Entry tags:

!log/thread/narrative, ₴ inactive: matt murdock, ₴ inactive: richie tozier, → week 027 (vampires werewolves hunters)

Groggy. Head pounding. Rolling over to the side. No good. Pain worse. Like he’d been hit by a ton of bricks. The hell? In this state, Matt had a hard time piecing together what happened. All he knew was that he was laying in bed. He opened his eyes.

And saw the ceiling.

At first, he wasn’t sure what was happening, but then it hit him harder than whatever had knocked him out earlier.

His eyes worked. He could see.

Matt braced himself upon the mattress, eyes open wide, not wanting to blink out of fear that everything would go dark again. Maybe this was a dream? Or maybe…

Maybe Derleth had given him back his sight?

Pulse racing, he quickly looked around the room, the flood of visual information overwhelming his brain. His other senses were back to normal, so he couldn’t recognize where he was at first, but a deep whiff told him he must be in the dorms.

He then spotted the window.

In his haste to get out, he didn’t realize his ankle was cuffed and chained to the bed, so when he threw off the sheets to scramble toward the window, a sharp tug prevented from going any further than a couple of feet before he hit the floor with a loud clunk . “What the fuck?” Matt stared at his foot, confused, but then it started to slowly come back to him. The clarity made him scrub his face with both hands out of distress, Hunters, and werewolves and shit did he actually hurt people?

When he dropped his hands, he remained sitting on the floor for a few moments longer trying to digest the events leading up to this. But you know what? None of that fucking mattered right now, because he could see.

Determined (read: stubborn), he stood up and started dragging the bed toward the window, making a loud scraping sound across the hardwood floor as it did. When he reached the glass, he stood looking outside, mouth agape.

The sun hadn’t quite risen yet, so it was still dark, but the rays were casting an amazing array of colors upon the clouds, shades of purple and blue, and pink. Shadows broke through the spindly branches of the campus trees, and Matt even spotted a squirrel darting around. He needed to use the flannel cuff of his shirt to wipe the tears away. He was so transfixed he hadn’t even noticed the door opening.

---

The anxiousness, the restlessness - nerves felt like lightning beneath Richie’s skin, and he was damn near feverish. There was another change coming, he could feel it with the certainty of his own bones, his own boiling blood in his veins - he’d tried his best to handle inherent werewolfism, but despite those instincts that went deep there was still so much unknown and he didn’t know what the hell he was actually doing. He was scared. Terrified, actually.

But he was even more afraid for Matt - something happened. Some kind of fight.

Richie had to check on him - he tracked Matt down, senses on overdrive and battling the want to jump out of his own skin; but he knew Matt’s scent (weird) and had his eye on the prize (also weird, the way those eyes reflected light like some sort of illuminance). He wasn’t going to try to find other werewolves in prep for what was to come until he knew Matt was okay.

His search took him to the dorms and he managed to not somehow rip the door off its hinges, heading up the stairs and opening the door to where Matt was. It was, slow, careful -

He didn’t want to startle him, in case he was still caught in the trap of his alternate universe memories.

“Matt?” Richie’s voice was quavery, and he swallowed hard. Everything felt off. This wasn’t his body. His life. Wasn’t how he knew himself - he didn’t want to catch the splatter of a heart in the grip of his teeth. Didn’t want to taste blood at all.

---

That voice. Matt instantly recognized it, and froze in place with his breath catching in his throat. He knew what Richie looked like/…not only did his heightened senses paint a vague outline of features, he’d been allowed to run his fingers over his lover’s face and body, sometimes very intimately, which was Matt’s favorite, and further helped form a clearer mental image. But now, he was going to be able to see him for the first time with his own eyes.

He used his sleeve again to dry his tears, and steadied himself for what he felt was an important moment, then slowly turned around.

Matt stared for what felt to be a very long time, taking it all in. His smile grew wider until he burst out into laughter that sounded both joyous and hysterical, with more tears running down his cheeks.

“I can finally see you!” he exclaimed. If he hadn’t been so emotionally charged, Matt would’ve noticed something was wrong. Even without his senses to hear the rapid and irregular heart beat, and the scent of strange pheromones brewing, Richie’s distraught expression would’ve been more than enough. However, he was currently too distracted, and tried walking closer to bridge the gap between them, but didn’t get far before his tether stopped him in his tracks again. As frustrating as that was, it couldn’t damper Matt’s spirit, and it only made him laugh more.

