5 times dex runs into you as daredevil + 1 time you finally see him for who he really is.
a/n: playing fast and loose with timelines here but my tags have more info if wanted. cant think of any tw’s to tag but let me know if u spot smth
1.
you didn’t know how you ended up here.
maybe it was because your friends had spent the night berating you for barely going out in between work, calling you boring and predictable in between teasing giggles. and maybe they had been joking and just trying to bait you into seeing them more often, but several drinks in you were feeling more sensitive than sarcastic, and so you’d taken it to heart even as you’d laughed it off because maybe you secretly agreed with them.
and after you hugged them all goodbye and promised to not be such a stranger, you couldn’t help but keep thinking about it as you walked home alone from the bar.
their words and your own tumbled around again and again in your head, growing crueller with each stumbling step you took. you needed to stop living scared and actually do something out of your routine for once. it didn’t have to be crazy; maybe a holiday weekend away or just going to the movies after work one evening. hell, maybe you’d ask that cute guy from the coffee shop out finally—
you stopped walking.
somehow, it was both the standard and wildly unexpected to see the devil of hell’s kitchen in person. though you supposed you weren’t often out to so late and you didn’t go out of your way to commit crimes, so it wasn’t like the opportunity to meet him often presented itself. plus, for the last few months it’d seemed like daredevil had packed up his suit and retired or moved on to protect a new city, no reports of sightings in the bulletin or on any social media sprouted a suspicious buzz among the locals and an ever growing brazenness from criminals.
well, you were no bulletin journalist, but you could happily report that he was, in fact, still in hell’s kitchen. you were looking right at him.
it was weird; knowing he was out scouring your neighbourhood at night while you were in your jammies watching psych was different to actually seeing him in action. the suit had always seemed so scary in photos, but looking at it now, you just had the urge to touch, like you were a kid with a scratch and sniff book again.
jesus, how many rounds had lisa ordered for the table again? you blinked slowly.
it was rare it ever happened, but you were at the level of drunk were instead of setting off your fight or flight instincts, classic warning signs had your curiosity piquing and your feet leading you off the beaten path without a second thought.
you could blame your friends for the quick drinking pace at the bar for your current inebriated state, but you knew you’d encouraged it. in fact, you’d bought the third round because seeing your friends smile always got your heart thumping more than the loud music. it wasn’t often that you all managed to make time to get together anymore, maybe monthly, whether they were busy with packed job schedules or growing families or you were playing hard to get to leave the house; it made it too easy to give in to wanting just a little more time with them while it was in reach.
so with all of that in mind, when you’d heard a gurgled choke; the drop of a metal pipe; and, finally, a heavy thud and a drawn out groan, you’d stopped and tilted your head towards the depth of the dark alley like a dog hearing the crinkle of a wrapper and watched avidly as daredevil wiped a tired hand over his mouth before sharply huffing, his breath visible in the evening cold.
you walked towards him without a second thought and didn’t make out the bodies on the ground until you were within arm’s reach of them. looking down, their avtf vests swam in and out of focus, causing a headache to begin to build at your temples.
blearily, you turned to the side to see daredevil himself slouched against the brick, his chest lifting with every ragged inhale as he stared back up at you.
“hi.” you felt your cheeks heat at your sudden loss for words, feeling dumbstruck and just plain dumb stood in front of the vigilante; but the feeling was quickly shadowed by the butterflies running rampant in your tummy when daredevil’s mouth split into a bloody grin. you didn’t want to think too much about why exactly the violent image got you so quickly flustered.
“hey,” he said back, clearly amused even as exhausted as he was. “nice night we’re having, huh?”
“i think it’s, uhm, technically early morning now,” you corrected, as you shuffled in place, your voice a little slurred from the alcohol. you turned your back towards the agents on the floor to focus on him as best you could, leaning towards him tipsily only to overcorrect your posture ramrod straight with an unsteady shuffle.
he tilted his head, as if studying a new piece of information he’d gained about you, filing it away somewhere safe in the back of his mind. “s’ppose you’re right. nice morning then.”
