[for ellen]

[manwithoutfear]

I've come to look forward to these moments, the aftermath often as enjoyable as the deed itself. Ellen's pulse flutters under my lips as I press a slow, sucking kiss to her throat, and though I've spent the past however long mapping her body through touch and taste, there remains all these little surprises just waiting to be discovered. My own limbs are loose and warm and so, so heavy, the best kind of exhaustion pulling me closer and closer towards sleep, but that doesn't stop me from taking my time in getting settled beside her, leaving a trail of wet kisses in my wake, fingers caressing her every curve.

(Perhaps I have my reputation for a reason.)

Practically humming out a sigh, I finally lay back onto the bed, pillowing my head with my arm as I stretch out my legs, toes curling. I really can't think of any better way to celebrate a year's enforced vacation; after all, I might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

Comments

[shewaswarned]

In the aftermath, she's boneless, wordless, practically thoughtless, reduced to little more than a tiny series of gasps and groans when his mouth lingers against her skin, warm and still exploratory. Her eyes are closed, letting her focus on the placement of his hands, his lips. It makes her reluctant to pull away immediately despite the heat that seems to hang in the air above them, leaving her flushed even as she curls in along his side to seek out a continuance of his warmth, slowly sliding an arm across his middle.

Her cheek nestles against his shoulder, her nose a light brush against his jaw as she tilts her head back to look up at him, eyes slowly blinking open.

"Well," she murmurs, clearing her throat softly, "that's one way to celebrate an anniversary."

[manwithoutfear]

My lips pull back in a sudden grin, and a low laugh gets caught in my throat.

"You took the words right out of my mouth."

[shewaswarned]

She turns her head, briefly hiding her face against his chest, but her mouth curves into a slow grin, her body too relaxed to even tense as she chuckles.

"We were on the same wavelength there for a few minutes."

[manwithoutfear]

"Among... other things," I agree, lifting my hand to cup her cheek, feel the curve of the smile that's pressed to my chest with the pad of my thumb. Even so sated, I'm greedy with my touch, having gone long enough without any to cherish every bit of it now.

[shewaswarned]

"Mmm." She sighs in further agreement, letting her mouth drop the tension of its smile as his thumb moves across her lips, her fingers curling around his wrist as her own thumb mimics his sweeping motion.

"Maybe the aftereffects are a little more long-lasting."

[manwithoutfear]

"To be fair, we were at it a while," I say, stretching out my back until I allow my body to sink back into the bed. We'll have to get up eventually -- if for no other reason that I'm finding myself thirsty -- but it seems like an insurmountable obstacle for the time being, walking.

"We seem to be making a habit of it, actually..."

[shewaswarned]

She curls along his side and partially across his chest, one arm resting over his body to effectively drape herself over him as she props her chin up, looking down at him. Even without looking in a mirror, she can tell her hair is effectively mussed, whatever remaining lipstick she was wearing now gone entirely.

"You noticed that too?" she asks, not even hiding a smile.

[manwithoutfear]

"I'm blind, not unobservant," I reply, using the sound of her voice to guide my hand. My fingers slip along her temple, and then through her hair, lightly catching through the odd tangle. I'm careful not to tug.

[shewaswarned]

"I'm not exactly in a position of minding too much," she points out, making reference to the way they continually find themselves in this position - or something similar.

Her eyelashes flutter against her cheek when she closes her eyes, enjoying the touch of his hand.

[manwithoutfear]

"No?"

I'm teasing (the lilt in my voice gives me away), but the question could be meant in earnest. We've never really set boundaries. Never deliberated what and who we are to one another. If we're exclusive or something less rigid (though I know I've certainly been the former). Whatever we have together (and I'm confident enough to say we have something) we fell into it.

Thoughtful, I add, "Me, neither."

[shewaswarned]

"No," she murmurs, a softer echo of his tone and much more sincere, and she slides her hand along the breadth of his chest, resting her chin on top of it as she studies him from the angle above, smiling faintly. Fondly.

