, tapping at the ground in front of him. There's no need for it, not with his senses alerting him well of his surroundings, but he senses movement behind some of the doors to the other room. One in particular is about to be opened, sensing it in the way that feet tap across the floor, closer and closer.

When it opens, there's a woman there, practically his own height, with a heavy air about her.

Matt tilts his head up, facing her general direction, making sure not to look directly at her before shifting into a smile. ] Hi. You must be my neightbor.

Comments

[hardedged]

[ it's been another long goddamn day on the fucking moon. another day without trish. another day wondering if she'll ever figure out how to return home. the only silver lining to this hellhole is that there's plenty of alcohol in stock, which jessica jones has used to her advantage.

in fact, she's about to procure more of that right now. throwing her leather jacket on, she opens her front door only to abruptly stop at the presence of a stranger. her eyes widen, then cautiously narrow, as they drift from the man's cane to his face. sadly, jess doesn't return his smile or his amiable greeting. ]

Out of the way.

[fogwells]

[ He hears the sharpness in her tone, notable even without his keen sense of hearing. But there's a definite anger in her, triggered by the pattern of her heartbeat and her inpatient stance.

But Matt plays his part, pretending to be unaware of it all, of being blind to everything in front of him. ]

I'm — I'm sorry, you're probably in a hurry. It's just — [ He holds his apologetic smile, his hand gesturing down the hallway. ] I'm still new in this town, and I haven't memorized the way to my room yet. I don't want to accidentally stumble in someone's apartment, so if it's ... no trouble, could you direct me to room 6?

[hardedged]

[ she continues to stare flatly, contemplating her choice. jess could simply abandon him; she's done far worse for far less. however, at the end of it all, she can't turn her back on someone in need. goddammit. ]

Come on.

[ she ultimately concedes, along the edge of an annoyed sigh. although she's unaware of how self-sufficient he is, she assumes this stranger is capable enough to follow her. hopefully. look, she's not holding your hand, murdock. ]

[fogwells]

[ He's plenty capable of finding his own way. Though blind, Matt can still see, in a hazy form of warm colors shaped by vibrations and the positioning of molecules. The path to his room isn't a complicated one at all for his capabilities, already even aware of it by the positioning of every piece of furniture in his room which he can pinpoint from the elevator if he willed it.

But he didn't know this town, nor did he know the people. Hell's Kitchen had been his city, reading it through every crack in the sidewalks and every beating heartbeat. Being somewhere so unknown, so strange, leaves him unprepared.

He has to learn everything — its space, its atmosphere, its people — all over again. ]

Thank you. [ He says softly, with gratitude, as he taps his cane against the ground, guided by her footsteps. ] Have you been in this city long?

█ 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚟𝚊𝚒𝚗

[fogwells]

[ It's hard to separate his mind from her in the week that follows. His sight never returned since that night, the world around him once again shrouded in darkness, and yet he has a clear image of her formulated in his memory, collected with the rest of his lost memories. Her pink lips and bare skin somehow align together with the backdrop of a crystal blue sky he recalls as an eight-year old boy, pictures that no longer exist in his reality.

But it isn't merely his sight. Detecting things like Foggy's noodle lunch from a prior weekend was easy; even easier to cloud his scent was the lasting remnants of alcohol and sex even days after he'd left her apartment and hadn't turned back.

It's also days later, trying to flood himself with other futile distractions like the childish work of a paralegal, that he finds the mismatched fabric between his shirts — a sort of simple brand of cotton, too rough for his fingers when he runs them along the hem. They must have gotten mixed with his laundry, he realizes, a sigh escaping him as he tries to consider what his next approach should be. It's one pair of underwear, he knows she has plenty more tossed around her room; there's no need to return it.

