Natasha Romanoff (justlykbudapest) wrote in incompletedata, @ 2017-09-04 19:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | marvel: mcu: matt murdock, marvel: mcu: natasha romanoff |
WHO: Matt Murdock and Natasha Romanoff
WHERE: The Shrine in Bleuet
WHEN: Backdated to Aug 31
WHAT: Talks, flirting, kissing
WARNINGS: Kissing, innuendo, and FTB
STATUS: Closed/Complete
He wasn't sure when it happened, but as soon as he figured out he could leave town, he started figuring out a way to get to Bluet Town. It looked to be a long journey involving crossing multiple towns, but this place with its vast oceans and stretches of forest - it was a refreshing change from the urban jungle he was used to. The trek to Fort Kale wasn't particularly arduous, but he didn't stay long. He headed south to Aubergine City and made a pit stop for a box of pastries before arriving at Bluet Town via the ferry. As soon as he set foot on land again, he followed the sound of Natasha's heartbeat to the entrance of the shrine. She probably wasn't expecting a visit from a blind ninja and he wasn't a big fan of getting a fist to the face for a greeting, so he surprised her by calling out to her with a box of pastries in one hand and his cane in the other. "Excuse me." That was a... an interesting outfit. He's not really one to talk, admittedly. Decades of practice made it easier for him to keep a straight face as he pretended not to be able to see her. "I'm looking for a 'Natasha Romanoff'?" During the day, it was easier to just stay in the shrine - not because she was religious or wanted anything to do with ghost pokemon - or pokemon in general, honestly - but because it was hot outside and if she couldn’t really go elsewhere, being indoors was preferable. She still went for jogs in the morning and swam at the beach on occasion, but overall Natasha had left others to their own devices and had kept to herself. When the call came, she turned, then smiled a little as she studied Matt before heading over. “I suppose if you’re here, the rumors that we can go from town to town now are true.” It was impressive, honestly, that a blind man had made it that far, and it certainly led her to believe there was a lot more about him that she didn’t know - and interested her just enough to want to keep talking to him. “Come in - did you come across any interesting creatures in your walk here?” "I might have?" he replied with a bit of a shrug as his smile widened and he wandered inside. "Most of the time, interesting creatures come across me." The shrine was interesting in that standing in the middle of a postcard kind of way. There wasn't anything like it in Hell's Kitchen. That and he didn't really believe in ghosts. Not the kind that only knew one word and kept repeating it as they floated around, anyway. He held the box of pastries out to her when he slowed to a stop a few feet away from her. "I got this for you. From the city. They uhm - well, they smelled nice, but I'm told they look cute too." Natasha closed the distance between them as she studied him, but dropped her gaze to the box as she reached Matt. “You didn’t have to,” she told him, but she took the box and opened it, then gave a faint half smile at the sight. “They are cute,” she told him, and set the box down on a table. Lifting two pastries, she kept one and walked back to Matt to put the other against his lips even while she took a small bite of the other. After chewing and swallowing, she smiled a bit. “And they taste as good as they smell, apparently.” He stood there idly, feeling her gaze pierce straight through him and letting the discomfort of it roll off his shoulders. She was a difficult read even if he thought she might be letting her guard down a little around a seemingly harmless blind man. Her heartbeat thumped at a steady, predictable rhythm that he could easily single out, but it made it difficult to gauge how she was feeling. Placing both his hands on the grip of the cane once she took the box from him, he instinctively moved his head ever so slightly just before she could surprise him with the brush of flaky, buttery crust against his lips. You'd have almost missed it, what with the way he accidentally stroked her hand, taking one false grasp at thin air before finding it. "So is this what it's always going to be like?" Matt asked as he licked some of the icing powder off his lips and chewed. "Ridiculous outfits, strange animals, milkshake jokes in poor taste?" There was a glint of amusement in her eyes when he missed the pastry momentarily, and after he took a bite, Nat deftly maneuvered it into his hand. At the questions, the amusement shifted to her lips and became a wry smile. “More or less - though it’s been more intense than this as well. I think this particular scenario is more for the teenagers, to give them something to do. The first I was in, they dropped us into a jungle in other ridiculous outfits, and surrounded us with dinosaurs. Can’t say there were any milkshakes at the time.” She gave a shrug and ate another bite of flaky pastry before she continued. “After that, we ended up at some sort of Victorian-esque outdoors