Daredevil Prompt Post #11

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[Fill] Fisk Pities Matt (16/?)

[(Anonymous)]

“I know you’re a New Yorker and this is probably an insulting question, but have you ever been here?” Vanessa asked as she guided him to the curator area, where the exhibits not on display were kept for storage and restoration.

“Once,” he said. “I went on the orphanage trip but they didn’t do a great job of planning it, so I had a volunteer describing the paintings to me, and that was it. I do remember the Natural History Museum, when I was sighted. It’s more kid-friendly.”

“Dinosaurs and dioramas.”

“It’s more interesting to an eight-year-old.”

Security searched him again before they could be let into the private area, where he was introduced to Amy, an assistant curator working in art restoration. “So how did you and Vanessa meet?”

“He just walked into the gallery one day,” Vanessa said – which again, was not a lie. “He said people thought his apartment walls were very dreary.”

“They still are. Kind of.” Matt laughed, even though he didn’t actually know the state of his apartment, since it was no longer his.

“We usually don’t allow this,” Amy explained as she guided him around. The storage rooms were full of stray boxes and precariously-perched exhibits. “The tours for the blind instructors make you wear gloves. But one pair of hands isn’t going to actually do any damage.” She made him wash his hands with several different soaps before he could touch any of the statues. They were all delicate, even the heavy marble ones, where he could feel the weight of it before he touched it. They had a couple busts and sarcophagi out from the Greco-Roman collection, and some tiny idols from Egypt that were made of stone or copper that he could ghost his hand over without harming it. There were all sorts of things from the medieval collections, but a lot of them were wood and he could only touch those through a plastic glove.

“Do not let anyone know I let you hold this,” Amy said as she handed him a bone triptych which folded out to reveal images from Jesus’s lifetime on each side and him on the cross in the middle, hewn from the ivory. “It’s ivory.”

“I’ve never held ivory before. I mean, not that I knew of.”

“Well, it is illegal now,” she explained, eager to take it back from him. The whole thing wasn’t bigger than the size of his fist when it was closed up.

***************************

“What is it like?” Vanessa asked him later, over dinner. Matt drew the line at being seen in a public restaurant with Wilson Fisk’s fiancé, so they retreated to the apartment. “A stone face versus a real one?”

“Heavier,” he said, but that was obvious. “In stone you have a static expression. In a person the expression is never static. Even if they think it is, it’s always changing. People think they can be still, but they really can’t. The body’s too active.”

“Yes, the moment we are born we start dying.”

“That’s a more classical way of putting it, but yes.”

Matt could see the road ahead of him, all laid out over the course of the day, but some part of him still resisted. Then he had three glasses of wine and his brain began to even out on the matter. Vanessa was a charming, beautiful woman and just about the only sane, fixed point in his very insane world. He couldn’t hide from her, not without physically retreating from the room, and even then he couldn’t go far. She followed him everywhere, at least in his mind, so he didn’t flee when she pressed him against the dining room wall and kissed him. He couldn’t say it was that surprising, or that he didn’t return the feelings enough to kiss back. Other reactions took a few seconds.

Even though they were kissing and everything in his body said yes, Matt Murdock still managed to push gently away and say, “No.”

Vanessa instantly stopped. “Really?” She didn’t believe him and she was right to do so. He knew he was flushed and he could smell his own arousal as much as he could smell hers. And she wasn’t easily fooled.

“I don’t think we should.” But she huffed, and his addled brain scrambled for reasons. “I – Fisk – “

“We’ve been over this, Matthew.” She did have that awful, awful way of saying his name that the bad part of him, the part he didn’t care for at the moment but was being so assertive, loved. “If you really want to stop, I will. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. I don’t want to hurt you.”

A month or a year ago he would have said she couldn’t possibly hurt him in a fit of male bravado. He still sort of thought it, but he just wasn’t sure. What he was sure about was that he felt more alive in this moment than he’d felt in months, and he didn’t want that feeling to go away, leaving him cold and empty and sad. He didn’t want to go back to that. “I ... have conditions.”

“I’m listening.”

“No cameras.”

“The only bedroom without them is – “

“Not there. Not where – “ But he couldn’t bring himself to say Fisk, not in this moment, “ – he sleeps.”

“No one’s watching the feed.”

“I don’t care.”

