nexus_sages | made waves with some friends I know

Feeling more at ease means something to Matt. The neighborhood feels more at ease. It's coming in waves. He doesn't need a ticker tape parade. Just to feel more at home. And he hopes that Verity being there every step of the way is helping her own Hell's Kitchen in her heart.

...maybe there could be some sort of intricate archery target to develop or look for. That's up the guy's alley.

No shades? But... then he'll have to just deal then. That's how it all works, Matthew Murdock. And the hiding is never from her. He knows he can't and does not ever want to shy from her. When Matt has put on an act for all the world, the muscle memory is something he's got to fight. "This means I'll have to stick around to help. If you forget and then...tsk! You'd be trapped. My poor, sweet love can't be confined to one outfit ever."

Matt grins and tilts his head. "Good thinking. Foot burns are not going to happen here." Since they're seated, cozy and have the block he'll sit back a little and gesture for her to lend him a limb. "According to Foggy that is not why people wear socks with sandals."

Knowing the neighborhood's feeling more at ease, and feeling more at ease in it, has been a slowly emerging surprise for her. There was no sudden 'eureka' moment for her; she didn't wake up one day and realize she felt comfortable in this new home away from home (away from home). It's been like letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

She'd been thinking in more cake-like directions. These aren't ideas she's interested in combining. But they could try to do both.

Yes, he'll just have to deal with being his own wonderful self. And having her adore him for it. Such a burden, but such is life. "Yes, it does. I know it's going to really cramp your lonely bachelor style, but you should never have taken me in if you didn't intend to keep me."

Verity leans back and stretches her legs out over his lap. He can have fun with that. "No? I'm not sure I want to know if they've got another, even less valid, excuse for that sort of thing."

That's what he had been hoping for. Verity has had her home taken from her. And that leaves a hole in your heart. She has been mending it very well on her own. New York is a part of people forever. He wanted to give her a chance to love it again the way she could. You can't force that. Now she can breathe with him.

Who doesn't like cake? No one Matt Murdock wants to know. And a Verity cake is a thing to behold.

His own wonderful self feels more so with the wonderful self of her own when she is that buffer, that strength to stand with him. "I'm getting too old for the lonely bachelor thing. And I think that you're a keeper. We get so much out of it together." Like never ever having to endure another sunburn. Matt rubs his hands to warm them before getting a good dollop of sunscreen.

"I just can't think of why anyone would want to. Feet are unprotected in sandals as it is." He resists a chance to tickle because getting kicked right now would not be fun. Her strong, shapely legs really do kick hard.

Matt Murdock is a sneak and a wonder and she loves him for it. New York will always be her home, but the Nexus is her home now too. Maybe it's for the best she keep a foot in each; in a way, it helps balance her out. And it's good for him, too, to have a place where he doesn't have to pretend. They can breathe together.

Cake is an easy winner over not-cake. Anyone who doesn't agree to can kindly leave.

Sometimes it's hard to imagine him needing a buffer or strength to lean on. He's so capable, so strong, so good. She's glad he isn't perfect. She could never keep up with perfect. She hums contentedly while he gets the sunscreen ready, watching his hands move like they're the most interesting thing in the world. "Yeah, it worked out pretty well for us. You're not old. You're not even at the age where people start asking if you're gonna settle down soon."

It's good of him to not tickle. She does kick very hard, and with precision. He's been witness to it, he doesn't want to be the victim. It's nicer to enjoy the soft and sure way he touches her. "I have no idea. I try not to think about those sorts of things, it's just too horrible and the world can be bad enough."

There was a chance it would never work. Home is home, and no other place can be the same home. A person can have multiple manifestations of home the way that he has found it in Verity and Nexus. But could there be love like the love a New Yorker feels for the city? He hoped. And that hope has comforted her and himself.

Cake for all the excellent meats and fixings, that sounds like a solid trade in the end.

Matt couldn't handle perfect either. Verity is just fantastic and right. Knowing that she knows him and all his truths and lies helps keep the balance and never lets him lose his sense of gravity. That surpasses perfection so very much. He could never be compatible with perfect.

