ʀɪᴄʜɪᴇ (beepbeep) wrote in noexits, @ 2021-11-28 20:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread/narrative, ₴ inactive: matt murdock, ₴ inactive: richie tozier, → week 025 (npc invasion) |
NPC Invasion - Day 6
WHO: Richie & Matt
WHAT: They finally have THAT ONE TALK
WHERE: Richie's dorm room
WHEN: NPC Invasion, Late Day 5 or Day 6? Probably Day 6
WARNINGS: Not really, just a bunch of schmoop as they get their shit together
STATUS: Complete
“Hey. You got a minute?” Matt stood sheepishly in the hall outside Richie’s room, holding a cardboard six pack holder of bottled beer. “I brought a little something,” he said, holding it up a little higher, in case Richie hadn’t noticed. The way Matt was feeling, he thought bringing booze would help. Despite what Richie had told him, that s/he wasn’t upset, Matt’s guilty conscience weighed down upon him. This was The Talk about their relationship that Matt dreaded, but knew eventually would need to happen. He’d made a decision, and had waited for Richie’s roommates to be away so they could have some privacy. *** What? What, what, what? Richie had opened the door, discovering Matt on the other side (she didn’t have super senses that could distinguish a person by their heartbeat or the way their footsteps sounded). She’d blinked a couple of times, surprised that he was here and that he’d brought beer - did that mean this conversation was going to be a good one or a bad one? Honestly, Richie couldn’t tell - Matt had been kind of hard to read lately, ever since she’d woken up as a she, and while mind reading was technically possible Richie also wouldn’t go that route. Matt trusted her. He wouldn’t have told Richie about Daredevil (other people just seemed to randomly find out or already knew from their worlds - it wasn’t like Matt sat them down and said it) otherwise, and Richie didn’t want to do anything to crumble that trust into little bacon bits. Mmm, bacon. Okay, now she was getting off track. “Yeah - “ Richie swung her legs around, standing up off the bed - she was wearing some of Jo Harvelle’s clothes, and those fit. The shorts and the tank top, very casual (the bra was on loan from Loki, who had adjusted it to Richie’s size - and Richie had only minimally struggled before learning how to put it on). “Come in. What’s up?” She padded forward to take the case of beer, plucking one free and using the edge of the dresser to crack it open. Likely she’d need booze for whatever this talk was set to be. **** Between the increased heart rate, the way she moved, and the scent of fear pheromones he detected (yes, fear could be smelled), Matt understood that Richie was… well… not afraid, but definitely nervous. She had a right to be; the last time they communicated with one another over the network Matt left her dangling in regards to their relationship. It took a while for Matt to argue against himself (he kind of approached it like going on trial with his own conscience, but a couple restless nights later he made a decision. It wouldn’t be right to keep Richie wondering, since it would be weighing on her mind as much as his, and that’s why he came straight to her room without messaging her beforehand to ask if it was convenient. This was just that important to Matt. The beer came from 1983, a time before twist off caps. Matt had a bottle opener in his pocket for that reason, but Richie already had his open before he could offer. “Okay,” he began, also feeling nervous. “Let me start off by admitting I’ve been a jerk to you for making you wait, but I really wanted to be sure. I mean… sure about…” he swung his bottle between himself and Richie “.... us. I’m not good at this sort of thing, but I’d like to make it work. I mean, if you still want that.” There was always a chance Richie had changed her mind, which was the reason for his current anxiety. **** “Oh.” Richie sounded surprised, but not in a bad way - she’d been trying to give Matt time, and space, and not necessarily demand anything of him; that was okay, it was fine, sometimes people needed the time to figure out what they wanted. “I didn’t think you were a jerk for making me wait. I was willing to wait,” she said. The whole thing where having fun with Loki was apparently traumatizing (which - no one asked you to listen, Matteo) happened to be the weirdest part of that conversation but Richie didn’t dwell much on it. People said all sorts of shit when they were working through their emotions - and, honestly, she was more concerned about how she wasn’t going to look like this when the week reset like a video game. A perpetual game of be kind, rewind. Richie took a swig from the beer bottle, settling on her bed and sitting criss-cross applesauce. “I still want that though,” she clarified. “I want there to be an us. You’re okay with me being a dude though? Are you going to want...stuff outside of us?” She was fine with Matt taking a trip to the lady love tunnels on occasion - well, mostly fine. Richie couldn’t say she was a cheerleader of that idea, but. Maybe she’d try to be secure in what they had and supportive, if it was something Matt really wanted. **** “I know you said you were okay with me