12208/Downside of Sharing a Building

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Downside of Sharing a Building
Date of Scene: 20 September 2020
Location: Instrata, Clinton
Synopsis: Historial: Matt and Claire finally decide to try and restart their friendship (or more?) over sancocho. They aren't complete idiots about it.
Cast of Characters: Daredevil, Claire Temple




Daredevil has posed:
It's been a month or more since Matt was taken to the hospital after being stabbed and shot and almost bleeding out on Claire's floor. It was several weeks until he was able to put the mask on and get back out into the streets. Realistically he should've waited even longer, but Matt is a stubborn man. Doubly so when he needs to take his mind off of other things in life.

He's passed Claire in the hallway a handful of times. They even shared an elevator ride with not a word spoken between them. The tension in the air was thick each time, both of them equally respecting the boundaries between them. Today, however, Matt decided to offer an olive branch in the form of Chinese takeout.

Having arrived into the lobby of the building a few minutes ago, Matt is stood beside the elevator with his walking stick in one hand and a tied-off bag of food in the other.

Claire Temple has posed:
As Claire enters the front lobby, she stops dead in her tracks for a moment, seeing him there. This is the downside of being once friends with someone who has super hearing -- she can't just decide to gracefully back out and take the stairs. It's still a debate for a moment, before she realizes it's useless and forces herself to cross the rest of the way next to him. A few minutes in the elevator and then she'll be free to try and pretend he's never been in her life again.

She's clearly just off shift. She smells like that hospital, sense memories probably now sharply combined with his stay there. Sterile soap, sweat from her shift, the disinfectant that lives on every surface. Iodine and a bit of blood on the edge of her scrub top's hemline. It was, apparently, a very long shift. From the exhausted set of her body, and how late it is? She probably pulled a double too. Normally she's been on graveyard these days, but it's well into evening now.

"...Glad they got this thing working again." She idly mutters to him, as the door opens. She forces herself not to look at him too long, not wanting to stare, but her dark eyes flicker across his body to see how he's healing up. And if there are any new injuries she's missed.

Daredevil has posed:
For the first time perhaps since they've met, Matt doesn't show up sporting fresh bruises or cuts. He's either been taking it easy or has become a better fighter and just doesn't get hit anymore. Either way, he's in decent shape considering the shape he was in a few weeks prior.

The tension mounts once again as she enters, but at this point he's grown accustomed to it. When she sees him, his smile appears and he stands waiting for her as she approaches. He turns so they're both facing the elevator doors and they wait together until it arrives. Her idle comment is met with a light chuckle and nod as Matt turns his head slightly in her direction, "Me too." His head lifts and his eyes drift upwards, "Stairs are hell when you're blind."

When the lift arrives, he opens the door and waits for her to enter. He'll follow and close the door behind them and direct the lift to the 4th floor where Claire lives. After a moment of silence once the lift begins to move, Matt lurches as if he's suddenly remembered something, and lifts up the bag in his hand. "I thought you might be hungry, so I picked up some takeout." He glances down towards the floor then back up, "If you'd like."

Claire Temple has posed:
The initial reaction to his offer of the take out gets a roll of her eyes and a little bit of a smirk. "I'm not gonna steal your dinner, Murdock. It's..." And then Claire looks down. Actually looks. And there's no way that was food just for him. There's two bags of things. But not just that, she knows those smells. The dominican place from up the street. She smells the sancocho and those tostones, because it's her favourite comfort food that she just can't quite cook herself. Her stomach growls a moment later, registering how long it's been since she's eaten and he's got her favourite.

"...Shit. You... actually did get this for me. Didn't you?" The ice he's been presented with every time they met in the hall, so far, finally melts away by a few inches. Her throat's momentarily tight, a flood of emotions that she's fought very hard not to return is there. She's *missed* him. As the bell dings for her floor, she exhales slowly, contemplating...

