aheroliveshere | [for man_without

Her radiance and smile make him feel like he made the right choice by saying yes, and he pushes aside whatever doubt there was.

"Friday," he repeats, nodding in agreement and hoping nothing does come up that he might disappoint her.

"Thai sounds great." Honestly at this point anything sounds good with her, but he does like Thai so that's fortunate.

"Great," she echoes, reaching for her second slice of pizza. Her head still feels like its spinning, but her heart rate is somewhat settling down.

"Yay! An actual date," she almost whispers. What, she can't help herself? She's excited.

Hearing her whispered words it's his turn to flush and he picks up his pizza to cover it.

"It'll be fun."

"Yeah," she says, a little defensive for some reason. "It will be. We deserve a little fun, don't we?"

It's not really a question. They've both been working hard, trying to stay ahead of the crush. Trying to figure out how all the pieces fit together and what it all means.

She reaches out a hand to touch his arm. "I'm really looking forward to it."

Turning toward the touch on his arm he gives a warm smile.

"Me too."

She'd worn her normal business casual to work that morning, but as the day wound down, she took a moment to slip into the bathroom and change. Nothing too fancy, just something with a little more flair to the skirt. A little tighter fitting. Something pretty. She did a little turn in front of the mirror. Satisfied, she freshened up her lipstick and even added the tiniest dash of perfume to her wrists and under her hair. Jasmine, because it's her favorite.

That all taken care of, she slips back into the office and closes the door behind her. Mysteriously, the phone hasn't rung in almost half an hour. She pokes her head through his door, eyes the stack of files he's working on, and deflates a little.

"Still up for that dinner?"

After their evening here at the office Matt fell back into his workaholic state, burying himself in cases (and his night work). He hadn't forgotten, though, and was truly looking forward to Friday night.

Throughout the day switching gears and getting ready was in the back of his mind, but when Karen sticks her head into his office she catches him unawares and engrossed in what he's doing.

Startled, his hand snaps to his wrist, feeling out the face of his watch and surprised at the time.

"Oh, yeah, I just-- " Caught off-guard he tries to sort himself out. He has to note where he's at in the file he's working on, there's a phone call that will have to wait until Monday, Foggy left a final notice on his desk somewhere that Matt was supposed to take a look at, he has another case file that he wants to give his attention to as soon as he's done with the one he's on now...

Shuffling the mess on his desk, running through a mental checklist and knowing he needs to freshen up before they leave he gives her a chagrined smile. "Ah, give me a few minutes?"

"You got it," she says, smiling. She lingers for a moment, watching him. Watching his hands and the way he moves. He's always been an odd mixture of elegant confidence and bumbling awkwardness. Most people put it down to his obvious disability, but the longer she's known him, the less she is sure of that.

She holds the secret belief that everyone, even the most powerful men and women in the world, are secretly ten years old on the inside. That we were all just children trying to muddle our way through an increasingly complex and confusing landscape of responsibility and desire and fear. Matt isn't exempt from that theory.

She just can't tell whether that ten year old is the awkward side, or the competent, almost ruthless side she catches glimpses of from time to time.

"They didn't take reservations, so no rush. Anything I can help you with?"

Matt's desk might be a sea of paperwork, but it's an organized chaos and he knows exactly where everything is and where it all goes. He sorts through it efficiently, putting things away, stocking files in neat piles for later and setting everything to rights for when he returns.

He scribbles something on a post-it and sticks it to the top of a stack of folders then bangs them on the desk to line them up and holds them out towards her. "Can you put these back on Foggy's desk?"

The note on top reads 'Back Atcha'. The files are a small stack that have bounced back and forth between the two for awhile in a case of 'Not it!' or hot potato.

Sometimes the ten year old isn't on the inside.

"Got it." She takes them and sorts through them by habit, a wry smile on her lips. Lawyers.

She disappears into the other office and drops the stack in Foggy's inbox. She tucks her hair behind her ears, smooths her dress and tries not to think too hard about drinks and dinner. She's still grinning when she reemerges into the tiny area they call reception.

She settles into her chair, and pulls up tomorrow's calendar. She has some stuff she should work on typing up over the weekend, but she can always come in on Sunday afternoon and bang that out.

Matt doesn't take too long before his desk is organized to the point that he can call it a day.

He didn't bring a change of clothes, but he takes some time to straighten himself out. He combs his hair, takes off his tie and reties it, take it off, puts it back on, hesitates, and finally leaves the thing in a desk drawer.

Work is done, this is a date, he can totally separate the two.

That's what he tells himself as he stands, tilting his neck and cracking it each way; loosening up. Deep breath, he straightens up his collar a bit leaving the top button undone, grabs his cane and steps out of his office with a smile.

"Ready?"

"Yes! Uh... hang on just a sec." Now it's his turn to catch her off guard. She scrambles a little, closing the file she'd been reading and putting it in her own inbox, shutting down her computer, smoothing her hair and dress for the umpteenth time. "Okay. Ready."

She grabs her purse out of the bottom drawer of her desk and joins him. Another moment's awkwardness before she laughs at herself. "Are we officially off the clock?"

He stands by and waits, bemused smile on as he listens to her do her own scrambling and fussing.

When she joins him Matt considers her question a moment, reaching to feel his watch again, nodding thoughtfully to himself before declaring, "We are."

"Which means, we're officially on a date now?"

"Officially. Yes," he answers, maintaining composure for a moment before breaking into a smile.

Karen slips her arm through his and leans her shoulder into him, just enough.

"I dunno. I'm not quite feeling it yet. What do you think?"

He accepts her arm and chuckles warmly.

"Hm, maybe if we actually get out of the office?" he suggests. They have been here a whole lot lately.

"That. Sounds like a really good place to start."

Once they're down to street level, she takes an easy pace. No rush. Just -- y'know, spending time together. After work. On a date.

"It's just a few blocks. I hope you don't mind walking."

He walks with her casually, reflecting a moment on how at-ease she makes him feel.

Giving her a pleased smile and shaking his head he replies, "Not at all." He's happy to walk along with her.

She makes it half a block before her hand drifts down his arm and slips into his.

"How's that?"

Her voice is so quiet, like she's afraid someone might overhear.

He squeezes her hand and he can feel the flutter of her pulse through her skin matching the rate of her heartbeat already in his ears.

"Starting to feel more like a date," he says warmly.

"Yeah," she answers, a shy smile bubbling up. "I think you're right."

She returns the grip and then laces her fingers through his, lightly. Her heart rate does more than flutter as she explores that simple touch.

Matt's cane taps out in front of him as they walk and he goes along that way with her for awhile before reminding her with a gentle tease, "You are leading the way there, right?"

The restaurant was her choosing, after all, and he just wants to make sure they haven't passed it in the moment.

"Yes, I am. It's just one more block." She beams at him, color rising in her cheeks again. Damn it, is she going to be like this all evening? Seriously, Karen, get your shit together.

"I'd be surprised if you couldn't smell it by now." She draws in a deep breath, and sighs. "Do you like spicy food?"

He nods, properly mollified and keeping a grin in check as he acts chagrined, "Okay, just making sure."

He gives her hand another squeeze to let her know he's teasing, then lifts his head.

"I think I do smell it." In truth he's aware of all of the restaurants in a wide radius around them. He can also smell dry cleaners and the bodega, dinner cooking in the surrounding apartments, and stale cigarettes for sale at the newstand on the corner.

To her question he gives a skeptical and wary expression, "How spicy?"

[for man_without_fear]

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