getting some nookie on the side,” Matt said with a grimace, “but I’m not that kind of guy. Yeah, sex with women is great, but you deserve to be treated better than that,.” Matt scrubbed his hand over his forehead in an awkward gesture. He was getting into emotional territory, and he hated how vulnerable it made him, but he needed to let Richie know what was on his mind. “I’ve been struggling with how to say this, but I’m going to try. Back home, I choose to live a dual life. What I do as Daredevil has to be kept separate from my life as Murdock, attorney at law, not only for the obvious legal issues, but I’ve put my friends in danger from enemies who want to get at me. Matt’s friends see Daredevil as a problem that I need to kick. On the other side, there have been people who encourage that dangerous part of myself, that I should embrace that darkness, and I’ve been called weak for not doing so. The conflict between my two lives was tearing me apart.” Squaring his shoulders to face Richie more directly, he continued, “You’re not only the first guy I’ve had sex with, what’s more important to me is that you’re the first person that has ever made me feel accepted as a whole. I can be myself around you, and I’m not throwing that away. Maybe it’s a sacrifice, but it’s one I’m willing to make, because what I'm getting in exchange is a hell of a lot better. I don’t want to be with anybody else but you.” ***** Sacrificing a bout of yodeling in the canyon for some dick - or more specifically, Richie’s dick. When Richie actually had a dick. This was all making her feel really, really emotional - she set the beer bottle down on the bedside table, standing up to shift closer to Matt and throw her arms around him. He was warm and solid and trying, Richie could tell - and just saying that Richie was okay as he was (because that ‘he’ wasn’t going anywhere, it was who Richie was and was most comfortable with)? That was everything Richie wanted. And needed to hear. “I don’t want to be with anybody else either,” she said, voice muffled against Matt’s collarbone - it was so weird being shorter than him. Usually it was the other way around - Richie, as a man, could be filed under ‘lumberjack giant.’ His shoulders were broad and his limbs were long - mostly he was all legs, wearing that particular meatsuit. But right now she was clinging to Matt and happy tears were getting his shirt a little wet, from where they brimmed on Richie’s lashes and slipped free past the glasses. “And you - I feel so much better with you. Like I can be happy. I am happy.” Back home, Richie had never come out to the Losers - never had a chance for those intense fears of rejection to ultimately be baseless. He’d just been in mourning, trying to grieve, and hadn’t been in an emotional and mental place where he wanted something better for himself - or believed he deserved it. The other Losers moved on toward something resembling peace, but Richie - hadn’t accepted himself. Not yet. Here, even in such a whiplash of an experiment, he finally had begun to do that - and it meant something. **** Matt’s irrational worries melted away in Richie’s embrace. He breathed a deep sigh of relief and drew her closer, placing his hand soothingly upon the back of her head. He had to admit that it was nice holding Richie like this. Some sort of instinctive desire to protect and possess, wrapped up in his male ego… especially with her crying on his chest, but it didn’t seem right. After a few moments of silent exchange, feeling her heartbeat close to his own, he lightly spoke, “As cozy as this is, I’m actually looking forward to when you’re yourself again. You’re still the same Richie, but I want the original recipe back.” His smile faded as he thought for a moment. “The last batch of people who left, among them were John, my first roommate, and Maze, the first person who I bumped into when I arrived. Between their disappearance, and Fandral’s cringey declaration got me thinking how crushed I’d be if you’d gone.” How long had he known Richie? A handful of months? But in that time, he’d become so emotionally invested. Matt internally struggled with how rushed it seemed, how they were probably reacting to the stress Derleth put them through. Then he realized how much he started to sound negative like Stick, and decided to figuratively embrace this relationship, giving himself permission to love. ***** The original recipe. Richie laughed, sniffling, pushing her thumbs up beneath the glasses to wipe at the tears - amazing she wasn’t a total crying, hiccuping disaster but everything just felt so mushy. Like her insides were made of melting chocolate, some candied nougat center. The mention of Fandral’s apology thing also made Richie chuckle because Jesus. What a hot mess. She and Matt at least had their shit together in a decent way that meant they were on the same page? It was a risk, sure, because either of them could disappear at any moment - if Richie saw Matt’s name on the list of those who vanished, it would be a journey to a real dark place. To the void where the rest of that grief was, pulling her in - all of that felt like something within her that scratched at