Steady, firm hands massage a little as they go. Up over her ankles, her strong calves and to the knees. This means he has to push up some of her sarong in respectable measurements at a time. "My logic exactly, honey." He chuckles.

Home is him. In her most secret heart, where she keeps the things she's scared to tell even him, she knows that would be true no matter what had happened with her lost world. New York, Nexus, none of it matters as much as him.

Not feeling pressured, by him or by herself, to be 'perfect' is such a relief. She wouldn't know where to start, and most of the advice given on these subjects is dangerous bullshit. It would never end well for someone like her. A little gravity, a few flights of fancy, and a good sense of balance with her favorite dance partner is so much more, well, perfect for her.

Respectable measurements? Careful, Matt, your Catholic is showing again--but in a way that amuses her, if all those pleased little hums are any indication. When she can reach him she wiggles her toes against his arm or side. Not to tickle, just to say 'hello'. "But of course. Great minds think alike."

She bites her lip when his hands start working up her thighs. Part of her is tempted to unknot the sarong and let things fall where they may, but this is part of the game. It's fairer if they're both a little frustrated. And they're in public... her brother is around... they have to be good.

"You think Foggy's coming? Or did Marci rope him into something back home?"

He's really never experienced this sense of calm and stability before. She's home to him. It's not a distant place in the past or a far off pipe dream in the future. Verity is here and now, real to him. That's why Matt feels so damn happy.

They don't need perfect. And goodness knows they aren't perfect as people. And to be perfect for each other? Well, maybe that's something that is as close to perfect as it is going to get because they get along so swimmingly. That's all that's needed.

"Ver," even if those toes don't tickle, he laughs softly. Of course his Catholic is showing. He's reached her thighs and he's doing his best to behave. They're wonderful to touch and equally perfect to rest his head against. And not so restful things. Matt clears his throat softly. "You have way, way more skin showing than me do we have enough sunscreen?" Her brother is around yes. And they're being respectful and cute. And really not going to do anything. Much.

"He said he was going to come. And that he'd be late. But all of that is going to be okay because he promised to bring more beer."

If they make their homes in each other's hearts, does the setting really matter?

Perfect for each other is an easier goal since they've already met it. And, bonus, they get to be ridiculously happy together. Being able to work out the rest is great for giving themselves a sense of accomplishment, if nothing else.

"Hmm?" She has no idea why he might possibly be protesting. None at all. Really. So innocent over here. The toes aren't a problem anymore since they're curled up tight now. His hands on her thighs, well. She's only human. And only squirming a little. "Yes, I brought lots. Several bottles, in case someone forgot theirs."

What was the point of this game, again? She's starting to forget. That probably means she's losing.

Oh, well.

"Ah. Good, it'll be nice to see him."

That means they would never be homeless, there's always a person and a place to seek refuge. That's what you call blessed. Ridiculous happiness, ease, that's why these moments are more important than ever before. All the times before make the right now mean so much.

"Verity," he says with greater insistence and more laughter. Those piggies are curled up tight and against him. He's sure they're polished too. Matt's laughter lessens a little. "You might have to just come on closer." Here, he'll just go ahead and...pick her up and pull her on his way. Sandy knees and shins are a small price to pay when she is in his lap.

"He tried to get Marci to come. She's got some kind of Hampton's work retreat...I don't know. I think she's still trying to play the game. It just means Foggy's clear to be with us after he sees her off."

No, they'll never be homeless again. These times they get together make so much of the waiting worth it. Their happy easement into this new life together has felt so easy. The hardest part has been letting themselves have this.

"Hmm?" What? She's holding still this time. What is there for him to complain about now? (Of course she got a pedicure before their beach party she's not a heathen.) "Oooh, might I?" He can go ahead and pick her up; she'll shift and settle into his lap however he wants her, so long as she can wrap her arms around him and give him a kiss. "This better?"

Well, that's quite the revelation about their favorite Foggybear. "Did he? Huh. He must really like her. Or really not like her."

Who would have thought that the hardest part about being happy was just allowing it to happen? It's treated like a destination or a range of being.

