fightlikehell | call in sick

Three things that keep repeating like a waltz that keeps his heart beating. Lofty? She has taken it like a fish to water. Hearing her, knowing she's on his way is making Matt fight for his patience.

"I'll want those too. To seal the deal. One right now would be nice." Having her with him and being in her presence is superior to other options. His weary head can ponder all of the angles another time. Matt taps his cane and doesn't shuffle far, it's an idle motion. One that he feels like is a good and bad idea. Still seasick for no reason at all.

It couldn't have been something he ate. Verity always has fresh ingredients. And it's been some time since he slacked enough to eat some very horrible fast food. It has only been moderately awful. Oh... he did get something from a bodega this week. That was days ago though.

"Yes, yes please, honey."

Like the waltz, she's learning she can do it backward and in heels. She can live with her and love being the little steps, but she's pretty sure they'd be happier if he rearranged that melody a little.

"Oh, you want those too? Greedy boy," she teases fondly. Then she'll make a smoochie noise into the phone. Yes, she knows it's ridiculous, she's doing it anyway. He can hear her covering ground better than she can hear him; he knows the pace she can set. There's a jangling of familiar bells, she must be passing that cheesemonger they like. Not much further. If he turns his senses away from the phone he might hear her soon.

No, it definitely wasn't anything she fed him.

"Okay. We'll do that. And then you can take a nice long soak in the tub." A bathtub big enough for him to stretch out in is a luxury almost unheard-of in Hell's Kitchen.

This isn't strictly ballroom. New steps come and they go. Matt has fallen into this warm acceptance of this trinity. As they go more comes into play. If she can go backwards and in heels they have to proceed sure footed.

Smoochie noises warm his face in a far more controlled, pronounced way he is happy for. Sickness can't stop how he feels. "I do. I mean, I've grown so accustomed to them. To be without them... unthinkable."

Matt holds the phone away. He knows those shoes. His heart lightens and he turns his feet her way. Usually any time he would be racing that way. The first impulse is do to so. Turning around so fast and there are the spins that he thought had given up on him. "My sickness wouldn't know what hit it."

He's been the most sure-footed guide she could have hoped for in everything he's taught her. No complaints at all. They've both stumbled sometimes, but they do a good job of catching each other.

That's why she's willing to make smoochie noises for him. Because she knows it makes him so happy, she can hear it in his voice. "You'll never go without anything I can give you, honey, you know that."

The racing toward each other and the joyful kisses when they meet are always nice, but she's not expecting them today. "Of course not. It's up against two bonafide superheroes, after all. Ah!" The phone clicks off; she's spotted him now and puts on a last burst of speed to reach him.

She's careful to stop before he feels any of her considerable momentum and finishes the approach at a more sedate pace, hands touching his arms, then shoulders, then his face. "Here you are. My poor love."

And everything else he's learned along the way right with her. Verity is like no other person he has known. She's in a class all her own. She is able to have him learn in his own way this move and that. Stumbling and so far not falling. Falling further in love is the kind preferred.

Matt chuckles a little. Being fussed over so much in this way with this much understanding...he never ever knew what he was missing out on. "You'll never be without an opportunity. I'm always around." Or exceedingly close by.

Oh, there's her voice. It travels to his ear first and is echoed through the phone line. Footsteps, heartbeat, it's a slow, welcomed awareness of her presence as it comes closer. Matt tucks away his phone and holds his arms out. A tiny, tiny bit of him feels foolish that he's not bleeding and in this much need. "Hi baby." His smile lifts and he visibly relaxes. "You're my lifesaver." Her fingers on his face make his eyes half shut. "Do I feel hot? I'm hot."

Learning together is a lot of fun. She's not going to complain about having the chance to learn this dance with him. Definitely not complaining about falling further in love. In that sense, she'll fall as long and hard as she can. No need for a safety net.

He's not, but she won't fuss at him about it right now. It's more important to be gentle when he's not feeling well. Seeing him relax just having her around makes her heart feel funny. She wraps one arm around him to pull him into a hug while pressing the back of her other hand to his forehead. "Mm, no, you don't feel hot. You look hot, but you always do."

Forehead checked she reaches up to nuzzle his cheek a little and give him a kiss. "Come on, let's take you home."

He's falling a little more right now as they speak. The music keeps playing, they keep stepping. His heartbeat feels lighter.