So he doesn't know why he's in front of her door, knuckles rapping at the wood, listening in for her footsteps within. ]

[hardedged]

[ it's been one hell of a week, which jessica jones has actively attempted to suppress. there's a palpable tension between them, and she's avoided bumping into her neighbor from across the hall, for the most part.

it's easier that way. out of sight, out of mind. she doesn't want to recall the entranced look in matt murdock's gaze, nor the warmth of his gentle embrace. she'd prefer to forget that night completely.

however, fate has other plans. about a minute passes before jess opens the door, and a sharp scoff escapes her mouth. ]

What?

[fogwells]

[ He doesn't expect any form of warm greeting from her; in fact, that had already been out of the question even before she'd inevitably wanted to distance herself from him. Instead of the flat word that escapes her lips, he focuses on everything else. On the intoxicating scent of alcohol on her tongue, on the shift of her breath when she sees him, on the discomfort in the patterns of her heart beat.

Matt wears a tight smile, shoulders shrugging slightly. ]

Jessica. Long time no see.

[ There's always a little room for humor.

But as soon as he says it, he changes tone before she can shut the door in his face. ] I found this. Mixed with my things. I thought, I thought you'd want it back. [ And he holds up the found underwear, pinching each side with two fingers as he displays it for her. ]

[hardedged]

[ the blunt barb is a bit too soon, she mentally notes. not that jess has ever cared much for propriety. she scoffs, prepared to slam the door. yet, he stops her with a shocking revelation. her eyes widen once she discerns the item clenched within his hands.

he's touching her goddamn underwear, practically displaying it for the world to see. ]

Jesus. [ huffing a breath, she reaches out to snatch the fabric from him. ] Hands off.

[hardedged]

[ it's been a challenging week — dealing with the aftermath of their prior encounter, all while ignoring the undeniable fact that matthew murdock is merely three doors down the hall. fortunately for her, she's had considerable distractions to keep her occupied.

on monday, jess sets her kitchen on fire when she inadvertently leaves her stove on for too long. the one time she uses the damn thing, and she nearly burns her apartment to the ground. sounds about right.

on wednesday, she breaks her bed, shifting in her sleep due to a nightmare. all it takes is an abrupt flash of purple, and her fist slams down. with her enhanced strength, the mattress and frame easily crumble under the pressure.

on friday, she's forced to evacuate her home, including the couch that she transformed into a makeshift bed. the reason? goddamn bed bugs. her next door neighbor experienced an infestation, which slowly made its way into her apartment. thus, she spends the night as any reasonable person would — sleeping outside her front door, her back slumped against the wall.

apparently, her streak of crapass luck never ends. ]

[fogwells]

[ This time, keeping his distance had been entirely for her sake. Several times, he finds himself outside of her apartment, prepared to knock with no pair of underwear to use as an excuse and only his own words. But it's those very words that had gotten him into trouble during the last encounter, and he's sure another repetition of that would end up with more than a mere slamming of a door to his face.

But he doesn't forget her. Even if he'd somehow wanted to, Jessica makes it impossible, beginning with the traveling burnt air that seeps all the way down into his own apartment on Monday. Her swears echo all the way to his ears and he can almost feel the heat of the flame, but it's nothing like the one that'd burnt down his own apartment months ago.

The damage seems minimal from what he can sense and she survives it just fine, so he doesn't interfere.

Still, he wakes with her when the vibration of a hard fist making contact with the bed frame travels along the entirety of the floor on Wednesday. There's a snapping and bending of weak metal, but no cracking bones, assuring him that she isn't injured. But she sweats, her breath more unsteady than normal and an air of panic about her.

That night, he rushes to her door, replaying the memory of Jessica's warm hands on his cheeks when he screamed and screamed, the comfort that calmed his heart from merely having here there, whisper and assure him that all was fine. He wants to ease her pain all the same, to return the words and tell her things would be alright — but if she seeks comfort, it isn't from him. She'd see his face and the anger would simmer as it did when she'd cursed him the last time.

He reaches the front entrance of her apartment, but he never knocks, never seeks to go inside, instead immediately turning back to his bed for the night, not letting himself sleep until he hears her breaths return to normal.

