daredevilkink | Prompt Post #1

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Prompt Post #1

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After Claire tells Matt she can't fall in love with his vigilante self, he decides to try to woo her Murdock-style. I would just love to see Matt being the incredibly charming lawyer he is, and directing that charm at Claire, with her totally losing her resolve. You can only resist Matt Murdock taking you on dates and bringing you coffee at hour ten of your 14 hour hospital shift for so long, after all.

Porn is great(!), but not required.

Bonus: Matt "clumsily" spills something on his shirt, so he of course he has to take it off, meanwhile claire is just like ugh this stupid hot motherfucker.

yesssssssss

Yesssssss. Lbr it would make a change from stitching his dumb ass up.

Aaaaargh Damn you now I want to write a Matt/Claire romcom hdu

oh anon you please my mind!!

((I am actually too embarrassed to post this on AO3 because romantic type stuff is my sekrit weakness. I almost made myself sick with this fluffiness.))

Claire notices the vase of flowers behind the nurses' station when she comes in for her night shift, mostly because it's a bit late for deliveries. Nina is up out of her chair in half a second.

"Somebody brought you flowers!" she sing-songs.

She frowns. "Me?"

She hates that the first person she thinks of is Matt, but she can dismiss that possibility. He doesn't seem like the flowers type. He's a little too hung up on Truth, Justice, and Beating People Up to have much time for romance. Too bad. Dude has a spectacular ass, and she's pretty sure he'd have impressive stamina and okay, that's quite enough of that line of thinking.

The bouquet is daisies and sunflowers, dotted with baby's breath and fern fronds. Yellow and white ribbons tied around the neck. There's no note, nothing except the little card with "Claire Temple" written on it in swooping cursive-- the kind she's come to know as Florist Handwriting.

"I didn't know you were dating anybody," Nina says, subtle as a sledgehammer.

"I'm not. I have no idea who these are from."

"Ooh, a secret admirer? Mysterious."

Or creepy, Claire thinks. And yet, there's something about the choice of flowers that offsets that. Roses would be creepy-- extravagant, expensive, and quick to wilt-- but this is... cute. She leaves them there and then forgets about them for the rest of her 12-hour shift. It's only because Nina flags her down and hoists them up that they make it home with her.

She sets them on the kitchen table. They cheer up the space a little, and she doesn't realise she's whistling until she's halfway through cooking dinner.

She falls asleep on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket. She half-expects Matt to drop in, bleeding, and tells herself that she's not disappointed when he doesn't.

***

The next day her phone vibrates, and she's surprised to see that it's Matt.

"Don't tell me you've started doing this shit during the day too," she says.

He laughs, but it's hollow. The silence that follows makes her pull the phone away from her ear to make sure he's still there.

"Matt? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he says, sounding like the polar opposite. "I just wanted to talk to you. I'm... I'll let you go."

And then he's gone. She shakes her head and puts the phone down.

***

A few days later, she's starting to worry that something's happened to him. He hasn't turned up in a while, and new suit or not, he's still not bulletproof. She wakes up at 3am and picks up her phone. She pulls up his number. Her thumb hovers over the CALL button, and then she swipes back and puts it down.

A noise outside makes her sit up straight. It's just a pigeon. She shoos it away from the open window and stands there with her hands on the sill. She closes it and then goes back to bed.

***

The next day at 11.43am, someone knocks on her door. She pauses to look through the peephole and then stops. Her heart picks up, and if she can sense it she damn well knows that he can, so she sighs and opens the door.

His suit is neat, his hair combed and not flyaway from his mask, and he's wearing glasses with dark red lenses. His cane is clasped between his hands. He looks good, but maybe more to the point, he looks normal. Not like he spends his nights somersaulting off fire escapes and punching bad guys. She's not sure-- is she supposed to pretend she doesn't know him?

"Hi," he says. "I was in the neighbourhood, and I uh. Wondered if you wanted to get some lunch."

She raises an eyebrow. Crosses her arms, step back, body language she knows is defensive, but all things considered, she thinks she has every right to be. His face seems to fall a little, though it's hard to tell with the glasses.

"I haven't seen you in a while," she says, and does that sound reproachful? Disappointed? "I was hoping you hadn't ended up in another dumpster."

He smiles crookedly.

"Didn't mean to worry you. I'm a little better equipped now, so I tend to need less first aid."

She steps back and opens the door a little further. "Uh, did you want to come in?"

His fists squirm a little around the handle of the cane. "I-- if you're not busy-- I don't want to disturb you..."

Claire quirks an eyebrow. "Well, it's definitely too late for that. Come in. Do you want something to drink?"

"Just water, thanks."

He sits down at the kitchen table, and his hand moves across the wood to touch the yellow and white ribbons around the fading flowers. She's tempted to jokingly ask if he sent them, or if maybe his masked friend did. That doesn't seem like a good idea. Instead she sets a glass of water in front of him and sits down herself. She's reflected darkly, in double, in the lenses of his glasses.