“do you need a hand?” you asked ignoring his correction, feeling fidgety under his pointed gaze. it was heavy even if his eyes were covered and you stood now between his stretched out boots looking down at him. he licked his lips before nodding, lifting a hand lazily from his lap to grasp yours when you eagerly held it out.
you braced yourself to tug him up with both hands wrapped around a thick, covered wrist, but in your tipsy state you did barely anything to help lift him and going by the grunt he let out as he stood, he felt it.
he stumbled forward once he was upright, his hands landing at your waist to steady himself. for a second you thought the pair of you would fall, feeling clumsy in your own skin at that moment, but his legs must have locked as he kept the pair of you stood upright. he held you closer than necessary, but you didn’t notice, your own hands hovering over the thick armoured plates on his ribs.
he ducked his head and huffed a shaky breath into your neck. it felt like an eternity with his warm breath raising goosebumps across your skin and you dared not move even as your fingers itched to touch. one of the horns on his mask brushed along your temple as he straightened back up after a minute and you shivered.
as he moved to step away, you dropped your hands to cradle his ribs carefully, trying to commit the feeling to memory to brag to your friends, inevitably letting them slip to his waist a second later as he pulled out of reach, his own hold on you falling away.
“thanks,” he whispered gravelly.
you swallowed thickly. “sure. are you ok?”
“oh, this?” he pointed to his split lip and pretended he wasn’t having to lean on his good knee. “i’ve got somewhere i can go.”
you nodded, staring at his lips longingly before a large, sudden yawn split your jaw with a crack. you belatedly covered your mouth with your hand and blinked up slowly at the amused vigilante.
“why don’t we get you home, sweetheart? i’ll escort you, make sure you don’t run into any trouble,” he offered. he looked down at the unmoving avtf team behind you and grinned unabashed, satisfied, “well, any more trouble.”
you nodded sleepily, your eyes getting heavier by the second.
you’d read your fair share about daredevil in the papers, but not even the most complimentary of journalists had ever talked about him taking the time to escort women home safely on dark nights. they focused on his bigger, flashier escapades.
it was nice of him, you thought as you struggled to get your apartment key into the lock. a broad hand steadied yours. it was nice that there was someone looking out for the smaller stuff going on, not just the increasingly frequent alien invasions. it was nice to not feel forgotten about by larger than life heroes.
—
when you woke the next morning, it was with a dry mouth and a pounding head, still wearing your clothes from the night before but tucked carefully under a blanket on your couch. you had vague memories of the red suit, men laid bleeding on the floor by your feet, but you didn’t linger on it, too busy nursing your sensitive tummy and sleeping on and off during the day. you felt too old to be drinking like that now, you didn’t recover like you did in your early twenties. you texted your friends the very same and laughed as they messaged back their own suffering.
what you didn’t tell them was that when you closed your eyes you dreamt of daredevil; how he walked you home and insisted on riding up the elevator with you to your apartment door, how you recognised now while sober that his smirk held a tint of concern as he made you promise to lock the door behind you and drink a glass of water before you crashed.
you looked at the half empty glass of water on the coffee table and declined to comment, even just to yourself in the empty apartment.
—-
2.
the second time you saw daredevil it was after a stint of murders near the docks earlier in the week. more avtf agents.
you were walking home from your late shift at work and you’d bought the newspaper on a whim after seeing daredevil’s blurry photo plastered across the front page, thanking the man running the stand distractedly as you hurriedly flipped to the right page for the full story.
they’d barely held back with the photos, a massacre on a two page spread, but it was just that one same blurry photo of the man guilty of it all framed at the side.
you read a couple of lines, but quickly grew to have had enough when you realised it was a paper owned by fisk, the writing heavily biased and trite. you didn’t like death and you didn’t necessarily agree with daredevil being the judge, jury, and executioner of these people, but you weren’t going to waste time reading about the avtf being innocent either. you’d seen the damage fisk and his task force were doing first hand in the city; how marginalised people were coming face to face with the negative impact more directly. the task force scared you and you weren’t going to fall so easily for the propaganda of ‘men just doing their duty’ when you could spot an excuse to act on prejudice a mile away.
as you walked down the emptying street, chuntering under your breath, you hadn’t realised just how distracted you were while scowling down at the paper until a voice spoke from over your shoulder.