tea party, then a traveling circus in the middle of the Dust Bowl era. After that we returned to the compound and they had a Candy Mountain-based reward waiting. Between there and here, we were in London during World War 2.” Above everything else, Matt trusted his senses. It didn't make much sense, what she was telling him, but they were standing in the middle of a very different place that couldn't have sprouted up overnight within or so close to the research facility which he had scoured every inch of during his short time there. He was surrounded by strange creatures that seemed to be some pop culture reference since some people seemed to intuitively know what to do, and - well, all things considered, this was better than his mental image of London in World War II. "You know I have a hard time making sense of all this, but. Despite my misgivings, I'm-... relieved, that there are good people here." For a while now Matt had considered a life with only the Devil for his friend. He'd try giving up the costume if he thought it'd change anything, but he was sure he was destined to bear this cross alone. But now, this seemed like a good place to leave it all behind and start over. He didn't have to be the Matt Murdock that some of the other people thought he was. Maybe things could be different, with a few new friends. With people like Natasha. "So what do you do?" he asked, taking another bite. "Do you just-... go along with it? Try and survive? This must seem very trivial for you and your uh... team. Colleagues?" Her eyes watched him as he took in what she told him, interested in seeing just how believable he might find it all - and if he didn’t believe it, well, eventually he would come to at least accept it somewhat. “I don’t blame you for not jumping into the very idea head first,” she said wryly. “If I hadn’t been here through it, I’d find it difficult to believe myself.” She nearly laughed at what he said about there being good people around - there were of course, but she hardly thought of herself among their number. “For now, it’s mostly about survival. Playing the games to avoid punishment falling on the innocent. They haven’t been afraid to make sure others are involved when minor infractions have occurred, though overall it seems they’re willing for us to govern ourselves for now. Plus, no one’s found the exact right way to get everyone out of here.” Natasha shrugged, hiding her own discomfort as she chewed another small bite of her pastry, then looked back over at Matt. “You seem to be accepting it more than you think - traveling between towns and buying pastries.” Matt had yet to see the unpleasant side of things, other than being kept in the research facility against their wills. For the most part it seemed like a state-of-the-art place, though the living conditions in some of the other floors could definitely be improved. Being subject to invasive or painful procedures were more in line with what he expected though, to be fair. This was... unexpected, but in a good way. His smile widened as she mentioned how he was dealing with things. He just shrugged. "I'm a simple man. A woman with a rich, velvet-smooth voice skips straight past the pity and is willing to spare me a second glance, I cross the ocean for her with a box of pastries." What could he do? He couldn't go back to his loft. There was nothing waiting for him at home except for what was turning out to become his lifelong struggle with the Devil, trying to pick himself back up after driving Foggy away and ruining his relationship with Karen, and a bottomless pit of grief that threatened to destroy everything. “If I didn’t think you said that to all the ladies, I might think you want me only for my voice, Matthew,” she said with a grin clearly heard in her voice. She appreciated the effort, and she genuinely did like talking to him. After all, she didn’t really have a lot of friends around the compound itself, and for those who were her friends, well, things were off right now. She barely spoke to them, and Natasha had decided that it was probably for the best, in the long run. So this, right here? Was kind of nice. "I don't actually say that to all the ladies," he pointed out with a matching grin that complemented hers, licking more crumbs and icing off his upper lip. "You do have a nice voice." And she could take his word for it, because with the amount of talking he does for his job, he gets a lot of talking back by all sorts of people. "Besides. I'd compliment you on your smile, but I don't think you'd believe me." Which was a shame, because when he wrapped his senses around all of her, the deep and dark reds around her shadows etched a beautiful picture. “In that case, thank you,” she replied, then finished off her pastry neatly. Reaching over to the box, she closed it to save the rest of the food from the elements, before returning her attention to Matthew again. She grinned in amusement regarding his words about her smile, and studied him for a moment. “You shouldn’t make assumptions about someone you barely know,” Natasha said lightly. She’d seen people do amazing things even before being caught