Both arms wrap around her and his head dips to the touch of her hand. "Hah," he laughs and is about to shake his head at her when it stops. Nngh. "I keep getting dizzy." It's a sensation anyone would hate. His sense of up is entirely reliant on equilibrium.

"Okay, thank you so much." Though all she's done is just show up. "What uh..what were you up to?"

So is she. Funny how that works.

Totally unscientific temperature check done, Ver wraps both arms securely around him now. He may proceed with cuddling, leaning, or sprawling on her; whatever he needs. She can take him. Even a doubtful laugh like that is a victory for her when he's not feeling well; the fact he can't return the volley is more of an indication to her that something's wrong than any fever would be. "Lean on me, honey. Or I can carry you if you want."

She hums at the thanks; she hasn't done more than show up. Silly boy. "Oh, just some paperwork that can wait until tomorrow. You know I like to get ahead is all."

There is no bottom to this. It keeps going and going like a fountain or a well, an endless supply. How'd he get by day to day without her love? Matt's knack for specifics are starting to fail there. It was just not pleasant.

Cuddling commences, easy and lovingly. His current condition has made it a very cautious movement, still trying out what does and doesn't make him feel sick. "I'll try and walk." Though he's not holding any reservations at her carrying him, dragging him so long as the are where he needs to be.

How either of them survived long enough to find each other is one of life's great mysteries. She's not very concerned about solving it. Her energies are better spent enjoying this miracle they have.

Ver can transition relatively smoothly from hugging and cuddling to snugging up against his side to support him. She keeps an arm around his waist, her other hand holding onto his arm around her shoulders. Nice and secure, nice and safe. And if he stumbles she can scoop him up with relative ease from this position. "Okay. No rush. There's lots of places to sit down along the way if you need to."

She can't help nuzzling his shoulder while they walk. He knows how cat-like she is sometimes, in need of affectionate touches whenever they're together. "Did you enjoy your walk before you got sick?"

The here and the now is their fixed point, their paradise building on hopes for more later. It is a miracle.

He feels safe and secure even while pained and unsteady. The business about his feet its like they're swollen up. Is this what an allergy feels like? "The more we stop then the longer it'll take to be home." Matt is putting in a conscious effort to keep his pace steady.

Nuzzle for nuzzle. Anywhere he can touch gets an extra pet. "I was. The weather's more predictable here. I can see how it puts everyone in a good mood."

A fixed point that's forever moving. A paradox, and another thing she doesn't worry about much.

So long as he knows he's safe, even when he's feeling unsteady, they'll be okay. "True, but I'd rather take a long time getting home than have you rush and hurt yourself." Ever the practical one, this girl of his. Well, she's had a few flights of fancy, but he's always made them come true thus far. He can set the pace and she'll keep them steady. "Let's try to get to the smoothie place before we stop. I'll get you one of those ginger and mint smoothies, that should help calm your stomach down."

The nuzzle gets a purr from her and the hand on his hip gives a light squeeze. "I do love the weather here," she admits. "It's not always so predictable, you know. I think it's behaving for you."

Matt squeezes his eyes shut and exhales noisily through his nose. Of course she's right. It's like they're on a ship and he's seasick. The sickness intensifying or retreating in turns. Steady, yeah. "I hope so, babe. It feels empty and queasy at the same time."

Her hair brushing against his face is a soft comfort. The little squeeze has a bit of resistance--swelling? Augh. What is happening here?

"Just for me? Hah." Verity, you make him smile so easy when he's miserable! "I'd believe that if you controlled the weather, sweetheart."

She's always right, Matthew Murdock. Just accept it. Life would be so much easier. She can't stop the rolling and roiling of his stomach, but she can try to ease the discomfort a bit. "If you're going to be sick, better to have something to come up," she points out. "But if we're lucky, that won't be a problem. And if we're not, we'll deal with it."

The resistance under her hand is unexpected and worrisome. She squeezes again, testingly, then moves her other hand down to move lightly over his abdomen. "Does that hurt?"

She loves that smile. She's smiling back and leans her head in to brush her chin against his chest. "What, you think I'm the only one who might be smitten with you? You only get to get away with that because you don't know what you look like. Trust me, it's entirely likely the weather tames itself for your pleasure."