“you should watch where you’re going,” he said softly into your ear. “there’re all sorts of bad people on the streets this late that could take advantage.”
you flinched in surprise, spinning around clumsily to face him, but his familiar broad hand steadied you at the waist and his chest pressed briefly to your shoulder before he let you go again. he fell into step beside you as though this was routine.
“oh, yeah? and are you one of them?” you asked daringly, heart rate still pounding. you waved the open newspaper in your hand.
he froze seeing the article before smiling a little stiffly, forced ease replacing his previously gentle teasing demeanour as he looked at the photos, of fisk sat in his mayoral office placed purposely away from the carnage on the page.
“depends on if you believe everything you read.”
you hummed at his answer and continued to walk, secretly pleased when he kept pace beside you.
maybe it was a slow night, and he had time to kill walking you back through the quiet streets again. maybe he had a soft spot for you.
you folded the paper back up messily and crammed it into the first bin you passed, sneaking a look at him as you went back to walk among the shadowed edge of the sidewalk. it made you want to laugh, seeing him act so normal, as if he wasn’t dressed head to toe in red kevlar as he walked down the quiet street with you. you supposed he’d have been less likely to join you if the evening had been livelier, the street not composing of just the two of you.
you were both quiet as you walked, but it didn’t feel awkward.
no, what put you on edge was the weight of his gaze that flickered to you every so often and the brush of his glove against the back of your hand when your gait would bring you close enough to whisper a touch. it felt like a live wire, and trying to guess when the next brief moment would happen and those butterflies back with a vengeance.
a nudge of his elbow brought your attention back from your wondering and he nodded to a cut through he’d stopped in front of, dark and dingy and the sort of street you knew you’d never set foot down.
“cuts out half of your walk,” he said.
your frown pulled ever slightly deeper. you didn’t want to know why he knew where you lived.
instead you just stared at him with raised eyebrows, putting all of your facial muscles into accurately conveying the ‘you’re fucking kidding, right?’ feeling you got when your eyes flickered to his proposed shortcut. disbelief wasn’t strong enough a word.
he laughed, grin stretched wide and teeth glinting in the muggy light of the chilled evening.
“you’re with me, i’ll keep you safe,” he promised, reading into your hesitance immediately.
“lucky me,” you mumbled sarcastically, growing bashful when he heard and snickered.
despite having no real reason to trust the vigilante, you felt no unease around him. so you followed, sticking close as he led you behind and between looming buildings, scuttling past squeaking rats.
“why are you targeting the avtf?” you asked suddenly. the quiet was suffocating with the sound of traffic feeling muffled the further you branched away down the alley.
“they’re bad people,” daredevil said simply. you frowned, finding the answer empty. he peered over his shoulder at you, “what, you disagree?”
“i— no…” you paused as you tried to find the right words, “but doesn’t it feel like there’ll always be more avtf agents no matter how many nights you spend… you know,” you stuttered out the last part, unable to say it out loud.
you didn’t want to acknowledge that he was murdering people and you weren’t running in the opposite direction when he was then offering to walk you home the very next night. it felt thick on your tongue to say what he was doing and you weren’t sure your conscience was ready to face agreeing with it. this vigilante’s life was so extreme, so starchly black and white in comparison to the quiet life you lived.
“doesn’t it feel endless?” you continued. sisyphus’ killing spree, you thought glibly.