up in this experiment, and her own mental limits of what she’d accept had been pushed out pretty far. “I’m glad you came to visit.” "Well I'm not opposed to getting to know you better." He could use a few friends in this place. Or in any place, for that matter, given his track record with maintaining friendships. He couldn't really talk about the strangeness of this place given how most people were assuming he couldn't see it. So instead he just gave her little morsels of his old life, because they had to start somewhere. "I was a defence attorney in Hell's Kitchen before I came here. First time out of New York - I have to say this wasn't what I expected. And I wasn't born blind, but if you're going to tell me 'the Lord works in mysterious ways' or 'God has a plan' I might hit you. This is a- this is a cue for you to start making assumptions about me now," he gestured with his free hand, accompanying his words with a small laugh. Sometimes he could just meet someone and feel comfortable. Despite all the peculiarities of their current circumstances, Matt was feeling at ease for the first time in a long time. “I’m glad to hear that,” she replied, though she didn’t continue. It seemed as though he was willing to talk right now, and her patience was rewarded a few minutes later as he started. She tilted her head lightly as she watched him, paying close attention to everything he said, and her lips quirked at his words about God. “Luckily for you, I’m not religious,” she said dryly. “Did you always live in Hell’s Kitchen, or did you grow up somewhere else in the city?” "More or less," he said, though his smile did falter. He didn't want to bring up his father, St. Agnes or Stick. It'd put a damper on their conversation. "Haven't yet found a reason to leave." There were enough bad things happening within Hell's Kitchen to keep both Matt and Daredevil's hands busy. Fleetingly he wondered how his city was doing. Probably trudging along just as it always had been without him. "What about you? Are you really Russian? I know you were uh, 'wikileaked', but I didn't look into any of that. And I'd rather hear the sound of your voice." She could have pushed on the edge in his response, but Natasha decided to let it go for now. “I’ve never been very good at staying in one place, myself,” she said instead. Though that was less by choice and more by necessity in the long run. When his questions turned to her, she considered, briefly, what to tell him, then decided to go with the edited truth for now. “Родился и вырос,” she said in Russian, then smiled a little and repeated it in English, “born and raised.” Natasha’s English held no accent whatsoever, as opposed to the Russian itself. “As for the ‘wikileaks,’ even those files didn’t have every sordid detail.” Some of it had been the subject of a congressional hearing after her actions, but it didn’t really bother her that most of what SHIELD had known at the time was out there on the internet. "I see." His smile twitched as she spoke in Russian. The language suited her face better. Even without the alien invasions and other things she must have led a more interesting life than his routine, which up until he decided to take things he probably shouldn't have into his own hands had mostly been fairly ordinary, but he didn't envy her. His brand of normalcy hadn't been all that easy either. "There's a lot of things that don't end up on the record. Maybe there's a few things we can-... do differently, here." “You said this was your first time out of New York. You’ve never had any desire to travel, visit the world? Other countries, a beach - or the Grand Canyon?” She was lightly tossing out various touristy things, mostly out of curiosity. “Or is there a place you always wanted to go to?” As she spoke, Natasha reached out to catch his arm and lightly tug him over to a nearby bench so they could both sit. “I think there’s a lot we can do differently. Different circumstances make for different actions and reactions,” Nat said while looking over at him. He tilted his head as he pursed and licked his lips, unseeing irises moving from right to left behind his shades as he gave it some thought. It wouldn't be the first time he's been asked that question, but most of the time he had some good reason not to venture too far. He could barely afford the rent. Murdock was too busy during the day. Daredevil was too busy at night. He didn't fancy the sound of jet engines ripping his sensitive ears to shreds. But he didn't have any excuses here. "I don't speak any other language, and what would I do at the Grand Canyon?" was what he ended up saying with a chuckle. "I'm sure it looks magnificent, but I'd probably just fall off the edge." If he painted himself as clumsy early on it'd be easier to explain the inevitable cuts and bruises. And Matthew didn't like thinking this way off the bat, but he's been on the defence since his small circle of friends started finding out he was the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, and maintaining two identities had become second nature to him by now. "I suppose it doesn't matter anymore," he mused as he