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funnylittlelad · 2 years

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Clinton Coffee Collective (Triple C) - Matt Murdock x gn!reader

re-edited (Jan. 2023)

Read on AO3 - Masterlist

summary: Matt Murdock finds the new café two blocks away from the office by chance when meeting a potential client. He's immediately absorbed by the atmosphere, the coffee, the food, but most of all the owner who effortlessly accommodates him. So, maybe he starts walking an extra two blocks for coffee every morning. It's a victimless crime, until Foggy catches on. (or the funnylittle coffee shop AU)

word count: 15.8k

tags/warnings: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining, light ableism, Matt being the self-punishing butthead he is, descriptions of food and eating, descriptions of anaphylaxis, hospitals, Foggy and Karen being lovely caring nosy friends. MINORS DNI.

It wasn't the nights alone, the passing touches from others that sent his skin ablaze, or even the dull ache the silence of his apartment leaves him with. No, what finally made Matthew Murdock realize he’s starved for the affections of someone who doesn't know all the ugly parts of him was a simple question.

He’s starved for someone who only sees him. Not the copious amounts of baggage he drags behind him. Someone who can find something worth holding onto in him. Something they could hopefully brace themselves on when the storm that is his life finally crashes down on them.

“Would you like a braille menu?”

The question took Matt by surprise. Almost as much as the melodic voice that asked it. It’s not a question he receives often at restaurants. It certainly isn't one he’s ever received at the counter of a cafe.

“Yes, that would be great. Thank you,” he said with a smile.

“We have to-go ones too, if you want one to take home,” the voice offered

“I’d like that,” he found himself saying.

Clinton Coffee Collective only gained his patronage because of a potential client. They had wanted to meet at the cafe. Matt didn't even end up taking the client on, but after that brief interaction Clinton Coffee Collective became his go-to spot.

Sure, it’s about two blocks further than the cafe he usually goes to with Foggy, but it has something the usual spot doesn't. It has you. You and your attentiveness. You and your effortless accommodations. Being in a public space has never felt so easy, so natural. It quickly became a little safe haven throughout his week. Untouched, untainted by the rest of his life. Until Foggy finally catches on that it's taking him longer to get their coffee and the coffee itself is different.

“Why have you been going to the hipster place two blocks away?” he finally asks one morning when Matt places the carrier of cups on Karen’s desk.

“Their coffee is better,” is the only answer he provides.

“It is better,” Karen reasons with Foggy right before she sips her coffee.

“What about supporting family-run businesses? That place is probably some corporate shell that's trying to gentrify the neighborhood,” Foggy takes his own coffee as he makes the argument.

“That's a reach, even for you, Fog,” Matt chuckles.

“Have you seen the place? It’s too clean.”

“Yeah, I really enjoy the color scheme,” Matt says sarcastically, “Besides, I don't think a coffee shop can be too clean.”

“Clean like sleek, put together. There's no heart, no personality to it. It’s all natural wood and plants,” Foggy continues his complaining, ignoring Matt’s retort.

“I don't know, I think it’s cute,” Karen shrugs.

“You’re both traitors to small businesses everywhere.”

Karen and Matt laugh at Foggy’s dramatics. Then the conversation moves on to the work they have to do. Matt’s thoughts partially stick on the cafe, on you. He finds himself not caring if the cafe is some evil corporate shell. The coffee is good, he doesn't feel penalized for existing, and you’re always there to make sure he has everything he could possibly need. Maybe it's not a sustainable way to scratch the lonely itch he’s been having, but it's good for the time being. That’s all Matt can ask for.

***

“Hey, Matthew,” you chime as he enters.

Matt can feel his face light up. There aren't many people here today. He’s able to stroll right up to the counter where you wait for him. That’s what your days have started feeling like. Just waiting for Matthew to come in, sprinkle some charm around, and compliment your coffee. It almost feels like he’s complimenting you when he compliments your coffee.

“Hey, busy day?” he says as he comes to a halt at the counter.

“What tipped you off? Was it the hour-long line you had to wait in to get up here?”

Matt chuckles, which makes you smile. He can hear you lean onto your elbows on the counter. It’s small, but you’re putting yourself closer to him. You do that sometimes when there's no one really around so you have time to chat. That’s why he likes coming in on Thursdays. Especially mid-morning, it’s usually relatively empty.

“I don't know if you saw, I had to beat some people out of my way,” he points behind himself like there are actually people there. You laugh.

“You want the usual or d’you want a menu?” you ask. He loves that he has a usual. That you know and have held onto something about him.

“The usual sounds good.”

“Are you staying? I can turn the music down,” you offer, voice drifting further away as you set off to make his coffee.

“Not today. I have to meet a client,” he answers.

That’s just another way you welcome Matt into this sacred space. He mentioned a headache in passing once, gave a half-truth about sensitive ears, and without thought you accommodated him. Every time you ask if he plans on staying. Every time he does you lower the music to a level that's more comfortable for him.

You steal a look at him over your shoulder. Matthew stands at the counter, hands clasped on his cane in front of him, and the sun casting a glowing aura around him. Your heart skips a beat at the sight. He has no right to be that handsome. You thought that the first time you saw him and you’ve thought it every time since. Matt can hear your heart, making his own skip alongside it.

“You like cherries, right?” you ask as you place his coffee on the counter in front of him.

“I do.”

“Perfect, I just got these new tarts from the bakery down the block,” you tell him cheerily.

He can hear you shuffling around the pastry case. There's the light crinkle of parchment paper, the sound of something hitting the bottom of a paper bag, and the sweet scent of sugared cherries. You place the bag with the tart next to his cup. When you tell him the normal price for his coffee he directs his face at you with knitted brows.

“How much is the tart?”

“Oh, don't worry about it. On me.”

He can't stop his smile. Nor the light blush that rises to his cheeks.

“Are you sure? I don't want you getting in trouble on my account,” he double-checks.

You laugh, expecting him to join you. Only he doesn't. He looks as soft and genuine as ever.

“You know I own this place, right?” you ask him, holding back more laughs.

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

“No, I didn't realize. I guess that explains why you always seem to be working,” he chuckles lightly at his own stupidity.

“Did you think I just took every shift in hopes of seeing you?” you tease.

“Maybe hoped is a better word for it,” he shrugs with a playful smile.

You feel the heat rise from your cheekbones to the tips of your ears.

“Well, sorry to burst your bubble. I want to hear your opinion on the tart next time you’re in,” you tell him, deftly moving away from flirting.

As much as you want to flirt with Matthew, he’s a customer. You want him to keep coming in. You want to keep talking to him.

“I can come by later and let you know what I think,” he says with a smile.

“You’ll squeeze me into your busy schedule?”

“In a heartbeat,” he flashes a charming smile.

Matt listens to the wonderful sound of your heart picking up speed.

“I look forward to it. Have a good day, Matthew,” you say, a smile in your voice.

“You too.”

***

Matthew walks back in around five. You’ve already started the process of closing. There's no one else in the shop, something Matt is grateful for.

“I’ll be right out!” you call from the back room when you hear the bell above the door ring.

Matt waits patiently at the counter. His phone buzzes in his pocket saying Foggy’s name, but he silences it. No doubt Foggy is wondering where Matt ran off to following the initial hearing for a new client they had.

“Oh, Matthew,” you say pleasantly when you come back out and see him, “I thought you forgot about me.”

His ears twitch as they pick up your racing heart.

“Forget about you? That’s impossible, you give me free food,” he smiles teasingly.

“What are you, a pigeon? I scatter some breadcrumbs and now you’re following me around the park,” you chuckle.

“I guess something like that.”

“So, the tart,” you prompt as you lean on the counter with your elbows.

“The tart was amazing. I even had my friends try it. They’re making me pick up more tomorrow on my way into work,” he tells you.

“Let me guess, three? I can have them ready for you in the morning,” you offer, “I can have the coffee ready too, assuming you’ll be getting some.”

Matthew absolutely beams. His smile is so bright you’re tempted to shield your eyes.

“That would be amazing. Thank you.”

“Anything for my favorite customer,” you say easily.

“Favorite, huh? I’m sure you say that to every guy you give free pastries to,” Matt drawls playfully.

“Well, considering you’re the only guy I’ve given anything free to, I suppose you’re right,” you chuckle.

“I’m honored.”

“And, unfortunately, I’m closing,” you sigh, reminding yourself more than anything.

“Is that you kicking me out?” he asks with a small smile.

You study his face for a moment. The slight lift of his eyebrows, the way his nose curves down to a little point, and how his lips pull into one of the prettiest smiles you’ve ever seen. You just wish you could see his eyes behind those glasses with the dark red tint. How can you tell that face to leave?

“That's me asking if you could lock the door.”

Matthew’s smile grows, sending your heart fluttering. You watch him cane his way over to the door. His hand drags across the glass pane until it meets the lock. There's a familiar click and then Matthew is on his way back to you.

“Do you live close?” he asks as you start locking cabinets.

“Yeah, just a few blocks away. I’m not huge on walking home alone in the dark, though. So, I close up a little early when it's just me,” you answer and turn the soft overhead music off.

“I can walk you,” he says without thinking about it.

“It’s okay, it’s not even dark yet,” you shake your head for no one but yourself. Matthew shrugs.

“I can still walk you.”

You look at him for a second. It only takes that second to decide.

“That’d be nice. I just have to lock up a few things in the back and then we can head out.”

