maskormenacelogs | [closed] turn it up and shake the ground

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[closed] turn it up and shake the ground

WHO: Matt Murdock & Lil Crawley
WHERE: the Murdock residence
WHEN: night of 9/5-9/6
WHAT: The not-secret comes out in full: Matt Murdock is actually Daredevil and no one is surprised.
WARNINGS: Injury, arguments, and possible painful pasts.

[ It's no secret that Matt Murdock is a superhero.

Under the circumstances in which they met, Matt has never even tried to pretend he wasn't. Even if he had, his identity is so well known to others from their universe that there seems to be little point. The simple fact that on this earth nobody ever ran to the tabloids about it has given him a degree of anonymity again...but she knows, and Matt knows she knows. They've discussed it less than directly, but he's made no attempts to hide it from her, or pretend that he isn't still out roaming the streets in costume. She's made no mention of it, and, as a former superhero herself, Matt has chosen to take this as evidence that it is a non-issue. He's never come home with any major injuries, and the decreased need for a street-level hero in a city full of heroes means he's never yet had to skip out on her or blow off a date.

The irony of this is that Matt's always been a compulsive confessor to the women he's dated. He can't seem to help himself; inevitably he confesses his secret identity, back when there was still a secret. And yet somehow, they've just never talked about it. He's never had to tell her he's Daredevil. She's never asked what he did, or how he does what he does. She hasn't asked him to stop.

If they'd spent more time talking, though, he might have been aware of what kind of shitstorm he'd be walking into when he came home. Accidentally late-- caught up in a fight that turned into a bust that turned into way more of an ordeal than he'd imagined it would be. Matt assumed that she'd go to bed without him; they both work odd hours, have late nights, it happens all the time. So he assumed that when he came home in costume at 3 in the morning to clean himself up in the bathroom, she wouldn't even notice. He doesn't think anything of finding her asleep on the couch, except that it makes it easier not to disturb her.

His luck has never been that great. ]

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[ Lil has always had a problem with confrontation -- being excessive with it, aggressive and angry to an unreasonable degree. Bad habits from bad relationships. It's ironic then, that she's made such an effort not to start a fight with him over this. Maybe because she's worried it'll be the fight that breaks everything they've managed to scrape together in this place. The lifestyle destroyed her marriage. She doesn't want it to destroy this too.

But it's been on her mind lately. Ever since she talked to Tony Stark about it. The idea just hovers at the periphery of her mind, making her moody. When she'd realized he'd be home late -- without announcement, this time, without letting her know -- she became increasingly determined to talk about it, the later the hour. She'd fallen asleep waiting, her eyebrows still draw together, agitated, even after she'd dozed off.

It's hard to say what makes her stir. She isn't nearly as aware of the world around her as Matt is. Maybe it's the sound of the door closing, or the faint stream of light from the bathroom. But something makes her swim towards consciousness. Something gets her up off the couch. She wanders towards the bathroom, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, some lingering irritation hovering around her even now. Nudging the door open -- what's privacy between them now, really -- she leans on the frame, squinting in the light. ]

Where the hell've y'been? I was waitin' --

[ Then her eyes adjust. And the sight is everything she's been both avoiding and steeling herself to confront. Something hardens in her face. Her lips purse tightly. ]

[ Matt doesn't know what she's seeing when she takes it all in, not really. He can't really estimate the impact of him standing there half-dressed in crimson clothing, washing the blood off his face. He knows he's left his gloves, his mask and the his heavy shirt carelessly on the floor, but not the way it leaves his symbol prominently displayed. He knows there's still blood on his face and clogging up his nostril, but not how bad it looks, how red it is still smeared across his face in places where he hasn't fully washed it away. He can feel the bruise forming on the back of one shoulder, but he can't know the ugly shade of it.

Matt curses himself for getting caught off guard and allowing his attention to focus so strongly that he barely noticed her presence until it was too late. And now he's caught in the act, in the middle of the very thing they've never discussed, and he's not entirely sure what to say. Or why it makes her tense, her posture suddenly shifting into something that feels a lot like anger, like summoning her resolve. ]

I'm so sorry, Lil. I got held up.

