#mattjess | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

youveneverbeenalone · 4 years

Text

Inktober for Writers/Fictober:

Day 31- Final (Darejones)

So even though it may have looked like I forgot about this project or abandoned it, I never did. It just took me... a long while to finish the last prompt. But I finally did it! So for anyone who’s still interested, here’s the final day, and with the prompt of “Final” which seems fitting. Holy cow, I can’t believe this is finally going to stop taking up space in my head. More space for other ideas, then. Or at least I’m crossing my fingers about that.

This one is a culmination of pretty much the whole month of other prompts, and features our two favorite idiots hashing out their issues re: Matt’s recklessness and Jessica’s protectiveness. Hopefully it feels like the bookend it is meant to be.

Just in case anybody needs it, prompt list here list here, and links to the previous day, the tumblr masterlist, and the completed AO3 collection at the bottom. Let me know your thoughts if you’re so inclined. If you’re still here, thank you all so incredibly much for reading and sticking with me. I’m so glad to have found so many other Darejones fans along the way with this endeavor, and even though I disappeared for a while, I hope you’re all well! Cheers! ______

Day 31 - Final

The night he decides to stand his ground takes her by surprise, though later, as she reflects on it, she guesses that they’ve been building to this for a while now and he was well within his right to do so (even if she’s loath to admit it).

The call he makes to her earlier that afternoon to invite her along to help him with his vigilante-ing is vague enough that it gives her the impression that the whole gang will be joining them in whatever do-good actions they’ll be enforcing; so, when she shows up and sees only him on the warehouse rooftop, dressed and ready for action, she’s immediately suspicious. And that suspicion comes out in her voice, making her tone pointed, maybe even a little accusatory.

“What the hell is this?” she says, gesturing to the empty space around him.

“Well, hello to you too. But what are you talking about?” he asks, face distorting in confusion.

She fights back a snarl because she already has a bad feeling about the direction the conversation is heading, but she really hopes she’s reading him wrong. “Don’t act like an asshole. Where is everyone else?”

“It’s just us tonight,” he says, adjusting his gloves and helmet, as though he can’t wait another minute to bust down the doors and start kicking asses.

“‘Just us’? Up against an arms’ dealer and eight of his most well-armed buddies. But you didn’t think to call anyone else? Even when you took a round in the stomach last time you barged ahead and tried to handle something like this solo, and I chewed your ass to Brooklyn and back for it?”

“Jess, look—“ He has his hands up in a placating gesture, one that she can’t help but notice puts extra space between them. But that does nothing to cool the fury building in her stomach. If anything, it stokes the flame.

She stomps into his personal space and bats his hands away before using a strong finger to poke him in the chest of his suit.

“What the fuck is your problem, Matt? This is exactly the kind of thing I was on you to ask the team for help with.”

“And I did. I called you.” He sounds genuinely baffled as he points this out to her and for reasons that she can’t articulate, it causes her blood to boil.

“Yeah, and I’m fucking ecstatic. But that’s not what I meant, and you know it,” she snarks as she rolls her eyes at him.

“Jess, it’s not the first time I’ve been up against these guys. I can handle it. No, let me rephrase— we can handle it.”

“That’s not the point. It’s an unnecessary risk when we have a guy that’s literally bulletproof not even a borough away who would be all too happy to help us, I’m sure—”

“Yeah, but he was busy. It doesn’t matter anyway though, because you and I can handl—“

She barely even pauses enough to let him speak, let alone registers his words before cutting him off; she’s too busy digging her heels in. “You say that like we’re actually going to go through with this plan.”

“Because we are. Or at least … I am,” he says with a shrug. “I told you, I’ve taken this guy down before, guns and all, and he’s really not as dangerous as you seem to think—”

“Right. So was that before or after you nearly got yourself killed under a collapsing building?”

She can’t see his eyes, but she can tell his face has fallen by the pout of his mouth and the way his whole posture shrinks, like she’s punched him in the gut. “Jess. Come on. What does that have to do with this?”