Matt waits for you by the counter. He can hear the hum of the lights cease as you turn them off. Then the steady clicks of locks being turned. Soon enough you're exiting from behind the counter. He holds an arm up for you to take hold of with a smile. You place a light grasp on his bicep and begin leading him. You pause to arm the security system, then once more to lock the door from the outside with your key.

“So, what made you decide to open a cafe?” Matt asks as the two of you begin the walk to your apartment. He’s surprised to feel you taking him in the same direction as his own.

“I love coffee,” you shrug.

“That simple, huh?”

“No,” you laugh, “but the real answer is embarrassing.”

“Well now I have to know,” he angles his face toward yours, giving you a full view of that fucking smile.

“What made you want to be a lawyer?” you counter.

He mulls over his answer for a minute.

“I've witnessed a lot of injustices. After a while, you start wanting to do something about it. I wanted to be someone that does some good for the people of the city,” he says evenly.

You blink at him. It was such a raw response. Not one you were expecting, but one that eases you into opening up a little more. One that makes you feel like you can see into the soul of Matthew. There’s nothing but golden light and warmth. You gaze down at the sidewalk ahead of you as you walk.

“Growing up I always saw coffee shops as these places where people's lives can change. Y’know like in dumb romcoms, or in books. They’re always shown as these cozy, safe places where anything can happen. Or even where nothing can happen, which can be just as good sometimes. Coffee shops can be whatever you need them to be at the moment. I liked the idea of building that kind of space. Somewhere everyone can feel welcome. Plus, it would be nice to be the place someone met the love of their life like in the movies,” you glance over at him.

When you see him smiling at you, it dawns on you that you've been rambling. Embarrassment tears through you. Matt can feel you heating up. He can feel the color rising to your cheeks.

“Like I said, it’s embarrassing. Just some idealistic nonsense,” you shake your head dismissively.

“I don't think there's anything wrong with a little idealism,” he says softly, “You’re making the city a better place too, just in a different way.”

Your grip on his bicep tightens slightly. Matt can hear the goosebumps form, feel the electricity travel across your skin as the little hairs all over your body raise. His words evoke a physical reaction. They make you feel strangely seen. They make you feel understood.

“Thank you… that’s really nice of you to say,” your voice is genuine, maybe a little thicker with emotion than normal, “Most people would tell me I’m being dramatic, putting so much meaning into selling coffee.”

“You’ve made a public space I don't feel like a burden in. It’s not dramatic, it’s true. What you’re doing… it does mean something,” he tells you.

You squeeze into him briefly in a sort of half hug.

“If you weren't my favorite customer before, you definitely are now,” you chuckle, attempting to lighten the conversation.

“Not many customers have heart-to-hearts with you then?” he smiles playfully, following your cue to change tones.

“Not as many as you’d think. You’re the first one to walk me home too.”

“Believe it or not, you’re the first person I’ve walked home,” he confesses.

“Really? How is that possible, you seem so chivalrous,” you tease.

“People don't usually flock to the blind person for things like this,” he shrugs. You give a small hmm.

“Their loss. You're very good at it.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles.

The rest of the walk is made in comfortable silence. It’s not too cold, the September air sitting at a comfortable level. There's the hustle and bustle of rush hour that Matt’s brain has to combat, but that's nothing new. You turn down a quieter side street. Matt can sense passing three buildings before you come to a stop.

“This is me,” you say, fighting off disappointment.

“I’m only a few blocks further down,” he informs you with a smile.

“Really?”

“Yeah, you know that old industrial building they converted?”

“The one they put that stupid billboard next to?”

“That's the one,” Matt laughs.

“Is your office by the cafe?” you ask curiously.

You know there are plenty of other cafes closer to his apartment. He’s always in one of his suits when he comes in, talking about what work he has to do that day. The office is the next thing that makes sense.

“Kind of.”

“Kind of? How far is it?”

“It’s closer to Hell’s Kitchen Coffee,” he admits with a sheepish smile.

“So, you've been walking an extra two blocks every day?” you question with a smile. You can't fight it off at the thought.

“Your coffee is better,” he shrugs, “and I was serious when I said you’ve created a public space I don't feel like a burden in.”

Your hand clasps his shoulder in a comforting gesture. Matt wants so much more. He wants your hands everywhere. He wants to feel the warmth of you spread over him.

“You’re not anywhere near a burden, Matthew,” you tell him quietly, but earnestly.

All he can do is nod. Afraid if he opens his mouth, nothing but broken sounds will come out. Your heart is steady, never once faltering as you speak. There isn't even a hint of a lie in your words. You truly don't see him as a burden. It’s a fact that makes him feel lighter. It makes the world a little brighter.

“Thank you for walking me home. I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?” you say after a moment of prolonged silence.

A moment neither of you wanted to break, but had to.

“I’ll be in for my pastries and coffee,” he confirms with a smile.

“I’ll be there waiting.”

***

Foggy moans into his bite of cherry tart. Karen laughs at him. Matt smiles into his sip of coffee. The office smells like the cafe. Which means the office smells like you. Coffee and pastries. Bold and sweet. It brings warmth to Matt’s chest.

“Okay, for a probable corporate shell these are amazing,” Foggy says.

“You’ll be happy to know it’s actually a small business,” Matt informs him.

“How d'you know?” Foggy questions.

“I spoke to the owner. They get the pastries from a local bakery too.”

Foggy hums approvingly as he takes another bite.

“I think you owe the owner an apology, Foggy,” Karen teases.

“I’ll get right on that after I finish making love to this tart.”

Matt and Karen fall into laughter. The smell and warmth of the cafe mingled with the laughter and comfort of his friends lighten the load of the world. He can almost hear your laughter added in. Suddenly, he longs for it.

The feeling takes him by surprise. Sure, he looks forward to seeing you. He looks forward to talking to you, but this is different. There's a tugging in his chest that's attempting to draw him closer to you. A taut rope tying him to you that’s threatening to drag him off.

“How much were the tarts?” Karen asks to the sound of her wallet popping open.

“Don't worry about it. They were on the house,” Matt waves her off.

“On the house? You must have really talked to the owner,” Foggy teases.

The tips of Matt’s ears go red. Foggy doesn't miss the newfound bashfulness in Matt.

“Oh, you did. Matt, you sly dog, using your charm to score us free pastries,” Foggy crows and nudges Matt.

“It wasn't like that,” Matt shakes his head, “The owner is just nice.”

Foggy gives an unconvinced grunt but ultimately moves on. They have a deposition in about forty-five minutes and need to shift back into work mode. The office smells like you the rest of the day.

***

A couple of weeks later Matthew strolls in as you start closing. He smiles as he approaches the counter. Your heart races. He looks a little disheveled. His hair is messily tousled in every direction like he got hit with a gust of wind.

“Matthew, I wasn't expecting to see you again today,” you greet pleasantly.

“I noticed you were alone today. I thought I’d walk you home,” he says like it's the most normal thing in the world.

“You really want to make sure you stay my favorite customer, huh?” you tease, ignoring the way your face is heating up.

“It has its benefits,” he teases back.

“I appreciate you going out of your way to walk me home,” you tell him softly.

“It’s not really out of the way. We’re practically neighbors,” he attempts to dismiss the gesture.

“Yeah, but I have a feeling your work days don't usually end as early as mine,” you say.

“I can spare a few evenings so you don't have to walk alone,” he shrugs. You ignore the way your face completely flushes.

“Just let me finish locking up and we can be on our way.”

He gives a nod. Once again, Matt patiently waits. Once again, he listens to the sounds of you closing. It’s peaceful. When you come back out he holds out his arm for you. Then the two of you are on your way. After half a block Matt’s phone begins calling out Foggy’s name. He sighs and digs it out of his pocket.

“What’s up, Foggy?” he answers, too aware of your eyes curiously watching him.

“Where did you run off to this time? I turned around and you were gone. Did you sprint out of the courthouse?” Foggy questions. Matt did kind of sprint out of the courthouse to make sure he got to you before you left.

“I had to be somewhere,” he explains vaguely.

You smile at his statement. He definitely didn't have to, you both know that.

“Where?”

“I’ll talk to you later, Fog,” Matt says evenly, not wanting to have this conversation in front of you.

He likes that you’re just his right now. He likes having something separate from the rest of his life. Bringing Foggy in could jeopardize that. It could bring his life crashing down on yours.

“Is there something going on with your friend?” Foggy asks. Matt knows he means Daredevil.

“No, it’s just… personal, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Talk later,” Foggy finally concedes.

You let Matt suffer in silence for a minute. He doesn't know how much of Foggy’s side you heard. When you finally do speak it isn't what he’s expecting.

“So, you had to be somewhere, huh?”

“Yeah, someone was in desperate need of my help,” he smiles.

“And did you get to them on time?”

“I did… after sprinting out of the courthouse and leaving my friends behind.”

“Matthew,” you chide through a laugh, “You really didn't have to do that. I’m okay to walk home, I’ve done it before.”

“I wanted to.”

You smile down at your feet. Heat creeps throughout your entire body. Does that mean he’s been thinking of you throughout the day? Really paying attention to when there are employees working and when it's just you? Making mental notes throughout the day to come back and walk you home?

“I’m glad you did,” you admit, “I really like talking to you, Matthew.”

“Matt, you can call me Matt. I really like talking to you too.”

“Does that mean we’re friends now, Matt?”

He smiles at the sound of his name.

“I’d like it to, if you would.”

“I would.”

***

Got a new apple pie today I think you'll really like.