"Well, I admit I probably would've been a little jealous if someone else had earned the honor of marking this particular anniversary for you."

[manwithoutfear]

Jealous. Not a word often thrown my way (and even if it had, it's been long enough that I've forgotten). I feel my eyebrows move towards my hairline, a satisfied smile tugging at my lips. There are worse people I could be making jealous, even if it's only in the land of hypothetical. As it is, I'm equally as glad that there was no cause for alarm.

"Only a little?"

[shewaswarned]

"Maybe more than a little," she confesses, watching his expression change in his amusement, his curiosity. They might have started to speak in mere hypotheticals, but she's coming to find that some of her answers are laced in a more genuine tone. There's feelings at work here, and she's somehow been surprised by them, not entirely positive when they managed to spring up.

"Is that okay?"

[manwithoutfear]

I shift from underneath her, hooking a pillow with my elbow to prop myself up. The joke's given away to something more serious, sincere, and I'll give it its due process. Some traitorous part of me thinks I ought to tell her no, to protect her from the life I've not so much as hinted at since we've met. I'm no one to covet, not with the baggage I've tried to bury. I ignore the impulse to tell that particular truth. There's a better way to tell her about my past, perhaps one no less flattering, but wrapped in a more neutral context.

"C'mere."

[shewaswarned]

She gradually eases off him and slides her way up towards the head of the bed, leaning on her side to prop her head up in one hand as her elbow notches in a pillow, resting comfortably. She's still lingering close, though, her other hand resting mere inches from his shoulder as they both settle more comfortably in the aftermath.

"Not going anywhere else," she softly promises, her hand moving to stroke fingertips down his arm.

[manwithoutfear]

"Neither am I."

I'm as confident as I can manage with a promise that's outside my power to keep, emboldened by our newfound exclusivity. (Neither of us have stated it outright, of course, but that's to be expected in our trade. Why use one word when five will surely suffice?) The confidence wavers, however, when I think she'd have every right to take a hike were I to delve into some of my personal history. While I've never outright lied, there's so much I've kept to myself, dismissing as irrelevant to the circumstances. After what happened with Milla...

"Ellen." My voice catches. I'm not sure where I'm going with this.

[shewaswarned]

She doesn't need to see his face to know the mixture of emotions that must be filtering through, the way his voice snags on the utterance of her name a clear enough signal. She worries, more than anything, that she's crossed a line she shouldn't have by saying more, expressing more than what he may be feeling on his end of things. She gently takes a hold of his hand, fingers slipping through his for a firmer grip, and squeezes, her thumb moving in a small back-and-forth swipe.

"Talk to me," she whispers, tipping her head back to look at him directly.

[manwithoutfear]

Of all the things she could've said... A dry laugh passes through my lips. With my free hand, I let my fingers flutter under her nearest wrist, coming to a rest under her pulse point and finding comfort in the steady rhythm.

"I probably should," I agree, though I doubt it's what she meant. This part doesn't come easy. Once upon a time, it did, but I've since learned to be more careful about revealing my identity -- precautions that were too little, too late, arguably. Not that that stopped me.

"Ellen, your home... Did anyone have abilities, powers?"

[shewaswarned]

Powers. A little different than power - there's plenty of that in Manhattan, plenty of people who both have it and know how to wield it. Sometimes the two aren't exactly one and the same. But abilities - there's nothing like that for her at home - or if there is, she hasn't been aware of it. A part of her thinks that's a bit of a stretch, and she looks up at Matt, making a negatory sound even as she shakes her head.

"No, nothing like that," she replies, wondering what it all has to do with the expression on his face as she curls in against his side. "Why?"

[manwithoutfear]

I'm not surprised, though I find such a world difficult to imagine. The modern super-teams have only been around for the last decade or so, but the X-Men were as responsible for the creation of mutants as the Avengers were for every other superhero in the phonebook (which is to say, not at all). Super humans have consumed public interest since the days of Captain America and the Invaders, and have their roots in times earlier still.