At the sight of him, Jessica notices prickles of guilt that begin to gnaw at her stomach, but his words continue to fan the flames of anger, burning the guilt away. “Are you kidding? It has everything to do with this.”

“But I’m not being reckless. I’ve got a plan and I have you to help me. Plus, I’m in a much better head-space than I was last time. I could have already handled this on my own, but I was trying to show you I was making an effort by asking you to come with me.” He actually has the audacity to let incredulity slip into his voice. She nearly pops a blood vessel at the sound.

Jessica’s hands reflexively begin to ball into fists at her sides. Because he still just isn’t getting it. “Are you deliberately misunderstanding me at this point? Because, honestly, it’s kind of amazing if you aren’t.”

Matt puts a hand on his hip while rubbing the back of his neck with the other. “I don’t know what to tell you. I heard you and I took what you said to heart. I’ve been involving the team more often, and I’ve been making a conscious effort to be less reckless with my own safety. But I know what I’m doing. I was a vigilante long before I met you or the others, and I got along just fine—“

She doesn’t even try to stifle her scoff. “Judging by the patchwork of scars all over your body, that’s debatable at best, if not a full-fledged lie—“

Instinctively, she flinches as he interrupts her, voice raised and hands splayed out and pleading before him.

“Jess, please. What do you want me to do? Hang up the mask altogether? Because that’s what I’m really hearing you say. But I-I can’t do that ... I won’t. This is a part of who I am, and I won’t give it up. Not even for you. No matter how much I … care about you.”

Jessica blinks at him, her fight, flight, or freeze response engaging as the hair on her arms stands on end. She sucks in a shaky breath as he continues, voice low and raw, like he’s struggling to get the words out.

“I know you don’t like ultimatums, Jess. I don’t either, but I’m tired of this … ” he sighs heavily as he gestures between them, “ … this argument. I don’t want to fight about this anymore.” A red-hot flare of anxiety goes off in Jessica’s stomach as his voice trails off to a whisper. The words are nearly lost to the light breeze picking up on the rooftop.

But she hears him anyway, and her heart plummets to her feet. And suddenly her tongue, which moments before was lithe and fiery is now leaden and stuck in her mouth. A tense and silent beat passes as she struggles to remember how to breathe. Before she can, though, he continues.

“So I guess it’s your turn to decide what this relationship really means to you. Because if we’re gonna be together, I need you to believe that I’m trying. And I need you to trust me with this.”

Jessica stands completely still for a beat— freeze the survival response winning out for the moment— save for her trembling lip as the rage and heartbreak warring in her chest threaten to break through the mask of her face. Her breathing is an exaggerated rhythm of shuddering inhales and harsh exhales while she tries to quiet her rushing thoughts, and just as she thinks the heartbreak is about to win, one hot tear slides down her cheek. But as soon as she feels it, she wipes it away with an angry hand and that’s all it takes for the rage to win out.

It’s a quiet rage, though. A focused, white-hot kind like a laser shooting from her eyes and her mouth, all but immolating the world before her. She looks directly at him and dares him to cower from her gaze.

“Don’t act like that’s not a big ask, Matt. It’s fucking huge and you know it. So forgive me if I can’t find it in me to watch you walk headfirst into your grave— again — for the ‘greater good’.”

He doesn’t cower, doesn’t even flinch at the caustic tone she uses. All he does is swallow and drop his head to the ground silently as she finishes.

She lets a tense beat hang in the air between them, waiting, giving him one last chance (and praying to a god she doesn’t even believe in for him to ask her, beg her to stay). But when he still says nothing, she rolls her shoulders and adjusts her jacket, then scoffs.

“Well, good fucking luck, Daredevil. I hope you don’t get shot,” she spits at him, as she turns on her heel and bounds off toward the edge of the rooftop, jumping to the next building over.

When she hears him call out her name, voice raw and desperate, she can’t help another tear from rolling down her cheek.

“Jess, hey, come on. Please? Jess? Come back, Jess. Jess?”

But with another few bounding leaps, she loses the sound in the ambient noises of the city.