As right as a calculator or an oracle. And reliable to boot. God, does he love her for these reasons and more. "I know there is no person on the planet that likes to be sick. But I hate it." And he hates throwing up particularly. It brings back so many best forgotten college experiences. The beer before liquor. All those lessons learned with Foggy.

"Ooof." Matt leans away from it and moves back. "No, just like...swollen." Or water retention.

Since they've decided on a leisurely pace he will take a moment to stop and wrap his arms around her. Stillness feels amazing. "I don't really care what I look like as long as it means I get to keep not only around but happy." He lifts his head and looks around. "No rain storm because of that?"

So more like the calculator than the oracle. She's not nearly so cryptic as to pass her ability to predict the future off as oracular power.

"I know, baby. I know." His overdeveloped senses going out of whack make getting sick so much harder on him. "I'm here. You'll be okay. I'm going to take care of you, and you know what that means." So much the pampering. So much love and gentleness. All the soft easy kisses and all the kindness.

She lifts her hand for a moment to let his stomach settle, but then explores a little more. "All over? Probably not your appendix... but that's weird. We'll figure it out when we get home." Which means no more poking and prodding.

Stillness and a chance to breathe might be just what they both need. She'll hold him easily, steady and solid for him. "Mm, no rain yet. Please stop tempting fate, honey, I'd rather not have to carry you home in the rain."

Not so cryptic, true. Still to simply say she's a calculator takes away that spark and warmth of magic and humanity in her. There's always that knowing. His life has also improved for the better by virtue of just listening to her.

Matt makes a rumbling noise in his throat, a hum and a purr. All in appreciation. She is going to take care of him. She already is just dropping whatever she was wrapped up in to walk his pathetic self the rest of the way to their hideaway.

"My feet feel swollen too? I mean, they don't hurt either. It's uncomfortable." Poking and prodding help, sure. He's relieved when they stop.

Since they're not going anywhere for a few seconds he kisses her hairline like he's making a crown there. "I'd pay for a taxi to get us home. Or...whatever else if it did, I mean, seeing as it'd be my fault. Just in case though..." One more peck and nuzzle before he moves so they can carry on.

"Smoothies on me?"

It's not like nobody's done that to her before. She does it to herself easily enough. He's too good, remembering she's human when she forgets.

She's going to wrap that rumbling in silk and whispers and keep it in a secret place in her heart. It's more than enough reward for her when it comes to taking care of him. When he mentions his feet she tilts her head to try and get a look at them. "Hmm. Bloating maybe? Have you been eating a lot of salty snacks at the office?" Her tone isn't quite accusatory, but if it's true, Foggy's getting an earful.

The crown of kisses he gives her is finer than any empress' jewels. "We can get a cab if you want, honey. There's a good spot to catch one coming up soon." The peck and nuzzle combo is a knockout win with her. He might want to give her a moment to come back to her senses after so much loveliness.

"We don't need to worry about that right now." In other words: no. "You can treat me to something when you're feeling better, yeah?"

All the people who have should be ashamed of themselves. Every person has value, and her's is unmistakable. It's a light that should shine and brighten. Matt will ever be ready and able to remind her that she's human and one that he loves so much.

There are more where that came from. More tender loving care and treatment and she'll have a whole lot to store. Best be sure her heart is more open and full. Matt's in sensible shoes, tied and not showing any signs of obvious strain. "Maybe the pita chips. Foggy actually likes those." So they're around. Constantly. "Not like I eat the whole bag."

"Let's just take a cab." When he is usually in to going for walks for the air and the chance to keep moving. They're slow to start again for her comfort and his own. Matt keeps close to her for support and comfort.

Yes, when he's feeling better she is owed a very big treat. "Say the word, and we'll go when I'm better." Anywhere. Everywhere. "...do we have peanut butter at home?"

Hers is very mistakable. The fact he finds it so easily is one of the infinite reasons she loves him so much.

"Pita chips are good," she admits, and part of her brain is making a mental note to make pita chips for him to bring to work. It's the little things that make her so happy. The little sounds and smiles she coaxes out of him with the little caring things she does. None of it seems difficult to her, and she's sure she's getting the better end of the bargain.