“maybe.” he shrugged carelessly. “but wilson fisk isn’t so easy to get to and i don’t want to make him a martyr. i know it’ll be pissing him off seeing his toys get offed one by one.” he watched you as he spoke again, “plus it’s fun; kinda hope he doesn’t run out of assholes just so i can keep killing ‘em.”
your breath hitched, stomach swooping with thick dread and something less damning you daren’t name as you stared back. your lips thinned and you looked down at your shoes as he chuckled.
he didn’t have the same reservations as you, it seemed. but why would he when he was the one out there doing it? not just talking around it.
did you disagree with his methods? he was murdering people. people with families, friends, lives. he was a killer, simple as that. but… you’d seen the damage the avtf continued to do the more they got away with it; the alleged murders they just dismissed as disappearances, you knew they weren’t good people either. they were the bottom of the barrel angry cops, assholes with grudges and egos and a free-for-all pass to use violent force against an already suffering city. and although it felt out of character for daredevil to be suddenly leaving trails of bodies behind after so many years of leaving them to the police, maybe it made more sense not to trust the system with their own at the moment.
you felt your stomach roll as you came to a sobering thought. maybe you were ok with him killing fisk’s men if you didn’t have to see.
what did that say about you?
the flickering of streetlights had you looking up from your shoes, bringing you back from your moral quandary, and you realised you were already turning onto your block.
“martyr or not, i’d like to see wilson fisk found cold in an alley,” you mumbled suddenly without thinking, still focused on your spiralling thoughts.
as your tired brain caught up to your mouth, your lips pinched in contrition and your eyes flickered to daredevil where he stood silently beside you; a sentinel even as you deliberated over his actions. you worried for a second that he’d judge you, but it was naught as your brief admittance had his grin grow slanted, like he was impressed, and you had to avert your eyes once more as that unnamed feeling from earlier came back tenfold.
you could feel the weight of his gaze behind the cowl and regret pooled thick like honey at the back of your throat.
“look at that, a woman after my own heart,” he cooed.
heat flooded to your cheeks and you started to walk towards your apartment without looking back.
“thanks for walking me home, i should be getting inside,” you said, flustered, stubbornly facing forward even as his laugh broke through the still evening air.
—-
3.
the next time you saw him it wasn’t even dark out. instead, midway through the afternoon on your day off you were stopped by the sight of him running in the opposite direction across the street.
he ducked in between apartment buildings, the police mere steps behind him until he threw something over his shoulder with a grimace and knocked the first two officers out; the object bouncing off of one officer’s head and flying into the other’s. the pair dropped like flies and face planted the ground hard.
you flinched even as you stared, watching from across the road as daredevil scrambled up a fire exit, three more officers still on his tail, but slightly behind now. you felt tense, almost scared for him. it felt uncanny seeing him in the light, he was a monster meant for the shadows and moonlight. meant for late night walks.
a small crowd had begun to gather with you at the commotion as well as at the entrance of the alley near the fallen officers. their concern was palpable, but you watched entranced as a third officer dropped before he could even get a hand on the ladder.
the last two officers were on the steps with him now and you felt the need to call out a warning as one raised her gun to shoot up through the grated steps, but you held your tongue and kept your shoulders taut.
you didn’t blink, and you were grateful you didn’t as you watched daredevil throw a knife out diagonally only for it to pinball off a drainpipe and land in the officer’s wrist. the gun dropped as she cried out and you took in a shaking breath.
daredevil had reached the roof, no longer visible from your view on the ground, but you saw as a rock bounced over the lip like a targeted projectile as it smacked into the soft back of the last officer’s head, careening him forward into headbutting the steps. he didn’t move afterwards and you distantly heard his fellow officer call his name as she struggled to pull the knife from her hand.
you blinked and turned to continue on your way to the library.
there was a book you’d had on hold for a while and it was finally back in stock so you didn’t want to waste any time picking it up. maybe you’d stop on your way back to get a ginger ale to settle your stomach and a little treat from the bakery on 8th; you’d recently been meaning to go back when you had time.
—-
3.5
you think the fourth time seeing daredevil happens that same week; and though technically, yes, it is daredevil, it’s not your daredevil.
it’s on an evening again so it feels a little less like an intrusion to your usual boring life and you smile involuntarily when you notice him.
it was weird, you’d seen him more times in the last three weeks than you had the last three years living in hell’s kitchen. maybe it was because you were looking for him, he had always been there but you’d been too wrapped up in your own stuff to notice. it’d make sense considering you managed to spot him on a rooftop.
he was crouched low, holding onto the edge of the roof, his head tilted as if listening to the cry of the city. you wanted to laugh at the moody posture, especially when you knew what his personality was like, but still your heartbeat stumbled as you looked up.