turned his head away from her, facing straight ahead as he idly rolled his cane back and forth slowly between his hands. "We might not get out of this place alive." “You don’t have to speak another language to travel,” she told him with a small smile, though she understood the answer. “You should think about it, and choose a place. Maybe it’s somewhere I’ve been and I can describe it for you sometime.” There was that, at least, with the promise of future conversations together. Shifting a little closer, Natasha reached out to catch his cane, stilling it in his closer hand, and let her own rest on it. “Or we might. In fact, we probably will. I’m pretty good at staying alive during unusual situations. You may just have to stick closer to me,” she said lightly, though the innuendo was certainly there. "You could just tell me about everywhere you've been." She could have a thousand stories like Scheherazade, and he'd stay up for a thousand nights listening to them all. It was one way to keep the Devil at bay, but he didn't think he had to worry about that anymore if they were going to be here for the long haul. He lifted his head when the rattling of his cane stopped and his smile widened. That sounded like an invitation, without the signature picking up of the heartbeat pace or the half-held breath in anticipation. It was strange just how unsettling it was when she reached into the depths of his senses and systematically dismantled his internal polygraph without even knowing what she was doing. "You don't mind?" he asked, turning his head in her direction again. He could look after himself if he ditched the cane, but as just Matt Murdock he'd be a bit of a burden. “I could,” she replied, amused. “But you’ll have to tell me where to start. I want to make sure you don’t get bored listening to me drone on forever.” At his question, Natasha leaned in a bit. The tulle of the ballet outfit she wore gave the slightest rustle between them, and her breath just touched the edge of his jaw as her finger lightly tapped his hand. “If I minded, I wouldn’t have said it, Matt.” Natasha honestly wasn’t quite sure what it was about him that interested her, but he was hiding something and she was intrigued - particularly when it was combined with his wit and intelligence. In short, she liked him, and she liked talking to someone who didn’t have a lot of knowledge of what she’d done in the past, be it recent events or something in a file. "Upstate New York?" he joked. "I heard it's nothing like Manhattan." He hadn't even been that far. She probably found it sad, though not being able to read his normal cues to gauge her reaction and whether she was judging him for anything he said made it surprisingly easier to just talk without trying to read into all the silences between them. His smile faltered when she leaned in closer, and he stopped halfway through drawing a breath in, the tip of his tongue lingering on the roof of his mouth. Letting a slow, shaky breath out, he swallowed the lump in his throat and grinned as he turned away from her again. Not the first sign he'd given away that he wasn't as blind as he let on. "In that case let the record state you've given me licence to pester you - incessantly." Or, who knows. He might grow on her. Like an inoperable tumour. “Upstate New York may not interest you all that much, but we can start there sometime, sure,” she replied, grinning. It was actually a little refreshing to talk to someone who had never left their hometown. Picking up on the visual cues when it became fairly obvious that he was fully aware of her closeness, she didn’t pull back. Instead, she gave his hand a light squeeze while keeping her dark green gaze on his face. “Of course, counsellor,” she said dryly. “I won’t forget if you don’t.” He didn't pull his hand away, so the touch didn't bother him. He could feel her eyes on him. Did she like what she saw? For the first time in a long time, he couldn't tell, and it frustrated him even though this was how most other people lived their lives, not being able to read the people they interacted with. Matt could get a better read off of a sociopath sitting across from him in an interrogation room than Natasha seated right next to him, her breath caressing his five o'clock shadow. What should he do? He could pretend he couldn't see her and turn his head. Surely she'd move hers away before he cracked his forehead against hers. But maybe she'd call his bluff and wouldn't. His hand curled into a loose fist beneath hers as his heartbeat started picking up and his breaths became increasingly shallow. Fleetingly he wondered if this was how things started between the other Matthew and the other Natasha. Maybe they were always meant to know each other. "How about we just start with a sunset?" he murmured quietly, turning towards her slowly until he could feel her breath rolling over his bottom lip, deliberately avoiding any awkward head-clashing incidents. She felt his hand curl up and had a feeling he’d come to some sort of decision here, probably the same one she’d made several minutes earlier. In all honesty, Natasha didn’t care about the