It's part of my history... A history Ellen's world (and the world of so many others) can't even begin to know or understand. Telling her who I am won't carry the same weight as it might have otherwise, and for a moment, I consider changing the subject. I ignore the impulse.

"Mine did."

[shewaswarned]

"Really?"

Her response is a mixture of surprise and disbelief, too blended together to tell where one stops and the other begins. While she's familiar with special abilities as they pertain to worlds in movies, books or some other form of media, it's another thing entirely to have someone in front of her telling her that those realities really exist somewhere. She wonders if he's choosing to tell her for a reason, if there was something keeping him from sharing it before that isn't an issue now.

"That's - wow." She chuckles softly, trying to consider it all. "Like superheroes, you mean?"

[manwithoutfear]

"In the simplest of terms... Yes."

It's going to be a tough sell. Apparently, our present circumstances on a magical island haven't done much to convince her of the possibility of other worlds that have long since rejected the mundane as status quo. I'd be surprised, but there are New Yorkers who still don't believe what's been right in front of them for years.

"Like superheroes."

[shewaswarned]

"I mean, honestly, if we were back in New York somehow and you'd told me that then, I probably wouldn't have believed you," she says, punctuating the words with a sigh.

"But after everything I've seen here, everything that this place changes - itself, the people here - it doesn't sound so ridiculous or farfetched to imagine that it could happen in other worlds too. Of course, that still doesn't mean that there's someone in a cape and mask walking around my version of Manhattan, but who's to say that isn't happening in another New York somewhere, right?" She rests her hand against his shoulder, noting the mixture of emotions in his expression.

"Did you know anyone like that? Personally?"

[manwithoutfear]

"Heh."

There's no helping it. Try as I'd like to keep the smile from my face, it's moved in before I have a chance. (Did I personally know anyone like that? Well, I guess you could say that. Hell, for a while there, I was my only friend, and who am I if not Daredevil, the Man Without Fear? Another year without Daredevil, and I'm still forced to consider that question, no closer to an answer now than I was the day I arrived here, senses deadened.)

With a light touch, I bring her hand over my abdomen, resting her fingers over the lingering scar tissue from a run-in with my old friend Bullseye. Just as carefully, I bring her hand over to another scar, this one courtesy of the Punisher's bullets. Only two of the many marks I carry, not with any sense of pride or sentiment, but necessity. Here, they stand as the only proof I have that my life was more interesting than that of a simple defense attorney.

"You've never wondered where these came from?"

[shewaswarned]

"I did, but - "

Her fingertips linger against the last scar he brings her to, gently touching the blurred edges, the way it differentiates from the rest of the normal, smoother skin. She's never seen scars like this before (the only one she carries is from that blade biting across her throat in Patty's apartment), but he doesn't have to tell her where they came from for her to realize what caused them. The clarity is so stark and unexpected that she nearly gasps out loud, her fingers curling against his abdomen as she looks up at him, wondering how she could've missed it. Everyone has their own scars, she knows that much - but after what he's already shared with her, her powers of deduction are racing and she figures there can only be one answer for why he'd be carrying the scars of old bullet wounds on his body.

"You - you were - you are - ?"

[manwithoutfear]

I nod, though it means nothing to me. Just a habit I've never grown out of from the days I could still see long ago, an instinct I've never been able to shake. With the same delicate touch, I lift her hand to my temples, pressing down on her nail beds so that she'll feel the faded remnants of the chemical burn that stole my sight.

"The accident that blinded me."

[shewaswarned]

She'd wanted to ask, wanted to know, but like other things, she figured it was just something he might share with her in his own time. The way she'd shared David with him, but had left out some of the details of the bigger picture. In a sense, she's still putting those pieces together herself.

"And afterwards, is that when you - ?"

[manwithoutfear]

"My other senses were heightened. I could hear a pin drop from a block over... Read a book just by feeling the impressions left in the paper from the ink..."

I could elaborate for hours, but less is more in this instance. She's from a world where the impossible is just that, whereas my reality has played fast and loose with the laws of physics for decades.