Matt smiles at his phone, which just read out the message from you. The last time he walked you home you exchanged numbers. Y'know, because you’re friends now. Not because neither of you ever wants to stop your conversations. Ever since the two of you have been texting.

Sometimes it's just dumb things one of you observed during the day. Others it's updating each other on small things, like the apple pie. His favorite messages are the ones about nothing. The ones where it's clear you just wanted to talk to him.

Save me a piece for tomorrow? Working late today. He says into his phone’s speech-to-text, thankful for the door separating him from Foggy and Karen’s prying ears.

How late?

Not sure exactly, why?

I can bring you some when I leave.

Your heart is pounding as you rethink sending the message. Is that too much? Is offering to bring the pie to him too intimate? Too friendly too fast?

“Are you okay?” Isaac, the barista on duty today asks with concern.

Isaac is a scrawny kid with short bleached hair and a couple of tattoos. He has whatever the opposite of resting bitch face is. That’s part of the reason you love having him as an employee. He’s approachable.

You’re extremely proud of yourself for cultivating such a positive work environment. Everyone genuinely cares for one another and you do your best as a boss to support them all. In return, they show you genuine kindness and respect.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just texting Matt,” you wave your phone in the air a bit.

A knowing smile curls onto Isaac’s lips.

“That’s happening, then?” he asks with dark raised eyebrows.

“We’re friends,” you say.

“But you like him, right?”

“Yeah, he’s my friend,” you reiterate.

“You know what I mean,” Isaac rolls his eyes.

“I like him,” you sigh.

Isaac takes a customer’s order and you fill it as he takes the payment. It’s fairly busy today. Business has been doing very well, something that swells your heart. Matt’s words ring in your head whenever the cafe is so full. You’re making the city a better place. Watching a young couple giggle in the corner, you think maybe he's right.

“He definitely likes you.”

“You don't know that,” you argue.

“I’ve worked with you when he’s come in. He likes you,” Isaac states firmly.

“I’m done talking about it. Go grab me more Colombian roast, please.”

Your phone vibrates in your pocket as Isaac pushes his way into the back. A deep breath. Then you check the message.

I’d like that.

***

The sun isn't quite gone, but the sky is growing dark. Matt hears you enter the building. He smiles as he emerges from his office. Only Karen is here right now. She’s busy following up on calls giving him the perfect opportunity to slip you by without question.

He can smell the warm buttery scent of the apple pie as you climb the stairs. It grows stronger as your footsteps grow louder. Your heart is beating fast. Then the door is creaking open. Your presence washes over him like a summer breeze.

“Welcome to Nelson & Murdock,” he greets with a smile.

Your eyes bounce around the small office. It’s older, and outdated, but feels safe. You meet the gaze of a beautiful blonde woman at a desk. She offers you a small smile before looking curiously at Matt. If he can feel her eyes, he ignores them.

“It’s nice,” you tell him genuinely, “I like it. Feels comfortable, safe.”

“I’m glad. We can head into my office,” he tilts his head toward an open door to the right.

“Oh, I actually brought three pieces. I figured it would be rude to only bring you some,” you say, a little embarrassed.

The gesture sends Matt soaring. You’re so kind it almost makes him nervous. Nervous to fuck things up. Nervous to show the decidedly unkind side of himself.

“Well, it’s just Karen and me tonight, but you’re more than welcome to stay and have the third piece with us,” he offers, silently ignoring his plan that's crashing and burning in the background.

“Are you sure? I don't want to keep you from work.”

“We’ve worked hard today, we deserve a break.”

“Okay,” you accept with a nod.

Matt tells Karen to call the phone quits for the night as the two of you walk over. She seems happy to comply. You and Matt sit at the two chairs before her desk. He awkwardly introduces the two of you. Karen chuckles at him.

“So, you own Clinton Coffee Collective?” she asks as the three of you dig in.

“The Triple C, that's me,” you say with a smile.

“Thank you for all the free sweets. We’re starting to feel spoiled,” Karen holds up a chunk of pie on her plastic fork.

“It’s nothing,” you wave her off, “Matt’s my best customer- well, I guess technically all three of you are. I just have the pleasure of seeing Matt’s face every day.”

“I thought I was your favorite customer,” Matt teases. Your face flushes.

“You’re both. No one else comes in as much as you do, y’know. If we go into another recession I think you’ll be single-handedly keeping me open,” you chuckle.

“I didn't know you drank that much coffee, Matt,” Karen comments with a small smile.

You answer before Matt can.

“It’s not always coffee. If he’s sitting down to work he usually gets tea,” you say it so easily, so offhandedly.

Matt’s heart leaps into his throat. There's an overwhelming feeling of being seen. In the purest way, he feels known.

“Didn't know you drink tea either,” Karen smirks amused.

“Sorry, am I revealing all your deep dark secrets?” you joke.

“Yup, now that you both know I drink tea I’ll have to kill you,” Matt sighs dramatically.

You and Karen laugh. Hanging out with Matt and Karen is nice. It’s nice spending time with people, especially with Matt, somewhere that isn't the cafe. You all finish the pie far too quickly, but you don't want to overstay your welcome. When you begin to say goodbye, Matt disappears into his office briefly. He comes back out pulling on his coat.

“You ready?” he asks when his coat is secure.

“Ready for what?” you question.

“To walk home.”

“Matt, you don't have to-”

“I know. I want to, remember?” he smiles.

“What about work?”

“I can be done for the night,” he shrugs.

“You sure?”

“D'you want to walk home alone in the dark?” He raises his eyebrows. You sigh.

“No, I really don't.”

“Okay, let’s go. I’ll see you tomorrow, Karen,” Matt throws Karen a wave.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” she says with a smile, eyes bouncing between the two of you excitedly.

Matt can hear her call Foggy once you step foot out of the building. He’ll have to prepare himself for the barrage he’s sure to get from the pair tomorrow.

***

The notice shakes in your hands. Anger is threatening to tear open your chest. How can he do this? How can the owner of the building try to sell it out from under you? Right when your business has finally found itself. You rent to own the storefront Clinton Coffee Collective is in. However, it seems your landlord has decided he wants to sell the entire building and be done with it. He wants to pay out the rest of your lease, but you’ve been refusing. Now, he’s taking you to arbitration over it.

The courthouse looms over you. You’re here alone. You haven't told anyone about the issue. The last thing you want is to worry any of your employees. Not until you know what's going to happen. Honestly, you thought you’d be able to handle it on your own. It’s a simple enough dispute. Then your landlord walks in armed with an entire legal team for what you thought was meant to be a simple arbitration. By the end, you're holding back tears of anger.

Your footsteps are echoing off the marble floors as you storm out. No resolution could be agreed upon. So it’s either get out or go to court. The crisp outside air stings your hot cheeks. It’s enough to calm you. Enough to remind you to breathe. You’re rubbing your face with your hands, replaying the last awful hour in your head when you hear his voice. Matt says your name, startling you from your thoughts.

“Oh, Matt, I guess I shouldn't be surprised to run into you here,” you chuckle weakly, trying to distract from the mess in your head.

“What are you doing here?” he asks with knitted eyebrows.

Your eyes move to the man standing just behind him. He has shoulder-length dirty blond hair and a kind, but confused face. The bag over his shoulder lets you know he must be Matt’s law partner. You finally have a face for Foggy.

“Uh- it's nothing. I have to get back to the cafe,” you start to excuse yourself.

“Foggy, wait for me inside,” Matt says over his shoulder.

Without argument, Foggy disappears into the courthouse. Matt’s concerned face redirects fully at you. He can tell you’re upset. If you’re here and upset, that can't mean anything good.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, forehead wrinkling with concern.

You sigh. How are you meant to lie to him when he’s looking at you like that?

“I've been having an issue with my landlord. It’s not a big deal,” you try to minimize the problem.

Matt can hear the half-lie.

“What kind of issue?”

“It’s really nothing, Matt.”

He frowns. Your chest tightens knowing you’re the cause.

“I have to go, but I’ll give you a call later, okay?” He waits expectantly.

“Please, don't worry about me,” you insist.

“Please, let me help.”

You stare at your own reflection in the deep red tint of his sunglasses. It occurs to you that you still haven't seen his eyes. You wonder if they’re as kind as him.

“Okay, we’ll talk later,” you agree quietly.

“Okay,” he gives you a small smile.

Then he’s gone.

***

Walking into Nelson & Murdock makes you much more nervous this time. You aren't walking in as a friend. You’re walking in as a client. There's a cardboard carrier in your hand. Three coffees as a token of appreciation. Karen sees you come in and greets you with a smile.

“Hey, I brought coffee,” you say and hold up the carrier.

Matt and Foggy emerge from their offices at the sound of your voice. They both take their coffees appreciatively. You follow them into Matt’s office. You sit in a creaky chair opposite his desk. He takes his seat behind his desk and Foggy perches on the edge of the desk.

“I don't really know how this is supposed to work,” you admit nervously. Your fingers toy with your sleeves anxiously.

“Just tell us what's going on and we’ll tell you how we can help,” Matt says with a reassuring smile.

“If we can help at all,” Foggy adds.

“Foggy,” Matt scolds.

“What? We have to be honest. There’s a chance we won't be able to help, but we’ll try,” Foggy defends himself.

“It’s okay. I appreciate the honesty,” you say, “I appreciate you trying.”

“Of course,” Matt smiles warmly.

“So, what's going on?” Foggy asks.