Still but curled up and pressed to him. And she does have darling feet. Though his attention is pulled from them. Arms embrace her and he takes and gives a kiss. "Yes, I think that's much, much better. Now maybe I can get your arms. Those aren't...completely covered." The same goes for her chest, but that floppy hat is what's keeping her covered enough.

"I think he likes her quite a bit. Marci is....Marci. She grew up the same as we did but is sure she's got what it takes for the highballs and silver spoon things. But whatever tastes she's got, there's some for Foggy."

Not 'just'. It took a lot of work for them to get to this point. Some of which was letting themselves have it, but so much of it has been dealing with their pasts. Happiness is a destination it's better not to pack a lot of baggage for.

Still is an improvement. Being in his lap is better still. "Oh, is that what you wanted? My arms?" Ver moves a hand down his arm, slowly and deliberately. The other stays cozy around his shoulders. "Well, it's true they could use the attention. And the sunscreen."

"Nothing wrong with liking nice things. And since I got the nicest, she'll have to settle for the Hamptons."

Here in destination happiness Matt is glad to unpack. All the heavier pieces of pain, worry and flaws are not worth carrying. And not alone. The work isn't done. It just feels so much easier than before.

"Oh yes, ma'am. These lovely arms." He scoots to get a small palm portion of sunscreen "Do you work out?" Matt's ability to keep a straight face is gone for the day.

He kisses her cheek rather than correct her. There's another soon after and directly on her mouth because she is the nicest thing. "I think now and then Foggy gets frustrated. He's very capable of being professional, just finds the trappings to come off as stifling. Marci got caught up in L&Z, we could have been that too." Instead they're up and coming Nelson and Murdock.

Two backs can bear more weight than one. Two pairs of hands unpack faster. Two pairs of lips can soothe the aching places.

"I'm not sure I'm old or married enough to be a 'ma'am'," she points out with an oh so put-upon huff in her voice. It barely hides the laughter. "Nope, this is all from good clean living and competitive shopping. Those bags get heavy."

Kisses are better than attempts to convince her to join him in wrong-headedness, that's true. She'll give him another kiss before remembering they're trying to have a conversation. "Well, that's the beauty of freedom, isn't it? We all get to find the life that suits us, and everyone else gets the same choice. ... But it can hurt when the people we love don't live lives we're comfortable in."

Realizing she sounded a little too wistful there, she'll try to cover up for it with more kisses.

The power of two can do so very much. They can lean on one another, draw strength and if needed be carry one another.

"Would you prefer miss, madam or young lady for such a youthful, unwedded woman?" Though taken? That's different. She is so very, very taken the same way he is so taken with her. Matt's voice drops in tone, "you should take me shopping so I can be strong like you." Which brings the obligatory bicep squeeze.

They can converse. They do it plenty. But can they on the beach in this lovely mood? Challenging. "True bu--" More kisses oh. Verity you are trying to pull a fast one there. "Loving someone means loving parts that can be uncomfortable. Maybe not for long?" They're talking about Foggy and Marci. Maybe? Matt kisses her again. "Foggy said he's bringing party favors. I don't know what that means."

Well, they do say that two heads are better than one...

"Hmm. I think I'd prefer 'your excellency'. With all the traditional obeisances, of course." She is so very taken with him, and he may be taken with her, but take the hint already. Geez, man. The squeeze makes her squeal and squirm. Good thing they've got a good hold on each other. "If you like. You could use some new suits."

They're not talking about Foggy and Marci anymore. She'll let him think that they are. He's been too good to her to be troubled by nothing more than her own stubborn pride. Besides, kisses. "I'm sure whatever they are will be fun. He knows what he's doing." Bless whoever invented the idea of changing the subject. "I'll ask Clint to hold off on starting one of the steaks until he gets here."

And the parts that are different between them well, they compliment, fulfill...

"Your most esteemed grace and excellence is going to be very interesting to introduce to my dictating app. But for you, dearest most esteemed grace and excellence, anything." Including the ring, the promise and all that's wrapped up in it. Hints are being dropped like breadcrumbs for a hungry bird. It's been hardly a year and it all feels so, so right. "You think so? That could be a fun day out."