it was far away so you couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t look like he was wearing his usual suit, no little horns catching in the streetlight from below. you recognised the black suit from his early days, back when papers were doing their best to catch photos and print stories on the new local hero tidying up the streets.
you watched him a moment longer and held a shaky breath when his head tipped towards you. hesitantly, you raised a hand and smiled a little, waving up at him.
a second later he turned away sharply and moved to the other side of the roof away from your view. you dropped your hand quickly, embarrassed at yourself and started walking once more with your head hung low to avoid any judgemental stares from passersby. you pouted in embarrassment as you headed into your favourite takeaway spot to pick up your order and made short conversation with girl behind the counter as you waited. you left a tip as a silent apology, feeling sorry for yourself but not wanting to take it out on one of the few people you usually liked to catch up with.
when you got home, you ate your food and skipped over the news channels when they continued to focus on fisk, the devil of hell’s kitchen, or the recent hunt for some disgraced fbi agent. you skipped onto a random movie channel and settled in when you saw it was a shitty horror from the early 2000s, the perfect distraction.
—-
4.
the real fourth time you see him is only a day later.
you were starting to feel like you’d had your fill of daredevil. you were oversaturated and still a little sore over him ignoring you the evening before even if you knew logically he probably just hadn’t seen you on the busy sidewalk. and it’s not like you could tell where his eyes had been looking behind the mask.
but still, as you walked home after work at a decent time for once, a growing part of you was still thinking about it, him, and wished he had seen you and had acknowledged you.
“penny for your thoughts?”
you jumped, your elbow swinging back wildly only to be caught with an unmoving but gentle grip before it could make any impact.
“fuck me,” you huffed, ignoring his amused smile. “you scared me, i need to put a bell on you.”
you didn’t think you’d ever get used to just how quiet he could be when he wanted to either. it felt supernatural, especially in comparison to the barking laugh you’d pulled from him before, or the haunting chuckle and low growl you’d caught on the wind when he’d been mid fight.
you’d spent many nights laid awake running the sounds of those bodies hitting the floor over and over again in your mind, left distracted at work because you couldn’t fathom how he never seemed to miss. but more shamefully, thoughts of his smile and his voice had kept you awake for just as long, if not longer.
“defeats the point if you can hear me coming,” he joked.
you hummed as your heart slowed back to its normal rate, your breathing not so shallow. you looked at him properly and frowned.
“you got your suit back already?”
his smile faltered, you could tell he was frowning behind the cowl even if the mask was moulded to a perpetual frown.
“never got rid of it,” he said stiltedly.
“i saw you yesterday, you were in the old one, no horns,” you said and lifted a hand to playfully tug at the adornment. he tilted his head towards your hand as it had gotten close, letting you gently shake him as you spoke, even smiling softly at you.
you let go self-consciously, biting back a smile of your own, and shoved both of your hands in your coat pockets to keep them from straying again.
“figured this was at the dry cleaners or something,” you finished lamely with a shrug.
“where’d y’see me?” he asked, his voice lower as he kept his head ducked towards you.
“over near the bodega on 40th,” you said, unsure why his jaw tensed when you mentioned the area. “you looked busy, must have missed me in the crowd.”
he paused and took a slow breath through his nose. he cracked a hollow smirk.
“i’m sorry, i don’t know how i could ever miss you,” he said softly, his charm back and laid on thick. “you’re bright, like the north star.” he watched you for your reaction as though that should mean something.
you simply smiled closed-lipped and shrugged again. you turned to start walking once more as the wind picked up, keeping your eyes on him to see if he’d be joining you and you felt butterflies when he didn’t hesitate.
“i realised though, that i take the same routes every day; it’s why we keep bumping into each other,” your tone was light and joking, not noticing how he went a little stiff as he hummed along. “i figured i should probably start switching up my routine, you know? just in case some weirdo decides to start following me home.”
you expected him to laugh, poke fun back at you for never shooing him off or to play into the not-so-faux stalker role you’d made him out to be but instead daredevil stopped and took hold of your wrist.
with his face devoid of emotion and his voice flat he rubbed a thumb distractedly along your pulse. “i’d get rid of them if they tried.”
