What We Could Have, But We'll Never Reach *Matt Murdock x Reader Oneshots*

Let's Do Something Different Tonight (Or Not)

...aka the anniversary, tipsy Matt Murdock... and a bit bloody Matt Murdock.

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Matt was almost on time. You had your reservation for eight and it was five after eight when he finally showed up at his – and for a while now also yours – apartment, so you would be able to make it to the restaurant only a little late.

Key word? 'Would'. That would be if he hadn't use the rooftop access instead of the front door and hadn't been clutching his side when he had stumbled in with his hair being a perfect mess with a smear of blood in it.

You stood in the middle of the living room, staring at him as he walked down the stairs with an apologizing expression.

"I'm so sorry I'm late," he blurted out, hissing as he stepped down the last stair with not so much grace. You just kept staring, this time incredulously. "I got mugged," he explained, his lips turning into a reversed U. Also, blood was now soaking though his suit under his fingers.

You shook your head to snap yourself from your trance, reaching for the hem of your dress only to pull it over your head. When you tossed it over one of the armchairs and turned to Matt to give him the attention he deserved and needed, he looked consternated.

"What are you doing?" he asked, perfectly baffled.

"I'm not playing doctor with you in this dress. It's new. I don't want blood on it."

It was expensive. You had chosen it carefully – just like the rest of your new clothes ever since you had gotten together with Matt –, paying extra attention to the material, anxious about the fabric feeling good under Matt's fingers. Shopping had kinda become a nightmare since you had to pick clothes that not only looked good, but mainly felt good; however, with the way Matt appreciated it, it was totally worth it.

"The material sounded really soft. You looked beautiful in it."

You scratched her forehead, abashed, as you walked to the bathroom to get the first aid kit, returning to Matt who seated himself on the couch, stripping his jacket to reveal a huge bloodstain on his shirt.

"Jesus, Matt."

The man in question honest to god pouted. "You'll wear that dress again, right?"

"Of course I will," you reassured him tiredly as he took off the shirt as well. "That was the whole point of stripping it – keep it clean of bloodstains so I can wear it again.... for our like, thirtieth anniversary when you won't be coming home bleeding anymore."

"I had to let them cut me. I didn't even call the police to make it home faster. I was trying-"

"I'm sorry, you what?" you asked incredulously, unable to believe what you were hearing.

"I was trying?" he repeated hesitantly, well-aware that wasn't that part that caught your... ear, so to speak.

"No, no, did you just say you let them cut you, didn't call the police so you could be home faster? Are you insane?"

"I didn't want you to wait. We rarely get out for a dinner or something else. I didn't want to disappoint you. Though I did come after the guys to chase down my wallet because that would mean a whole new set of time-demanding problems. But don't worry, I crashed the lights before I went down on them," he added hastily as if it would made the whole situation better.

You wordlessly let the gloves smack your skin louder than necessary. Matt winced.

"Matt Murdock, I love you, I love what you're willing to do for me, but I swear to God, sometimes you're just being utterly, utterly stupid. Priorities, Matt. Now show me."