"...Fine. Come on in. You... you're looking better." There's a lot in those short words. Approval that he's not gotten himself beat to shit again. Questionining if he's stopped, or maybe he got that armor. Hope. But she swallows it back a moment later and leads the way out to her apartment. Keys out, door unlocked, he's invited back into her warm den that smells so much like her. She's even gotten almost all his blood out of the kitchen by now.

Daredevil has posed:
Her initial reaction, that sarcasm and harshness of which she's capable, is fully expected. So when those first words are spoken in that tone, Matt's smile remains with almost a visible patience on his face. He doesn't speak, he just lets her contemplate. He didn't come to persuade or beg her. Just wanted to do something nice and see her again if she was willing.

When she comes to the realization that the food was for her, or half of it was at least, he lifts the bag again. He considers jokingly rescinding the offer since she's contemplating for more than just a moment but doesn't want to push his luck. He's not trying to be an asshole for once.

Once she agrees, his smile widens and he nods, following her off the lift and into her apartment, "Great." As they step inside, he heads towards the kitchen so he can open the bag of food and divvy up the contents, "I got in touch with the man whose contact information you gave me." The man who made his new armor. "He does good work." That explains why he looks less beat-up.

Claire Temple has posed:
Once inside, Claire's door is shut and triple locked. She's still got that edge of paranoia that didn't used to be there, the one that started after the night they grabbed her as a message to him. All the physical injuries have long ago healed, but some mental ones never really fade. She kicks out of her crocs, not trekking those into her comfortable apartment, and watches him as he moves for the kitchen. That sight alone tempts a few other inches of her to relax. Her breath to ease. It's a nice sight, watching him move into her kitchen like he fit as a part of the space.

"Thank god. I guess that explains why you haven't bled out on my balcony recently. I... I'm glad. Really. I was..." Scared. Terrified. Angry. So many words that just hang in the air as she watches him in the kitchen, "... I didn't know if you'd survive after the last time. I knew you wouldn't if you kept going out with nothing. I'm glad you finally saw some sense."

She then starts peeling out of her scrubs. Shirt off, undershirt following a moment later. Slightly sweat-damp sports bra, though her back is to him now. "I smell like the ER. Five minute shower and we can... talk. Just... give me a minute." Her pants follow into the hamper a moment later and she then disappears back to the shower, scent of her skin heavy on the air.

Daredevil has posed:
Entering the kitchen, the first thing Matt notices is the remaining blood stains on the floor. It looks like Claire was able to get most of the blood up but it was just there too long to make it easy to clean. He pauses for a moment as the events of that evening here flash through his mind and then moves to the counter to drop the bag and open it up.

He'll hear her disrobing as he opens the food containers and grabs plates and bowls so he can prepare the meal while she gets cleaned up. "I wouldn't be here if not for you," he says with a slightly raised voice so she can hear him over the rustling of the plastic takeout bag. "This food doesn't begin to make up for everything you've done," he says, glancing over as she disappears into the restroom. "Hopefully it's a decent start."

He'll have her meal out and set onto the table for her by the time she's showered. His food will be across from hers. He steps back into the kitchen to look for something he can get her to drink. His first instinct is to look for a bottle of wine. He'll wait.

Claire Temple has posed:
There isn't wine. There are a few beers, half of a six pack left of Kona's 'Big Wave', a pretty decent IPA and normally Claire's preferred summer drink. There's just not been anyone around to drink it with and the woman only drinks alone when things are really bad at the hospital. Her fridge is showing signs of 'working too much, cooking too little.' The home made left overs are sparse and growing something in the back. There's a few neglected take out containers. There are also half a pack of meal replacement shakes left because the energy to cook or order food is simply not present some nights but Nurse Claire *knows* the body needs fuel to work. Depression is a bitch.