Tonight, it isn't until the late hours that he returns back to his apartment. Melvin's suit never leaves its case, but Matt puts on a pair of simple dark attire, tying cloth around his eyes, and scales the rooftops. He doesn't pick a fight, doesn't cause trouble, but he lets the rush of the wind as he jumps through fire escapes give him a high of a long sought out thrill. It isn't the same, he says to himself in the form of an excuse that he hasn't fully returned to being Daredevil, but the words could almost ring like a complaint. He forces himself to crawl back through his window, that he isn't ready, that Daredevil wasn't meant to come back, but he doesn't battle with internal monologue for long as he tugs the cloth from his head and puts on a simple t-shirt and sweats, before he notices the oddity.

Jessica isn't inside her apartment, not quite, but he can sense the space she takes up in the hallway as if planted there. Don't interfere, he reminds himself, but it becomes difficult to ignore her for a third time in the week. His heart still beats fast from the rushing patrol on the streets, making it difficulty to ease the fast pace of his own thoughts. With the lack of clarity in the moment, he steps out into the hallway.

He's quiet when he approaches her, his steps slow and gradual, pausing only when he's several feet away from the body sitting uncomfortably upon the floor. ]

Jessica?

[hardedged]

[ it's another goddamn nightmare, hardly the first she's experienced this week. she can never escape from them, regardless of how much she tries. jessica is standing on the balcony of a penthouse apartment, overlooking a lovely view. a tall, slender man is with her, and he leans in to capture her lips for a kiss. she stops him, turning her face away.

"It's getting chilly, let's go in. I'll clean this up, and we'll continue inside."

she sounds sickeningly sweet, far too coy. everything about this jessica is wrong — from the insincere smile on her expression to the bright yellow dress that she wears.

kilgrave walks away, while she glares at his retreating back and inches closer to the balcony. she remains there, on the ledge, genuinely at peace as she imagines jumping. suddenly, after hearing the noise of nearby traffic, her brow furrows in concern.

"Jessica, come in, darling."

even the mere sound of that monster's voice cuts her to the core. it's absolute torture. day in and day out, acting as his puppet. being his slave. losing any hope of free will. after a moment, his tone sharpens.

"Come down from there. Come down now, Jessica!"

she hears her name — whispered softly, a beacon of serenity in the chaos of her head. it's a welcome contrast to the shriek of kilgrave's voice. startled awake, her body shifts, as her heart beats frantically inside her chest. from her position on the ground, she glances up, her gaze wide as it attempts to focus on him in the dark. ]

Murdock?

[fogwells]

[ He could tell by her breaths that she's sleeping, though the frantic pace of her heart saying it isn't a peaceful one. He says her name again, and moments later, the soft gasp of her mouth and movements lets him know she's woken up. The sound of his own name comes with a sigh from his own mouth before he squats down beside her.

His hand raises, an instinctive gesture that has him slightly grazing her shoulder, fingers gentle where they stroke at the fabric of her shirt.

When he speaks, it's soft with honest concern, his own mind forgetting the conflicts that had brought them to where they were. ]

Are you alright?

[hardedged]

[ the assholes in charge tell her there's information from home, back in her world, that they can offer. they present the same deal to murdock, and it doesn't require much contemplation to convince them to accept, with jessica taking the lead. it could be a trap, a skeptical part of herself reasons, but then again, this whole place is a hellhole. any opportunity to catch of glimpse of home (of trish) is worth the risk.

just as her cynicism predicted, however, everything goes horribly wrong. jess recalls running, a sharp ache in her chest as her stomach turns painfully.

"We're not gonna leave you here."

yet she did — like a goddamn coward, she ran. she didn't want to leave him, in spite of her prior callous behavior. she wanted to protect him, but she couldn't. they didn't have time. she should have stayed. she should have went back, somehow. she should have grabbed him by the arm and forced the asshole to listen. but instead, she left.