You dive into the whole tale. The lease agreement you signed gave you a specific time frame to decide to buy the storefront. Your landlord is now trying to circumvent that to sell the building as a whole. If that happens, Clinton Coffee Collective and all the money you put into it are just gone. Your entire life’s savings, the only thing you’ve really wanted to do since childhood, the thing that's estranged you from everyone. That part you don't mention.

Matt and Foggy detail the next steps that need to be taken. It’s a lot of paperwork. A lot of filing things at the right time. A lot of hurrying up and even more waiting. When Matt says he’ll draw up the paperwork for you to read the next day, you blink in surprise.

“Oh, I can't afford to pay you. I thought you would just tell me what to do and then I would… do it,” you realize how dumb you sound.

“Don’t worry about paying us,” Matt shakes his head.

“You can just keep giving us free food and we’ll call it even,” Foggy gives you a smile.

You look between the two of them. What did you do to get sent two absolute angels?

“Are you kidding? You guys never have to pay for anything again,” you say, still a little in disbelief.

“We still can't promise anything,” Foggy tells you, raising a hand to tell you not to get too ahead of yourself.

“That's fine. I never would have been able to afford to try to fight this. You have no idea what you’re doing for me,” your voice grows thicker with emotion.

“You have no idea what you’re doing for Matt,” Foggy says with a sly smile.

Matt rolls a packet on his desk up into a makeshift baton. He gives Foggy a good whack on the back of the head. Foggy gives a soft hey in protest. Your hand covers your mouth in an attempt to stifle your laughter. The possible meanings behind Foggy’s words will be occupying your thoughts for a while.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Matt offers with a soft smile.

“Yeah, if you wouldn't mind.”

It's midday, but you're beyond denying a walk home from Matt at this point. There's only the hum of the building’s old electricity and the sounds of your footsteps as you make your way downstairs. You know you should go to the cafe. You should work. Fatigue has settled deep into your bones.

“What are you thinking about?” Matt asks after a block goes by with no words. Just the beeping of traffic and the rush of people trying to get somewhere.

“That I should be going to the cafe, not home,” you sigh.

“You won't be any good to anyone tired and stressed.”

“I know. That’s why I’m letting you bring me home.”

As you swim through your thoughts Matt wades through his own. The two of you have established you're friends. You text every day. You’ve even spoken on the phone a few times. He walks you home whenever it's just you at the cafe. Sometimes he walks you if he just has the time to do so. The fact that you didn't come to him for the dispute with your landlord nags at him.

“Why didn't you ask for my help sooner? You know I’ve dealt with cases like this before,” he can't help but ask.

“I thought I could do it by myself. I’ve done everything that has to do with the cafe by myself. It’s stupid, but if I was going to lose it I wanted that to happen by myself too,” you admit.

“You won't have to lose it at all,” Matt tugs you closer to him.

“I feel very lucky to have met you, Matt,” you say softly.

“I feel very lucky to have met you too.”

***

Foggy lets himself into Matt’s apartment as usual. He finds Matt sitting on his couch, smiling at his phone. Foggy comes to a pause a few feet away. Matt doesn't acknowledge him, which is really weird. Usually, he would have said something the second the door was opened.

“Okay, this is scary,” Foggy comments slowly.

“What’s scary?”

Matt is completely unfazed by Foggy’s sudden arrival. Foggy drops onto the couch cushion beside Matt.

“You didn't say anything when I came in. Now you’re smiling at your phone like a teenager who just got a sext,” Foggy answers, reaching to snatch Matt’s phone.

Matt, of course, moves his phone out of the way.

“It’s nothing, I just got a text,” Matt says dismissively.

He takes the single earbud out of his ear. Matt heard Foggy coming. When his phone chimed your name he grabbed the earbud. He knew Foggy would walk in while his phone read the message. Foggy’s mouth curls into a sly smile.

“A text from a certain cafe owner?” he nudges Matt with his elbow.

Matt doesn't answer. Instead, he locks his phone and sets it down. He can feel Foggy’s eyes burning into him.

“You have the complaint?” Matt asks.

“I have the complaint if you have an answer for me.”

“An answer to what?”

“When are you going to ask them out?”

Matt’s mouth becomes a tight line. His shoulders tense. It's not like he hasn't thought about it. He thinks about it every time he talks to you. Bringing you into his life in that capacity goes against everything he wants for you. It’ll put you in the worst of positions. It’ll cause you to fall victim to his double life.

“I’m not,” Matt sighs.

“You're- what do you mean you're not?”

“I mean exactly that, Fog. I don't want what I do to come back to them.”

Foggy groans and throws his head back. Matt can feel the frustration radiating off of him.

“Don't do this,” Foggy pleads.

“Do what?”

“Don't punish and torture yourself like you always do.”

“I’m not-”

“And don't give me some bullshit about you acting in their best interest.”

Matt keeps his mouth shut. His phone starts chiming your name once again. Foggy lifts his head to watch Matt ignore it. Matt sits forward, elbows on his knees, sunglasses tossed onto the coffee table. His eyes stare at nothing straight ahead.

“What if I am acting in their best interest?” Matt asks finally, voice low and wobbly.

“Says who? You? Matt, I love you, but you’re an idiot if you think you know what someone needs better than they do.”

Matt rubs his face with his hands, elbows still on his knees. He knows Foggy is right. He hates it, but he knows it. Your name sounds off again from Matt’s phone on the coffee table.

“If you don't check it, I will,” Foggy threatens.

With a sigh, Matt grabs his phone. He doesn't bother with the earbud this time.

There are some snickerdoodle cookies waiting for you at the Triple C! is the first message that's read out.

You looked really good today, by the way.

Matt feels the burn of blush on his cheeks. Compliments have been passing between the two of you more frequently. Typically, it's a comment on you liking something specific. This time you just complimented him.

“You looked better,” he says into his phone with a smirk.

Amused by his own joke, he manages to briefly forget about Foggy. He’s able to push Foggy’s pestering presence to the back of his mind.

Oh, I could kill you.

His eyebrows knit at your message. Before he can respond his phone is ringing, calling out your name. Panic sets in.

“What do I do?” he asks Foggy.

“Answer it!”

“No, what if they’re mad at me?”

“Matt, answer the fucking phone.”

Matt takes a deep breath before answering.

“Hey,” he greets.

“You’re not going to believe it,” you laugh.

“What?” He tries not to sound too relieved.

“Your dumb message made me laugh so hard I snorted out orange juice all over a customer! I had to comp their order.”

Matt laughs and relays the story to Foggy. Foggy chuckles and shakes his head. Matt knows it's more at him for being afraid to answer the call. In retrospect, he does feel a little silly for the panic.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to make you assault a customer,” Matt says.

“Don't be sorry, it’s funny. You're rude, though. I almost thanked you for a second there,” your smile is audible.

“Well, if it makes you feel better I can tell you that you smelled really good today.”

Matt wishes he could hear your heart through the phone. He wants to hear and feel how his words affect you.

“It does, thank you. I’ll let you go now. I just had to tell you.”

“Can I call you later?”

“Yeah, you can call me anytime you want.”

“Alright, talk later.”

“Talk later.”

He clicks off his phone, places it back on the coffee table, and falls back into the couch. His face turns to the ceiling. Maybe if he begs hard enough God will let him skip to the part where he has it figured out. The part where this inner battle of what he wants and what he can have is over.

“So, are you done with the self-torture?” Foggy questions.

“Foggy, it's really not as easy as you make it out to be.”

“Okay, so it’s not easy. Nothing is easy, especially not with you. That doesn't mean you don't try.”

“This just isn't something I can have,” Matt’s voice comes out broken.

“You know what? Fine. Fine, you can't have a relationship. You can't be happy. I’m not arguing anymore, but the only thing- the only person who is saying you can't is you. You’re the only thing standing between yourself and something I know would make you really fucking happy. Here’s the complaint.”

Matt hears the papers slap onto the coffee table. He can feel the vibrations in his teeth. Foggy’s frustrated words stick with him. Even after Foggy leaves, still done with Matt’s self-flagellating bullshit, the words are on repeat.

***

You don't recognize Matt when he walks in at first. His suit is replaced by a much softer outfit. He wears dark gray sweatpants, a black zip-up hoodie, and carries a duffel bag on his shoulder. What throws you the most is his face. You can see his eyes.

Matt doesn't receive his usual greeting. There’s no joyful Hey, Matt! ringing across the cafe. It’s not until he reaches the counter that he understands. A soft gasp escapes your lips just before your heart starts pounding harder than Matt has ever heard it before. A smile finds its way to his lips.

“Matt, I didn't recognize you,” you say breathlessly.

His smile widens, showing off his teeth and wrinkling his eyes in the most adorable way. Then there are his eyes. Fuck, his eyes. They’re like two cups of dark roast, a little light and extremely sweet.

“I could tell,” he chuckles.

“The usual?”

“No, I actually came in to see when you get out today.”

“Oh, technically I can leave whenever I want. We have a full staff today. Just move to the left like three feet for me.”

Matt can tell someone is walking up behind him to the register. You direct Isaac to take the order and go out around the counter to meet Matt. There are a decent amount of people seated at the various tables. However, chit-chat is relatively low as most people are typing away on their laptops.

“Would you want to come by my place tonight?” He actually seems kind of nervous. His fingers flex around his cane.

“Yeah, what did you have in mind?”

You ignore the strange new jig your heart is doing. Matt can't. It makes him smile, nerves easing.

“I was thinking we could grab some takeout and have dinner together.”

Your face splits into a wide grin.

“I’d really like that,” you agree, trying not to sound too eager.

“Great, I can stop by when I’m done at the gym and we can walk together,” he offers.