The shower is the fastest she's taken in a while. She has reasons not to linger and some food she's honestly hungry for waiting. Just enough to get the smell of hospital off of her and sweat out of her hair. A little over five minutes later, her damp form disappears out of the bathroom and he'll get a nose of skin, her vanilla and faint lavender soap, that fruit shampoo, and then she's disappearing into her room again. Just a fast towel off and comfort clothes -- sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt. The whole pattern is deceptively homey and comforting. He comes home with food, she in the shower. Both of them tired from work but taking solace in each other's presense. It was something they almost had months ago but slipped away before they ever settled in.

Now, she ducks back out of the bedroom, staring at him quietly for a few heartbeats. The memories aren't lost on her, or how nice this feels. Her apartment has been so empty. "It... it's a decent start." She finally responds, having had the whole shower to consider his words. Whatever stubborn part of her wanted to put up a fight has mostly lost now. "...it's nice to... to see you sometime I'm not trying to put you back together. I wondered if that was possible for a while, there..."

Daredevil has posed:
Matt plucks two beers from the fridge and pops the caps off of each, tossing them into the trash and carrying them to the table to place at their respective settings. When she slips from the bathroom to the bedroom, her movement stirs the air and wafts the scent of clean into the dining area. He's missed that. More than he realized.

He reaches up with a hand and slightly adjusts the position of his fork, straightening it. He'll wait for her to put on clothes and join him before he begins eating. When she emerges and stares at him, he looks up to return her gaze and they share a moment. It feels almost as if time stops. So many thoughts cross the man's mind as he watches her. "The suit your friend made has made a difference. I haven't bled nearly as much. Still get my ass handed to me, but it hurts a lot less now."

An almost bashful smile softens his features as he glances towards the setting he placed out for her, "Hope you're hungry."

Claire Temple has posed:
As he admits to the suit helping, he can probably hear the change in her. The relief that comes with that knowledge. Her breath is just a little easier and the tension behind her pulse kicks down a few beats a minute. That's how much Claire worried for him, even when he's not here. A part of her just always running the numbers in the back of her head. Waiting for him to show up dead. "...I told you I wasn't ever going to ask you to stop. Just... to think about it. I'm glad you did." Claire mutters, quieter than before.

Then she's crossing to his side. Not into her usual chair that she'd hold vigil in the nights he lay almost dead on her couch. She settles onto the couch near him, almost close enough to touch, as she reaches forward to scoop up her bowl of the stew. Her stomach growls for it again. The first time she's had an appetite in a while. "...starving. It's... been a while since I bothered with good take out." Or even cooking. "...your timing is not complete shit. For once."

Daredevil has posed:
Matthew is a stubborn fool and Claire knows it. He knows it too. He's rare to admit it though. This is maybe his way of admitting it to himself and to her. Her body's change after he mentions his armor and the effect it's had on him makes the man's smile linger for a little while longer.

When she joins him on the couch, he looks down at his food and then glances over at hers. It's been too long since they've shared a meal on the couch. Or watched a movie there. He's remembering how it all was. He hears her stomach churning as she smells her stew. "If I keep this up three- or four-hundred more times I might break even then." He's sitting at the bottom of a massive bad-timing deficit so he has his work cut out for him. "I can go throw myself down a flight of stairs if that would feel more normal," he says with a sideways smile. He somehow manages to have a wholesome, sincere look on his face so he doesn't come across as an overt smart ass.

Claire Temple has posed:
"...You're right about the number. But this is a good start." Claire mutters, still a little guarded. Still tense. But none of that anger from the other week is there. Maybe it's burnt itself out over the time. Maybe seeing this effort has just made it impossible. Either way, she even goes so far as to draw her legs up onto the couch, knees tilting back against the cushions and her bare feet tucking toes beneath the edge of his thigh. It gives her a good angle to watch him but still keep some sort of contact. They had more than one comfortable night like this, before it all went to hell.

"...Don't you *dare*. I'd like... Fuck, Matt, I'd like to think you're my friend for more than medical care. Towards the end there... though... I was starting to wonder." As the guards come down, so do some of the words she never let herself air before. The worries and hurts that she wrapped around herself like a shield. She keeps with the stew, hungry body savouring the old, comforting tastes, but her eyes never leave his face now. He's more important than comfort food.