"Think of how many lives you saved."
"And the one we lost."

it wasn't enough. not enough to wash away the grief, to absolve her of the guilt.

the anguish never ceases, and she awakens with trepidation gripping her heart. she left him behind at home, but he's here with her now, isn't he? jessica searches the facility for any sign of him, fear twisting her expression into an ugly grimace. her combat boots strike the tile floor, complementing the thunderous noise in her chest, as she escapes. she returns to their apartment complex, breaking the lock of his front door in desperation. ]

Murdock! Goddammit, Murdock. Where are you?

[ no answer. she looks through each room, refusing to stop. she can't fail him again. ]

Matt— [ god, he's vanished. gone, like her parents and brother. reva. ruben. hope. ] Answer me!

[ her fist makes contact with his wall, demolishing the plaster in an instant. at a loss, she finally departs hours later, seeking relief at the bottom of a bottle. or twenty.

two days later, she returns to the building, casting one pitiful glance at his apartment before entering her own. jessica reclines on her bed, even if she can't manage to rest in peace. a part of her wonders if she ever will again. ]

[fogwells]

[ He's hesitant to go, mostly because there's little for him to go back to. Karen had found her way here which had given him the comfort in knowing that she was safe and well, even if there was still notable distance between them. He was no longer Daredevil but the exposure of that secret was never going to be enough to repair his mistakes towards her. Still, there was some measure of tranquility and understanding between them which allowed for the occasional exchange of words, and that was enough.

Yet, he misses Foggy. And perhaps it's that slight craving for normality with his best friend, the possibility that maybe things do get better that makes him finally decide to go.

But initially, he doesn't feel the need.

Matt doesn't know what to expect the first and only night that Jessica Jones sleeps in his arms. She's warm against his skin, her breath steady at his neck, the calm of her slumber the most tranquil that he's witnessed her to be. It takes longer for him to doze off, a part of him standing guard to the possibility of her panics giving rise again. He no longer protects Hell's Kitchen, but Matt embraces the role of a guardian, even if only for the stubborn woman embraced against his body whose nicest compliment is crediting him with some measure of intelligence ("You're dumb, but not that dumb," she says with terrible snark and he can only ever smile at that).

Yet there's peace as his fingers brush over the curves of her bare shoulder and he thinks, this is fine like this, this is enough. But the offer comes and she accepts it, and when he thinks of Foggy, he considers there's no harm in checking back in.

And then everything floods in, including the weight of solid gravel and brick, and perhaps the promise of death has finally come for the devil.

He recalls the haunt of silence where Elektra's heartbeat should be, the pain that struck inside of him as the vibrations of Danny's fist perpetrated through the air, the clenching tug with the realization that Stick was dead and gone. It all lasted hours and days, and yet it invaded his body and mind in an instant, trying to balance an entire second reality into himself. He remembers the first witnessing of the fierceness of Jessica Jones in an apartment hallway, guiding him through to his door, but then it also coincides with the same rude presence in a police station interrogation room. The elevator, the restaurant, the theater, the hole — Midland Circle.

Elektra was no longer dead, but not truly living either, and he thought he could save her, he thought he could — "We're not gonna leave you here." He knows he should leave, but he won't. He can't fail anyone again, not again, not again.

When he wakes, it's a hospital bedroom, sterile space and bleach filling his nostrils as he tries to find steady breath again. He shouldn't be here; where was everyone? Elektra wasn't — he doesn't sense her, nor does he sense the familiar layout of a Hell's Kitchen hospital. This wasn't home. The Riverview Quarantine, he was back here. As he sneaks away out of his bed, pain in his ribs and all along his legs, he stumbles through the halls to his escape, familiarizing himself with this strange city again, the scents, the shapes, but everything is loud again as if his senses were coming alive all over again, and everything pierced inside.

There's only one place he truly knows here, but the way back to his apartment is a tricky one when covered in bloody bandages and a hospital gown, slipping through the night. Even when he manages to approach the door of the building, there's too many people inside, too many eyes. Instead he finds himself climbing through the fire escape, jolting pain in his muscles as he works up to the ninth floor. But it isn't his window he slips through when he makes it up there.