“oh, i meant—“ you stopped. it didn’t look like he was in his usual playful mood tonight and although you liked the back and forth teasing the pair of you had, you didn’t want to push him while he was acting oddly. you still didn’t really know him, even if you felt like you did. you swallowed. “i don’t doubt that.”
he nodded, satisfied and squeezed your wrist once before letting go and continuing to walk by your side again.
your wrist felt hot from his touch and you stuttered through conversation with him. you didn’t hesitate to follow him down the shortcut. you didn’t know him, but you trusted him all the same.
—-
5.
it was a month to the date of the first time you’d met daredevil, you were once again out after your girls’ night, though decidedly sober after the memory of last month’s hangover still haunted you. this would be the fifth and final time you saw that signature grin beneath the mask. and like the first time you met him, daredevil was injured.
you got a sense of déjà vu when you spotted him, the way he was slumped against the same wall you’d first spotted him sat against. this time there were no avtf agents surrounding him and you could see he was bleeding profusely from beneath the helmet.
you were quick to kneel beside him, hands hovering over his cheeks, scared to touch for the first time and to accidentally make his injuries worse.
“looks like you’ve had a busy night,” you said nervously.
“you should see the other guy,” he coughed.
you huffed an laugh and looked up at the rooftops gingerly. “yeah, speaking of, they’re not following you here, right? or hiding around the corner waiting for you?”
“nah,” he shook his head, “disposed of ‘em. dropped his tail. came to find you.”
you froze, confirmation that he’d done his best to see you even in his woozy state was a boost to your ego and had your cheeks heating.
“that so? you know i’m not a nurse, right? i’m not sure i should be your first point of call when you’re beat to hell like this,” you cautioned, smiling softly at him and hoping he didn’t notice hos you could look at the blocked out cowl eyes for too long. even hindered eye contact felt too flustering still.
“‘s girls night, need to walk you home. you never take a taxi,” he slurred, voice growing tired and slow. your heart skipped a beat. you wanted to ask how he knew your schedule well enough to know you met your friends every month and that you always preferred to leave them with the pre-booked car, but his haggard breathing and lolling head were worrying you more in the moment.
you clicked the little latch on his cowl beneath his chin and felt his hand paw at your leg next to his in response. it flailed higher to nudge at your elbow and halt your hands where they were close to pulling off the cowl.
“don’t,” he whispered.
“you’re bleeding too badly, i can’t leave you like this,” you whispered back.
“‘m fine, just tired, promise.” he nudged his face into your hand, kissed the heel of your palm.
your lips thinned as you pressed them together tightly. your heart thundered in your chest.
“you’re not half as stubborn as i can be, so don’t even try,” you said finally, voice pitchier than you’d have liked, but still firm. he sighed and you started to lift the cowl.
his hand lifted again to rest lightly over your eyes.
“don’t look,” he asked again.
“do you think i’ll tell people what you look like?” you frowned behind his fingers, offended at his lack of trust but closing your eyes behind his hand all the same. you pouted when you heard him laugh at your petulant tone.
“careful or i’ll kiss that pout right off your lips, sweetheart,” he hummed.
you sputtered, cheeks heating beneath his gloved hand and only encouraging his cocky laughter. you nudged the cowl up just enough to reveal the hair at his nape and reached one hand back to tug meanly, cautious of his injury but a little pissed at him. he groaned at the light pain.
“you’re not helping my restraint,” he said shakily, almost breathily. he took the cowl off, dropping it by your side and with his free hand he guided yours to the cut on his head an inch in from his hairline.
your fingers jerked and flinched at the warm wetness, your breath stuttering at the gross feeling of the shallow cut. he hissed as you gently prodded around the area but he didn’t pull your hand away. it was superficial, a heavy bleeder but nothing serious and you sighed in relief.