Daredevil has posed:
Having not yet taken his food, he remains where he is and just has his attention on her. He wasn't here for his food. He was here for her. His hand rests on the top of her foot once she's tucked her toes beneath his leg, giving her a gentle squeeze. His touch lingers but then he leans over to pick up his food then settles back to take a bite.

Poor joke. He leans over to put his food back down and looks over to her, turning his body more towards her, "Of course I'm your friend, Claire." His hand finds her foot again. "I'm sorry for giving you the impression that I was using you." His fingers squeeze her again, "It couldn't be further from the truth." This thing between them, whatever it was and whatever it has become, needs to be straightened out. For both of their sakes.

Claire Temple has posed:
Another bite of food, she's almost finished half the pint of stew she has, and Claire sets the thing aside. It's enough she's not starving now, the beer is tempting, and this feels more like a beer conversation. She doesn't shy away from his touch on her foot, though it's almost embarrassing how part of her still warms to have the calloused, gentle brush of his hand there. A slight ache in her chest that is nothing about the anger she feels. She missed him. She missed that. She tucks in a bit tighter against him as she watches his boyish face.

"In the past two months... even before that night they grabbed me, the only time I saw your face is because you needed to bleed on this couch. And then you almost *died*. Fuck, you know... *know*... if you need me, I'm here. Whether it's stupid or not. No matter how... angry I am, or scared I am, if things go wrong I... I'm not going to shove you out. But I miss the nights you wanted to be here because I wasn't just a pair of steady hands. When things got... bad. When that's the only reason I saw you? I don't know... made me wonder if any of this mattered at all. I certainly don't want to be your pity friend, either. If this is just about having someone to... to keep you together when you go do something stupid?... That's fine." It's not fine. It hurts. The thought of it makes her throat tight. "... but I'd rather know that."

Daredevil has posed:
When her food is set aside, Matt rests against the couch and watches Claire. He hasn't even touched his beer and he's only taken one bite of his food. He'll take it home and into the office tomorrow. He's far more interested in talking to her. When she tucks her foot a little further beneath his thigh, he gives it another squeeze.

When she speaks again, he sits quietly and lets her talk. They're not going to be able to move beyond this until it's all out in the open and what needs to be said is actually said. So he listens. It makes sense for her to feel that way. He has been distant. Cautious may be the better word. He had wanted to keep her out of his world and potential danger by not letting himself get closer. Didn't do a lot of good in the long run.

"You're not just someone who keeps me together, Claire. You're more than that." Much, much more. He opens his mouth to say more but stops. His eyes wander as his mind tugs at itself to shut up for the woman's sake. He can't let her get taken again.

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire can *watch* as his mind cuts him off. SHe sees his mouth shut again, cutting words short and pulling himself back into his own mind. That makes her own jaw tighten, dark eyes narrowing. Her hand that isn't holding her beer comes forward and grabs his palm, scooping up fingertips and tugging him to look at her again. "No. Don't do that. Don't... shut away again. You brought the good food and came here to talk, so you don't get to stop talking. If we're talking *actually* fucking talking, we're gonna talk. So... talk to me."

The set of her expression is as stubborn as the tone in her voice. Her breath and pulse have somewhat evened out, the way she gets when she's settling in for the long haul. Be it a fight, or a long night, or even when his injuries require the most delicate stitches she knows how to do and she has to brace for a session of them. It's the pattern she gets when there's an exhausting amount of work ahead, but she's willing to tackle it. She just normally isn't like this in her pajama shorts and too-big sleep shirt.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt's eyes watch Claire as she demands he say what he was about to say. He stays silent for a moment longer. Shit. He's standing on the precipice where his only options are to jump off of one cliff or another. He traces his finger along the arch of her bare foot and glances down.