“Dammit, Jess, don’t … Jess! Please... Jess… Jess…”

—-

Jessica waits until she’s jumped a few more blocks over (Matt’s super senses be damned) before she yanks her phone out of her pocket and dials Trish.

“Hey Jess. What’s up?”

“You still got my whiskey of choice on hand at your apartment?”

“Yes … but do I want to know why you’re asking?” Trish asks with palpable hesitation.

She sighs, eyes closing as she replays the last thirty minutes in her head. “Well, I think Matt and I might have just broken up, so—“

“Oh my god! Jess, what happened?!”

“Look, I’m already on the way. I’ll tell you when I get there. But I’ll need booze first. Lots of it.”

“Yeah, I’ll have it ready for you.”

“Great. I’ll be there in like, ten minutes.”

“Are you alright?”

“No. But that’s why I’m inviting myself over. ‘Engaging my support system’ or whatever the fuck. Be proud, or something.”

“Jess, where are you? I could come pick yo—“

“And Trish?”

Jessica would almost swear she can feel the reverberations of the sigh Trish gives travel through the phone. “... Yeah?”

“Leave your balcony door unlocked.”

“... Right.”

—

As soon as Jessica gets to Trish’s apartment, she makes a beeline for the counter, where an unopened bottle of Jim Bean waits for her next to a glass tumbler. She bypasses the tumbler and cracks opens the cap, swigging generously from the bottle.

Trish watches from the end of the counter in concerned bafflement. “Please, don’t stop on my account.”

Bringing the back of her hand up to wipe her mouth, Jessica sighs. “Hi. Whatever. Sorry. It’s been a pretty fucking shitty night, okay?”

“So I heard. What exactly happened?”

Jessica takes another swig, then leans forward on the counter with her elbows, picking at the label on the bottle.

“Matt called me earlier and said he had a job he wanted to do tonight— an arms dealer he wanted to put out of business— and he was requesting back-up. So I show up at the spot, but it’s just him and me there. No Danny, no Luke.”

Trish nods at Jessica, encouraging her to continue. “Uh huh. So?”

“So, I immediately get pissed because I thought all four of us were going to be taking this operation down, but apparently he wants to do it with just the two of us.”

Trish narrows her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest, leaning a hip against the counter. “And you were pissed because…”

“Because this is the same kind of bullshit I’ve been warning him not to do, since the last time he tried, he got shot in the fucking stomach. So I remind him of that, and then he acts all confused about why I’m mad, saying he called me for help and asking me what more I wanted him to do.”

Trish hums. “So how did you respond to that?”

“I told him he was missing the fucking point and that he still wasn’t taking his safety seriously enough. And I reminded him of his genius plan at Midland Circle.”

“I’m guessing that went over well,” Trish says with a flat voice.

“Like a fucking lead balloon. And then he got all pissy and hurt and basically told me I was being unfair and that what I was really asking was for him to quit being Daredevil.”

Trish looks up at Jess, her eyes as big as dinner plates. “Wow.”

“Yeah. And then … he said that he couldn’t do that, no matter how much he might care about me.” Jessica stares into the distance for a moment after she speaks, then chugs at least a shot and half’s worth of whiskey in one swallow.

Trish sighs, concern on her face. “What did you do when he said that?”

“Nothing. I was shocked. And so fucking angry I could barely see straight. So then he gave me some bullshit ultimatum that I either learn to trust him as Daredevil or we’re done because he couldn’t stand to have this fight anymore.”

Carefully edging a little closer along the counter, Trish’s voice is very quiet when she speaks. “And what did you say?”

“I told him that it was too big an ask and he knew it. Then I told him not to get shot. And I was bitchy about it. Then I left.”

“Oh god.”

“Yeah, I know. What a dick move, right? I mean, you think you know a person—“

“What, Jess… you can’t be serious.”

With an appalled scoff, Jessica turns a deadly glare on Trish that communicates the fact that she is very serious.

But Trish is unfazed. “Don’t you think he has a point?”