Someday, inevitably, he'll have to hang up the horns. God willing it wouldn't be with a grave but a choice and a peaceful send off. Verity's stubborn pride is not troubling compared to being without her, without these kisses. Without the sound of her heartbeat and her arms around him. Stubborn pride he will happily face. "We have steaks too?" Matt will really have to pace himself eating.

They do indeed. But they're in public.

His easy acquiescence to her ridiculous demand gets a pleased hum from her, and she leans forward to nuzzle her nose along his jaw. "Good boy." Significantly less than a year since they met, and not even six months since their first real date. She's moving too fast. Some part of her knows this, understands it even. But the heart wants what the heart wants...

"You and Foggy are young, handsome lawyers taking on some very high-profile cases. You should dress the part. The suits you have now are nice, but they could be better." He's learned by now, she hopes, that when she says 'nice but could be better' she means exactly that: there are plenty of things that get better with a little extra effort: a mist of lavender water over his pillowcase, a touch of saffron in a pot of rice, making peanut butter at home with fresh-roasted nuts and local honey.

She hopes he doesn't make her have to stand over his grave and say 'I told you so'. She's done enough mourning for a good few decades. But she doesn't want to make him ever think he has to choose between her and his calling. She's his, whatever being with him brings. "Yes, we do. Clint gave me a 'wish list' and, well, you know what happens when someone gives me a list..."

Later. All the later.

"Should I edit your contact entry in my phone too?" He laughs and leans to give her more to nose and nuzzle. "I try to be, sweetheart. For you." Wonderful months. And this is fast and serious. She's in his heart like arteries, veins and blood. Matt Murdock is knows that when you want something, you have to get it and work on keeping it.

"My suits now are... at least two or three years old." He admits that to her though perhaps the styles are easy to pick out. "I need those pretty eyes to help me out." That Verity better is significant. His post workouts have never been better with home made peanut butter, the bowls of rice never so fulfilling. And something as simple as resting his head has something else. These are the things he wants forever. Just a few months and weeks and even if she never made him another thing again being there, just being with him at his side is what touches him the most.

"I've...run out of arm your sweetest, most delightful and most esteemed grace and excellence," how long can he keep at this?

Verity loves him and he loves her. And Daredevil is a part of him that will love her so too. There is no one or the other. One would hope that no future they build together will be cut short. There's too much love in his heart for her to just be undone.

Matt laughs deeply and shakes his head lightly. It's her turn for a nuzzle. "Don't you ever take up residency in the North Pole."

"But of course. We can't have you forgetting to whom you speak." She maybe shouldn't be trying to do that imperious British accent, it's a little ridiculous. A lot ridic to be honest. But that's the point of being silly, isn't it? "You do an excellent job." Love is hard work, but it's worth it. It doesn't seem so hard when he's around.

"That's what I'm for, honey. You're Catholic, aren't you supposed to be looking for a good helpmeet?" Her nuzzling takes him along his jaw toward his ear, and her voice grows quieter as she goes. "Fortunately, you're both easy to dress. And I know just where to take you." She won't stop taking care of him until the decision is no longer hers to make. He deserves every good thing and she wants to give them all to him.

He can keep going as long as he likes; she's enjoying the game. Again, she puts on the imperious tone and switches which arm is around his shoulders. "Then you may proceed to the other, sir Matthew."

She does love him, all of him. Even the parts that frustrate her. It's all very complicated but no less true. Her head tilts when he starts to nuzzle to give him room to work. "Oh, I don't know. You look good in red."

Give him a minute because there's no way he'll be able to speak right after hearing that. He wants to take it and put it in a bottle and put it on the shelf. Matt's laughter keeps going a few more rows before it settles. "How could I ever, ever forget?" Not even going to try his posh accent.

"I already found one, the best one I will ever find." Okay that he can't miss. She's speaking his language, his backward religious language. "I even think you're my rib size." Matt settles still. Her voice in his ear means the whole rest of everything is tuned to the back. The waves crashing to the sand aren't nearly so soothing or captivating. "Now I'll look and feel like a million bucks."