---

“Matt - “ Richie was crying too - he just let the waterworks flow, a sudden hiccup and sniffle and hot tears that burned his cheeks, burned at his eyes. He was wearing whatever he had managed to scrounge up from the theater’s costume trunk, anything that would fit, since he didn’t seem to have his regular clothes on this campus. But he definitely had sleeves for wiping at his face and his strange eyes squinted against the rays of sun that were slicing in through the glass window panes - he was pretty sure he was due for forced werewolf transformation later, since the full moon was upon them. There was a chance for a break, though. Just a little time.

He only wanted a little bit. For this. For Matt to see him.

Richie stepped forward and held Matt’s face in his hands - he was back, then. This was him. Not the hunter whose anger burned bright as comets, fiery stars. Richie kissed him - kissed like he was a man starving, a warrior, like if he did it exactly right he’d be able to erase all of the terrible shit they’d just had to deal with and would deal with.

“I love you,” Richie told him frantically, in between kisses. “I love you.”

Then he stooped and grabbed the chain - it only took a little bit of tugging before it snapped in half, freeing Matt from the shackle.

---

“Oh God, I love you too.”

Clueless as to the struggle Richie was currently experiencing, Matt returned the kisses with the same fervor. The only downside to kissing was closing his eyes, because Matt didn’t want to waste a single moment, knowing that the week was running out and the probability was high that he’d be plunged into darkness with the next reset.

What was Richie doing with the chain? Did he have the key? “Wow, okay. That’s pretty amazing. You just broke that like it was made of paper.” He gazed adoringly at Richie’s face, combing his fingers through his hair. “What else can you do?”

Werewolf. That’s right. Richie was a werewolf. And he was a hunter. With that thought came a flood of memories that his former self had said and done, causing him to cringe. “I’m so sorry I was a butthead. I wasn’t in my right mind.” He worried his brow with the weight of his guilt. “I’ve got a lot of apologizing to do.”

---

Richie blinked, honestly flabbergasted. “Did you just say the word butthead?” He almost laughed but it came out as more of a nervous giggle-snort than anything else because butthead. Yeah, that was putting it mildly. Matt would definitely have to go on that apology tour - it seemed like he’d left a lot of wreckage in the wake of his angry hunter streak, and Richie wasn’t sure what ultimately snapped him out of it. Maybe it was that blow to the head.

Fingers in his hair felt nice though, and he practically headbutted against Matt’s palm. Maybe being part animal would cause that - either way, he was really starting to get in touch with those baser, feral instincts. With the agony that would burst from his skin - he couldn’t stop it, and that’s what worried him. “Apparently I can also turn into a bloodthirsty rage monster,” he winced too, hands curling on the front of Matt’s shirt - god, Richie didn’t think he’d ever forget the sight of him in flannel. Especially with crystal clarity, because 20/20 vision was something he’d never had either - he’d always been nearsighted.

“I have to go because - I’m changing tonight too,” he said. “And I can’t be around you, but. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

---

It hadn’t immediately occurred to Matt that Richie wasn’t wearing his glasses, because he was still fixated upon his hair, the way it felt and Richie’s response to his fingers running through it. He wanted to make a loving remark about how he’d always imagined Richie’s hair to be a lighter shade of brown, but the werewolf remark completely shifted the mood to one of dire emergency.

“What? No!” Matt frantically looked around the room for… what? He didn’t know, it was out of desperation. Something to help Richie, when logically he knew there wasn’t anything that could prevent the transformation from happening. The sun had just risen, so they had a little bit of time, but days were shorter in winter, which meant it was a race against the clock.

“How can I help? What can I do?” I… I’ll stay with you. I won’t let you go through this alone.” A part of Matt, the one that had lived as a hunter in this alternative universe, knew that was a stupidly dangerous idea, but he was desperate.

---

“No!” Richie echoed, when Matt said he’d stay with him. The idea was terrifying - because not wanting to hurt Matt had been why he’d been trying to stay away. Especially when he, as an alternate hunter version of himself (just as stubborn as the devil-horned vigilante though, Jesus Christmas), wasn’t in his right mind. “You can’t - I won’t be able to control myself.” He’d changed before so at least he knew a little bit what it was like - the pain of it, the popping and snap of bones and the way he didn’t have any agency over what he was doing. That first transformation had been due to feeling threatened - with the entirety of the full moon, he wasn’t sure if it would be any different. Mostly he just had a feeling it was coming.