“Fine.” She didn’t fight him on this. She straightened his collar, and his skin tingled where her fingers brushed against it. “Do you know where the cameras in your room are?”

He nodded furiously.

“Then let’s destroy them.”

It was something he’d wanted to do since Fisk dragged him in, feverish and hacking up his lungs, so Matt didn’t need any further nudging. There were only two, and he could reach them both with his cane, breaking the lenses before tearing them out of the wall. It committed him to this whole course of action – even if Vanessa had said she would stop if he wanted it – and his body was more than fine with that, and so was hers. She ached and he could tell; he realized he’d been able to tell for days, maybe weeks, but had unconsciously ignored it. He was used to reading signs, knowing people were attracted to him, but shutting it out, and now it was getting very hard to shut out.

She was as beautiful as he had suspected. He never really knew, not until he touched people. It wasn’t about conventional beauty or shape. It was about what he found soft and silky, skin that didn’t irritate his back, wasn’t too dry or overly-treated with tanning sprays and perfumes, and how her body responded, skin to skin, to his. At his touch her toes curled and that was something that was hard to fake. And driving her crazy had the same effect on him. It almost always did, but it was at its best when he was completely in sync with someone, and he had barely ever been this close with anyone since Elektra –

Later, was sitting up and in bed, and she was curled around him and caressing the scars on his back like they were their own works of art, and she said, “Do you want to talk about her?”

At any other time he would have refused, but it was so hard to carry this grief around. It made his shoulders slump and his limbs feel heavy. “There was a time – I don’t think it’s over – where I thought she was my one true love.”

“Hmm.” Vanessa sounded skeptical. “It’s very sad to me to think that in this life, people only get one true love.”

Matt had nothing to say to that.

“When my husband died, I thought my life was over,” she said. “I wasn’t about to throw myself in the grave with him, but I did think, foolishly, that my time in love was over, and if I thought I felt it again, it would only be a shadow to what I had.” She shifted around him, propping herself up on her elbow. “We think this because we think it’s romantic to idealize the person we’re with. The idea of losing them and starting again is too painful. But it closes us off to reasonable possibilities.”

Of course he’d been with people between Elektra and Karen. He didn’t think of them as second-rate. They were just ... different. And Karen was different, in a different way.

“Was she your first?” Vanessa asked, and Matt nodded. “Ah, nothing can touch that. It’s unique. I don’t blame you for romanticizing it.”

“It was awful,” he said. “She understood me better than anyone ever has. She knew all of my secrets, even the things I didn’t know about myself. But she was violent, and angry, and destructive, and – “ He stopped himself. “I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

“Your relationship was awful,” she clarified.

“It almost destroyed my life. Twice. I lost my focus, my work, my friends – everything. And I still haven’t gotten it back.” He balled his hands into fist. “But I miss her so much.”

Vanessa pulled herself up and took his face in her hands and kissed him as he cried. He wasn’t sobbing, but a few silent tears were more than he’d managed so far. She kissed the tears away as they fell and said nothing. There were no judgements and he buried himself in her arms.

The second time they were slower, more careful to explore, more deliberate in their touches. Matt did succeed in finding the tattoo on his own, to Vanessa’s delight. It was so old that he had to be very close to smell any ink, but he could make out the crude flower pattern that sat on her skin, making it feel raised and smoother. This seemed to amuse her, because she giggled in a far more innocent manner than she usually did. In fact, Matt would never call her innocent, even if she sounded that way for a passing moment.

There were bits of dozing throughout the night, but no real sleep until dawn, when they nodded off tangled in each other’s arms on Matt’s slim bed.

“I like the sheets,” she said when he finally got up to shower. He knew he smelled of sex and he felt self-conscious about it. He did not invite her to join him.

“I do indulge myself occasionally,” he replied, his voice appropriately soft for the hour. “When it’s important.”

They briefly separated, and met up at breakfast, where they were not unkind, but certainly not lovey-dovey.

“Do you regret last night?” Vanessa straight-out asked him.

Matt sensed that for once, she really didn’t know the answer already. “No. But don’t tell – “

“Matthew.”

He grimaced. “Don’t give him the details.”

Re: [Fill] Fisk Pities Matt (16/?)

[(Anonymous)]

This is amazing. No, you are amazing, thank you.