[ He pauses. There's no good way to deal with this. There's no good way to say it, now that they've been forced to confront this head-on. For lack of anything else to do he bends back over the sink for a moment, splashing more water onto his face and into his hair, slicking it back absent-mindedly. It washes away some of the blood, at least. ]

I would have called if I'd known it was going to be such an ordeal.

[ It's hard to separate all the tangled thoughts inside her head as an unbidden swell of emotions rises in her chest. Worry and anger, all twisted up together. A visceral reaction she can't describe as she stands there, staring at him with tension in her face as she takes in the streaks of blood on his skin, that purpling bruise on his back.

Her lungs squeeze. ]

Y'got held up.

[ She echoes him a little distantly, like she can't even believe that's the phrasing he'd use when he looks like that. ]

Y'got held up.

[ It looks worse than it actually is. An off chance moment, when in the midst of fighting some idiot set off an electrical fire, and the fire alarm went off before he could take care of it. Matt couldn't convey to her how badly those hurt, the blaring like a knife to his eardrums, and how in the off-moment while his senses tried to right themselves, one of the would-be thieves delivered a glancing blow with his elbow while he tried to get away.

Now, Matt thinks, it must look terrible. But he's having trouble parsing her posture, the smell of her sweat. Stress, yes, but is it more anger or more fear? And the guilt twists like a knife in his stomach. He didn't mean to make her worry. ]

Unexpectedly.

[ But how to calm her down, how to reassure her that everything is fine, really fine. ]

I promise, I'm not really hurt. I don't know how bad it looks--

[ It's probably equal parts worry and anger, with a generous smattering of other unpleasant emotions, just to make things more complication. Maybe it isn't a big deal -- or it wouldn't be, if she'd had a different history, a different husband. If she hadn't had Frank come to her with his leg torn open, or his eye gouged out by Harvey Dent, or both femurs crushed. But this is Lil, and even if she hadn't had that baggage to begin with, the woman is an expert in temperamental overreactions.

She half-reaches towards him like she wants to make sure he's solid and feel for herself that he's okay, but the motion gets aborted midair and she withdraws, clenching her hands at her sides instead. ]

This is why I shouldn't get with vigilantes. [ Frustration gives her voice an edge. ] Y'know, normal men stay out drinkin' or gamblin', but no -- not my boyfriend. He comes home late 'cause he's runnin' around in a costume, jus' askin' t'get hurt. A person might forget which one of us is the invulnerable one.

[ Her frustration is understandable. It is. She has every right to be worried and angry finding him covered in blood in their bathroom, even if the blood just comes from a couple of burst vessels and nothing is really, seriously injured. Matt isn't angry about that. He knows that Lil knows, but this is the first time they've confronted his role as Daredevil head-on, and while Matt would have liked to broach the subject a different way, this is how it is.

But the implication that he shouldn't be doing this-- true as it is-- rubs Matt the wrong way. She's not wrong that he's endangering himself, but it's something about the way she says it. Some implication of fragility, because he doesn't have the kind of powers she has. Matt stiffens, and in the absence of pressure, a small trickle of blood slowly oozes out of his nose again. ]

The majority of people on this planet aren't invulnerable, Lillian, and it doesn't stop them from doing anything.

It sure makes lookin' for trouble a whole lot more stupid though, don't it.

[ Her words are sharp and immediate, faster than her own thoughts. It isn't even really that she's angry at just him specifically -- she's angry at a lot of things. She's angry at whoever hurt him, at herself for getting worked up, at the men that came before him for conditioning such a visceral and automatic response of temper. ]

Jesus Christ, Matt. [ His nose starts bleeding again and she goes for a wad of toilet paper, just to give herself something to do, to give the tension in her body somewhere to channel itself. Briskly, she steps into his space to work the toilet paper into the offending nostril -- no permission needed, apparently. ] How the hell am I s'posed t'sleep at night when you're doin' this t'me.

Excuse me?

[ His voice sounds sharp, on edge to match the tension in her, in the room. Is it stupid? Matt's so far gone past that point. It's somehow an intrinsic part of him now, no matter how thoroughly it destroys his life. But it wouldn't matter if it were stupid. Logically it is, but that's never stopped anybody else who puts their life on the line for other people. Firemen, cops. And those people aren't invulnerable either.

