daredevilkink | Prompt Post #4

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Prompt Post #4

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"You are not making demands," Fisk said, calmly as he could. The phone was a reassuring weight in his hand. He flipped it around, taking one last look at Murdock's pale, staring face, and dialed Vanessa.

She picked up right away, even though she wouldn't have recognized the number. "Yes? Who is this?" Her voice washed over him, tight with anxiety, and he felt himself relax by degrees, just to hear it. She was worried about him.

"Vanessa, it's me."

She gave a short, breathy cry, almost as though she was on the verge of tears. "Wilson, where are you? Francis said you were in that building-"

"I was," he murmured, closing his eyes. "I'm not hurt. We- I'm trapped in the building, still. There are rescue workers on the way, but I don't know- how long to expect-"

She exhaled, softly. "You have- friends- looking for you right now, dear. I got a call from a man from the police department. But," she paused for a moment, "you said 'we'? You're not alone?"

"No, there were- complications-" He heard Murdock snort in amusement beside him, and he realized quite suddenly that even without superhuman hearing, the other man would have been able to hear their conversation in the unnatural silence. He shifted his grip on the phone, Vanessa's questioning voice in his ear. He reached out with his other hand and laid his fist on Murdock's chest, a warning.

"I'm not alone," he finished, lamely. "Do you remember Matthew Murdock?"

"The young man from the gallery?" She asked, confusion evident in her voice. "Why would he be there with you, Wilson?"

"Don't-" he heard Murdock growl in a rather pathetic attempt to sound commanding. "She doesn't need to know!"

"Is he okay, dear? I think I hear him."

Before he could respond, a fist lashed out and knocked the phone from his hand. He heard it clatter to the ground somewhere to the right, out of view.

"Murdock! What the- what are you doing?" Once again, Fisk reared up and used his greater weight to pin the other man, his vision going hazy with rage. Murdock- the Mask- the blind pain in his ass- he was better off killing him now, while he had the chance- he ground his elbow into Murdock's neck, harder this time, and Murdock groaned as he flung his fists out, groping, and found Fisk's head, gripping and pulling him by the ears in a desperate attempt to stop him.

Fisk ignored it, easily. Murdock was weak from the head wound, but he still felt the other man's body coiling beneath his own, knees trying to wedge beneath Fisk to push him off. Fisk heaved himself up to his hands and knees, pinning Murdock beneath him, using his bulk to crush the air from his lungs. He was baring his teeth in effort, ears ringing, mind full of bloodlust-

Something rumbled above them, crashing, and a chunk of concrete smashed to the ground beside him. Before he could react, a cascade of debris followed, dust thick in the air. For a moment his entire world was the dull thunk of stone and the metallic pinging of twisted metal falling around him, and he was hit, hard, by something on his shoulder. He fell with it, his arm giving way, and-

He woke up to Murdock's voice, low, but he couldn't make out the words. His ears were still ringing, but that was nothing compared to the pain in his arm. His entire shoulder was on fire, and when he tried, he couldn't move it at all. He tried to block the pain, to quiet his mind and concentrate on anything else.

"...don't know, I think he's waking up," Murdock was saying, an undertone of panic in this voice. "No, I think- hold on-" he paused for a moment, "his arm isn't broken. Dislocated?" Fisk felt hands on him, prodding him. "Yeah. No, he hasn't said anything." Murdock laughed, strangely hysterical. "I don't think I want him to wake up. He almost suffocated me and he wasn't even awake-"

"Murdock," he rasped after a moment, and he heard the other man's mouth close with a click of teeth.

"He's awake," Murdock said into the phone. Fisk opened one eye and saw him faintly illuminated by the backlit screen. "Okay. Don't- yes. Fine," he finished, almost petulantly, like a child being given instructions.

"Are you talking to my wife," Fisk grunted.

"She thought you were dead," came the response.

*high-pitched squealing* !!!

This continues to be awesome, anon! I have a soft spot for villains in love, haha. It will never not be amusing that such a violent awful man has mushy heart feelings for his girl.

Hmm, hopefully they get out of there soon! Dusty air + probably their air source getting fucked up = not good.

I'm surprised Matt hasn't dialled Foggy yet to warn him to go into hiding, lol. Before the battery dies.

He probably would have if a) he'd been thinking straight at first and b) if Fisk hadn't snatched the phone from him. And now that he has it, you really think Matt can hang up on a woman? :3. That'd be rude!

In all honesty though idk, he probably would have done that first, I'm just shit at characterization. I've never actually written more than a few lines for these characters before so I'm kind of just making it up as I go. I don't write fic that often.

No no, it's fine. Everything is happening pretty fast and he has a concussion and someone who's actively trying to kill him, lol.

