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The rain is bucketing down, and even though the roof is several floors above them, it’s almost deafening for Matt. Except that Matt enjoys deafness; it shuts out the rest of the city for a while. No more errant screams and threats that he isn’t meant to hear. If he turns the radio up, he can just focus in, and everything is almost normal, for a while. Maybe every once in a while a roll of thunder will crash across the sky, and Matt will have to press his hands against his ears so that he doesn’t scream, but it’s worth it. Peter’s there too, in Matt’s apartment, developing photos in an impromptu red room. Matt doesn’t ask to see them; he couldn’t, anyway, the glossy finish of completed photos doesn’t let him feel the lines and textures like he can sometimes do with newspapers. But it’s nice to have somebody around, even if Matt wishes that he would finish up his photos sooner rather than later. It’s a little bit selfish, he knows, but doesn’t care too much. He figures that if he hasn’t been sent down divine retribution for Peter by now, he’s probably safe.
And so a moment later, when Matt pushes himself up from his seat on the couch where he was idly browsing court documents and makes his way into the small closet that has been reinvented into a developing room, he doesn’t feel too guilty.
“What’s up?” Peter asks, turning around with a tinge of surprise in his voice. Not hurt surprise, or any other nasty shade, just slightly bemused. “I thought you were doing lawyer things.”
Matt shrugs, leaning against the closet door, close enough to pick out all the individual scents of Peter and his photos. His clothes must be freshly washed; they still smell of laundry detergent. “I was, but I got tired of it. It’s just review, anyway. Just making sure that everything they’ve stuck in my brain is actually secured there.”
They don’t say anything more for a while, and Peter doesn’t question. Matt is quiet today, tired, and Peter is focused on his work, so he doesn’t even attempt a new lawyer joke (an ongoing contest between him and Matt, Peter tries to tell jokes that Matt hasn’t heard) as he pins up photos.
When he finishes, he opens the closet and goes to wash his hands in Matt’s enormous kitchen sink, scraping underneath his fingernails to make sure he gets all of the solution off. Matt follows, still using the rain as a shield against the rest of the world.
Peter looks up once he’s done scrubbing his hands and grins. When he reaches up to pull Matt’s head down slightly for a kiss, the lemony scent of dish soap tints it. Matt pushes into the kiss, relishing the feel of it in as close to a quiet world as he can truly get, and wraps his arms around Peter as he steps closer, so that their bodies are flush against each other. “What were the photos of, anyway?” He asks, smiling into Peter’s neck as he rests his head there.
He can still hear the slight jump of nervousness that Peter’s heart gives, “Just you.” Peter says, pausing slightly before continuing, “I wanted something to keep when you’re not around.”
Matt laughs slightly, running his hand over the small of Peter’s back. “Little cheesy, don’t you think?”
“Hey, I never claimed to have good taste, you’re proof enough of that.” Soon enough, the light teasing dissolves into more kisses.
The water is still pouring down, and it’s noisily quiet for Matt Murdock.