other versions of themselves, or their choices. What mattered right now was what she and Matt decided to do, and she was willing to focus on that at the moment. The question had her smiling a little when he turned back to her, and for a long minute, she studied his face, tempted to lean in the rest of the way - but teasing was more fun, and so she licked her lips before she replied. “My favorite time of day,” she said. “The shadows grow longer, and the sky starts to turn gold, then orange. Sometimes the edges of the horizon are something close to molten lava. As it sinks, the orange changes to red, then fades out to pinks and purples, before finally showing one last brief hint of dark blue before twilight sets. It’s usually gray, like how the world behind your eyelids looks for a heartbeat before your open your eyes, and then the darkness descends. Down south, the air fills with the sounds of cicadas and crickets. It’s a cacophony of sound. And if you’re near any wetlands, that’s usually when the frogs chime in, as though they’re fighting to be heard over the rest. He could have easily diffused the moment with a stupid question like 'what's purple?' but instead he just listened to her talk. Nobody described the sunset to him the way she just did. Usually it was just 'it's beautiful' or 'it's orange and red'. Tempting as it was to cut her off with a kiss to her lips, he wasn't lying about the sound of her voice, and he didn't want for her to think he only said it because he wanted to get between her legs. "In that case, do you want to... get out of this building and watch the sunset?" He swallowed again to try and combat some of the dryness in his mouth as he tilted his head back ever so slightly, listening to the steady, rhythmic pounding of her heartbeat. She was messing with him, doing this to him. It was cruel. He liked it. Her earlier grin returned, then softened into a smile as she watched him. “I’d love to,” she said. “But leave the cane.” Moving to her feet, she grasped his hand to tug him up with her, curious to see if he’d trust her enough to lead the way outside. The earlier pastries were forgotten for now, and instead she waited for him to stand so that they could walk out together and head behind the shrine for a little privacy and a clear view of the sky. Once there, she kept hold of his hand and turned him towards the west so that he could feel the warmth of the setting sun on his face. “Here we are.” "Uh-... alright." He liked having the cane in his hand - not more than the feel of her hand, but it had become a bit of a security blanket for the blind lawyer persona - so he parted with it with a small amount of reluctance. Getting to his feet, he rubbed his thumb against the back of her slender hand as they walked, giving her hand a light squeeze a couple of times when his feet bumped into something unexpected that he wasn't sure she was deliberately leading him towards. He could sort of see the sunset. Nowhere near the vibrant colours she was talking about, but he could feel the patches of heat and warmth. He usually spent sunsets studying the people he was spending the sunset with, and this time was no different as he let his senses roll over her hard edges and soft curves, all the while facing the sun. Tentatively he placed his other hand over the back of her fingers. When she didn't flinch he brought her hand to his lips and planted a gentle kiss between the two dark veins on the back of her palm. Honestly, Natasha had looked at the sunset for only a few minutes before she’d looked over at him to study his face. As the air began to cool and the twilight she’d mentioned set in slowly, she watched as he lifted her hand to his lips, and smiled again. “Who says chivalry is dead?” She asked it rhetorically, her voice soft, not really needing an answer. Her hand was at the right height for her thumb to brush his chin, and after a moment Natasha’s free hand lifted to his glasses, slowly pulling them off so she could see his eyes. Before he could protest the slight thievery, Nat leaned in and ran her lips across his ever so gently, testing and teasing more than pushing. Matt did look like he was about to say something about her removing his last defence, but he never really stood a chance. She'd seen right through him even with his shades on and now she could see the uncertainty wavering in his lifeless, distant eyes. He blinked slowly as he felt the ghost of her lips and refused to let her go so easily. Slipping one hand under the right side of her jawbone, he closed his eyes and nipped at her upper lip before kissing her properly, the way he'd been meaning to since the night at the gym. Natasha kept her eyes open at first, watching his reactions, but let them close when he kissed her more fully. Tugging her hand from his, she lifted into the back of his neck, fingers sliding into his hair as she deepened the kiss progressively, tasting the sugar from the pastry he’d eaten only a few minutes ago. At first, this had all just been an interesting notion in the back of her mind, but as it turned out, she was actually enjoying this quite a bit, and for several