— The People v. The Best Man
Matt Murdock x Reader
“Franklin and I have known – ugh, no.” Matt groaned, shaking his head, and continuing his prance up and down the bedroom, “I have had the pleasure of – no – Ever since… – God.” He sighed in defeat and frustration, fidgeting with his loose, undone tie.
“Matt, it’s a speech, not an opening statement in court,” You chuckled softly at his disheveled state, tilting your head to the side, watching him through the mirror as you pushed the plastic disc into the back of your earring. “And maybe don’t say Franklin.”
“That’s his name.” He did a sharp 180, almost ballerina-like, spin to face you, his tone laced in uncertainty at your suggestion as he now second-guessed every other line in his speech, ruminating over the counsel, “Shouldn’t I say Franklin? Wouldn’t Foggy sound too informal? I mean, this is his wedding. It’s what’s listed on all the invitations, too. Wouldn’t you address the groom by his full name, not his nickname? He said mine for ours. What would the guests who don’t know that sobriquet think?”
“First and foremost, calm down. Second, I am going to act like I know what sobriquet even means,” You interrupted his stressed rambling, walking up to him and tenderly placing your hands on his shoulders “Third, your speech isn’t supposed to be formal and professional. Stop thinking like a lawyer and think like a best friend, or best man, more accurately.” You adjusted his tie, which had the unfortunate luck of being the main victim of his anxiety.
It was almost comical to see the same man who oozed of utter confidence and assurance, not stuttering or stumbling a breath or a word during his endless court sessions now being so incredibly self-doubtful and apprehensive over a simple speech.
“I just..” His voice trailed as he let out a low exhale and closed his eyes.
“You what?” You whispered, lifting his chin gently to reveal the puppy-dog look that riddled his face which matched with the dejected frown on his lips. “What is it?”
“I just, I don’t want to mess this up,” He opened his eyes, his voice just barely above a murmur, “I don’t want to disappoint Foggy. He’s been raving about today practically since he first met Marci; I want it to be perfect for him.”
”Hey..” you purred, feeling a wave of endearment towards the reasoning of his recent feverish attitude, “It is going to be perfect and not because of your speech or if you use his full name or not. It’s going to be perfect for him because you’re going to be there. That’s all that matters. He doesn’t care about the grammar you use or whether you speak informally; all he wants is you to be there by his side. Like you’ve always been. Got it?” You gave a slight pat to his cheek.
You would have referenced to how much of a panic-stricken mess Foggy was as well as a way to further reassure him when the blond was in his position just a year ago, but you had unfortunately been sworn under oath to secrecy.
Letting out a breathless laugh, now feeling a little ridiculous for overthinking and forcing you to have to coax him back to a level head, Matt let himself lean into your palm which still rested delicately on his cheek , “How do you always know exactly what to say?”
“I am somewhat of a genius, Murdock,” you joked which earned another chuckle from him. “You just have too big of an ego to notice.”
“I’ll give you the acknowledgment this one time,” He teased, leaning forward to meet your lips.
But he met nothing but air as you moved your face back, a dramatic expression masked all over it as you gasped theatrically, your hand flying to your mouth, “The best man and the bridesmaid?” Your voice went to a hush whisper as you moved forward as if to tell him something so confidential that no other prying ears in the empty apartment save for the two of you should hear, “What would the people say?”
He dropped his head with just as much melodramatics, laughing through his nose at your ridiculous banter before lifting it up again, a smirk evident on his lips. “It would be quite the scandal, though,” he played along.
”I don’t know,” you hummed, tapping your chin with your index finger to depict your deep thinking, “I think he’s married.”
“Would be all the more scandalous...”
“How blasphemous of you,” you shook your head in disapproval. “And here I thought you were a devout Catholic.”
”The Devil doesn’t only make his appearance at night,” he responded coyly, shrugging with nonchalance.
“Well-“ your rebuttal was interrupted by the robotic voice of Matt’s phone blaring out Foggy Foggy Foggy, followed directly by ‘One new message from Foggy: The driver said he’s outside.’
Just as the sound rung out, your own phone’s xylophone ringtone matched its volume.
“Marci?” Matt asked as you reached for the device on the nightstand, the half asleep, drunken face of the blonde staring right at you.
It went straight to voicemail just as you went to accept, but a quick scroll through your notifications was enough for you to know she was forwarding the same message.
You hummed in approval at his question, quickly rummaging through your jewelry box, you grabbed the bracelet you had been looking for earlier — the last accessory to wrap up your look. One glance at the mirror to make sure you looked appropriate, “I believe that’s our cue to go,” you turned back to Matt, once satisfied with the reflection you saw staring back at you, who simultaneously finished cuffing the sleeves of his coat, slipping on his signature red glasses.
“I guess we’ll have to resume that conservation at later hours,” he quipped with a smug look, the mischievous glint in his eyes still just as visible even through the almost opaque lens, extending his hand out for you, he continued, “Shall we, Mrs. Murdock?”
You let your own latch onto his, “We shall, Mr. Murdock.”