Compared to their one fight-- the one, spectacular catastrophe that defines all others-- this burst of temper is nothing. Matt doesn't manage to fend her off before she can try to tend to his face, but he does hold out hope that it's a better sign, that she automatically still wants to touch him and patch him up rather than attack. ]

It's not as though this is a new thing, Lil. [ He looks irritated, and the effect is only slightly ruined by the toilet paper in his nose. Irritated by her argument already. Irritated by the insult behind it that she probably doesn't even mean. ] You knew that. You knew before I ever said anything to tell you.

That was before y'were bleeding all over our goddamn tile, Matt. I don't want this in our home.

[ Because as long as she isn't looking at it, she can at least pretend she's okay with the vague knowledge in the back of her head. But like this, confronted with it, all the bad things she's ever felt about caring for a vigilante is suddenly rising in the back of her throat like bile. And it isn't even as if she doesn't know how important it is to him -- maybe that's even part of why she tried to turn the other way. She just can't right now. Not when the blood is still fresh.

She pinches his nose just at the bridge to put a little pressure on the bleed, gesturing in frustration with her other hand as she goes on heatedly: ]

It's bad enough I gotta worry about y'bein' Ported out at any time. Y'can't leave this shit for the dozens of other stupid costumed heroes around here?

[ There are always a thousand petty things to say in any argument. Matt at least holds on to enough of his temper not to say them, no matter how his head still pounds from the fire alarm or how her anger makes the whole room claustrophobic and smotheringly tense.

What he doesn't say: that he doesn't need her help to patch up a bloody nose, and that it's only a bloody nose, not even a broken one. Because he knows one day it could be more. It could be a lot more serious. Her worry and fear isn't misplaced. And he doesn't point out whose name is on the lease, whose house it really is, because that would be the pettiest of petty moves. He's invited her into his life and she's taken up residence there. He wants her there. For better or worse they're starting to make some semblance of a life with each other, and it's one of the better things that's happened to him in a long time.

What he says instead-- the only thing he can say: ]

No. I can't.

[ At least he's telling her. Maybe it's not what she wants to hear, but at least there's the truth. It makes this half-way better than what had happened with her husband -- the lies, the sneaking around, fights escalating and bridges burning. She's still angry, but she can't be angry at him for the crime of deception. Matt is many things, but she hasn't found him to be that kind of coward.

She doesn't even know what to do with that kind of brutal honesty. His outright refusal. It annoys her in a petty kind of way, enough that she withdraws, letting go of his nose -- self-sabotage again, because really, she needed the distraction, something to do. Preoccupation to keep her volatile energy from getting out of hand. ]

That's it? [ Her voice is sharp at the edges, demanding: ] Y'can't?

[ Mercifully-- or maybe not, if it helps her-- when her hand pulls away, his nose doesn't start bleeding again. Leaving him to stand there bloodied and defenseless in the face of her anger. If only they could have had this conversation in a better context. But maybe there's no good way to talk about this part of his life. God knows, he can't pretend like he doesn't understand her anger. The very least he can do is give her the courtesy of honesty. It's the best he has to offer her. The only thing to offer her, when it comes to this. ]

I can't. I can't just leave it and hope someone else takes care of it. I can't do nothing. That's not the kind of man I am.

[ Even when he tried to leave, tried to walk away from everything, he found himself drawn back into it. He can't quit. He promised Karen he would never, ever, quit. Quitting is not the answer to anything. He knows that now. Whatever it's cost him, he has to keep going.

But her frustration is real and understandable. Matt knows about all the nights Milla tried to stay up waiting for him, torn up with worry and fear. The thought of inflicting that on another woman foolish enough to let him into her life hurts. It's only some comfort to think that at least she's shielded from some of the crazier aspects of his Daredevil identity here, solely because they're alone in this universe together. ]

[ In a better state of mind, she'd probably understand it, at least instinctively. She was never very good at sitting on her hands either. She could never be the one to sit back and let someone else do the driving. Passivity isn't a word she understands well. But she doesn't want to be understanding right now -- she wants to have her way, like always, and even though she spends enough time reminding herself that Matt isn't Madison, she already feels herself getting a little resentful, wondering if it's going to be her versus the costume again.

