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‘One day, I’m going to turn you in and it’s going to be the best day of my life.’
Matt, the absolute asshole , just laughs. And laughs.
And laughs, never mind that they’re just metres from the street. Sure they’re under the cover of darkness and all that shit Matt seems to enjoy, but it ain’t going to do much if someone comes into this alleyway and sees a cop and Daredevil standing over a body.
An unconscious body. Brett might not have much of his pride left, but he’s got that much. One thin line in the sand he still hasn’t crossed; one tiny moral Matt and his ridiculous crusade haven’t fucked to hell.
Yet.
‘You done?’ Brett says, tapping his fingers against his gun.
Matt shuts up, but there’s still a smirk on his face. Brett’s certain that his eyes are still bright, though they’re - thankfully - hidden under his mask.
His goddamned mask.
And Foggy teases Brett about his lack of fashion sense. Like that jerk can talk.
‘Why Detective? Do you have somewhere to be?’ Matt says.
‘Yeah, the precinct, cleaning up your messes. As usual.’
That just makes Matt smirk more, already reaching behind himself for the fire escape. Brett cocks an ear and - yup, there’s the sirens he’s heard.
‘I thought you liked my presents?’ Matt says with a pout as he climbs to the first floor.
‘Oh yeah, beat up assholes covered in blood is my favourite thing to find under the tree.’ Brett fishes out his handcuffs with a sigh, checking the pulse of said asshole. ‘Next time try chocolate.’
‘I’ll keep it in mind,’ Matt calls and when Brett looks up, he’s gone.
Typical.
********
The stupidest thing Brett’s ever done is not immediately showing up to Murdock’s place with a warrant and pair of handcuffs when he finally put the pieces together and realised Matt Murdock is Daredevil.
Instead Brett went to his apartment with a beer and a list of questions. Because he remembered that night in the cemetery - and the nights after - and how determined Daredevil’s been in all his encounters to enforce his - bloody - form of justice.
And this is Matt Murdock . If there’s a man in New York who comes with as many references - blinded at nine being a hero, grew into a lawyer obsessed with helping the innocent, Foggy Nelson’s best friend - to be a good man, Brett’s yet to meet them.
The benefit of the doubt, then.
Thing is, Matt seems to take his lack of being arrested as a sign that Brett’s going to help.
And Brett…
Well Brett does, so maybe Matt’s not too wrong.
Damn him.
*********
‘When I said chocolates were better, I wasn’t asking.’
Matt shrugs, still holding out the box. ‘You said to try chocolate,’ he says, sounding a little bit offput.
Brett blinks. What? ‘I’m sorry?’ he says, putting as much incredulity into his voice as he can.
Matt bites at his lip and lowers his head. ‘You said chocolate makes a better present than ah,’ he cocks his head, then takes a step in even though they’re being ignored by everyone else in the room, ‘my usual ‘bloody’ gift.’
If Matt Murdock could see, he would be cowering under the glare Brett is directing at him, he’s sure. ‘It’s a better present sure, but how about you just don’t leave any?’
The look on Matt’s face can only be described as dumbfounded. ‘But… I want to give you something? You deserve it.’
It’s Brett’s turn to feel off balance, like the world is shifting around underneath him. ‘Why?’
‘Because you put up with me,’ Matt says, the tone of his voice making Brett’s heart ache. He gives Brett a soft smile, puts the box of chocolates on Brett’s desk and walks out.
Later, when Brett actually opens the box, he’s not surprised to find every single chocolate in there is mint, or some kind of nut - his favourites.
Huh.
*********
Brett asks Matt out on a Tuesday night.
It seems that once Matt Murdock lets you into his secret, you’re also free game for his random, late-night visits. Mostly to tip Brett off about criminal activity - followed by medical attention that Brett finds himself dragging Matt into because mother of God, this man thinks it’s fine to walk the streets while bleeding - but sometimes for other reasons.
So when Matt turns up to Brett’s place with a beer and a muttered ‘Returning the favour,’ Brett just steps aside and lets him in. Matt makes himself at home on a spare seat on the couch - making no comment about how the clutter of casefiles make Brett’s tiny apartment feel miniscule - and they sit.
And stare.
It’s awkward until Matt asks about one of Brett’s cases and Brett finds himself filling Matt in, certain the vigilante won’t be involving himself in the art theft. Then Brett finds himself bringing up some of his sillier arrests, while Matt shares the antics of his dumber clients.
It’s… it’s fun right up until the topic shifts to the reality of justice and it starts to go to shit.
‘There are times that the law isn’t enough,’ Matt says, waving his beer around and pointing just left of Brett. ‘Sometimes justice means working beyond it, when the reality is that working within it is just going to leave everyone worse off.’
Brett grits his teeth. ‘And who gets to decide when that situation is? Whose judgment is so perfect, so blind-’ he ignores Matt’s hiss of laughter, ‘blind to human prejudice that they can know when the law is wrong.’
‘I’m not saying the law is wrong. Just that sometimes you have to act beyond it, in order to make the world a better place.’
‘Break the law to serve a higher purpose, you mean?’ Brett tries to calm himself down, to slow his breathing and stop the pounding of his heart. But it’s hard to do when his blood is burning and his mind racing.
Matt flinches, then shakes his head. ‘No,’ he says, sounding pained and a vague memory flashes through Brett’s mind, of Foggy mentioning how Catholic his new ‘bestie’ is. Huh. Okay then.
‘What do you mean then?’
‘Break the law to protect people,’ Matt says, as earnest as he’s ever been. ‘I know what I do is wrong,’ and huh, does hearing that make something in Brett soar, ‘but if I didn’t do it, I know Hell’s Kitchen would be worse off.’ He looks down, staring at Brett’s floor. ‘I’m not like you Brett. I can’t make the city a better place while working within the law.’