“wasn’t expecting him so i had the helmet off, got me good but the rest was all through the suit.” you heard him pat at the suit, groaning lightly as he touched a sensitive spot too heavily when trying to indicate his other wounds audibly to you. you weren’t joking when you’d said you were no good at being his point of call for first aid, but you could assume his wheezing was from the hits he’d taken to his ribs and stomach. you couldn’t see, but he fingered at the new tears and cracks in the suit as he continued to speak, “damaged it pretty bad, i’ll need to patch it up or find a new one,” he muttered. “or maybe it’s a sign to hang it up for good,” he laughed drowsily.
your lips pinched, unsure of what to say and whether you needed to or if he was just letting out his frustrations after a bad night. like the vigilante equivalent of saying you’d quit your job after a shitty shift even when you knew you’d be back the next morning come rain or shine.
“looks worse than it is,” you said finally, letting your hand drop. “you should still clean it and put a butterfly bandage on it though.”
“that your expert opinion, doc?” he asked and you knew even with your eyes closed that he was wearing a shit eating grin, though perhaps more tired than usual.
“i worry about you,” you admitted. it felt too serious for the jokes he was making, his relaxed posture against your tense body, but you didn’t want to take it back.
he smiled, but not his familiar cutting and teasing look; his eyes immediately turned soft and dopey, half lidded as he stared up at you when your words registered.
you were curled towards him protectively without realising, your covered eyes stopping you from realising how close you were growing, and a soft pout formed once more. not being able to see his expressions, even just from half of his face had anxiety slowly grow, the possibility of having overstepped the boundaries of this relationship - you didn’t really know what to call what was going on between you - and potentially fucking it up was hellish.
“yeah?”
but it all vanished in an instance at his tone of voice; deep and longing and appreciative and aimed just at you.
you shrugged.
“maybe you should get a new profession or hobby… or whatever this is.”
he snorted.
“just give me a little more time, ok? just a little.”
you nodded behind his palm even though you didn’t know what he needed the time for, lifting your bloody fingers to keep his trembling hand steady against your face when it slipped from the motion.
he let his hand linger a moment then, slowly, he lowered it from your eyes, but you kept them shut loyally. his cowl was still on the ground by your knee and you weren’t going to betray his trust after all that, you could give him time. you felt and heard the helmet move as he sluggishly scraped it along the cracked asphalt and then pulled it back on with a groan, hissing at the unforgiving pressure against his wound once more.
patiently you waited for him to tell you to open your eyes, but instead he leant forward to ghost a kiss over your cheek, more delicate than you’d have ever suspected him capable of. you finally opened your eyes to look at him as he cupped your jaw and smudged the blood he’d left behind on your skin across your cheek, his mouth open and expression wanting as he looked at you.
“let’s get you home, you can tell me about what you got up to with your friends on the way. i’m tired of talking about my night,” he said finally, pulling away to try to push himself up to stand.
“ok,” you whispered, clearing your throat before taking hold of his arm and pulling him up with you.
—-
+ 1.
you tapped your middle finger against the book in your hand rhythmically but not impatiently as you waited in line, staring up at the list of drinks available despite knowing you’d go for your usual as always.
it was only a moment longer before you were at the front and you smiled at the barista behind the counter.
“iced caramel latte please, and a blueberry muffin too. thanks.”
“add on a black coffee, it’s on me. thanks,” a familiar voice spoke behind you. you span around, half expecting to see the flash of the red suit even in broad daylight, and faltering when you came face to face with a handsome man instead. you blinked, second guessing your presumption.
“thanks,” you said weakly as he leant by you to pay.
“no problem.” he grinned and your eyes flickered down. a smile of your own started to spread, an automatic response by this point, and you looked back up at his eyes. hazel. you’d always wondered what colour they were.
“haven’t seen you around in a while,” you said as you stepped to the side to wait for your order. it took all of your strength to take your eyes off of him for even a second. you felt excitement fizzle in your fingertips having him so close and so open for the first time.
“we should catch up then, huh? i can tell you about my new gig.”
you nodded eagerly.
“could even start by giving me your name,” you teased.
he blushed and dropped his head slightly, embarrassment meeting pleasure turning his expression bashful as he nodded and met your eyes again. he stuck his hand out.