He watched Matt with pale blue eyes, ones that reflected light like the sun on a patch of ice. Animal-like, yes - but there was no mistaking the affection in them. “Just be with me after - I’ll be tired as fuck and really hungry and...” He held Matt’s hand and rubbed his cheek against the palm, looking at him through his lashes; it felt important, to be able for Matt to see the way Richie looked at him. You could say I love you, but when your partner gazed at you like you were the sun, the moon, the stars - that was a special sort of sensation. “We can go watch the clouds in the sky or something. Eat mac and cheese from a box. Or you can watch me sleep - be creepy, I don’t even mind.”

---

Matt… Hunter Matt, that is, not Daredevil Matt… once witnessed a werewolf transform. She was behind the strong iron bars of a cage, a trap he and his sister had set. Just by the way it looked, the way her body contorted and her face grimaced, he knew it was a painful ordeal. It wasn’t anything Matt wanted to experience for himself… but for Richie he’d make the sacrifice. He wanted to insist that Richie infect him with a bite, so at least they could share the pain together…

But the depth of love and tenderness in Richie’s eyes broke through the stubbornness seated there. It made sense - Richie would be physically exhausted and needed somebody to see to his needs, not another idiot suffering beside him. It was his turn to curse how unfair Derleth was to keep separating them in one way or another. Then again, if it wasn’t for Derleth, he wouldn’t have ever met Richie in the first place. Matt’s shoulders sagged with voluntary submission.

“Okay….” he said “For you. He gently stroked his thumb across Richie’s cheek, still taking in the details… from the creases in his face, to the perfect shade of his eyes… preserving the memory for later. “What do you feel like doing now?”

---

“I think you’ve been cooped up for a while, Mattimus,” Richie chuckled wryly. “Wanna go for a walk or something?” If he kept moving, that would help him too - the thought of sitting around and waiting for the inevitable made his skin crawl in a whole new kind of way. Plus he knew Matt wanted to see this world, this campus - for everything it was. Maybe it wasn’t particularly impressive, but the rest of the sunrise - it would no doubt be beautiful, the way the clouds caught fire and gave way to those hazy daytime skies. He didn’t want Matt to miss that - or how green the forest was. Even the way the fog looked, the way it rose and resembled steam bubbling up - he’d want to remember that too.

Richie couldn’t help it though - he leaned in and kissed Matt again, so relieved he was the Matt he knew and loved and that they’d get at least a little bit of time to spend where Matt had his sight.

Small favors. You had to take them where you could get them, sometimes. Especially here.

---

Going out to explore the campus, especially with Richie, was high on Matt’s lists of things he wanted to do before the week’s end. His fingers intertwined with Richie when he held his hand. “I’d like that a lot.” He smiled, eager to see everything, and everybody. It was temporary, but he’d be able to take these images and hold them in the core of his heart.

As they headed for the door, he remembered something from the night before. “I shot somebody last night. Fuck.” That was awful, but at least they were okay, right? “Have you talked to Mobius? He knocked me out and I’m guessing he was the one who brought me here, but what about the werewolf? They ran off after I fired the gun, so I hope I didn’t hurt them badly. Do you know who that was?”

---

What?

Oh. Shit. Richie felt a momentarily swell of panic, but he tried to stuff it down - because he knew Matt was going to go careening along a shame spiral as he recounted what happened, so Richie - as his stalwart partner - would try to cut it off at the pass.

"I don't know," he replied honestly, turning and leaning back against the door, watching Matt. His hands came up to frame that ridiculously lumberjack-bearded face, Richie stroking his thumbs along the plane of cheekbones. "I was in the theater the whole night so I'd have to check the network, but - we'll figure it out. You'll stay with me, okay? Until tonight. And then I'll need you tomorrow. I just - I need you."

It wasn't a lie. He'd needed Matt ever since they started this bonkershits week, it was simply that with him playing the role of hunter and Richie an actual monster, every bit of that threw in the biggest of monkey wrenches - and all he could do now was take the rest of the week one step at a time.

---

“Of course I’ll stay with you,” Matt replied, even chuckling a little at the thought that Richie might believe he’d do nothing less. For now, his heart was light, even with the looming shadow of werewolves transforming at sunset. His life had been in darkness for years, so if something was going to spoil his mood, it would have to be something pretty terrible… you know… like actually killing a kid and wounding somebody else so badly that they decided to be turned into a vampire rather than die?

Matt leaned into Richie’s hand, “Has anybody ever told you, you have beautiful eyes? Because you do.”

---