She looks away from him in a petulant way, as if it makes any different when the man can't really make eye contact to begin with. ]

Yeah? Well, maybe I can't do this.

[ She gestures impatiently with her hand at nothing in particular. ]

[ Oh, now, this is a game Matt refuses to play. She's already tried this tactic before and seen it backfire spectacularly on her, and here she is, trying it all over again. Matt knows what it's like, when a woman makes up her mind to leave him, and there's no part of Lil that really means what she's saying to him.

But if there were, Matt wouldn't blame her. ]

This what, Lil? You're going to have to be more specific.

[ Of course, knowing that her threat is empty doesn't stop him from letting his temper start to slip out of his control. She's saying it to get a reaction, and she'll damn well get one, even if it's not the one she wants. She knows him well enough by now to know he wouldn't back down in the fact of that. That he's just as capable of getting in her face as she is of getting in his own. ]

This.

[ Another emphatic gesture with her hands, as if that would make it any more clear. ]

The worryin' an' the waitin'. I already been there, done that, an' it wasn't exactly a goddamn fairy tale, alright?

[ She means it, but she doesn't. The sentiment is real, and the frustration is real too. But she would never leave him. It would take more than this. This is a small offense, despite how much her temper has escalated -- small, in comparison to the things she's endure with other men. Matt, at least, is honest. About his feelings, and about this. ]

Ain't it bad enough with the Porter hangin' over us all the goddamn time?

It's awful.

[ What does he even do? She's not wrong. She's not wrong, she's not, and yet there's nothing he can do about it. He's not going to quit being Daredevil. And he can't assure here there's no reason for her to worry when he's still got streaks of dried blood on his face. ]

I hate it the damn Porter too, Lil. But I'm not going to live my life in fear. I'm not going to give whoever's behind all of this the satisfaction of letting it rule my life or dictate what I do.

So, what, I'm some kinda coward then? That what you're sayin'? Y'think it's somethin' special that y'ain't afraid when maybe y'should be? I'm afraid 'cause I give a shit, Matt. 'Cause there's things that matter t'me 'sides myself -- like you! Us.

[ Because she knows the world is a terrible, terrible place. Even for someone like her, invulnerable and strong. Maybe that's why she wants to desperately to get away from the costumed life, to keep what they have as safe as she can. She doesn't know what she'll do if there's some night he doesn't come home. She would tear the whole city apart looking.

Her body language is accusing and angry though, more than it is concerned, because anger is so, so much easier. ]

D'you even think about me when you're out there riskin' your life?

[ This isn't the first time he's had this argument, and God knows fate will probably conspire to make sure that it's not the last, either. She's not the first woman to worry about him risking his life or think he was insane for doing this. She's not the first to wonder if he cares about her at all.

Matt wishes he could tell her that he knows. He knows what it feels like to be afraid of your life slipping out of your fingers no matter how tightly you try to hold onto it. To know you're losing somebody and can't do anything to stop it. Her fear is real and understandable. If he woke up the next day to find her gone, really gone, forever beyond his reach, how far would he fall? ]

I don't expect anyone to do what I do.

Well, I bet their girlfriends sure 'preciate that, Matt.

[ She doesn't mean for her words to snap like that, but there's no containing her frustration, the way she lashes out, not when she gets worked up like this, full of worry and anger at the same time. It's the worry that's the worst part, the thing that gets under her skin. Anger is familiar -- her temper has a short fuse, and she's a passionate woman, but as furious as she can become, there are ready cures for that. Intimacy. Reassurance. But the worry. That keeps her up at night. ]

I don't wanna do this again. Every goddamn time. I swear t'God -- [ It's hard to say who she's even ranting at now, who the erratic hand gestures are for. ] -- All y'stupid hero types are all the same an' I don't know why I keep lettin' myself get here.

[ This is about more than just him. Matt knows that logically. But it doesn't make it any easier to deal with her anger. And maybe, maybe if it were illogical, it wouldn't hurt quite so much. He's putting her through hell, and if it's not the hell it might have been back home, it would be disingenuous to pretend that it should be easy for her to accept. ]

I don't know what you want me to say to that.

[ He really doesn't. He doesn't know how to answer that for her. Hell, he probably can't. What could he say to make it better? ]

I don't know how to make this better for you. I would spare you, if I could.