“I’ll see you then.”

As you watch Matt leave, realization takes hold. You’ll be in Matt’s apartment for the first time. Was this a date? Surely if it was he would have said that, right? You catch Isaac’s knowing smile and flip him off. This garners laughs from the couple of other employees that see. With a smile, you go back to work.

***

“Do you mind if I shower quick?” Matt asks as he enters his apartment.

You trail hesitantly behind him. There's a distinct smell of something that is overwhelmingly Matt. The air is relatively neutral, with no strong fragrances, but there are undertones you can't quite place.

“Not at all, take your time,” you answer.

He leads you down the hall you entered into. The apartment is much bigger than you’re expecting. Once you exit the hallway it's a large open space. His kitchen is tucked all the way to the back, then he has a round table, followed by his living room. You catch a glimpse of his bedroom through the cracked sliding door.

“Wow, that billboard is…” you struggle to find a way to say it without sounding like you’re trashing his apartment.

“I’ve been told it's obnoxious.”

“Obnoxious definitely applies.”

The electric billboard paints the room through the giant factory windows. Flashes of pink, blue, yellow, and white make turning the lights on almost unnecessary.

“You can pick out a place to eat. Foggy leaves take out menus in the drawer to the left of the oven. Please, make yourself at home,” he says with a warm smile.

As always, his smile makes you practically start to vibrate.

“Okay.”

He disappears into his room. You hear the click of another door then the sound of the shower. Now that you’re alone you take the time to really examine the space. It’s sparsely furnished and industrial. Not quite what you had expected, but it still fits him somehow.

You wander into the kitchen. Sure enough, the takeout menus are right where he said. As you sift through the glossy pamphlets, your fingers brush against something different. No gloss and full of texture. You dig it out. The braille menu from the cafe is still in pristine condition. It makes you smile. He’s actually holding onto it like he isn't in every day. Like he doesn't know the entire menu by heart.

When Matt comes back out you’re sitting on the couch with three menus on the coffee table. Matt is in extremely soft-looking loungewear. There's a black t-shirt that’s so snug it lets you see every curve of his torso, a pair of dark joggers, and wooly socks. You’re proud of the restraint you’re displaying. Seeing Matt like that, toweling off his hair, makes you want to throw caution to the wind. You want to just walk up to him and kiss him. So. Fucking. Bad.

“I picked out a few places so we can decide together,” you tell him.

Matt drapes his towel on the back of one of the armchairs opposite you. Soon his thigh is pressed against yours. Warmth radiates from where your leg is touching his.

“What are the options?” he asks like he isn't sending your head spinning.

“Mexican, Chinese, or a pizza place. The pizza place is probably the safest.”

“The safest?”

“Yeah, unless you know how these places prepare their food, but most people don't think to ask. It’s okay, I’m sure I’ll be fine no matter what we pick.”

Matt turns his face to you. His eyebrows are knit in confusion.

“What exactly does it mean if you're not fine?”

That's when it hits you. You’ve never hung out with Matt like this. You’ve never had any food with him that wasn't from the cafe. So, it was never relevant.

“Oh, I’m really allergic to peanuts. I usually just try to play it safe. Like I said, though, I’m sure I’ll be fine no matter which place we pick,” you explain, attempting not to burden him with your dietary restriction.

“I can call the places and ask h-”

“No, it's okay! Really, it’s fine.”

“How allergic are you?”

The hesitation tells Matt everything he needs to know, but he lets you say it.

“Extremely. Anaphylactic shock, the whole nine.”

“So, it’s deadly,” he deadpans.

“It can be, yeah.”

“Do you have an EpiPen?”

“No, they're really expensive and my insurance isn't great,” you respond sheepishly.

Matt nods. He digs his phone out of his pocket and hands it to you.

“Dial the first number and I’ll ask,” he says.

“What?”

“I’ll ask how they prep their food.”

“Matt, it’s okay. I don't want to make this more difficult than it already is,” you sound apologetic, nervous.

“You’re always going out of your way to make sure I’m comfortable and safe. Let me do the same,” Matt’s voice is impossibly soft.

Butterflies fill your stomach. Heat rises to your cheeks. Matt smiles at you like he can tell.

“Okay,” you agree.

Matt calls each place. Each tells him they have nut-free prep stations and utensils. It makes him feel a lot better knowing you won't possibly die the moment you bite into your food. The two of you end up getting Chinese and agree to split the food you order.

Seeing Matt in his natural environment is nice. He’s relaxed, less intimidating, and somehow even more handsome. Watching him laugh at a joke you just said that nagging question comes back. Is this a date? It can't be. He’s in loungewear and you’re in his apartment. Plus, he would have said if it was a date, right?

“I can feel you staring,” Matt says with an amused smirk.

You quickly look away like it matters.

“Sorry, I got lost in thought.”

“What thought?”

You swallow the lump that's forming in your throat. Matt can hear your heart, feel the tension in your body, and hear your fingers toying with your sleeve.

“Just… everything with the cafe,” you lie.

It’s the first real lie Matt has ever clocked in you.

“Anything in particular?” He decides to go along with it instead of finding a way to call out your lie.

Now you really are thinking about everything with the cafe. A tight knot forms in your stomach, your chest feels heavy, and dread fully takes over. Matt can't tell what you’re feeling, but he can tell your mood has shifted.

“If I lose it, I have nothing,” you whisper.

“You won't.”

“Lose it or have nothing?”

“Both.”

You shake your head to yourself. There's a moment where you pretend Matt’s right. You pretend that everything will be resolved smoothly. That even if it isn't, you won't be left desolate and alone. It’s a nice moment, but that's all it is. A moment.

“You don't understand,” you sigh.

“So, help me understand.”

A police siren shrieks in the distance. You see Matt’s fingers twitch, but other than that he doesn't react. His attention remains firmly on you and your conversation.

“That cafe is the only thing I have. All my savings are in it, years of savings. My friends stopped inviting me out. They stopped talking to me in general because I was always busy. My family is…,” you sigh, “I’ll have nothing, Matt.”

Matt’s hand finds yours. His fingers pull yours away from your sleeve and lace through them. It’s such a simple act, but it somehow makes the entire world shift. Some of the weight in your chest eases. The act of holding Matt’s hand alleviates some of your tension.

“You’ll still have people who care about you,” his voice is soft and warm.

“Like who? My coffee vendor?” you laugh sarcastically.

“Isaac.”

“Isaac is my employee. If the cafe is gone, so is he.”

“Me.”

Everything stops. Your eyes lock onto the far concrete wall. Light from the billboard outside the windows turns the neutral tone into an array of colors. It's like watching your heart dance across the wall. Pulsing, bright, and constantly blooming into a new color.

“What good am I to you without the cafe?” you ask as the question sears across your brain.

You finally look at Matt. His eyebrows are knitted and his mouth is pressed into a tight line. He’s dripping in concern and befuddlement.

“I don't know what you mean,” he says.

“That's why you like me, right? I give you free coffee and food. What good am I to you if I can't do that?”

“Stop saying that,” he shakes his head, full-on frowning now.

“What?”

“‘What good am I to you?’”

“Why, because it's true?”

“No, because it breaks my heart that you would even think that about me,” his voice is sharper, irritation and hurt cutting through it.

You freeze, expecting Matt to yank his hand away. He squeezes yours instead.

“I don't go to the cafe for free coffee or food. I didn't even really go in for coffee before you started giving me free stuff. I go in for you. I’ve always gone in for you,” he tells you with a sense of urgency.

“Matt…”

“The cafe isn't why I like you. It’s just a convenient way to talk to you every day.”

You spend a moment focusing on breathing evenly. Afraid if you try to speak too soon all that will come out is a sob. Matt’s words wash over you, bringing a sense of relief. You didn't realize just how insecure you are in your friendship with Matt. Despite him doing everything that should tell you otherwise, you fear that his interest is guided by his stomach.

“Why do you like me then?” you ask quietly.

“Why can't you fathom the idea that people might like you for you and not what you can do for them?” he counters, not as quiet but still soft.

“That's just not usually something I can have.”

To your surprise, Matt laughs. You pull your hand away from his. Your entire body shifts away from him at the sound. He stops immediately.

“I’m sorry, I wasn't laughing at you. I was laughing at myself,” he explains.

“That's not what it felt like.”

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just… I said something similar to Foggy not too long ago. I know how he feels talking to me now.”

You don't fully come back to him, but you shift a little closer again. Matt gently reaches for your hand once more. You allow him to lace his fingers with yours.

“I really don't want the cafe to be a failure,” you breathe.

“Do you remember what you said when I asked you what made you want to open a cafe?” he asks.

“That I love coffee.”

“Yes, but the other thing.”

“Yeah,” you sigh.

“You made the place you talked about. You made a ‘cozy safe place where anything can happen.’ The first thing you ever said to me was ‘would you like a braille menu?’ I can count on one hand how many times that's happened to me. You wanted the cafe to be a place where people’s lives could change? Well, you did that too. You’ve changed my life. I don't know if you know that, but you changed my life. So, no matter what happens, the cafe isn't a failure. Not by a long shot,” Matt’s voice is steady and firm, yet soft and gentle. It cradles you with every kind word.

His heart drops when your hand leaves his, but then he feels the movement. You throw your arms around Matt. He allows himself to sink into your embrace. You’re solid, warm, and real in his arms. This isn't a dream, or a thought, or a fantasy. This is you and Matt connected.

“Thank you, Matt. I don't think anyone has ever said such nice things to me,” you say into his neck.