"Okay." A nice slow start should let them get to the cab stand in good shape, if not a swift time. She's happy to stay as close as he likes. "Yes, we've got peanut butter, and I got a loaf of that Tuscan bread you like. I can make you some peanut butter toast if you want. And we've got bananas, too. And I can always order whatever we need that we don't have." The old-fashioned grocery delivery service is a treat she doesn't often indulge in, but at times like these it's a blessing. "Tea and toast when we get home? And then music and a cuddle?"

So long as she needs reminding, rediscovering, reestablishing he'll keep at it. And love every minute.

"Did you know they make cinnamon and sugar chips now too? I mean the savory are the best of course." Matt hasn't felt hungry and queasy at the same time in a while. How it comes up so hard and fast, well, that's been the standard of this affliction.

Her ability to just be able to make whatever she can put her mind to is always a surprise and a treat. And somehow all these wonderful, new favorite foods he had never thought of are in the pantry. "Just what I need. And you. You're the most important part of that equation." And peanut butter. More of that right now would be great. They're coming to the spot to wait. He can hear it.

"There's a bench to the left, right?" Sitting would be good.

She's a lucky girl.

"Mm, they're pretty tasty. I can make you some later if you'd like." It's a little more involved than cinnamon toast, but not much. And it's worth his happiness. She's not sure it'd be the best thing for an upset stomach, but 'later' can be 'when you're not sick anymore'. She won't mention the cheesecake dip she makes to go with them on account of his stomach upset.

Considering all the things he's taught her about, that he's given her the courage to try and the room to explore, teaching him about new foods doesn't seem like a very big deal to her. Still, she's happy to do it. She always likes having someone around to appreciate her cooking. "Well, of course 'and me'. Tea and toast isn't going to make itself," she teases.

"Yes, on the left," she agrees as she begins to steer him toward it. "You can sit and relax while I deal with the taxi." Once he's sitting she presses a kiss to his forehead. "I love you."

She's his lucky girl. And he's her lucky guy. And lucky for them even though these symptoms are spelling out something, it's very untrue. Which might be one of the luckiest of things.

"Later," he agrees. Toast with some peanut butter and tea would be the most complicated he should handle. And he wouldn't want to miss a chance to enjoy it.

It doesn't seem like a big deal, it's an activity they can both appreciate. And there's a nurturing, simple pleasure about sharing her know how and palette. He also loves that they both have a tendency to want things natural. "I don't want to cuddle myself either," he grumbles softly to her with an all too practiced pout.

Taking a load off makes him sigh. The feeling of her lips on his skin has another grin. "I love you." And there's no shred of shame being less than his best with her knowing she understands.

She's his. The luck is implied in that statement and the girl. Yes, they're very lucky neither of them is unexpectedly pregnant. She could not handle that right now. Although it might be a smidgen easier on her if it were him; he's not likely to pass along his powers or her curse.

It's a treat he can look forward to. She'll make it when he's on the mend; the scent of the cinnamon sugar baking should rouse dormant appetites. One of them, at least. It does help that their tastes and preferences are so similar. She's been known to binge on junk food from time to time (and he's known her long enough to time those times), but generally, she'd rather keep him healthy. Gods know he needs all the help in that department.

The pout makes her laugh. She wants so much to kiss it away. Not while they're walking. "No, my love, I'll never abandon you to such a fate. You'll always have a cuddle partner in me. Or a pillow at the least."

She hums and kisses his hair before stepping away. It's not finding a cab that's the problem it's finding the right kind of cab. Her neighborhood doesn't allow cars, so it'll have to be a bike cab or rickshaw. Usually, she appreciates the quiet; today, she's frustrated by the wait. Doesn't the multiverse understand that Matt needs something? It should be right there waiting for them, damn it!

Ah, the universe doesn't work that way. Nor does Matt biologically. And really, their life has settled in a pace that has enough room for the both of them. No additionally cursed being or ultra-sensitive one is needed.

They both do have a weakness for the occasional junk food items. The periods of lapsing in good, clean eating have been kept up pretty well between the two of them with some enabling. Matt is just as bad though when it comes down to it. In the end nothing beats what Verity can cook up unless it has a Michelin star. Even then, being in her presence as she whips up another delicious thing is something he'd choose as a favorite.

"Partner first, pillow second," he amends. His touch lingers just a moment since she's there until she pulls away. Matt then tries to focus on what he's feeling. Surely it's starting to pass since it came on fast right? Right? As long as it doesn't get worse.

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