He senses her heartbeat from the inside, beating in her chest with familiarity. But when he opens the window, everything is loud again, voices in the alleyways, cars in the distance, everything presses tightly in his body, piercing in every limb. ]

Jessica — [ He groans under his breath, bare and dirty feet stumbling onto her floor. ]

[hardedged]

[ jessica jones has never been the religious type — not since the car accident that stole the lives of her family and certainly not after kilgrave. catholic guilt was always murdock's department, not hers.

no, jess can't consider herself a fan of religion, but she would pray every goddamn day if it meant she could see him again. the scarf that once adorned her neck has been cast aside, left forgotten in the bottom drawer of her nightstand. wearing the article at all simply reminded her of him — of his dumb grin, of his low chuckle and headstrong attitude. he was as persistent and obstinate as she could be, neither of them willing to back down.

perhaps, she realizes, he won that fight in the end. the stubborn moron.

resting flat against her mattress, jessica exhales softly, then combs an idle hand through her hair. she's still recovering from a migraine, induced by copious amounts of alcohol. huffing another breath, she shuts her eyes before opening them again as a memory flashes through her mind.

"Could've been either one of us, lying dead in the bottom of that hole. I just came to say that I'm really, really glad it wasn't you."

those words meant the world, coming from luke. after all of her transgressions, he still wanted her to stay in touch, and she knows that his response was meant to console her. however, the truth is — now that she's alone, gaze trained on her ceiling as she fruitlessly attempts to sleep, she wishes it was her.

abruptly, a noise from her window disturbs her train of thought. perplexed, she turns her head at a sharp angle, peering over at the intruder. she swallows hard, an audible gasp caught in her throat. it's impossible to discern whether he's real or a figment of her imagination. ]

Jesus Christ.

[ she's frozen for a moment, only rising to her feet once she's able to regain her composure. stepping forward, jessica reaches out to take hold of him before his body can collapse to the ground.

he's here. matthew murdock is alive, and nothing else matters. ]

[fogwells]

[ The vertigo intensifies as he reaches around for something to hold his balance. Without proper control of his senses in his current state, making out the location of any of the furniture becomes an impossibility.

But then she grabs him, the strength of her hands keeping him steady even as he staggers in place. ]

Jessi— [ He reaches for her shoulder, a low grunt echoing as he winces from the piercing pain at his ribs, breathing harshly through his teeth. He chooses to ignore it in favor of reacquainting himself with her presence. When was he last with her? At the bottom of the hole? Just before she'd risen back to the top? No — more familiarly, he remembers her slim body curled up against his, her heart beating against her chest, vibrating onto his own.

Swallowing, he takes a breath. ] I'm — [ Without control, his body leans forward, his forehead falling down against her shoulder. ]

[hardedged]

[ now that matthew murdock has returned, she can finally get some goddamn rest. well, relatively speaking, that is. jess sleeps well enough throughout the night, her slumber unperturbed by nightmares for once.

she's never been much of a morning person. which is why when she hears a sudden sound the next day, jessica wakes up abruptly with an annoyed groan. it takes her a moment to process what's happening, her mind still overwhelmed by the events of the prior night. standing up from the couch, she traces the source of the noise to the bathroom.

once there, she discovers him stumbled over the sink, in a futile attempt to wash his face. ]

What the hell, Murdock?

[fogwells]

[ He manages to sleep alright through the night, the temporary lack of exterior stress allowing him to relax without feeling as restless as he'd been in the hospital. By morning, his pains along his ribs hasn't completely subsided, but it's dulled enough that he can make it out of bed without any required support.

It's in the bathroom, running his palms over his face that he really takes note of the scratchiness of his cheeks. It's a signal of just how long he'd been unconscious, as well as a notable cue that he should actually probably clean himself up some —

Which goes as perfectly well as he expects.

Raising his arm to bring the razor to his face reminds him of the strain in his muscles, an involuntary moan slipping past his lips. By the time Jessica arrives, she'll catch a clear view of the scattered patches of shaving cream decorated on the unkempt beard, a sight unseen by his own eyes.