At this, Jessica turns from leaning on the counter to face Trish directly, mirroring her pose with her arms crossed over her chest. “No. I don’t.”

Trish uncrosses her arms and steeples her hands together, as if searching carefully for the exact words to use.

“Jess, you know I’m the first one in your corner. Always. But I don’t think he’s in the wrong here. I’m just saying—“

Jessica interrupts Trish with a wounded look. “How could you… ? Have you forgotten what he did? How reckless he was?”

“You mean what he did months ago when he almost died? And after which he has been making a serious effort to be less reckless? At your insistence?”

“Yeah, until tonight,” Jessica counters with a pointed look and biting tone to match.

“So, what would you have wanted him to do differently? He already called you,” Trish says as she leans one hand on the counter and places the other on her hip.

Jessica pauses and glares at her, not liking where she thinks the conversation might be headed. “Y-yeah. Well ... he could have called the rest of the team. Or at least Danny, since Luke was busy-“

A sudden shock runs through Trish and her jaw drops. Eyes wide, she gasps and crosses down the counter to Jessica. “Wait, how do you know that?”

Jessica drops her arms flatly to her sides. “Well, Matt said—“

“What was that?!” Trish interrupts Jessica, urgency on her face and in her voice that Jessica can’t place.

“Jesus, what? Why are you freaking out?” Jessica says as she turns to take another drink of whiskey.

“Jess, are you hearing yourself? Matt called Luke. In addition to calling you. He asked for help, but apparently Luke was busy. So who knows? Maybe he called Danny too, but they were both busy. But just because Luke couldn’t come doesn’t mean you should be punishing Matt for still wanting to be Daredevil. Don’t you think he’s more than paid his penance at this point?”

The flame of anger in Jessica’s stomach that had been slowly guttering and dying as she put more distance between herself and Matt now flares to life again, blazing bright. She chugs two shots’ worth of whiskey and slams the bottle down as hard as she dares without breaking it against Trish’s expensive marble countertop.

“Not if he’s going to continue to put himself in the same needlessly life-threatening situations over and over again.”

Trish shakes her head and seems to deflate, giving a resigned shrug.

“Then is Matt right? Do you want him to quit? Because that isn’t fair. You knew being Daredevil was important to him going in. And his desire to save the world is actually part of what you love about him, whether or not you’re willing to admit it.”

Jessica pushes off of the counter and starts pacing, running nervous hands through her hair. “Well I don’t love it enough to sit around and wait for him to die because of it. Again,” she snarls.

Trish’s entire demeanor changes at that. She sighs, melancholy in her voice. “Is that really what this is about?”

Instead of answering her, Jessica returns to the counter and slams another shot.

But Trish correctly (and annoyingly) interprets her silence as confirmation. Trish creeps closer, voice soft and low, as if in an effort not to spook her. “Have you considered trying to explain what it is you’re afraid will happen?”

Jessica snaps her head over at Trish. “I’m not afraid. Why the hell would you think I’m afraid?”

Trish crosses her arms again and fixes Jessica with an arch look. “Hmm. Of course not. So you’d feel perfectly comfortable explaining to him why you completely lost your shit tonight? ‘Cause you know, some people actually share their thoughts and feelings with those they care about.”

“Yeah, and some people walk on burning hot coals for fun, but that doesn’t mean I plan to do that,” Jessica says with a sneer as she takes another drink of whiskey. She feels Trish’s gaze on her but ignores it, staring blankly out into space as a heavy silence falls.

Eventually, Trish shakes her head and rubs her eyes before turning to Jessica with a solemn look on her face.

“You are standing on a precipice right now. Depending on how you choose to handle this, you could lose him. For good. You do understand that, don’t you?”

“Better now than when he’s lying dead under a pile of rubble somewhere because he just couldn’t quit being the hero,” Jessica spits, throwing back one last shot.

“... Right. Because if you leave him now it hurts less or protects you from pain in the future somehow?” Trish poses it as a question, but uses a tone that sounds like she’s not really asking. And Jessica doesn’t like the air of judgement she hears instead.

