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ddk_mod ([personal profile] ddk_mod) wrote in [community profile] daredevilkink2016-04-21 06:34 pm
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Daredevil Prompt Post #11

THIS POST IS CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS.
HEAD OVER TO PROMPT POST #12.

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[Fill] Fisk Pities Matt (6/?)

(Anonymous) 2016-05-20 05:18 am (UTC)(link)
(Sorry, this is all I have at the moment due to my work schedule)

On the way back from church, Matt stopped at Fogwell’s, where he’d stashed some of his equipment in a gym locker. His suit was with Melvin, but he didn’t want the guard tailing him to know where it was, or that he was getting Melvin’s help, and he wasn’t well enough to use it, anyway.

Congestion kept his balance off, not enough to bother him in everyday life but enough to prevent him from being as accurate as he needed to be when fighting. He collected his laptop and refreshing braille keyboard, the latter of which was one of his more prized possessions by how rare and expensive it had been at the time of purchase, the shaving kit he’d inherited from his father, and two more books before heading back to Fisk’s apartment. He wasn’t sure what he would tell Foggy, but it had to be something, and he had to assume that if he used Fisk’s WiFi, it would be monitored. Fisk was definitely the paranoid type.

“I need the WiFi password,” he told Fisk. He knew they were alone in the library, with two guards upstairs and one downstairs, and Vanessa off somewhere, probably doing something art gallery-related.

Fisk had no reservations about giving it to him. He didn’t ask any follow-up questions. “Would you like some tea?” It wasn’t a formal invitation; Fisk had merely made some for himself earlier, as he had a glass next to him. He did no “work” in the apartment that Matt could detect, except reading and writing that were impossible for Matt to observe.

Matt reached down and picked up the clay teapot on the coffee table. Something about it was strange. He sniffed, but he couldn’t decide what type of clay the pot was made out of. It was totally alien to him. But not all of the smells were. “This is from Gao.”

“I didn’t know you were aware of her preferences for antiques.”

“Her perfume is very strong,” he said, which was a slight lie. He could also detect the chemicals used in that factor he found her in, and the slight taste in the air of duck, the particular type that every Chinese restaurant below Canal Street purchased. “She gives you gifts.”

“We are not currently ... associates.”

Matt didn’t hear a lie, but Fisk had been pretty vague. “Good for you.”

“Don’t tell me you hold grudges against everyone.”

“She blinded her employees,” Matt said, not holding back his emotions on that. “She said it was for some greater purpose, but I think that was bullshit.”

Fisk replied in a measured, almost sympathetic tone, “I can see how you might take that to heart.”

“There’s no way she could have known, but ...” He wasn’t sure why he was telling Fisk this. “Anyone with a conscience would be horrified.”

Fisk didn’t respond, refusing to rise to Matt’s bait, but to be honest, Matt didn’t have a fight in him about this particular topic. Or any topic. He wanted to sleep and try to figure out what he was going to say to Foggy. Or he just wanted to crawl in bed and not think about it anymore.

“You should eat,” Fisk said as Matt turned to leave.

“You’re not my doctor,” Matt retorted, perhaps a little too harshly, and then descended the stairs.

Fisk didn’t follow him, but when he woke up, there was a tray with a plate of penne pasta outside his door.

Damnit.