heartbeats, it continued. Finally, her lips parted so that she could brush his with her tongue, and she drew back slowly so they would both have a chance to take a breath. She opened her eyes again and smiled a little, having only drawn back a few inches, her nose lightly brushing his as nighttime settled around them. “The sun went down.” He moaned softly as something churned and coiled in his chest. Something he didn't think he'd feel again, standing over the grave of a woman he had failed to save. He hated how easily she drew it out of him, how effortless things had progressed from their first encounter, how nothing about this moment felt particularly wrong even though it - what, could have? Should have? "I know," he replied softly, sightless eyes fluttering open again. "I think I stole your sunset." There was a small smile on his face as he brushed the side of his thumb against her cheek before he reluctantly lowered his hand and leaned back a little, putting a more comfortable distance between them. "It's getting cooler," Matt declared, ducking and turning his head away. "Did you want to head back indoors?" He'd happily give her the shirt off his back if he sensed that she was feeling the chill, but the self-conscious part of him didn't want her to see his scars. Not yet. Tilting her cheek against his thumb a little, she was a little disappointed when his hand dropped and he stepped back. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she inwardly decided that she didn’t really want him to get too comfortable. As he turned away, she moved further into his personal space, not having let go of the back of his neck just yet. “I’m Russian - the cold doesn’t bother me,” she said in amusement. “Besides, I’m pretty warm right here.” "Right. Of course." He couldn't hide what he was thinking without his shades. He's never had the chance to stand in front of a mirror and teach himself how not to give his thoughts and emotions away before he lost his sight. She could probably hear each individual rusty cog in his head grinding away as he ran the tip of his tongue across his upper lip and eventually he gave way to a warmer smile, his gaze seemingly directed somewhere over her shoulder. As much as he liked the feel of her thumb stroking his hairline at the back of his neck, he had to wonder if she could feel the heat rising up his neck and tinging his cheeks a faint shade of red. "Did you have a... couch I could crash tonight?" He's a world away from the town he spawned in and didn't exactly spend his time here trying to rack up any currency. It was interesting, studying someone who couldn't really hide their thoughts. It made Matt almost seem vulnerable, and that attracted Natasha for some reason. She answered his smile with a soft one of her own, even though he couldn't see it. She continued the light touch, and at his question, Natasha leaned in to give his bottom lip a nip, tugging at it for a moment, before she let go. "I don't, actually. But I have a bed. It's pretty comfortable." He would have insisted the floor would have been fine, but he knew an invitation when he heard one even if it didn't come with the usual signs of expectation or hopefulness. It made his eyebrows rise and fall again with a soft chuckle. He's not sure she would like what she saw once she had coaxed him out of his shell, but the offer of feeling lonely together in a strange place where they had few other notable friends was a little too nice to resist. "I don't normally get asked which spoon I'd prefer to be on the first date," he joked with an air of confidence as he was starting to find his footing with Nat. Was this a date? Technically they missed the sunset. "I don't normally date," she replied back, just as jokingly, glad that it seemed he was finally relaxing. "But if we want to call this one, we should probably get some dinner...or we could go back to those pastries you brought." Either way, they would eat and then they would share a bed. Nat was willing to commit to a night, at least, to see how things went...and it seemed as though he was as well. The hand behind his neck slowly slid away, moving across his shoulder and down his arm until she could catch his hand in hers again, while the other lightly pressed his glasses into his free hand. "Shall we?" "Dinner," the gentleman in him insisted as calloused fingers curled around the comfortable shape and weight of his glasses. Over which they could talk about upstate New York. Or Russia. Or anything else. He wouldn't let her consider pastries to be an adequate way to end the evening, and it was the least he could do after she'd offered him a place to spend the night. Of course, they didn't stay long enough for dessert. His back collided against her wall as a flurry of limbs shed them of their ridiculous costumes and her tongue promised to do unspeakable things to him in his mouth. They should probably consider themselves lucky that they somehow managed to end up on the bed. He most certainly was counting his blessings afterwards when he was drifting off to sleep next to her and she didn't say anything about the scars she traced lightly over. |