He simply sighs. ] Morning. I was — trying to clean up, I guess.

[hardedged]

[ it's a comical display, yet jessica can't bring herself to laugh. he looks too pathetic, the remnants of shaving cream left along his jawline and his abdomen still covered by bandages. the moron can barely stand on his feet right now.

with utter contempt, she sighs. ]

Trying. And failing.

[ her tone is sharp and dry. stepping forward, jess closes the distance between them before she reaches out to take hold of the razor. normally, she would never consider lending a hand, but he's just too pitiful. ]

Hold still.

[fogwells]

[ Her hair remains soft, silky, as it flutters over his face, tickling at his nose with a flutter that makes him smile. He can no longer see her eyes, but he remembers the wide hazel glances, bright and curious as they were — she wears that same look now, he's sure. ]

I love you. [ He says with ease, natural off of his tongue. Because he does. She can be boisterous and rude, fingers constantly bruising as roughly as her insults, but he loves her anyway. Because she carries weights as heavy as his own, but fights back against her demons, sharing them with his. Their worlds are dark, but they linger in the shadows together, finding comfort in the warmth of naked skin on naked skin.

She doesn't say anything in response, but there's no need. He knows that word, that cursed l-word isn't something she's fond of, but she echoes it to him in silence. Her lips kiss him with a softness she often hides, and it's enough. All of this, all of her —

It's enough.

Her mouth slides soft and he gasps when those pert lips wrap around him. Swallowing hard, he gasps her name low from his throat. Neck stretching back, he tries to find his breath, but she moves her head with loving intent, her slim fingers tightening at the base and sliding to repeatedly meet in the middle with her lips, following a generous rhythm.

I love you, he almost confesses again if only his voice could bear it. Instead, he echoes another moan for her, fingers tangling back in that soft silky hair once more.

She bobs faster, her tongue attentive and vocalizing everything she never says, and he knows he might just lose control. He wets the roof of her mouth, but she remains tight around him. He reaches for her hands and their fingers squeeze together. He loves her, he loves her, God, when did he fall in love with this woman, why does his heart hurt like this, why, oh, how he moans, he wants her, wants her, needs her — ]






Jessica! [ He shouts when his eyes widen to continued darkness.

Gasping as he tries to catch his breath again, his radar reads around the room to find himself alone inside of it, detecting nothing but an open door where he finds Jessica on the same couch she's been sleeping in all this time.

A dream, shit. Biting his lip, his palms rubs over his forehead, regaining his sense of awareness in his newfound wake.

But even in his sweats, something feels tight, and he knows something did transfer from the dream, guilt now weighing down over him as he takes note of the evident arousal. ]

[hardedged]

[ jessica jones isn't much of a friend or even a decent person, for that matter. yet, at the end of it all, she can't abandon someone in need. and for some inexplicable reason, matthew murdock needs her.

so she can't leave him. not until he's fully recovered, she reminds herself, as if that's the sole explanation for her reluctance.

over a week has passed, and slowly, he's healing. jess keeps a cautious eye on him, fearful that at any moment, he may aggravate his injuries. while matthew's the one with the heightened senses, it's almost as if she has been gifted with the same power. she's grown more attentive, waiting for bad luck to strike. between the two of them, there's boundless opportunity. regardless of the cost, she can't risk him.

she stirs from her peaceful slumber, hearing him moan in the other room. when murdock starts shouting, however, she awakens in an instant, the rhythm of her heart turning frantic. squinting in the darkness, she straightens her posture and bolts up from the couch to rush to his aid.

jess crosses the threshold of her bedroom, switching on the ceiling lights, and then swallows hard. ]

Murdock— [ she's breathless for a moment, brow furrowed in distress, until she realizes that he's unharmed. more than that, truthfully. jess glances down at his notable erection before releasing an incredulous scoff. ] Jesus.