Brett snorts. ‘I can’t seem to manage it much either,’ he says with a sigh, ‘so I’d say we’re about even.’ Some tension in the room seems to snap, leaving it much easier to breathe.
Matt raises his head, looking incredulous. ‘But you… you helped bring down Fisk-’
‘With your vigilante help.’
‘-you crack a dozen cases a day,’ Matt continues, sitting up straighter in his seat, ‘and you were the only cop no one needed to investigate during the Fisk affair because the idea of you being corrupt was too ludicrous to consider.’
‘You manage to make my resume sound impressive,’ Brett says with a snort and Matt ducks his head, a flush to his cheeks.
Which… might actually explain a few things. Brett finds himself running the last few weeks - okay months - through his mind, applying this new and different light. Excuses to hang out, gifts…
‘You free Friday?’ he finds himself asking, before his brain catches up to his mouth. Shit does he want to date Matt Murdock?
Well okay yes, he’s attractive. And sure Brett’s always had a soft spot for good men - or women, he’s not fussy - who believe fiercely in what they’re doing. And for all it’s hanging out with a violent and dangerous vigilante, time spent with Matt has never felt like time wasted…
Okay yes. He wants to date Matt Murdock. Damn it.
Matt blinks, tilting his head in confusion. ‘I ah… yes? I mean, depends on when. I like to patrol a bit Fridays, there’s always a lot of assholes around as the night goes along.’
‘At six?’
‘I’ll be free.’
Pushing aside the butterflies suddenly filling his stomach, Brett asks, ‘Want to go out for dinner? As a date?’
If he’d punched Matt, Brett’s sure he couldn’t have made the man look more dumbfounded. ‘What?’
‘You. Me. Date. Friday.’ Brett finds himself falling into an old habit, one he used on Foggy a thousand times.
For a long moment, an endless moment that has Brett fidgeting more with every second, Matt just stares.
Then he nods. ‘Okay. Let’s… let’s get dinner.’
A smile creeps across Brett’s face without his permission.
A mirroring smile spreads over Matt’s face a second later.
*********
Matt meets him at the restaurant, a small Chinese place run by a friend of Brett’s mother.
‘A friend?’ Matt asks with a raised eyebrow as they’re led to a table right by the kitchen, with glasses already full of wine. It’s the good stuff too, if the bottle on the table is anything to go by.
Brett rolls his eyes. ‘Well, ‘friend’. I swear, my Mom’s on the best of terms with half of Hell’s Kitchen and is owed favours by the other half.’
That gets Matt to smirk. ‘What half do I fall into then?’
‘That depends.’
‘On what?’
‘On how this date goes and if you keep beating up the people her son’s supposed to arrest.’ Matt looks down at this, his hands clenching around his cane. Oh wait, wrong impression. ‘If she could kiss you for that, I’m sure she would.’
Matt raises his glance. ‘She hates you being a cop,’ he says in a tone that has Brett taking a moment to realise was a statement not a question.
‘Not overly fond of it. Better cop than criminal though, so she’s not complaining too much.’
That gets a laugh from Matt, just as their meals arrive.
********
‘Come with me,’ Matt says, reaching through Brett’s window.
They were supposed to go out on their fifth date tonight but Matt had called saying he’d be late and to wait at home for him to call. Now he’s here, reaching in through Brett’s window and giving his left ear the approximation of a ‘trust me, I’m honest’ look.
It’s not very convincing.
Brett should be concerned, filled with jittery nerves and icy fear. Matt’s wearing his Daredevil suit - sans mask! - and leaning in Brett’s window. All it takes is one person to look up and they’re both going to be in so much trouble.
But he’s not.
Instead he takes Matt’s hand and lets Matt help him out the window and up onto his roof - ignoring the way he’s shaking every moment of the brief climb. Then Brett lets Matt lead him, taking what has to be the easiest parkour path Matt knows, along the roofs of Hell’s Kitchen.
Running alongside Daredevil is exhilarating, in a way that sets Brett’s blood alight and has his heart pounding.
When Matt stops, Brett nearly crashes into him; stopping himself mid stride.
‘Look,’ Matt says, nodding to the left.
‘It’s Hell’s Kitchen?’ Brett says, trying to make sense of why Matt’s brought him all the way out here to show him what would easily be visible from his window in the city.
But Matt just huffs a laugh and sits on the edge of the roof. Brett eyes it for a long moment, before carefully settling in beside him.
‘It’s our city,’ Matt says, closing his eyes. ‘That building there,’ he points and Brett stares at the nondescript concrete building, ‘there’s a woman on the top floor, singing to her dog. The man in the apartment beside her is humming along, his heart pounding.’
Brett finds himself inhaling deeply as Matt continues to describe the city around them. His eyes slip closed and he starts to imagine the image Matt’s painting - joy and suffering; kindness and cruelty; lawlessness and justice…
Hell’s Kitchen.
‘It’s beautiful,’ he finds himself saying as Matt trails off. ‘Ridiculous of course, but you make it sound almost decent.’
Matt laughs. ‘It’s only anything like that because you’re in it.’
Brett groans. ‘Foggy was right, you are a dor-’
Matt kisses him, stealing his words away. ‘I’m a what?’ he says, when they break apart.
‘I hate you,’ Brett whispers, wishing with every bone in his body the opposite wasn’t true.
‘ Liar ,’ Matt breathes, then leans in again.
Brett’s going to live to regret this.
What the hell. Might as well enjoy it now.
He kisses back.