log; black cat & daredevil WHO: Matt Murdock & Felicia Hardy WHEN: Monday, June 15th, afternoon WHERE: Matt and Foggy's apartment WHAT: Felicia gives Matt a haircut, because she's not screwing a guy with a mullet. It's cute.
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For people who weren't dating, they definitely acted like they were dating.
The situation looked sexy on the surface: they were mostly undressed, Matt was freshly out of the shower and sitting at her feet (and on top of a towel) while Felicia perched on the edge of the bed behind him. But armed with a comb and a pair of scissors, all that nudity was just to make it easier to clean up the hair that fell while Felicia trimmed off Matt's impending mullet.
It wasn't like anyone had started a salon around here, and Felicia was not going to fuck a man who could describe his hair as "party in the back".
Matt had his head bowed forward, each little clip clip clip from the scissors sending faint tingles through the back of his skull. He was nearly asleep, to be honest, his legs crossed and his arms resting on his knees, his breaths deep and comfortable. He didn't get a lot of comfort and peace, with how invasive his senses were, and he never took quiet moments like this for granted.
The one thing that kept him from drifting off was one thought cycling through his head: I think I'm in love with her.
He'd said it to Foggy, and now he couldn't ignore it. The woman behind him, trimming his hair … the woman he wasn't dating, Peter's ex — he was in love with her, and now that he knew that it was completely distracting.
"Thanks," he mumbled.
"Mmm. It's more for me than for you," she said distractedly, snipping at the hair just below his left ear. "We may be trapped in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, and I may have stopped shaving my legs, but I still can't be seen with a man rocking a mullet. We still need standards, honey."
"No, please. I can't rock a mullet. I'm blind and even I know that's a bad look for me," Matt said softly, shivering a little when the scissors closed again. He reached back, running his fingertips over her leg. He really didn't mind it, he decided, though he thought for a while that he might. If Felicia didn't want to shave in a place where razors were limited, what the hell did he care?
He chuckled, finding her foot and giving it a squeeze. "I'm sorry I didn't stop and warn you that Foggy was coming in the other night."
(Really, the leg-shaving thing would last until Felicia looked down and mistook her calfs for an old lady's. At least for now the white hair was nearly invisible.)
"I think it bothered him more than it bothered me." Felicia briefly leaned down so she could kiss his ear. "We talked it out. We disagree about the sexual attractiveness of hands, but we're on the same page about asses. We're in a good place."
Matt made a face. "So my ass is a problem?"
"Not for me. Maybe for him. We agree that asses are sexy, but I think we disagree on which asses. We may have similar taste in boobs, I don't know. We didn't go into detail." Felicia pressed her nose to the top of his head, smelling his clean hair. "I hate to say this, but I don't think he's that into you."
Matt chuckled softly, leaning up so he could press a kiss to her mouth. "He's a little into me," he murmured. "Not really, but a little. Not as into me as you are. Because you're really into me."
"I feel like who's into who is the other way around." One (no, two) kisses later, Felicia leaned back. "Now stop it, or you'll be crooked. Turn your head a little to the right."
Matt shifted, turning his head as she requested, and resisted the urge to rest against her thigh. "I'm trusting your judgment on this. Putting myself in your hands."
"You'll be fine. You seemed to trust my hands before now. I'll have to trim my edges next," she murmured. "I don't care if it gets long, but if it's all ratty at the bottom, it'll just look gross…" Felicia exhaled slowly, letting her shoulders relax. "You're going to look fine. Promise."
"So are you." Matt tipped his head up for another kiss, but didn't get one immediately. "Hey. I know I don't know how you look, but you look fine. And I know that it's bothering you. Your hair, your makeup … it's not important."
"You have to stop moving your head until I'm done." But she gave him the kiss before making him turn back. "Of course it's not important to you. When you see the world the way it really is, all that stuff doesn't need to be."
"So you're saying I'm biased." Matt flexed his fingers, taking time to work out some of the persistent aches in his knuckles. "I am. A lot of things don't seem important to me, where other things seem vital. Like showers, and washing your hands regularly. Breath mints."
"Appearance isn't personal for you, it's professional. That's kind of a man thing, but it's a you thing, too. For a lot of women it's… armor. Or war paint." Felicia was mostly focused on Matt's hair, her words coming out without much self consciousness or deliberate charm. "I'm only technically blonde, you know. It's white. And when you're a kid, that's weird."
Matt smiled faintly. "Your hair is white? Not just light blonde…?"
"It's actually white. I love it now, but if I don't take good care of my appearance, I look old and tired instead of deliberate. It's hard to make it work with light skin and blue eyes, everyone growing up thought I was albino -- I'm not, so you know -- and kids are dicks. You know how that goes." It was probably good that her hands were busy. When Felicia was totally in control of what she said, she was as guarded as she was charming, especially with Matt. She'd never said anything about her childhood before. "My family wasn't well off, I looked weird, then when I was thirteen I had a dead dad, supposedly. Then, you know… college happened. At some point I decided I didn't want to be me anymore."
Matt really didn't expect Felicia to open up like this. They kept things casual, and as much as they liked each other they really didn't know anything about each other as people. They interacted in suits, and beyond the basics they really didn't talk about their personal lives. "So if you're not you … what are you now?" he asked gently.
"Who I decided to be." Felicia combed hair away from his right ear and snipped off the split ends. "I nearly failed out of college, didn't have any money. I wasn't going to get the life I wanted the way you're supposed to, so…" She shrugged. "I stole it."
"Well, as a lawyer I can't really condone that, but as a person, I have to admire your dedication to shaping your own destiny." Matt was having a difficult time keeping his head still now, and he rolled his shoulders. Something popped on his right side, and he hissed. "Are you almost done? I want to kiss you."
"Almost…"
A couple little snips later, Felicia put everything down so she could brush the stray hair off the back of his neck and shoulders. "Much better. Come over here for a kiss, then."
Matt shifted, twisting a little so he could kiss the inside of her knee and up along the inside of her thigh. "I like this," he said. "Getting to know you better. It was one thing when we were only in suits, but …" As much as they said they weren't dating, it felt like it. And he felt like he'd gotten stupid for her. He knew he fell hard for women that he was attracted to, and Felicia was no exception no matter how badly he wanted her to be.
"Come on, don't get all mushy on me." Leaning down, Felicia kissed his mouth, cutting him off. She was already more vulnerable than she was used to. Superheroics were almost a moot point now; the only choice she had was to connect as a person, or give up connecting at all.
Matt turned fully to face her, leaning up and kissing her hard, his arms resting against her thighs. If she didn't want him to get mushy, he wouldn't get mushy. At this point she could ask him to do just about anything and he'd do it.
Yeah, he'd fallen. Hard. And at this point, there was no going back.