“At least it gives me the fucking choice.”

“So you’re telling me, honestly and truly, this is what you want? This is the ‘choice’ you want to make? To walk away from the one person who you’ve ever really cared about— and who cared about you— because you’re scared?”

This is the last straw. Jessica has let Trish say and get away with a lot tonight (and in general, lately) but this is a bridge too far. Her hands curl reflexively into fists at her sides and she turns on her heel, acidic words already forming on her tongue.

“Fuck you! You’re one to fucking talk about being scared in relationships—“

But Trish seems to have prepared for this storm, and doesn’t so much as flinch against Jessica’s words. “Which is why I still go to therapy, Jess. To own my shit. And to continue to work through it. Maybe you should try that sometime. But that’s beside the point and I won’t let you derail the conversation by trying to change the focus to me. Are you seriously okay with him walking out of your life like this? Because you might not be able to fix it later if you’re not.”

Just like that, all the fight goes out of Jessica. Because for the first time all night she starts to seriously consider the possibility of losing Matt. And where anger had been raging in her stomach moments before, now only an endless, horrifying black hole of pain and doubt and terror remain.

“...F-fuck! I don’t know,” she sputters, anxious hands back in her hair.

“Well, I think you should take some time to figure that out. So you can be sure.”

Forcing a deep, slow breath, Jessica closes her eyes and leans against the counter while she regains her composure. “Fine. Point taken.”

She pushes off the counter and reaches for the bottle of Jim Bean, but Trish catches her wrist and gives her a meaningful look.

“Some clarity of thought might help you too.”

Jessica shoots her an irritated glare. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Trish closes her eyes and sighs, dropping her hand from Jessica’s wrist. “Jess, do what you want, but I’m just trying to help. You two have a good thing going here, and I don’t think it’s too late to fix it. Not yet.”

With a derisive scoff, Jessica snatches the bottle by the neck and puts it in her messenger bag. “Gee thanks, Dr. Walker. Be sure to send me a bill for all of this fan-fucking-tastic advice.”

“You couldn’t afford me,” Trish deadpans as Jessica turns and stalks to the door of the apartment. Jessica scoffs and flips her off over her shoulder for good measure. But as she opens the door to leave, she catches Trish’s eyes one last time and the hope and encouragement she sees there gives her a modicum of comfort for what she has to do.

---

The whiskey bottle clinks and sloshes inside of Jessica’s bag with every movement she makes, but she doesn’t reach for it as she walks. After fuming for a few blocks about Trish’s insight and inability to let her get away with shit, Jessica’s anger recedes and she begrudgingly admits to herself that Trish might have been right— she needs to be sober if she has any hope of making a decision she’s not going to regret for the rest of her already miserable life. Or at the very least, she needs to not be drunk.

Having gotten lost in her thoughts, she stops walking and looks around to find she’s gone on autopilot, walking mindlessly in the city she knows as well as her own name. But her feet have not been steering her home. Instead, they’ve been taking her on the increasingly familiar route to Matt’s apartment. And that has to be indicative of … something, even though she’s not sure quite what yet.

She pulls out her phone and sees that it’s 10:39 pm, meaning that he’s likely still out and about Daredeviling … assuming things went fine with the arms dealer and he’s not bleeding out in an alley somewhere. She blocks that thought and decides to knock to see if he’s home, and if he doesn’t answer, she’ll wait for him on the rooftop. She’s honestly hoping he isn’t, as it will give her some time to think.

When she gets to his place, she jogs inside and up the stairs and knocks as she planned to, and much to her relief she gets no response. So she jogs back down the stairs, then walks around to the alley and jumps up to the roof to wait him out and to do some serious processing. Finding a vent to rest against, Jessica plops down, one leg up and the other splayed out on the rooftop, as she grabs the whiskey from her messenger bag. She unscrews the cap and takes a sip, but she’s mindful not to take too much. She doesn’t want to get drunk. She just needs to take a little of the edge off.