“I mean every word.”

“I know you do.”

To his disappointment, you pull away. Your fingers slot between Matt’s again. Neither of you are willing to give up the contact. Your hands clasped together is the only thing tethering Matt to the Earth.

“You’ve changed my life too, for the record. Not just because you’re helping me with all the legal stuff. You changed it before that. You changed it the moment I spoke to you,” you tell him softly.

“Yeah?” He gives a goofy smile.

“Yeah,” you chuckle, “you came in looking irritated as all hell, but after I talked to you… I don't know, it was like that melted away. It felt really nice to have that kind of impact on someone’s day. Then you came in again, and again, and again.”

“Some say I never left,” Matt laughs.

“Ah, yes, the urban legend of the Cane Man who haunts the Clinton Coffee Collective.”

Just like that, the emotional heaviness of the conversation lessens. The air between you is no longer thick with your insecurities. It no longer feels like Matt could fall off the planet at any given moment. He knows what he wants to do will cross the line. A line he’s tried to draw firmly in the sand, but it's high tide and the undertow is pulling at his feet.

You watch his tongue dart out, wetting his lips. The billboard provides a technicolor exhibition of his face. Different colors cast different shadows, allowing you to see every side of him. Well, every side of him, but one. Sunlight also falls upon his face differently, it softens him. Without sunlight, you have an incomplete image of Matt. A puzzle missing its centerpiece. You want that final piece of the puzzle oh-so bad.

You’re just about to ask him what that expression is about. Contemplative and conflicted. Matt’s hands are suddenly cradling your jaw. They begin to pull you forward, but you finish the work for them. Matt’s lips crash into yours. It sends shockwaves from your lips to the rest of your body. Kissing him is like taking your first breath. It’s a relief. It’s an overwhelming sense of Ah, finally, there you are.

When you feel him pulling away you grab onto the front of his shirt and pull him back in. Matt’s lips leave yours briefly before they’re crashing into yours again. It’s at this moment you realize what the undertones you’ve been smelling are. Bergamot and eucalyptus. A heady spice-like scent cut with something clean and fresh. It’s Matt’s shampoo and body wash.

You separate but keep your foreheads pressed together. Wide smiles are present on both your faces.

“There’s no doubt about it now. You’re definitely my favorite customer,” you tease.

“My master plan finally falls into place,” he teases back.

You laugh and move your head to lean on Matt’s shoulder. For so long you have dedicated everything you have and everything you are to creating a space where people can feel safe and welcome. You never stopped to think about what that space would look like for you. Now, you know. It looks like Matt kissing you. It looks like Matt telling you all the sweet things you never thought you’d hear. The place you feel the safest and most welcome is with Matthew Murdock.

***

Nelson & Murdock has become a familiar place to you. You’re no longer hesitant or nervous walking in. Karen smiles brightly as you enter.

“Hey! Matt’s in his office,” she tells you.

“Thanks!”

Matt is already smiling toward the door when you pop in. The sight sends a flurry of butterflies loose in your stomach. You close the door behind you and sit in a chair across from him.

“I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me today,” Matt says, overly formal and shuffling some papers around to pretend to be busy.

“It better be good, Murdock. Time is money,” you play along. Matt fights off his smile to keep his serious facade.

“I believe I have an offer you can't refuse.”

“And what’s that?”

“Hmm, how does the time frame to buy stipulated in your lease, plus an extra three months for our trouble sound?” He finally breaks and smiles wide.

Your eyes widen. Your mouth falls open.

“Are you serious?” you ask.

“Deadly.”

“How did you manage that?” You can't wrap your head around it.

“We made some calls and found some interesting business practices by your landlord. He has a habit of screwing people over and out of their leases across the city. Then there's the money laundering he uses some of his properties for. Once we confronted him with that information he was very willing to back off the cafe,” he tells you, a smile playing on his lips the entire time.

You blink away tears. There are so many emotions bubbling up.

“The cafe is safe?” Your voice is small, afraid to fully accept the good news.

“The cafe is safe.”

You’re out of your seat and on Matt’s side of the desk in an instant. He stands to meet you. Your body all but slams into his. Matt’s embrace is strong and safe.

“I can’t thank you enough,” you say into his shoulder.

“You could let me take you out on a date. That’s a good start.”

You lean back. Still in Matt's arms, but able to look at his face. He has a charming grin. A grin that could kill you on the spot and you would apologize for the inconvenience. There’s a sense of everything clicking into place.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Matt leans in and gives you a quick chaste kiss. It’s not enough, but you aren't brave enough to ask for more yet.

“How does tomorrow sound? I’ll pick you up at six-thirty. We can grab some dinner and admire the sights the city has to offer,” he suggests, words dripping in honey-like warmth.

“We can admire the sights the city has to offer? Do you have a miracle to tell me about?”

Matt barks out a laugh. You can feel it rumbling in his chest, vibrating his whole body. His adam’s apple bobs as he leans his head back in the process.

“Okay, you can admire the sights the city has to offer. I’ll just tag along for the ride,” he says once his laughter dies down.

“How about you worry about the dinner part and I’ll worry about our activities after?”

“You got yourself a deal.”

***

Dinner was Italian at a nice restaurant. Not too nice that you feel out of place, but nice enough to show Matt made a concerted effort. The two of you spend the entire time laughing with each other. By the time Matt pays the check, he insists, your cheeks are sore. For the first time since college, so are Matt’s.

Matt can hear the Hudson to his right. He can hear the dull hum of street lamps. He feels the tiniest bit of warmth they give off in contrast to the cold November evening. Right when he’s about to ask where exactly you're taking him he notices it. Swift melodic string music permeates the air. It grows louder as the two of you continue to walk but never gets overwhelming.

“Is that a cello?” he asks.

“Yeah, c’mon there are some benches over here.”

You lead him further to the right. Wooden benches line the fence dividing the two of you from the river. Every ten feet or so there's another bench. You choose the closest one and the two of you sit, huddling close together for warmth. Matt stays silent as he takes in the music. Whoever is playing clearly has skill. He can tell from the heartbeat that it’s a woman, maybe twenty-five to thirty.

The music mingles with the sounds of the Hudson creating a sort of symphony. The occasional beeps from traffic like cymbals. Even the footsteps of passersby act like a steady tempo.

“I figured we can't both appreciate the sights of the city, but we can both appreciate the sounds. I love this spot. It feels like the whole city comes together here,” you tell him softly.

Matt’s heart swells. You've brought him somewhere you knew you could both enjoy. Somewhere you knew he would appreciate. He understands what you mean. Every sound of the city seems to coalesce right here, tied together by the music of the cello. It almost sounds like New York is singing to him for once, instead of shouting in his ears.

“How do you manage to do this?”

“Do what?” You turn your head to look at him as you ask.

He faces forward, a small smile ever present.

“How do you always manage to make it feel effortless?”

“I don't think I’m following.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m holding people back, or at least they think I am. I just go with the flow of whoever I’m with. I don't push to be seen as disabled, mostly because I don't always feel disabled. Not until someone else makes me feel that way. You make it seem so easy, though. You just do things that let me know you see and understand my disability. You don't work around it, you embrace it.”

Matt’s hand finds yours without faltering.

“It is easy. Matt, you’re incredibly easy to be around. I don't have to think twice about anything,” you squeeze his hand as you tell him.

“That's my point. You don't have to think about it. I appreciate that about you. Most things in my life aren't this easy.”

You lean into his side, absorbing his warmth through his jacket. Matt’s head turns right as you're about to plant a kiss on his cheek. Your lips meet his instead, causing you to giggle into the kiss. Matt smiles as you pull back.

“I guess I just have to stick around and keep reminding you that you’re the easiest part of my life,” you shrug.

“I’d really, really like that.”

***

Matt is tormenting himself. He’s strangling his own happiness. Foggy is unimpressed by this not-even-close-to-new development. Matt paces in the office. Foggy watches from where he’s perched on the corner of Karen’s desk. Karen is equally unimpressed with Matt.

“What exactly is the problem here?” Foggy questions.

“The problem is that I can't lie- I don’t want to lie, but how am I supposed to tell them what I do?” Matt sighs frustratedly.

“Just give it a few months and if this is something you see lasting, then bring it up,” Karen suggests.

“No, this is it for me. I don't want anything or anyone else. I don't see myself ever wanting anything or anyone else,” Matt says.

“Then tell them,” Foggy states.

“I don't want to lose them.”

“Okay, then don’t. I don't know what you want from us, Matt. All I know is that sooner or later, the truth is going to come out. Don't you think it would be better to just say it rather than let them see you limp in half-dead?”

Foggy’s words make Matt flinch. He’ll always feel guilty for how Foggy found out. He’ll always feel guilty for not saying something sooner. Matt’s pacing stops.

“I know you're right, but I don't like it,” Matt tells Foggy.

“As always,” Foggy chirps.

Matt shakes his head, but smiles. He takes his phone out of his pocket and voice commands a text to you.

Are you busy tonight?

It only takes a moment for your answer to come through.

It sounds like I am now.

He chuckles. Foggy and Karen make puking faces at each other. Matt elects to ignore them. You agree to meet with him later. Then another text comes through.

I’m going to bring some extra muffins to the office in a bit.

Matt would relay the message if his phone hadn't read it out loud. Foggy gives a whispered yes! at the news.

“I’m so happy you decided to flirt with someone who owns a food place,” Foggy sighs dreamily.

“I’m glad,” Matt chuckles.