Why are you really here? she wants to ask. Instead she says, "How's work?"

Matt shrugs. "We've got a few more clients now, after..."

After Fisk. Nelson and Murdock featured prominently in the coverage leading up to Fisk's arrest, and after Daredevil kicked his ass. She wonders how he feels about that, about being both sides of the law, each needing the other to really take Fisk down. He seems a little less desperate. That said, whatever pathological self-righteousness makes him do what he does, she doubts it'll ever be satisfied.

He takes a drink of water, and she watches his Adam's apple rise and fall. She doesn't need to hear his heartbeat to know that he's uncomfortable, that he's nervous, but she can't fathom why he would be. He's more opaque with the glasses on, harder to read.

"Matt, has something happened?" she asks. "You're kinda worrying me a little."

His hands turn the glass around and around in its pool of condensation. "I'm sorry."

She raises an eyebrow. "For what?"

He shrugs, and suddenly he seems somehow smaller, frailer than he did even when he was bleeding and half-dead on her sofa.

"For everything. I... I spent so long pushing people away from me because I didn't want them to get hurt."

You failed on that front, she thinks. She's not a psychiatrist, but even she can see that he has abandonment issues and as a result, tries to beat other people to the punch. She says nothing. He seems to have something he wants to get out.

"I've been so stupid."

"Well, I can't argue with that," she says. "But it's not exactly news. Come on, what is it?"

She reaches out to take his hand. It's so warm. She's not sure if the pulse she feels is hers or his, but it doesn't matter, because in an instant he's up, out of the chair and moving towards the door faster than most sighted people, much less a blind man.

"I'm sorry I bothered you," he says, and like that he's gone. She blinks, shakes her head, and goes back to wiping the countertops.

On her next shift, there's a fresh arrangement of flowers waiting for her, still with no note, only her name written on a slip of card. White chrysanthemums, irises, with a single purple hyacinth in the middle. It feels like it's supposed to mean something, apart from its prettiness and scent. She could look it up, she supposes, but that would be devoting just a little too much thought to it.

Again she thinks of Matt, but there's no reason why he'd have flowers delivered to her work when he knows where she lives. And again, not a flowers kind of guy.

She takes them home, dumps the withered daisies and sunflowers in the garbage, washes the vase, and sets the new flowers on the kitchen table. She reconsiders and pulls the old flowers out of the trash. She takes the ribbon and ties it around the stems, hangs them from a shelf high above the table. They look sort of nice there.

***

A week later, she's not particularly surprised to find a bouquet of tulips waiting for her, deep red, and this time Nina is waiting for her, looking like she's about to burst.

"They're a declaration of love!" Nina gushes. "I looked it up. Someone's in love with you, Claire! Come on, who is he?"

Claire rolls her eyes.

"They're just flowers, Nina. Besides, don't roses mean love?"

"Well, yes, but according to this website, red tulips do too."

"Do they have a flower translation for 'Thanks, but no thanks'?"

Nina looks so disappointed on behalf of this mysterious person that Claire has to give her a hug and tell her she's joking. She goes home at the end of the night with her tulips, and they take their place on the kitchen table.

In the morning, Claire wakes up and showers. She eats breakfast, gets dressed, and goes out to do some grocery shopping and errands she hasn't been able to get to due to a couple of weeks of overtime. A few blocks from her house, she passes a florist's. A couple of hand-written signs in the window advertise a sale on in-season flowers, and it's the signs that make her stop and walk backwards. It's the same handwriting.

Before she can tell herself that this is stupid, she pushes open the door, ding of bell, and a tiny woman in her 40s looks up from her catalogue.

"Hi, I'm... wondering if you could help me."

"I'm sure I can, dear, what are you looking for?"

Claire presses her lips together.

"Someone's been sending me flowers." She didn't mean for that to sound like an accusation. "I just don't know who it is. I think they might have come from here. I'm Claire? Claire Temple?"

The woman purses her lips as she thinks. "No, don't recall any arrangements for someone named Claire. I'm sorry, honey, a lot of people come in here."

"No of course. I understand. Umm... while I'm here, though..."

***

It's warm enough to leave the window open. Through it, through the doorway to the bedroom, Claire can hear the sound of car horns, pigeons flapping, conversations as people pass by underneath. An ambulance is crying down the street a few blocks away. She lies in bed and thinks about what it must be like to hear all of that as clearly as she can hear the hum of the fridge and the drip of that damn tap that she can't quite seem to fix. Tonight it's like a drumbeat, pock... pock... pock...

The open window is out of her sightline, deliberately so. She doesn't want to spend all night staring at it, keeping herself awake with anticipation. She doesn't want to stay up all night and go to bed disappointed in the morning. She rolls onto her side away from the bedroom door. Deep breaths. She closes her eyes and drifts.