her skin, pushed at her bones; the first step, Richie thought, was recognizing that it was there. That there was sadness and grief even present at all, and it always would be. The next step was dealing with it - and she had been. “Life’s kind of not fulfilling if you don’t have anything to lose,” she said, hands flattening on Matt’s chest as she peered up at him. It was those important relationships that mattered - the people you dared to love - that made so much of it worthwhile. “I’ll be here with you as long as I can be, Mattimus.” **** Up to this point, Matt thought he was doing a decent job at keeping himself together. He needed to, because he had to focus on what he wanted to tell Richie. But hearing her cry, feeling the way her small body quaked with each breath, stirred his emotions. It was her nothing left to lose comment that did him in. When Richie looked up, she would see his wibbling face with tears welling in his sightless eyes. He blinked, and those tears fell down his cheeks. He couldn’t even reply, his voice was choked up, so he nodded to let her know that he felt the same way. Matt then kissed Richie on the forehead - in a couple of days from now he’d have to be reaching up to him instead of bending over. Finally, he found his voice again. “I love you, Richie.” The words were soft, and spoken from the heart before his insecurities could censor hiim. **** Eddie had meant so much to Richie. He'd been the first love Richie ever had, and the rush of it all was heady in a way that was difficult to explain. He'd lived for years not remembering Derry, looking for that missing thing that he'd had with Eddie (though he didn't know what it was, since he couldn't even remember Eddie himself, let alone how it felt to be beside him). The sheer fact that Richie could now talk about Eddie a little, mention his name, or even think about him without picturing him dying in the sewers was a testament to how much better things were getting. And yes, Matt was a lot of that, but it was also realizing that whatever Richie felt for Eddie had been a childish love. A love bound up in their friendship, in knowing so much about each other. It wasn’t anything like this. "I love you too," Richie heard herself saying, and it was true - she'd say it even when she had her proper voice back. The feeling behind it was always going to be there. She bopped up on her toes a bit, kissing away the tears that coursed down Matt's cheeks. "Gonna stay and snuggle with me?" Matt knew Richie was a cuddlebug. No matter what gender was being presented. *** Admissions of love always came with a risk. Did the other person feel the same way? Or would there be an awkward response, followed by even more awkwardness and heartbreak. Again, Matt found himself breathing easier and smiling after hearing Richie’s reply. A smile that turned into a grin. “You need to ask?” Matt lightheartedly replied. His mental and emotional turmoil had made him physically tired, and some private time with Richie sounded really good. It wasn’t even about sex, he just wanted to be close. *** Richie chuckled, feminine and husky - a laugh throttled free from her throat that sounded like aural velvet. Yeah, women were definitely great - but she’d be glad to be back to existing as a he, when the week reset itself. “C’mere, baby,” she insisted (not the first time she’d said that to Matt - and it wouldn’t be the last; Richie was fond of using pet names as a guy too), wiggling out of her tank top so she was just wearing that fancy, lacy bra (it was Italian - probably cost a lot of money, and Richie was paranoid about even one thread coming loose and Loki doing a murder over it) and shorts. Comfort, and minimal clothing, was important whilst snuggling. Her dorm room bed wasn’t as luxurious as Matt’s, but she’d bought some new sheets in New York too - something that was very cottony and felt nice, even to someone with hypersensitive touch receptors (hopefully). Richie climbed in, scooting over to press herself against the wall for a minute until Matt got situated - then she’d curl around him like a question mark. **** Matt could tell she’d removed her shirt, but hadn’t realized she was wearing a bra underneath until they were cuddled close and he happened to brush up against the lace. More out of curiosity than lust, he ran his fingers over it. “This is new..” A thought occurred to make him laugh. “I dare you to wear this when you’re back to normal.” **** “I mean, I have nothing to put in it when I’m back to normal,” Richie chuckled. He was pretty flat as a board, no manly boobs all up in here - but, well. Some of the lingerie was comfy? Bras definitely not, but hey - who didn’t love some silky underthings for their bits? “I’ll see what happens. Maybe surprise you one day.” She took off her glasses, tossing them onto the nightstand - just so she could smush her face against Matt’s neck and close her eyes, lashes fluttering against skin in a series of butterfly kisses. “And I guess I gotta do it, if Daredevil is daring me to.” Her very favorite Daredevil, of course. Best vigilante. Boyfriend vigilante. Cuddler-At-Law. She could go on forever - and probably would. |