But y'can. Y'jus' don't want to.

[ She slams her hand down on the bathroom counter without thinking about it. The noise echoes in the small space. The counter top cracks ever so slightly. ]

'Cause I'm not as important as whatever the hell makes y'feel like y'have t'do this. An' y'know what? If that's the truth, fine. But don't go actin' like y'wanna commit t'me if you're gonna make me third-wheel t'your goddamn costume.

[ The volume of her voice is rising. She doesn't even hear herself. ]

[ Matt doesn't flinch, even though the smack of her hand comes loud as thunder as it echoes off the tiles of their bathroom. He's not afraid of her anger or the violence of her reactions. They've had this dance before, and she knows he can't be intimidated or bullied into backing down. Not for anything, and especially not for this. ]

You knew this was a part of my life. Just because we never talked about it didn't make it something that was going to go away. You knew before we even started dating, and I know you knew before we agreed to get back together.

[ She does know that. He's never backed down from a fight with her before, and he certainly won't now -- he isn't Madison. But in the moment, that thought only frustrates her. She still isn't used to having someone stand up to her yet. ]

I didn't think I'd have t'actually deal with it. [ Exasperation. As if that's completely reasonable. As if she could have kept on pretending if she hadn't found him bleeding on the bathroom floor. ] I don't wanna deal with this, Matt! I don't --

[ She presses her hands to her face, muffling a noise of frustration. ]

Y'don't know what that lifestyle did t'me. An' -- An' you're not even a mutant. You're jus' some blind guy runnin' around in the middle of the night while your girlfriend waits at home gettin' pissed off!

[ Even in a calm moment, that would have raised Matt's hackles. Long ago, he might have denied himself the privilege of being with a woman, for being blind and not enough. But now he's let go of that. And now, when they've done so well, and she's never thrown him a scrap of pity or any condescension about it. And now-- now. ]

So that's what you really think of me. I'm "just some blind guy." And I'm not a mutant, "just some blind guy," so I can't possibly be capable of defending myself or holding my own. Let alone winning. I should just stay safely out of the way.

[ His voice drips with venom, wounded pride making him tense, his hands half-balled into fists. He could prove it to her, of course. But he shouldn't have to prove it to her. And his pride won't allow him to let go of this, not so quickly. ]

I guess you're right, Lil. I guess there's a lot I don't know about you. Much more than I thought.

Edited 2014-10-11 07:54 (UTC)

[ She doesn't mean it. She doesn't mean it at all. And she's never thought of him that way, not when they met and despite what she's said, not now either. His lack of sight hasn't kept him from knowing her intimately. In their good moments, he makes her feel more beautiful than any man with sight ever has. But the words just spill from her mouth, angry and aimless. She's hurt and lashing out, like she always does.

The regret comes later. But in the moment, the fact that he refuses to yield to her just fuels her temper. ]

Don't y'turn this around on me, Matt Murdock. [ She points an accusing index finger at him. ] When you wanted me t'give somethin' up for us, I was gonna do it. An' that didn't even involve me riskin' my life every other goddamn night.

[ There's a moment of stunned silence, because for the span of a heartbeat or two, Matt can't believe she actually...said that. That wound had been closed, and they'd kept it closed, and now she's just ripped it right back open. Bile rises in his throat, his stomach clenching with sickening jealousy once more. It doesn't matter if she was willing to pick him over Frank. It doesn't matter. ]

It involved you sleeping with another man! You're damn right I wanted you to give him up so we could have something, because there wasn't going to be a we to have if you kept crawling into bed with him!

[ He'd really thought they were past that. He'd thought they were over it. He really did. ]

And you want to compare that to this? I can't cheat on you with a fucking costume, Lil! I'm sorry you're scared and I'm sorry you're worried, I truly am. But don't even try to pretend this is anything like you and Frank.

[ Matt knows somewhere that he should stop, before he says something he'll really, truly regret. Something that they won't be able to take back later. But understanding logically that she's lashing out at him because she's angry and afraid doesn't stop him from striking back in return, twice as hard. From getting right back up in her face, daring her to poke him with that accusing finger, equally angry and animated, threatening her space. ]

I'm the one who can't commit? I never kept this from you. I never even pretended this wasn't going on. And I have gone out of my way to be there for you and come home every night, for you. It was the least you could do for us to give up your other lover.