You arrive around twenty minutes later. Sure enough, there's a white box of muffins in your hands. Foggy immediately takes them with a sung thank you. He places them on the table of other things clients have traded them for their services. There isn't much else. Just a mesh bag of fresh apples and a dish with some sort of casserole in it. The casserole already has some missing pieces. Before long the box you brought is missing a few muffins.

“Oh, you have to try this casserole Mrs. Chen gave us. It’s amazing,” Foggy says.

Before you can say anything, he’s slicing a piece out for you. Not a big one, but enough for you to try it. You smile as you take it. It does look really fucking good. Matt is the only one who hasn't had the casserole yet, but it certainly smells good. It smells like chicken, mushrooms, peppers, cheese, and… peanut sauce. Panic tears through Matt’s chest.

“Wait, don't-”

You’ve already placed a forkful into your mouth. He can hear you chewing it. Suddenly you stop.

“Call an ambulance,” Matt orders Foggy.

“What-”

“Call 911, now.”

The plate and fork fall from your hands. Your lips are itchy. Spitting out what was in your mouth is of no use. Your throat is already starting to swell. A racing heart, closed-off lungs, and a burning itching sensation all over your skin tell you everything you need to know. You’re going into anaphylaxis. How Matt knew so quickly is beyond you.

You gasp for air, hands coming up to your throat. Matt rushes over and sits you down on a nearby chair. Vaguely, you can hear Foggy on the phone. The sounds of the world have muted as fear takes over. This hasn't happened in so long that you almost forgot how terrifying it can be.

“Do you have an EpiPen?” Foggy tries to ask. Matt is too busy trying to slow your reaction any way he possibly can, which he can't.

“Matt, is there a fucking EpiPen?” Foggy shouts in a panic.

You can only shake your head. Foggy curses and relays the information to the 911 dispatcher.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Matt assures you, “We’re going to get you to the hospital. Just try to stay calm.”

Pain is settling in. Your abdomen feels almost like it's seizing. Your chest is on fire from the lack of oxygen. Only the smallest amount is still getting through, but you know from experience that won't last. You grab a fistful of Matt’s pressed button-up shirt for comfort. The world is getting dark around the corners as pressure builds behind your eyes. That grip is keeping you steady.

“What do we do?” Karen asks urgently, voice thick with worry.

“The ambulance is two minutes away,” Foggy says.

“Hear that? Just two minutes. You’ll be okay. It’s just a couple minutes,” Matt attempts to comfort you, but the fear is still present in his voice.

He’s never felt so fucking powerless. Your grip on him tightens but then loosens. Matt can hear your breathing becoming even more shallow.

“Foggy, we need that fucking ambulance now,” he calls over his shoulder.

“I can't exactly teleport it,” Foggy snaps back.

“Fighting isn't helping right now. We need to stay calm. I’ll wait downstairs so when they get here I can bring them up,” Karen interjects firmly.

Matt can hear the sirens, but they’re still a few blocks away. His heart feels like it's about to break out of his chest and plop on the floor. As your vitals grow weaker so does he. One hand is holding the back of your head, the other is rubbing comforting circles into your warming cheek. Matt is the only thing you can hold onto. He’s your only link to the outside world at this point.

“In here, in here!”

You can't tell who is shouting it. Everything is fuzzy. Nothing feels real anymore. Your consciousness is being held onto by a thread. Right when that thread is ready to snap, there's a pain in your leg. A moment of nothing goes by, then a gasping breath rips through you. Breathing has become easier and the pain is lessening. Your eyes are beginning to focus again.

“What’s the reaction to?” you hear an unfamiliar voice ask.

“Peanuts,” Matt answers.

“Okay, is anyone riding with us?”

“Yes, I am.”

You’re transferred from the chair to a gurney. As everything sharpens you watch the lights in the hallways rush by. A blink and you’re in the back of the ambulance, sirens blaring. The paramedic places an oxygen mask over your mouth and nose. They start to check your vitals.

You feel a hand slip into yours. When you loll your head to look Matt is there, sitting on the bench. A calm settles in at the sight of him. That calm allows you to close your eyes and focus on taking in the oxygen that's flowing through the mask.

Matt gets separated from you when you get to the hospital. A couple of nurses have trouble physically holding him back until Claire appears. She manages to calm Matt down and get him to the waiting room by promising to personally care for you. Foggy and Karen meet him in the waiting room. They find him in a chair in an empty corner. He’s hunched over with his face in his hands. The noises of the hospital are grating, but he refuses to leave.

“This is my fault. I’m so sorry,” Foggy says as he sits next to Matt. He places a hand between Matt’s shoulders.

Matt lifts his head. He looks about ten years older and exhausted.

“It’s not your fault. I should have been paying more attention to what was in the food we had,” Matt mutters, shaking his head.

“This isn't either of your faults. Foggy, you didn't know and, Matt, it’s not on you to monitor everything they eat,” Karen says to them firmly.

“She’s right. This is just a really shitty accident,” Foggy sighs.

Matt doesn't bother answering. He won't feel better until he knows you're okay. Desperately, he’s trying to find you amongst all the noise and vibrations. It’s all too much, though. The adrenaline is wearing off leaving him fatigued. Picking apart sounds is only giving him a headache. So, he focuses on what’s in the room with him.

A television hangs from the ceiling in the opposite corner playing some daytime talk show. There are a few clusters of people here and there. Some of them are waiting patiently, others are crying or panicking silently. The vending machine across the room thrums and the nurses behind the check-in counter are clacking away on their keyboards. Foggy is next to him, breathing a little heavy, but even. Karen is beside Foggy, anxiously picking at the skin around her fingers.

A nurse appears from the double doors that lead into the emergency area around an hour later. Matt hears her ask for your family and stands. Foggy and Karen go with him to meet the nurse where she is.

“Are they okay?” Matt asks with worry coating every word.

“They're okay. We had to give them another dose of epinephrine and we’ll be keeping them overnight just in case, but you can see them now. One at a time,” the nurse explains gently.

“I’d like to go,” Matt says.

No one protests. Matt allows the nurse to hold onto his forearm so as to guide him to where you are. He doesn't really need it and it's more annoying than anything right now, but it's necessary.

As your room grows closer, Matt’s able to hone in on you. You're in the bed closer to the window, an unconscious man is in the other bed separated by a curtain. Your heartbeat is steady and your breathing is normal. He can hear your fingers tapping on the plastic bed guards that are flanking you. That means you’re awake and you’re bored. If you’re bored then you're okay. Matt finally takes a much-needed deep breath.

The nurse leaves him at the door. He enters with a light knock. Your heart skips a beat when you see him.

“Matty,” you smile all dopey at him.

A gentle smile eases into Matt’s face at the nickname. He sits on the edge of the bed next to your knees. You take his hand.

“You really scared the shit out of me,” Matt whispers.

“Scared the shit outta me too. Doctor told me if the call came inna minute later I wouldn't be here. I dunno how you knew, but it saved my life,” your words are soft and just a little drawn out.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that, but it can wait. I just want you better.”

“I’m much better.”

Matt chuckles at the chipper tone you use.

“What exactly do they have you on?”

“Some muscle relaxer, I dunno. They didn't want my body seizing up again or somethin’.”

Matt brings your hand to his lips. He presses gentle kisses to each of your knuckles. You sigh contentedly.

“I love you,” you mumble as your eyes fall closed.

Matt freezes. Your breathing slows and soft snores fill the air. It takes a second to steady his own breathing. Was that the drugs, the high emotions from what happened, or was it true? Do you really love him? The uncertainty begins to eat at him. One thing he knows, especially after this ordeal, is he definitely loves you.

“I love you too,” he whispers to your sleeping form.

***

Soft chattering is the first thing you register as you begin to wake. At first, you think there are people in your room. Your eyes blink open and you realize you’re not in your room. Fuck, you think as the memories of the reaction come flooding back.

The hospital room is pretty standard. White walls, white tile floors, and a whiteboard on the wall for the nurses to keep track of who was in when. A blue curtain to your right separates you and whoever is in the other bed. The soft chattering you heard was your television. It’s turned on to reruns of some sitcom from the 90s, the volume low. To your right you find Matt.

He’s asleep on an uncomfortable-looking chair. His suit jacket has been repurposed as a blanket. You just watch him for a while. The dark red tinted sunglasses that sometimes feel like just another part of his face sits folded on the windowsill. Looking at his face unobscured and in a peaceful state you get a bright feeling in your gut. It's almost as if pure light has found a home in your abdomen. I love him, you think.

“I can feel you staring,” Matt says with a smile, eyes still closed.

Heat rises to your cheeks.

“It’s hard not to.”

His eyes flutter open. It’s the middle of the night. They look darker in the low light.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he says.

You watch Matt stand, throwing his jacket onto the chair he was just on. He sits on the edge of the bed. His hand is warm on yours.

“Can't get rid of me that easy,” you chuckle.

As you study his face, more memories resurface. Matt hears your heart start speeding. He feels you tense. You swallow nothing in an attempt to prepare yourself to speak.

“Are you okay? Should I get some-”

“No, I’m fine. I just… remember what I said before I passed out,” you shake your head embarrassed.

Matt laughs lightly. You can't help but watch. His whole face lights up like the sun. Even in the unflattering light that illuminates the different ports and buttons on the wall behind the hospital bed he manages to be handsome.

“Yeah, you didn't stay awake long enough to hear me say it back,” he smiles playfully.

Electricity runs up and down your spine. That pure light in your abdomen has taken on a lovely warm golden tone.