Looking back up, he exhales, "You're not just my personal medic, Claire." He pauses for a beat, glancing away as if searching for the words. "I come to you because I trust you. I can't afford to trust anyone, but I trust you." His unfocused gaze returns to her but there's a hint of frustration settling into his forehead and his eyes. "You're much more thank you may think you are to me." His lips purse together as his gaze seems to search her face. He's spent all of this time keeping himself as distant as he could. Building a wall to protect her from the danger that him caring for her could bring. The wall is cracking and is on the verge of crumbling as he sits beside her.

Claire Temple has posed:
The admission that she's much more to him makes her chest tighten just a bit, heart skipping in nerves. Hope. Uncertainty. Claire drags a slowly steadying breath in, then back out through her nose, focusing on just keeping herself calm and not letting hope get the best of her. "...then... Then you need to decide that's what you want. We're either friends... and you know you can come here any night to just... *be here*. Eating dinner not alone is actually *nice*, on occasion. We can go back to the way it was and you can listen to me when you're being an idiot..."

She sighs, bracing herself against what she's going to say next. She sits a bit straighter and short of pulling away from his touch, some of those guards pull tightly back into place. "Or, you can decide that's too dangerous, and we do nothing... Absolutely nothing, but you knock when you get hurt. We make a better system, another burner phone, and I come up to you if it's bad. You don't come here. We... we don't take any more risks and this is strictly business. If you think we should do that... We do that. I just need to know the rules."

Daredevil has posed:
The ultimatum that he expected. The same ultimatum he's given himself but hasn't been able to face until this point. Being here and eating dinner with her is in fact nice. The evenings he's spent with her have been the best he's had. Her being taken and beaten just to get to him was the worst he's had. Going out into the city and fighting criminals is easy. Dealing with the delicate balance between his feelings and his needing to make sure she's safe is much harder. Much more stressful.

"What happened to you," he says, training his sense on her as he speaks, "when you were taken." Wrinkles form above his brow as he recalls the night. "That doesn't scare you?" He listens for subtle shifts in her pulse or tone. Claire is honest and he expects her to be honest with him, but she's also just as stubborn as he is and he knows she might not admit being terrified.

Claire Temple has posed:
It's not a night she lets herself think about a lot. Because, from the faint catch of her heartbeat, the fact just asking about it makes her pulse trip and quicken a bit, breath stopping just a moment before she can ease herself back into swallowing back reactions, pushing down emotions? It's a dead giveaway. Fortunately, Claire doesn't try to lie to him either. It just takes her a bit longer than her body to lay it all bare. "...Of course it scares me. I... I'm terrified, Matt. Terrified that this city doesn't take care of it's own any more. Terrified that I... I've gotten myself into something that will get one of us killed."

She takes a moment to try and swallow her heart back down her throat. Her beer is remembered, a deep pull of the cool stuff taken to help her better organize thoughts. To keep everything calm and even. "...But we're here now. If I was scared enough to stop, I'd... I'd tell you never to come back. But it's not just you. Other people have... come through here too, now. They know I'm a safe place. And I'm not going to go out there on the *streets* with you all. So... shouldn't I do something to help? This is my home... Too."

Daredevil has posed:
The increase in Claire's heart rate pounds into Matt's senses. The heavy swallow. She's remembering the night. He rubs the top of her foot idly in an effort to calm her. But she admits it. He had been taking measures to make sure she couldn't be traced to him but he had failed. He had hoped that taking out every thug involved in her kidnapping would put away anyone who knew of her link to him. But word has now gotten around that she could be a trusted source of help for other people. Shit.

There's a moment of pause as his train of thought is derailed. "Others?" His eyes shift back and forth as he processes. She could be in way more danger than he even thought. The hand rubbing her foot stops and his breath has caught. This is his fault. Fuck.

Claire Temple has posed:
There's a bittersweet chuckle that escapes her lips. Tired, but that's as much the double shift at work as it is the fact more than one vigilante has shown up in her life now. "...Yeah. Not many. But... I dunno how word got out. It did. If someone can't use a hospital and they've been doing something to try and help people, they know they've got a place here. I'm not going to shove them away any more than I would you. So... we're fucked. I'm fucked. I'm in this neck deep and... that's just what life is now." Clare takes another rueful gulp of her beer, shaking her head slightly. Somehow, that doesn't make her any more tense. She's resigned herself to the danger. The vague promise of it isn't near so terrifying as the night it actually happened.