"But it took years to get to that point. I was just a kid when it happened, overwhelmed by a twist of fate. I woke up different, not a hero. That part came much later."

[shewaswarned]

If anything, it explains his ability to recognize when she's switched her perfume, when she's using a different kind of shampoo. She'd initially chalked it up to his body making up for its lack of sight with other senses, but she'd underestimated the degree to which his other senses are overcompensating.

"And you can do all of those things now - or can't you?" she asks, pulling her hand back from his temple - although it still rests on his shoulder, light and constant. She's heard of the island taking away, but she's never had any abilities to lose personally.

[manwithoutfear]

"No."

It's not a properly formed word so much as an explosion of air, a frustrated sigh. The gist is the same. Suddenly, I feel the need to stand. I sit up, groping through the tangle of sheets to find my pants.

"When I showed up here, everything was..." I search for the right word and it's so obvious I don't know why it didn't come to me immediately. "Quiet. Bland."

[shewaswarned]

She rises similarly, but doesn't move to dress right away, absently clutching the bedsheet against her front as she pushes her other hand through her hair, running fingers through the mussed strands.

"You know, the things you can do are - impressive," she confesses, watching the slope of his shoulders. "The man I know is anything but bland."

[manwithoutfear]

A smile touches my lips, but I don't abandon my search for something to wear.

"No, I'm charming, exciting, debonair... All while being the kind of man a mother wouldn't mind her daughter bringing home," I reply, arrogance oozing through my every syllable. Swinging my feet over the edge of the bed, I bend down, my fingers finally finding purchase around worn denim.

"It's just my perception that's changed." Shoving my feet into the right pant legs, I stand and get dressed. "Not to mention what I do with my time."

[shewaswarned]

She grins, somehow ending up in a resting position on her stomach, tangled up in sheets, her chin propped up in her hand as she watches him stand.

"My mother wouldn't have much to protest against - although I'm not so sure how she'd feel about a fellow lawyer," she says, musing out loud. She's chuckling before she finishes, only stopping to add: "She had enough to worry about when I was engaged to a doctor, for God's sake."

[manwithoutfear]

"You're taking this remarkably well," I note, stretching my arms above my head. My limbs are still heavy from before, practically useless, but I feel the need to offer some proof for my claims. (An old habit -- and arguably a bad one.)

"Though I will thank you for not questioning my sanity."

She's probably the closest person to me who hasn't.

[shewaswarned]

She frowns at that, a small shrug of both shoulders preceding her next words as she attempts to find a way to phrase it as non-offensively as possible. Something tells her he won't react negatively, but she's been surprised at least once so far today. (Twice, actually, if she counts that thing he'd done in bed earlier - and she's distracting herself.)

"I hate to be one of those 'I'll believe it when I see it' types, but - " She trails off, her frown becoming more apologetic than thoughtful.

"I know you can't really offer me much in the way of proof here."

[manwithoutfear]

"Under the bed, three slats from the right-handed side of the headboard."

I pause from talking long enough to remember where the hell I dropped my cane earlier, though it's my foot that ends up finding it by chance. Crouching down to retrieve it, I execute a very casual one-armed cartwheel to straighten myself out, using the slow pull and burn of muscle as a sort of wake-up call.

"There's a wooden box I keep my costume in." I smile. "I'm told it's red."

[shewaswarned]

"Your - " She cuts herself off before actually repeating the word, pauses. There's no sign that he's going to break out into a grin and admit to having pulled one over on her here. She does take another pause, but only to slip on the closest thing her hand touches - his shirt - so she isn't conducting this search without a single stitch on.

And then she's looking, reaching down under the bed and feeling along, counting to three until her fingers touch the right slat and bump. She pulls the box out slowly, settling it on her lap, looking up to his face. When she cracks open the lid, all she can see is red before her eyes make out the shapes - the cowl resting on top, with its lenses, and two distinct -

"Horns," she breathes, glancing up at him. "Those would be horns."