“You said it back?” You ask breathlessly.

Matt’s expression softens. He’s as soft as a down comforter, ready to wrap you up like a burrito and protect you from the world. Your eyes shut as he presses a kiss to your forehead. He keeps his face close to yours.

“I love you,” he whispers.

You lean forward and press your lips to his. Matt’s free hand cradles the back of your head, deepening the kiss. You pull away not because you want to, but because you have to. You have to say it.

“I love you too.”

The smile Matt wears is indescribable. All you know if you never want to stop seeing it. You never want to stop being the reason behind it. Matt leans forward and rests his head on your chest. Your arms circle him without thought. One hand is running a thumb up and down his upper arm. The other is combing through his hair gently. Matt closes his eyes and lets the sound and vibrations of your heartbeat envelope him.

“How did you get them to let you stay?” you ask quietly.

“I know people,” he mumbles.

You simply hum in response. You're not going to question it further. You’d much rather revel in the feeling of him against you. The whole almost dying thing was pretty traumatic, you won't lie. Right now, though, you don't want to think about it. You don't want to think about how a single bite of some extremely delicious casserole was almost your end. So, you grasp at anything else you can find in your mind.

“Hey, what did you want to talk to me about?” you question softly.

“Huh?”

“Before I fell asleep. You said you wanted to talk to me about something.”

Matt buried his face in your chest. You give the back of his head a little tap. His sigh ripples the hospital gown you’re in. You start to worry when he sits back up and faces forward. If you want to see his full face you have to look at his reflection in the window. His troubled expression overlays the lit-up city beyond the confines of this room.

His head tilts for a moment like he’s listening to something. He only speaks when he seems satisfied with the level of privacy you have.

“You know how I told you about my hearing being sensitive?”

You blink at him for a moment. That wasn't the response you were expecting.

“Uh-yeah, I do.”

“It’s more than that.”

For the next thirty minutes, Matt tells you everything. He tells you how he went blind, what it did to him, and his father’s murder. Then there’s Stick and his attempt to turn Matt into a child soldier. Someone who would grow up to be a weapon in a war that wasn't his. By this point in the story your heart is breaking for Matt. It's the story about the young girl and her father that causes your brows to furrow. The way Matt tried to help, but the police wouldn't do anything. So, he did and he has been ever since.

“I’m Daredevil.”

You stare ahead blankly. The information is… a lot. You’re not necessarily mad, but you’re definitely a little overwhelmed. The funny, handsome, charming blind attorney you've gotten to know and grown to love runs around at night beating people up. Getting beat up. You saw how distressed your almost dying made Matt. Will you have to go through something similar time and time again due to his vigilantism?

“I understand if you’re mad and don't want to talk to me. Just know that I’m sorry for deceiving you in any way,” he says quietly when you don't respond.

Those words snap you out of your thoughts.

“Deceive me? You didn't deceive me.”

“Yes, I did.”

“You're blind, right?”

The question finally gets Matt to face you. If only because he wants you to see his confused expression.

“Yes,” he gives a curt nod.

“Then you didn't deceive me, Matt. You just… didn't tell me about certain parts of your life. Which, I guess I understand, but I am a little hurt that you didn't feel you could trust me.”

“I’ve always trusted you. It’s not about that,” he shakes his head and grabs your hand once more.

“Then what was it about?”

“I liked that when you looked at me you just saw me. You didn't see everything else around me. All the ugly things about me.”

You cup his cheek. Matt instantly leans into the soft touch.

“I still see you. I just see all of you now,” you half-whisper.

“You’re really not mad I lied?”

“You didn’t lie.”

“Yes, I did.”

You sigh.

“Can you tell me one lie you've told me?”

Matt hesitates.

“It’s not about what I did say, it’s about what I didn't.”

“Do you want me to be mad at you?”

“No… maybe. I-I don't know. You're just the first person that hasn't gotten furious with me,” his voice is so small.

Everything about him feels so small.

“Furious, huh? So, you thought I was going to kick you out and cut you off after you were able to save my life because of the abilities you have,” you state slowly.

“Well, when you say it like that,” he sighs. You think there's a hint of a smile there.

Morbid curiosity is taking over. You can't quite fathom what about Matt’s life would infuriate the people he tells. Sure, it doesn't feel great to learn how much he was keeping to himself, how much he was afraid to tell you. You can't imagine getting mad over that, though. You can't imagine getting more than a little hurt like you did.

“Why do people usually get so mad?” you ask.

“I had to lie a lot to keep everyone in the dark, to keep them safe. On top of that, my abilities make me less blind than people think, which no one really appreciates.”

“Less blind?”

“Yeah, because of the spatial awareness. It’s like… I can’t see but all my other senses can help create the shapes in my head. It’s not really an image, but an impressionistic version of the world around me,” he explains gently.

“But you’re still blind. That doesn't become less true just because you have other ways to interpret your environment.”

Matt is silent. The corners of his mouth tug downward. His eyebrows are knit like he’s thinking really hard.

“I’ve never thought of it like that. The way people react to me… I don't know it just made me feel like I’m lying about being blind,” he leans into your palm even more as he speaks.

“Who else knows?”

“Foggy, Karen, a nurse in this hospital, the guy who made my suit, a crime boss I put in jail, a mass murderer I tried to keep out of jail, and my priest,” he lists.

“Wow, so this is like the worst-kept secret in Hell’s Kitchen,” you chuckle.

Matt actually cracks a smile.

“Yeah, it kind of is.”

You lean forward. Matt meets you halfway. The kiss is something different. It holds so much more than the previous ones. Understanding, comfort, and acceptance. Your lips move with Matt’s in a reassuring dance, warmth, and adoration trailing behind. Any doubts Matt may have still had, any anxieties have melted away. With this kiss you’re telling him everything. You’re telling him that he’s not alone and he doesn't have to be ever again.

***

Three years can feel like forever. Three years can feel like a second. Somehow, you’re feeling both at the same time. Your fingers toy with the edges of your sleeve. A thread begins to come loose. Matt’s free hand covers yours to stop it. You sigh.

“What’s bothering you?” he asks.

You're leaning against him on the couch as he reads over a memo with the hand not on yours. Matt’s been busy with a case. You’ve been busy with the cafe and all the tribulations that come from owning the storefront rather than renting it. More often than not, you end up at Matt’s.

The hours between getting off of work and Matt going out at night are precious to you. Sometimes you're able to stay up until he comes back, but not always. Even sitting with your body pressed against him now, you fucking miss him. You’re tired of missing him. Your lease is up at the end of next week. The solution is simple, but terrifying to propose.

“Nothing is bothering me per say,” you reply quietly.

“Then what are you thinking about?”

“I miss you.”

Matt chuckles and puts the paper in his hand on the coffee table. He pulls you into his arms and presses his lips into the top of your head.

“I’m right here,” he mumbles into your hair.

“I know, but we don't get a lot of us time anymore. Not since I bought the storefront and the office picked up. We only get to see each other for a few hours after work, maybe before if we’re lucky. Some days off we’re both too tired to make the trip to each other. I’m just tired of it. I’m tired of missing you,” you explain, nuzzling into his soft button-up.

“I’m tired of missing you too. You're right, it’s gotten harder to see each other. I think part of it is how often you have to go home to get your things, do laundry, water your plants, and make sure the place is still standing…”

The way Matt trails off causes you to lift your head to gaze at him. You have a feeling you’re on the same page, as usual.

“What ever will we do to fix that?” You smile as you pose the question playfully.

“You’re in luck. I seem to have a vacancy on the left side of my bed, and the left side of my dresser… and my closet, the shower, and even the kitchen,” he drawls with a teasing smile.

“Are you asking me to move in?”

“I’m begging you to move in.”

“Well, who am I to deny you my presence 24/7?”

With a chuckle, Matt yanks you back into him. You let out a surprised squeal as he does so. This time you wind up on his lap as he cuddles into you. You cuddle right back into him. The two of you sit there on the couch, two beings but one entity.

“So, you already cleared out space for me?” you ask into his neck.

“I cleared out space for you months ago. It just never felt like the right time to bring it up,” he says into your shoulder.

You squeeze him tighter. How you got so unbelievably lucky, you’ll never know. You’re not going to question it, though. To Matt’s disappointment, he even lets out a little whine, you pull back from his neck.

“How does this weekend sound? We can enlist Foggy and Isaac to help. I think Isaac might have a truck,” you suggest with a smile.

“Not soon enough,” Matt complains.

“Matt, it’s Thursday,” you laugh.

“Okay, fine. I guess I can agree to wait until Saturday.”

“You’re so brave and selfless for that,” you coo teasingly.

Matt pouts adorably.

“I know I am.”

The two of you devolve into a fit of laughter. Both of you are giddy with the thought of actually living together. Sure, you’re at Matt’s frequently enough, but this changes things. You no longer have to go back and forth with your schedules to make sure you see each other outside of the cafe. No more days off alone because Matt is too bruised, sore, and tired to come to you. Because you’re too exhausted from pulling fifteen hours at the cafe to go to him. You will already be in the same place. Neither of you will have to be alone.

“I love you, Matty.”

“I love you too.”

Living together is the start of an entirely new chapter in your life and relationship. It’s a chapter neither of you can wait to dive into. Who knew that the person who would meet the love of their life in the Clinton Coffee Collective would be you?

#matt murdock fic #matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x gn!reader #daredevil x gn!reader #foggy nelson #karen page #funnylittle writings #hopping on some matt murdick

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