Edited 2014-10-11 19:26 (UTC)

[ It's stupid that her automatic reaction is to feel incredibly, deeply hurt by what he says to her. So much that her whole body tenses, as if bracing itself for some physical injury -- and reflexive tears, hot and angry, swell unbidden at the corners of her eyes. She's an emotional tyrant, that Lil Crawley. She doesn't want to take what she gives, and she's never had to before. Not until she met Matt Murdock.

Her heart throbs in her chest, aching. She wishes she could just stop, but she can't -- she's so blindly furious, so out of control. He gets in her space like that, and she mindlessly grips two handfuls of his costume, twisting the fabric in her hands. ]

But you're jus' like him. [ That's not true. Matt doesn't hate to see her smile. He doesn't resist being seen with her. He isn't afraid to want her. ] You an' Frank an' Madison -- you're all the same. I'm always gonna be second place. It'd be better if y'did cheat on me, like normal men do.

[ It's funny how even now, with anger burning fever hot in his chest and his stomach twisted into knots, that his first instinct is to take her face in his hands and wipe away those tears. Even through anger there's a shred of cold, nauseating guilt at hurting her. Matt doesn't want to hurt her, ever, no matter how angry they are. Why do they do this to themselves? ]

No, it wouldn't. It wouldn't be better.

Yes. Yes it would.

[ He's right, and she's wrong -- but that doesn't matter. Maybe she says it because she doesn't think he ever would cheat on her. It's some vague, hypothetical hurt she hasn't experienced with him yet. But this hurts now. ]

I'm so sick of fightin' about this with every man I care about. I wish I could get mad about somethin' normal an' stupid like other gals do. But, no -- I gotta worry 'cause my boyfriend's out fightin' crime. [ Unthinkingly, she gives him a rough shake. ] I can't even ask y'to choose, 'cause I'm pretty damn sure y'wouldn't choose me.

[ She's right, in a way-- but he can't bring himself to say that to her. He can't face her head-on and tell her that he'd stand by this even if she couldn't put up with it. It'd break his heart, just as surely as it'd break hers, but he would do it.

But neither would he choose to give her up. Matt knows that won't be enough to her. He knows what Lil will think of that. ]

Do you want to ask me to make a choice?

Edited 2014-10-11 21:59 (UTC)

I don't think I can stand t'hear the answer.

[ Her words are tense, strained, as if each syllable is just barely holding itself back. She lets go of him abruptly, even the gesture of releasing him violent in its sudden way. Her chest aches, some inexplicable tightness making it difficult to breathe deeply. ]

I can't -- stand this right now. [ Her hands curl into fists at her sides briefly before she forces her fingers to open up again, clenching and unclenching restlessly. Her lips purse. Her eyes are still wet. ] I need space.

[ There's a spasm of fear across his face, to match the icy knife that sinks itself between his ribs, making it so difficult to breathe. No, he wants to tell her, no, don't do that. Not like this. Not now. They were doing so well. Even if he could never blame for wanting to leave him, over this.

She'd be right to, if she did. ]

What does that mean?

[ There's no hiding the harshness in his voice, the slightly strained quality of it as he tries to keep the lump in his throat from getting larger and smothering his words entirely. ]

Lil?

[ Now that she's broken contact with him, Matt can't help reaching back for her. He doesn't want her to pull away from him like that. He just-- he just wants to steady her, a little. Look at what he's done now. Look at what a mess he's made of their life together, already. ]

[ She sees the look on his face, and that hurts too -- in a different way. It hurts because she knows what he must be thinking, why he asks her that question, and the idea is so unbearable, even in the midst of her anger. She could never leave him again. Never. The first time was so awful, so difficult. She'd felt so lost. Coming back to him had made her whole again.

But at the same time, she can't let go of this yet. It's under her skin, making her agitated and frustrated. When he reaches for her, she brushes his hands away, ill-tempered. ]

I ain't -- [ Even saying the words out loud to deny them is still hard. ] I ain't leavin' you. I jus'. I can't deal with this. I dunno if I can be okay with this. I need room t'breathe.