And then she waits. She waits and she thinks. She thinks and she waits. And occasionally she drinks. But mostly she forces herself to really consider how she’s going to feel if she wakes up tomorrow knowing she can’t call or text or touch or kiss or see Matt ever again. And when she can barely stand to entertain the thought, that’s telling in and of itself.

A part of her tries to argue that she knows what it feels like because she’s done it already— when she thought he was dead after Midland Circle— and though it tore her to pieces, it’s better than getting closer and closer to him until the point where he might actually die (whether from his own pride and heroics or due to the inevitability of the human condition). But then she pictures his smile, the smirking one that’s her favorite, that spreads across his face like a sunset and sets off sparks in her stomach. And she imagines his voice, soft and low like it gets when it’s just the two of them, like he knows mysteries she can only imagine. And then she remembers the warmth of his embrace, and how it makes her feel safer and more secure than she’s felt in years, as if the mooring that she thought she had lost, he helped her to regain. And tears start streaming down her face. Because she’s made a mistake. A big one. Maybe the biggest of her life, and she has plenty with which to compare. One she’s praying to any and all deities who will listen that she can fix before it’s too late.

Because she knows in this moment that she’d rather spend whatever time is given to her— a month, a week, a day— with him than live another hour without him. In spite of how much she knows it will one day hurt when, for whatever reason, they aren’t together, she doesn’t want to be the reason they aren’t together now.

And Trish was right. She’s being unfair. Matt has been trying and she hasn’t wanted to see it because she’s been so afraid. Afraid of being honest about her true feelings. Afraid of losing the only successful and healthy relationship she’s ever had. Afraid to upset the carefully constructed balance she has achieved in her life. But she has to afford him the trust he’s asking for. The trust he deserves. Daredevil is a part of him and she loves that he is so idealistic and cares so much about helping others, even if it sometimes makes her sick with worry. But when she takes a step back, that worry seems a small price to pay in exchange for all that she gets in return.

A thud at the other end of the rooftop breaks her out of her thoughts and she startles, her heart racing. She looks up to see Matt has landed on the building and is standing from a crouch. She forces herself to take a deep breath because that means it’s finally showtime.

“Gotta be honest— I really hoped you’d be here. Especially when you weren’t home,” he says, voice neutral and calm. But his careful pace belies his anxiety as he slowly moves across the rooftop towards her.

Jessica stands and adjusts her jacket as she does. “You trying to stalk me, Murdock?” she asks, her voice a more tame and only slightly forced version of the typical teasing drawl she’d use in a situation like this.

But he doesn’t tease back. His tone is as earnest as the expression on his face as he removes his helmet. “Jess, I wanted to apolog—“

“Why?” she cuts him off with an even tone and a shrug. “I think we both know I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

Matt blinks a few times at her, but otherwise hides his surprise at her sudden self-awareness. He crosses a few steps closer to lean against a vent jutting out of the rooftop floor as he puts down his helmet and begins pulling off his gloves.

“Yeah, okay. I’m listening.”

A flush rises on Jessica’s cheeks because she hates being put on the spot. But she knows she needs to do this. So she puts her hands in her pockets and looks down at her shoes for a moment while she practices the words she plans to say in her head. Matt is patient all the while, giving her a curious, almost baffled expression.

“You were right,” she finally sighs, the words stiff and stilted in her mouth. But she forces herself to continue. “I was being unfair and I wasn’t acknowledging the efforts you were making. And … I’m sorry.”

Jessica glances up to check Matt’s expression to see how he’s responding, and she’s surprised when he’s basically beaming at her.

“Wow, Jess. I appre—”

“Wait,” she says, holding her hand up to halt him, afraid to lose her momentum if she stops now. “I’m not done, and I’m only gonna say this once.”

Matt flattens his lips to swallow a chuckle and gives a small nod for her to continue.

Her hands don’t return to her pockets as she prepares to speak again, but her gaze does return to her shoes. She doesn’t think he’ll mind. It takes a little longer to work up the courage to open her mouth this time, because these are harder words to say. So much harder. But she’s come this far. She takes a deep and slow breath hoping it will give her some strength.