When she wakes at four to use the bathroom, she forgets and glances at the window. The curtains flutter a little in the breeze. The window sill and the fire escape outside are empty. She pokes her head out. Nothing on the pavement below. No sign of anyone. She turns her thoughts away and goes back to bed. It doesn't mean anything.

***

She's barely awake, feeling her way around the kitchen until she gets some coffee in her, when there's a knock at the door.

"Really?" she asks.

The clock says it's just after 7am, and anyone at her door that early is probably not someone she wants to see. Maybe the Jehovah's Witnesses are trying a new tactic, see if people who are semi-conscious are more amenable to their pitch. She sighs and puts the coffee on, mutters, "Just a damn minute" and shuffles to the door.

She unlocks the deadbolt, and the other deadbolt, and the door lock, but leaves the chain on. She doubts that bad guys come calling at this time of the morning, but one can never be too sure. A massive, unstoppable yawn parts her lips as she opens it. When she opens her eyes again, Matt is standing there. Does he ever sleep?

"Matt..." she says, her heart climbing up out of her ribs to perch in the back of her throat. "You okay?"

He looks just as neat and well-groomed as he did the last time he was here, but paler. A little haggard. She unhooks the chain and opens the door a little wider. He shakes his head. His right hand reaches into his leather satchel and pulls out a flower. Claire's hand rises to her mouth.

There's a simple ribbon tied around it, not to attach anything, but so she would know. So she would recognise it. Such a common flower, she needed to be sure. He holds it out a little, and it quakes as if it's afraid. He tries to say something, but she can't make it out. He swallows hard and tries again.

"What colour is it?" he rasps.

The stupidity of it hits her then, and she covers her eyes with one hand. He can't see colour. He probably doesn't even know what kind of flower it is, and oh god, her stupid test or gesture or whatever it was turned out to be even stupider than she could have imagined. He probably doesn't even know what the hell is going on. She sighs.

"It's a carnation," she says.

"I know it is." He swallows again. "Shirley told me. But she-- she wouldn't tell me what colour. She said I should ask the person who gave it to me."

Crafty old woman. Claire watches him for a moment. His arm lowers, holds the flower in front of him alongside his cane.

"It's red," she says.

Something in his face fractures, and she reaches out to take off his glasses. Behind them his eyes are bright. He steps forward and kisses her, somehow both desperate and tentative. She cradles his jaw in her hands and kisses him back.

This is really sweet!

OP here and aahhhhhh that was wonderful!! I love your claire, and this is so sweet! seriously, thank you for putting more clairedevil cuteness into the world. :D!

so so cute!!! ヾ(｡>﹏<｡)ﾉﾞ✧*。

...oh, my heart. This was so lovely and tender and delightful, anon.

Anon, I, like you, will deny my love of fluffy romantic sap to the grave, and, if there is the potential for me to do it after that, I have no doubt that I will continue to do so. That said OH MY GOD this is AUGH AUGH AUGH so SWEET and GOOD and EXCELLENT. I am hugging myself in delight.

OH NO YOU must post this on AO3. It is so IC and just oh my heart. Love.

This is so darling.

Oh, but no this is so wonderful! You should post it, you really should! My stomach got all trembly when Matt showed up with Claire's flower. <3

Just lovely.

Oh my god yesssss. Marry me?

UGH THIS STUPID HOT MOTHERFUCKER. ILU ANON.

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Prompt Post #1

Matt/Claire - Matt turns on the charm

Re: Matt/Claire - Matt turns on the charm

Re: Matt/Claire - Matt turns on the charm

Re: Matt/Claire - Matt turns on the charm

Re: Matt/Claire - Matt turns on the charm

QUASI-FILL 1/? - Matt/Claire, The pretty follies that themselves commit

QUASI-FILL 2/? - Matt/Claire, The pretty follies that themselves commit

QUASI-FILL 3/? - Matt/Claire, The pretty follies that themselves commit

Re: QUASI-FILL 3/? - Matt/Claire, The pretty follies that themselves commit

Re: QUASI-FILL 3/? - Matt/Claire, The pretty follies that themselves commit

Re: QUASI-FILL 3/? - Matt/Claire, The pretty follies that themselves commit

Re: QUASI-FILL 3/? - Matt/Claire, The pretty follies that themselves commit

Re: QUASI-FILL 3/? - Matt/Claire, The pretty follies that themselves commit

Re: QUASI-FILL 3/? - Matt/Claire, The pretty follies that themselves commit

Re: QUASI-FILL 3/? - Matt/Claire, The pretty follies that themselves commit

Re: QUASI-FILL 3/? - Matt/Claire, The pretty follies that themselves commit

Re: Matt/Claire - Matt turns on the charm

Re: Matt/Claire - Matt turns on the charm