[manwithoutfear]

"The kids at school used to call me Daredevil as a joke," I explain as my hands go through the familiar motions of turning my prop of a cane into a weapon: a billy club.

"My dad was a boxer, but he didn't want me following in his footsteps, so I was forbidden to fight, to defend myself from their taunts. All they saw was a bookworm -- practically an endangered species in Hell's Kitchen -- when in truth, I could've wiped the floor with every last one of them... I just wanted to keep my promise."

And all the while I broke it every night to train in secret. The wryness in my voice tugs at the corners of my mouth.

"I imagine this seems ridiculous to you."

[shewaswarned]

She finds herself smiling, that gradual shift in expression occurring almost by natural reflex as he shares those memories with her - only to have it falter slightly as she watches the cane in his hands shift into something that looks like it could do a little more damage.

Her fingertips trace the initials, the twin D's embroidered into the fabric. It's a lot to take in, certainly, but not overwhelmingly so.

"No, nothing like that," is her promise as she gently sets the box to one side, rising and moving to stand in front of him. Her hand finds a scar she'd been pointed to only moments before.

"But you didn't get these hiding behind a book."

[manwithoutfear]

The right information in the wrong hands can be as deadly as any gun or knife. Back home, what little I've told her could go for a hefty price, and I'm no stranger to being sold out. That danger doesn't exist here.

The rush of adrenaline thinks otherwise.

"I also didn't get them in a schoolyard."

[shewaswarned]

"Different kind of playground." The only difference is that it sounds like he'd stood up to them in those particular instances, even if he's walking around with the evidence of it not having been an easy fight.

She can relate. Someone had been sent to kill her, but he'd ended up with a knife in his chest for his troubles - and besides, she'd learned the truth about who was really responsible, in the end.

"The bullies just get bigger."

[manwithoutfear]

I laugh. Loudly. I haven't even said a word about Wilson Fisk yet, and he's undoubtedly been the biggest bully of them all -- in more ways than one.

"You have no idea."

[shewaswarned]

She steps in, tipping her head back to preserve that line of sight, her hands challengingly braced on her own hips. It's in her best lawyer voice, soft and low and meant to impress a point. Make them come to you, Patty'd always said.

"Try me."

[manwithoutfear]

"Six foot seven, 450 lbs of muscle, and too clever by half. His name was Wilson Fisk, but they called him the Kingpin."

Until I won the name, that is, but that's a story for a different day, if I tell it at all. I match Ellen's step forward, getting in close enough that I can feel her breath against my skin.

"A bit bigger than your average grade schooler."

[shewaswarned]

She pushes out a breath, soft between pursed lips, a line of thought forming between her brows.

"You weren't kidding." He hasn't been kidding about any of this, anyway, so there's no reason to suspect that will change any time soon. Her hand closes over his, over the one that clutches the hidden weapon within his cane.

"Thank you," she whispers. "For telling me. I know you didn't have to."

[manwithoutfear]

"It doesn't mean anything here."

None of it does. The work I put in, the bridges I burned, the sacrifices I made... As long as I'm here on this island outside of space and time and reason -- Matt Murdock or Daredevil -- it doesn't mean a damned thing... But of course I had to tell her. There are other stories that don't need revisiting, parts of my past I don't need to share, but that part felt different.

I clear my throat. "But I trust I have attorney-client privileges?"

[shewaswarned]

"Maybe not, but - you didn't have to say anything at all, if that's the case." But this had been his life, at least before the island, and he's sharing it with her, the same way she had with him months before, when he was only an open ear and a trustworthy friend then.

Her eyes light up with the next few words out of his mouth, and she slowly winds her arms around his middle, tipping her head back to look up at him. "My lips are sealed."

[manwithoutfear]

I trust her. Maybe because she trusted me first. It's not something that's come easily to me these past few years, and some part of me thinks I'm being naïve for believing this is real. It's a part that's easy to ignore with her arms around me.

I tip my chin down, and press a kiss to those sealed lips of hers. An extra lock.