The tone makes him shake his head before bowing it to kiss her arm first before starting work again. "The pleasure is mine, O Mistress mine, sweetest, most delightful and most esteemed grace, light and excellence." Eventually it'll start including her kingdom and lands she rules over. Hoo boy.

More sunblock and nuzzles with a few lazy kisses. "Too cold up there. And besides, I don't think I'm physically fit for the job."

"Best not fight out." She'll count it as a great victory, being able to silence him with laughter. This ridiculous accent is going to be remembered for occasions when he needs to laugh something off. There's no rush for him to stop, she'll hold him and giggle into his shoulder while he gets the laughs out.

She hums again, pleased and thinking this time maybe he gets it. Finally. "Mm, you know, I think I am. It would explain why I'm so short." But still just the right size for him. It's probably a sin to use his backward religion against him. But the ends sometimes justify the means. "You already do, honey. The suit is only painting the lily."

Wait, this silly joke means she gets kisses? Score! She'll be doing this more often. "It is," she agrees with a little purr in her voice, "until I want it back." She's looking forward to hearing about these mythic lands she rules.

"On the contrary, you're too physically fit for the job. But spend a few months sitting around overseeing elves while I bake for you? You'd be just right."

"After so many times I think it will be tattooed into my memory. Nevermind that any mobile device is going to have to catch up." It's still stupidly funny. For being so ingrained in the truth she has a delightful sense of humor.

She hit the nail on the head that time as surely as nails struck through the Messiah's palms. (Allegedly because it's not a very sound limb to fix someone with it was probably wrists. Far more sturdy.) They're constantly together, she is so near and dear to him. And yes, it has been only so long. Love doesn't know about time or years or anything like that. They practically live together, that's living in sin. And the sin of premarital fornication. Oh but why oh why would he ever deny himself when it is easier to ask for forgiveness? All that aside, Verity and Matt. Matt and Verity. Serious.

"I don't respectfully add delicious short rib to your title." His faux sigh of sadness is disrupted by a short laugh at his own joke.

Matt clicks his tongue. "The best part would be your baking but I think that it's just fine in normal capacity. We'd just be biting off more than we could ever chew."

"So we'll get you a nice new StarkPhone. Those can handle pretty much anything." Or the ones she's familiar with could. A StarkPhone and a little jiggery-pokery and the damned things could get reception in metaphysical planes of existence.

Humor was Loki's last and greatest gift to her. He taught her to see the absurdity in the lie and to appreciate it. If they'd had more time together... Well. At least now she can laugh. That's a blessing.

He may be living in sin, but she's never known anything more divine. Clearly, hers is the superior religion. She gets to do pretty much whatever she wants and she knows exactly where she's going. Or. Where she would have gone. Hela would have kept her busy; they might even have gotten along in the end. Leah might have been a different kind of problem.

"Well, you don't want to go giving people ideas," she points out with another giggle.

"I think you're underestimating some of my appetites, honey."

"I have been needing an upgrade there." He'll admit that now. StarkPhones are so very trendy and expensive but worth every penny on the Consumer Reports not of his realm. What's a little time and space bending with Stark ingenuity. "O Mistress mine, sweetest, most delightful and most esteemed grace, light and excellence, may her reign over 'Clinton and Midtown West' be ever so prosperous....I think you're on to something."

Should Matt meet Loki as he was or is or has been to her, he'll have to thank him. Throttling him has crossed his mind too but thanking. That's where it is.

You jaywalk and it is a sin of sorts. It's always about asking for forgiveness. Man is prone to sin. You have to be sure to live too!

Verity's arm is very, very covered in sunscreen. It's that attention to detail she can count on to stay burn-less. His fingertips slide down her arm. Earth, Hel or Heaven she is going to keep anyone busy.

"I don't want to share." And she is delicious. Matt's arms go about her now with nothing more to do for now.

"You mean to tell me you want to relocate to the edge of the world to plan for one thing all year long and get fat?" Yeah, that's another thing he can't say with a straight face.

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