"So... we can keep avoiding each other, or we can accept that as long as you're going to keep going out there, things could get messy. Probably will. And there's no reason to take away the few nice nights we could have just because they won't always be nice. I just..." Claire tightens her hand against the back of his for a moment, "I'm not going to change what I asked before. I want you to really...think about it. What nights are worth it. And keep using that fucking armor. Stop taking the stupid risks because *that's* gonna get one of us killed way faster than what ifs."

Daredevil has posed:
There are signs on Matt's face that this news is worrisome. His mind races through an array of possible worst-case scenarios that could arise all because she was a good enough person to help him the first night they met. He should've been more careful. Not dragged her into it. Dammit, he...

The squeeze of her hand over his draws him back to her living room and them on her couch. He lift his other hand to rest it against her cheek and gazes into her eyes for a moment. He can't find the words. "We are fucked," he says, echoing her words. That realization draws a single exhaled laugh from the man on Claire's couch. His eyebrows raise only slight and he sighs. He doesn't want people like him showing up on her couch for treatment and bringing their trouble to her door. But he can't ask her to stop helping them any more then she can ask him to stop being Daredevil.

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire knows he can't see her eyes, not really see them, but sometimes it feels like he can. She tilts her head so she's aligned with his gaze, bittersweet smile still pressed across her full mouth and an edge of saline on the air around them, from tears she's not quite letting herself cry. That's something she does too often. Hell, the last time she let herself cry, she was mopping his blood off her kitchen floor.

His words, and that odd laugh, it gets a cracked, slightly hiccupy laugh from her as well. "Yeah... Probably." She whispers, but there's not regret in her voice. Not even fear at this point. She squeezes his hand a bit tighter, her head sinking forward to rest her forehead against his, nose brushing the end of his. She just leans there, breathing quietly with him. "...If we're fucked already...no reason we shouldn't be... friends. Enjoy this... enjoy what we... Have."

Daredevil has posed:
Matt can clearly smell the emotions that are being held back. When his hand is squeezed again and Claire's forehead is pressed against his, he closes his eyes and just listens to her. Her heart, her breath, all of her. Her voice fills his senses and he tilts his head so that his nose brushes against hers. His mouth lingering dangerously close to hers. He can feel her breath against his.

"Claire," he says quietly against her lips. His hand beneath hers turns so he can slide his fingers in between hers and give her hand a squeeze in return. His eyes slowly open and he looks into hers, searching them. Only a small distance lingers between their next move. Both of them clearly wanting to move but unsure of what it means if they do.

Claire Temple has posed:
The woman remains leaning there, just drinking in his warmth. This close, she can still smell the edge of his aftershave from the morning. The little details about him she forgot over the months. Claire sets her beer fully aside, so her other hand is free, cool, slightly dampened with condensation palm coming up to cup against his cheek. She lets her thumb trace the line of his jaw.

She reopens her eyes as he pulls back enough to look at her. She stares back at his unfocused gaze. Those boyish features. She sinks a bit more against him, not quite leaning into a kiss yet, but her nose brushes his. "Matt. If... if we go from barely talking to jumping in bed... are we going to fuck this up more? I think we're about 10 minutes into forgiveness and fuck, I've missed you... but... is... Is this going to help us figure this all out?"

Daredevil has posed:
Matt doesn't respond right away. Instead, he lets them have this closeness for a few moments. They could just keep going and it would be amazing. They care for one another enough that it makes sense. But they both have the capacity to really destroy every thing that makes them great. He wants to feel that hope for just a little longer.