“I know you don’t want to have this argument anymore, and honestly I don’t either. So, I know I need to trust you with your vigilante bullshit. I never really meant for you to give up Daredevil. It’s just …” She trails off, emotion swelling in her chest and closing up her throat.

Matt gives her a sad smile as he takes a step in her direction. “Jess—“

But she blows out a long exhale and flexes her hands a few times as the feeling passes and she cuts him off, eager to keep her momentum. “Look, I’m not trying to beat a dead horse here, but in addition to the handful of minor injuries you’ve sustained since, you almost died last year, Matt. And you disappeared for months.”

Chagrined, he rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I know—“

“But it’s more than that,” she says as she continues to talk over him, refusing to stop until she’s done and the weight of her confession has lifted. “I almost lost you then, and you weren’t even mine to lose. You were just some blind but surprisingly coordinated asshole in fetish gear who had managed to worm his way into my head over a period of several crisis-fueled days. But now? If it happens again … I don’t know what I’d do. And I don’t want to know. Because I don’t honestly know if I could handle it. I just … can’t. Not again. Do you get me? I can’t.”

The other words she can’t say, those humongous and terrifying three words that underline this whole argument hang in the air between them. She spares a passing thought of gratitude that he can’t truly see her, because she’s sure they’re written all over her face. But she’s probably just fooling herself. Even if he isn’t sighted, he can likely read all the other signs that give her away, if he isn’t just reading her mind (and there are times she’s still half convinced he can).

An excruciating beat passes and Jessica starts to give serious thought to all of the different ways she could escape the rooftop, how quickly she could snatch her messenger bag and whiskey before breaking into a run, or whether she should leave it all and circle back later. But after a few seconds that feel like eons, Matt crosses to her, close enough that he could reach out and touch her, though he doesn’t. Not yet.

“I understand, Jess. Very well. Because I also had a similar realization after you took off tonight and left me standing alone at that warehouse. And I can’t lose you either. I won’t.” Matt reaches out and takes her hands, which she reluctantly gives him, a guarded look on her face.

“Unfortunately, I can’t promise you that nothing will ever happen, or that I’ll always be safe or that I won’t ever make a mistake or an error in judgment ever again.”

Jessica rolls her eyes and scoffs at him as she pulls from his grasp, but he gives her the slightest bit of resistance with his right hand and holds it out to her for a moment as she pulls away.

“ … But I can promise you that I love you. And if that’s not enough proof that I am fully committed to keeping myself as safe as I can for as long as God will allow me to walk this earth? Well, at this point, I’m out of ideas.”

Her heart starts beating in triple time at his confession, and she is suddenly certain that he must have understood what she was not explicitly saying earlier. But for the first time in her adult life she allows herself to truly believe that it might not be a bad thing. To love. To be loved. To be vulnerable and invested in another person, even if losing that person one day would cause an incredible amount of pain. She’s already survived a lot of pain in her life, so she could probably handle it. Maybe it’s time to fully embrace the good she could experience by admitting her feelings, in spite of the what future pain may or may not be a product of such good.

“Typical lawyer. Always got to throw yourself on the mercy of the court and make an impassioned speech.”

“Is it working?”

She crosses the distance between them in one heartbeat, wraps her hands around his head and pulls him in for a fiery kiss in the next.

“Does that answer your question?” she asks flatly after finally releasing him as they both surface for air.

“It lacks a certain eloquence, but it’ll do,” he says as he smirks at her.

She kisses him again, hard, before he can say anything else. What need does she have for eloquence if she has him? And for now, she is content to know that she will have him as long as she can, whatever length of time that might be.

Day 30 | Tumblr Masterlist | Full Series Collection on AO3

#inktober for writers #fictober #my fic #darejones #messica #mess #matt murdock/jessica jones #matt x jessica #mattjess #matt murdock x jessica jones #jessica x matt #a prompt a day

16 notes · View notes