Ah, just start crying inconsolably Matt, I bet that would weird him out enough to forget about killing you for a while. ;-)

Also: begging. Begging might work, lol. ("Please don't hurt my friends...")

Jesus, Matt is so fucked XD

Ah, Vanessa! Yay! I love her. It never occurred to me that Fisk would call her but OF COURSE HE WOULD! That's what any person would do, after calling 911. Aw... <3

"You are not making demands," Fisk said, calmly as he could.

Ah Matty you've shown him all your cards. I hate to say it, but Fisk totally has him by the balls right now. Best-case-scenario, he'll find himself in a similar position as that suit tailor guy was, or any of the other guys who Fisk have blackmailed (at least for a while). The other scenarios are a lot less pleasant... :-(

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE continue!!!! <3

I am, I just got sidetracked with a different fill. :3

"She thought you were dead," came the response. "You were hit by a piece of concrete and the phone was almost crushed. You almost crushed me when you blacked out."

Fisk shifted, trying to assess the damage, but all he could focus on was the overwhelming pain in his shoulder, the way the entire limb hung wrong at his side. "Let me speak to her."

Murdock thrust the phone at him, but he found himself unable to reach for it. After a moment of strained silence, Murdock held it to his ear. Vanessa was saying his name. "I'm here," he said, pained.

"Wilson," she murmured, her voice shaking.

"I- Vanessa, everything is okay.

"You're hurt."

Fisk fell fell silent, at a loss for words. He had to reassure her- even though he was feeling less sure, himself, that he would ever see her again. The building would become their tomb; the air was already beginning to bear down on them, heavy and tangible, as the dust finally settled. All he could hear around him was the slow patter of dirt, the occasional rumble of more debris shifting; there couldn't be anybody coming for them, no matter what Murdock said.

"I will be fine, Vanessa," he said, at length, but even to his ears he sounded resigned. "I- I hope that you will- forgive me. If I ever gave you reason to- worry." He could hear her, labored breathing over the line, but he couldn't dwell on it. He would never be able to finish, if he thought of her, sitting there, alone, holding back her tears. "I love you, my dear. I will be home soon."

"Wilson." He had to close his eyes at the tremor of her voice. "I'll be waiting."

*

Murdock took the phone back and made his own call, and Fisk did his best to not listen, but it was too quiet in their tomb. Murdock was speaking to someone named Foggy- the same name he had said after waking up- as he said his own vague goodbyes that amounted to little more than "I'm just checking up on you," and "goodnight, Foggy." Strangely, he didn't say anything specific about the situation, or mention that he might not be coming back.

So this Foggy didn't know what he did at night. Interesting.

Finally, the phone snapped shut and Murdock fell silent. The darkness was almost too much to bear, after what little illumination the phone had provided. He heard Murdock shifting, then fingers touched his shoulder, testing.

Fisk turned toward him, glaring uselessly into the dark. "What are you doing."

"I think your arm is dislocated," came the terse reply. "I can put it back into the socket, but it's gonna hurt."

"No," Fisk grunted, and Murdock didn't press the issue. He felt the other man trying to scoot away, but only managed a short distance, his knees still brushing Fisk's side. After a moment, Murdock stilled- and then, silence.

*

"How long has it been," Fisk asked after a while. He might have slept, but it was difficult to say. He hadn't dreamed.

Murdock didn't answer. Frowning, Fisk reached out, tentatively, and made contact with his arm. No response, but he was still warm. Asleep, then.

He was cold. He'd thought he pain in his shoulder had receded, but it flared again as he attempted to move, a bright burst behind his eyelids that seemed to light up the darkness. The joint was swollen, his suit jacket tightening around it. They'd have to cut it off- if they were rescued. No. When they were rescued. The lining might prove to be a difficulty, though.

After a moment, Murdock groaned softly, and a hand made contact with his neck, then moved up to the back of his head, searching. Fisk reflexively leaned away, hissing as he jarred his shoulder.

"Oh," Murdock said, after a moment. He sounded tired again, words slurring slightly. The hand withdrew. "Sorry." He paused, then said, "I didn't know you were bald."

"What."

"I can't see what you look like. I just know you're huge and punch really, really hard."

Fisk huffed, amused despite himself. "What else?"

"Well," Murdock said, drawing the word out as though he were thinking. "You smell like sweat more than anything, and soap. Just really plain soap? And no cologne, which is a good thing. People wear too much, like they think the way they smell naturally isn't good enough. It's hell on my nose. If I'm standing too close to someone wearing too much of it that's all I can smell and I get a little disoriented."

"Really." He wasn't sure how to process that, or whether he should be offended.

"I never- I don't think I've ever really told anyone that," Murdock said, almost sounding confused. "Why did I tell you that?" He drew in a shaky breath and exhaled it in a gust, in what could have been a laugh, and went silent again.