Experiencing her gaze and closeness, Matt smiles and lifts his hand to rest against her hand on his cheek. He pulls it down and presses his lips to her finger. "I can't lose you, Claire." He pulls her hand to his lap and holds it, resting his forehead to hers once more. "This.. you. Are too important to me." He pulls back again so we can see her face. A few long beats pass. "I want this." He sighs and, against everything in his body protesting, reluctantly pulls further away and slowly rises to his feet. He steps around the table and runs fingers through his hair in a sign of visible frustration. "The last few months have been the hardest I've faced."

He turns to look at the stunning woman on the couch, "And I know they've been hard on you for so many reasons." He wants to go to the couch again to be near her but remains strong.

Claire Temple has posed:
The press of his hand against her's tightens something in her chest. It makes her breath harder, the temptation to simply lean up, shut up those words, toss all care to the wind? It's very much present. She leans harder into his touch, not interrupting. Just letting herself remember when things were good, how good they were. Why she keeps letting him through that door, again and again. "I don't want to lose your either. I never did. And that's... that's why I get so mad. So scared." Claire whispers, but she doesn't move closer. In fact, she lets him pull away, though it makes things in her ache.

As he begins pacing the apartment, she watches him quietly, schooling her breath through her nose and stiffening her shoulders somewhat. She picks up her beer again, something to do with her hands which isn't reach out and try to touch him again. She takes a gulp as he finishes talking. "If you want this... and fuck, I do too. I'd like nothing more than to toss the last few months out and drag you into bed. But... they happened. We know this can get messy. If you're serious about this... then show me. We take it slow. You keep wearing that armor when you go out and maybe... Just maybe... Take a few nights off? Really think about which battles are yours and which *aren't*?"

Daredevil has posed:
"I want this," he says as he paces across her living room, one side to the other before stopping and turning towards her completely, "and I think you know that." He forces a chuckle and shakes his head at how damned frustrating this whole thing is. "But I am how I am and I'll ruin us." His eyes linger around her and he clenches his jaw tightly. For an instant he can see them together. Happy and normal. He pushes the thoughts from his mind.

The pacing continues. "I'm trying, Claire. Really trying." To do the right thing. Find some balance between going out and doing what he needs to do and being smart about it. He's going to have nights that he does it because he *wants* to. And he's going to enjoy it. Those are the nights that even his armor won't help. The cycle of ruining this lovely woman's life will continue.

"I should go," he says as he turns for the door, "before I change my mind and fuck this up even worse for us both." He stops just before reaching for the doorknob. He turns to look at her, his heart burning in his chest and hating himself for leaving. He wants to tell her what he tried when she left the hospital. Instead he just silently watches her and the life he could have if he wasn't so stubborn.

Claire Temple has posed:
A touch of anger crosses her face and voice now, especially as he moves for the doorknob. Claire sits up straigher, unfolding her feet from the couch and turning to fully face him as that hint of rightenousness shifts through her frame. "Hey. Murdock. Stop. Did I ask you to leave? Fuck... Stop it. Come over here and sit down and stop being a hurt puppy over it all. Shit. Do you actually want to try this or are you going to walk out the door because I didn't just jump into bed with you? Because I said you gotta actually *work* on something, if you want it?"

Claire is staring at him now, trying not to actually be angry, but watching him almost leave again hurt. Her jaw tightens against other words, forcing herself to swallow back other bits of anger and snapping statements that aren't going to help. "Look, Matt... I... I know you're trying. This was good. *Is* good. I just... Hell, I'm asking for a few weeks? Seeing if we can actually just work in each other's lives before we go zero to sixty in bed?"

Daredevil has posed:
Her reaction, moreso her words, elicit an expression of confusion on the blind lawyer's face. He's a smart man, but when it comes to intentions he can sometimes be thick. He releases the knob and walks over to the couch, sitting down beside her. "I wasn't leaving because you want me to work on things," he says as he leans back against the couch. He's very clearly torn. Confused and frustrated about what to do.