[fogwells]

[ He recognizes that he hadn't actually been silent, but he's far too distracted and perturbed about his own state, that he doesn't focus his senses enough to notice Jessica stir from her sleep and make her way into the bedroom.

It's only when he hears her voice that he jolts out of his trance and instantly grabs the sheets to cover himself from the waist down as he straightens himself, sitting up on the bed. ]

It was just — [ A nightmare, he almost says, before cutting himself off. Jessica isn't so dense as to believe an excuse like that, not if she's already caught wind of the evidence that points otherwise.

He's typically better at excuses but for once, even Matt's a little flustered. ] I was just — I was asleep.

[fogwells]

[ They don't talk about it. It becomes easier for both of them to simply bathe in the silence of it, to let passionate kisses do the talking, to save their voices for the desperation of moans and the echoes of their called out names — Matthew, he never forgets that sound, how he can taste his own name in the air when she breathes it.

Every night that week, he feels the tug of her fingers grasping at his hair as he moves against her, sweat amplifying the humidity of the room.

Hungry, he kisses her panting mouth without an extra word.

When his lips brush against her breast, the vibration of her beating heart continues to shock life back into him, reminding him what it is to be alive —



Christmas arrives without a warning. The long days spent in recovery in that apartment make him lose sight of the calendar, only truly aware of it when the chill begins to permeate outside. When he gets dressed, sliding on thick sweats and a jacket, he wonders what it's like to not hear the snow brush against the cold ground as he hears the whisper of it from outside the bedroom window.

As he seeks out a pair of clean socks, he checks through the drawers, where his clothes have been scattered through gradually over the past month. Letting his fingers caress the different fabrics to find what he's looking for, he stops when they slide over a gentle wool, a scarf.

"You look like an asshole."

"It's your scarf."

Matt smiles at the sudden memory, a whiff of his own shampoo still layered in the fabric from when he'd worn it over his head. He wraps it gently around his neck before continuing on his search for socks.



When he comes back, he can feel the air chillier through the apartment, the heater clearly not functioning as well as it should. Jessica's still fast asleep when he steps into the bedroom, though he hadn't expected so much of a stir from her. It's not even noon yet.

Setting the cups of hot chocolate on the night table, he seats himself at the edge of the bed, adjusting the scarf to tuck the cloth below his chin as he gazes down at her.

His fingers rest gently against her naked arm, thumb rubbing over the skin in a soft caress as he whispers quietly, ] Hey.

[hardedged]

[ the world has shifted since matthew murdock entered her life again. jessica jones prefers to profess that she needs nothing from other people, that she can content herself with solitude. she's always possessed a talent for running away; it's a natural instinct, especially when emotions are involved.

however, those two days she spent alone — mourning his loss through copious amounts of alcohol, belied that pretense.

she doesn't remember falling asleep by his side. the last memory that resonates within her head is the union of their bodies, their limbs entwined. they've been hooking up regularly over the past week, even if they have chosen not to acknowledge it aloud. to her, this is merely a way for them to pass the time, to return to their old and familiar routine.

there's nothing more to it, or so she tells herself.

her gaze slowly opens as matt stirs jess from her slumber, her eyes taking a moment to focus on him. he resembles a celestial entity, looking down on her with affection, and his presence evokes an ineffable warmth inside her chest. ]

Hey. [ jess mumbles, her voice soft as she gradually awakens. catching a glimpse of her scarf around his neck, she furrows her brow. ] What the hell are you wearing?

[fogwells]

[ The sheets rustle against her skin as she moves, her breath warm as she stirs awake. Matt almost regrets not letting her sleep for a bit longer.

It takes him a beat to figure out what she's addressing, his head tilting in minor confusion over whether he might have chosen mismatched colors for his attire today — even with his heightened senses, there's still some things he remains entirely blind to. But his fingers brush over the scarf around his neck and he gives a subtle smile. ]

It was chilly out. And, uh — [ He gives a casual shrug. ] This proved pretty useful the last time I borrowed it.