After a moment, he realized Murdock was breathing heavily- and then he gave a soft, strangled sob, and Fisk realized he was crying. It was awkward, and uncomfortable, and Fisk hoped he would just stop talking so he wouldn't have to acknowledge it. Thankfully, Murdock obliged him.

*

He woke slowly from a dream- first of a hammer and blood pooling on the floor, bits of hair and bone mixed in- then, Vanessa's face bloomed, surrounded by hazy white lights, speaking to him softly. He couldn't make out the words no matter how hard he tried. She curled up against him, her breath on his neck, and he felt himself reach out to her, to throw an arm around her, protectively-

The dream faded, but the sensation of a body against him didn't. He was still frozen in place, laying on his chest, whole body stiff from the cold, but Murdock was laying beside him, as close as he could get without being draped over Fisk.

It was... not unpleasant, he supposed, considering the circumstances. Murdock was keeping at least part of him warm, and it was good to feel another person- to know he wasn't entombed here alone. He wondered how long they had been stuck. He wondered if anyone was even looking for them anymore.

Murdock woke some time after him, and Fisk had to explain the situation yet again- the third time, now- until he finally remembered where they were, who he was trapped with.

He had almost drifted back to sleep when Murdock said, softly, "You really care about her, don't you?"

It took Fisk a moment to understand who he was referring to. He felt a stab of anger- that he would dare mention Vanessa to him, like twisting the knife, when he would never see her again-

"Yes," he found himself agreeing, after a moment. "I do."

"I liked her," came the reply. "Her perfume was nice. And her voice. She wasn't- she didn't even ask why I was there- like it didn't matter that I'm. Blind." His voice faltered. "She described the painting to me. People don't- they don't do that. Usually."

Fisk gave a noncommittal sound. The concussion was probably making Murdock a little more forthcoming than he normally would be. Or maybe he'd just given up. Realized they wouldn't be leaving alive. But it didn't surprise him that Vanessa had made such an impression.

"I went to the gallery to see- what kind of woman could love a person like you." He laughed. "The devil. That's what I called you."

"A little- overdramatic."

"Catholic," was the reply.

"So you decided- what?"

Murdock's fingers were fidgeting against his side, he noticed. Playing along the edge of his jacket. "You had Elena Cardenas killed."

"...Yes." And he felt the shame bubble up, again- shame at letting himself be pushed into such a move, by circumstances, against such a needless target. "It was necessary."

"You really believe that." It wasn't a question. It wasn't accusing, either. Murdock just sounded tired. "That's what makes you dangerous. You really think you're helping."

Fisk frowned. "I told you the same thing, the first time we spoke. Or, something like it."

Ah, this part made me cry... I think mainly because of the forced vulnerability between them now: Fisk finding comfort from Matt sleeping against him, and Matt touching Fisk's head and holding onto his jacket. And crying. (I know that people with concussions will cry for no reason, but I wonder what specifically set him off). You can really feel the situation bearing down on them. They're both hurt and they're losing hope and thinking they'll possibly die down there alone with each other. And they're probably running out of air.

I like how Matt made it seem like Foggy didn't know Matt was Daredevil. He sacrificed what could have been his last opportunity to say goodbye or I love you in order to keep Foggy safe. Oh Matt...

I love stories where enemies get to see the more human side of each other~

C'mon guys, call 911 again and remind them all you're still alive down there! :-(

Ha! Wow. You know, up until this part I wouldn't have even entertained the idea of these two possibly coming to some kind of truce but....

This fic is hitting all my buttons, anon. <3

HAHAHAHA

What's worse than being trapped somewhere with your arch nemesis?

Being trapped somewhere with your arch nemesis and he starts crying.

I love how Fisk's reaction was basically: Please don't emotion at me O_O

I'm entertaining the fantasy of this going one step further where debris starts raining down on Matt's side too and they have to move even closer together because there is literally no more room for them to move, and then all of a sudden they're in this really awkward embrace basically, like: "hey, hug your enemies as you lay possibly dying often? no? me neither. glad it's weird for you too."

I want more hysterical matt ^.^

oh no oh god, how are they going to get out of thiiiiisss????? i need to knoooow!!

moar? ;_;

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Prompt Post #4

[FILL] Matt/Fisk, trapped 7/?

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Re: [FILL] Matt/Fisk, trapped 7/?

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Re: [FILL] Matt/Fisk, trapped 7/?

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[FILL] Matt/Fisk, trapped 8/?

Re: [FILL] Matt/Fisk, trapped 8/?

Re: [FILL] Matt/Fisk, trapped 8/?

Re: [FILL] Matt/Fisk, trapped 8/?

Re: [FILL] Matt/Fisk, trapped 8/?

Re: [FILL] Matt/Fisk, trapped 8/?

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