He sits in silence, the palms of his hands rubbing back and forth over his thighs slowly. He finally takes a deep breath and stills, glancing over at her. "I'm sorry," he says, the smile forming again but he is still searching for the words. "I'm not trying to run out on you." He just shuts up for a moment and purses his lips. He's fucking bad at this and he knows it.

Claire Temple has posed:
The tension and anger that was there, when he was heading for the door, it simply releases. It might be a bit odd, just how readable she is to him. Claire has become accustomed to it by now, but certainly makes her emotions bittersweetly clear. No part of her wanted him to go and now he's not. Claire breathes out slowly, just sinking to the side as he comes back down to the couch. She tucks herself in a bit closer to him, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. Just leaning there, slumped. "...Then don't leave." She whispers, her head finding it's way to the edge of his shoulder.

She stares forward now, not needing to see the struggle on his face. This close, Claire can even hear it in his breath. Feel the tension in his shoulder against her's. She doesn't reach for his hand, but she doesn't move away either. "Baby steps. We... we'll just take baby steps. Dinner is good. Trying to do this... slowly, but do it right... is good. We both care about this, and each other, and... maybe we can get it right. But it's not going to happen if you walk out every time it gets hard."

Daredevil has posed:
Then don't leave. The words hit him in the gut harder than anyone has. His eyes close when she rests her head against his shoulder and he tenses for a moment. Fight or flight. He remains silent for a few beats and then lets his body relax, releasing a breath he didn't realize he was holding. His head leans against hers and he sighs. His hand rests against her leg.

"I'm bad at this," he says with a resignation that he almost finds humor in. Hefting out a laugh in the form of a single heavy exhale, his eyes look up at the ceiling without lifting his head. "In case you hadn't noticed by now." Then he falls silent again, just wanting to sit here with her and be with her again. "I'm not going anywhere."

Claire Temple has posed:
The quiet, previously tense beat of her heart calms a touch more as she feels his hand on her leg. The strange resignation of his body against her's, accepting that he's not walking out even of all of this still feels messy. Claire gives him the most quiet smile, her head turning to press a single, soft kiss against the meat of his toned shoulder. "You're *awful* at this." She teases against him, burying a smile into that bicep. "But I'm... not much better. If we're lucky, we'll figure it out."

She kisses that arm once more and then sits up a bit straighter, shifting forward to grab her stew before it gets completely cold. "If you're not going anywhere... then we have all night. Eat something. Relax. We... we try this again. A little wiser and a little more tired... and a few more scars than last time. But we... try. I think you're worth it. Even if you're a completely stubborn idiot, sometimes."

Daredevil has posed:
Matt glances over at her after she kisses his shoulder and arm. The shampoo and soap from her shower assaulting his senses. Her agreeing with his self assessment makes him laugh finally. The laughter makes his body relax even more. "We'll figure it out," he echoes. They'll figure it out.

When she sits up and takes her food again, he turns and rests an arm on the back of the couch, watching her. He smiles tiredly and blinks slowly, "I wasn't hungry. I just got a second meal to have a reason to come watch you eat." He smiles at her and glances down but looks back up. He shrugs after his admission, "Cheesy, right?" He leans the side of his head against his closed fist, propping it up so he can watch her as she eats the stew he brought, that smile still plastered on his face. "Not embarassed either."

Claire Temple has posed:
"We'll figure it out." Claire affirms. This time, she isn't laughing. It's a bit of a promise behind those words. A plan to genuinely try this time, if he's going to do the same. She smiles to him, more relaxed than she's been in weeks. Even if they were on the edge of fighting not even five minutes ago.

Claire sinks back into the couch, sitting the way she was before, with her cold toes tucked beneath his thigh and the bowl of soup in her lap. She coughs out a bit of a laugh to his admission, genuinely surprised. "God, Murdock... this isn't some rom-com. You are very lucky you're handsome because your pick up lines aren't exactly slick." She pushes her foot against his leg, grinning. But she's also enjoying the meal. She's relaxing. They're both smiling.

Maybe they could get it right after all.