[ It could be worse. She says she's not going to leave him, and he can hear the truth in her words and her pulse. But it doesn't make what she says much better. It doesn't mean that she won't decide to, in the end. ]

What does that mean for us?

[ How is he supposed to do that, when they live together? It'll be worse than when they were broken up, because she'll be here. Constantly in his senses, in his space, without any way to touch her. But at least she won't be gone. They're not done. ]

[ She doesn't know what it means. She wishes he would stop asking her -- that for once, he could be a little more like the men before him, either passive or avoidant so she could just be angry without thinking about it so hard. Without having to face the consequences of her words or tasting her own medicine. It's not fair and it's not kind, but nobody's ever accused her of being either.

Lil folds her arms around herself protectively. ]

I don't know. [ Frustration. ] Can't y'jus' sleep on the couch for a while or somethin'? 'Least that way, I don't gotta know what time y'come home after I fall asleep.

[ Matt tells himself it's not that bad. At least they're not yelling at each other anymore. At least she's not asking him to get out. But she's pushing him away, and he doesn't like it. He doesn't want to sleep on the couch. How is this going to help them at all? ]

Can't we just talk about this?

What for? [ Her voice picks up a little volume again. ] 'Cause one of us is gonna change our minds?

[ Even Lil knows that isn't realistic. They're compatible in a lot of ways -- ways that she appreciates, because those are the things that make her happy when they're together. But they're both stubborn too, and she's had this conversation enough times before that she can tell this isn't going to go her way. Especially not with Matt. He never gives into her. He won't even pretend to give into her for the sake of placating her, the way her husband used to.

She also knows that if she lets him touch her, even casually, it'll be too hard for her to stay angry. And she wants to stay angry right now. ]

I'll go back t'my place, if I have to.

[ Somehow that's even worse. If she's going to be angry with him, he at least wants her to be angry with him nearby. Who knows what will happen if she leaves? If he can't touch her, at least he can be near her, and wait for her temper to cool. ]

No. I said you could stay, and I meant it. You live here too, now. It's your house as much as it is mine.

[ He bends, deliberately ignoring the pain in his back to pick up the discarded pieces of his costume. ]

I'll sleep on the couch, if that makes you feel any better.

[ Small, petty. He shouldn't have said that last. He knows it won't make her feel any better, and it won't help him, either, to have said it. ]

[ His answer is a small, thin comfort. Any other time, and she would have swelled with affection to hear him say those words -- that this is their house now, something they share. But it feels empty somehow, when this metaphorical gap has opened up so wide between them. A distance that's going to be physical too, now that she's drawn this line in the sand.

She purses her lips at him again, still discontent and ill-tempered, even though he yields to her. It's a miniscule victory, not enough to placate her. Not when she's still thinking about how it felt to see him in his costume for the first time, confronted with the reality she'd been trying to ignore. ]

Yeah, it makes me feel great. This is exactly what I wanted when I moved in with you. [ Her answer is sarcastic and petty in its own way. ] God, Matt. Are we done here, or d'you wanna have it out till someone has t'go t'work?

[ He could say no. There's an urge to, to force her to have it out with him until he breaks down her arguments one by one. But that would be cruel. And he knows that, and he doesn't want to be cruel with her, but neither does he want to leave things this way. Even if her anger and her worry is justified. ]

Do you have anything else you want to say?

I got plenty I want t'say, but obviously I ain't gettin' my way t'night, so.

[ She turns her head away, both petulant and annoyed, as if that pointed lack of eye contact makes any difference when you're arguing with a blind man. She can't even fully pinpoint where her frustration comes from or where it wants to go, except that she doesn't like that she hasn't won this fight just by pure brute force. That irritates her even more than the subject of the fight itself. Old habits die hard. ]

Why, y'got somethin' you wanna say?

[ Tonight or any other night. He won't be compromising on this. There's so much Matt would be willing to do with her, and so much he wishes they could think about doing together, one day, but on this she'll have to take him as he is. It's not as though he's ever going to change. ]

Good night, Lil.

[ The most abrupt way to shut down the conversation possible. But he's mad now, hurt and wounded and feeling unfairly targeted all the more because somewhere deep down...he knows some of her points are sound.

It'll be cold comfort for sleeping on the couch, though. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[closed] turn it up and shake the ground

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