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Stepping into your dark apartment, you got the sense of another presence before you even had the chance to close the door.
You’d developed something of a sixth sense through the course of life. It was something that proved to be incredibly beneficial back when you still worked for the FBI. But you left the organization shortly after the chaotic confrontation between Wilson Fisk and Daredevil at the Presidential Hotel all those years ago; after you thought Dex had died.
You and Benjamin Poindexter had developed a bond back when you were both part of the Fisk security detail. Or rather, you saw in Dex something that you also saw in yourself, and you’d become a little bit attached to him. You saw a man in need of validation, much in the way that you craved to be accepted; both of you just wanted to be seen, and you recognized that need within him once you began working together.
Maybe it was a crush. Looking back, you struggled to identify what you felt towards Dex at the time - you felt a familiarity, you felt a longing, but you wouldn’t have called it attraction quite so easily.
That was the trouble most of your life: it was always difficult for you to pinpoint what you were feeling, and it was even more difficult to express those feelings out loud. Relationships in any capacity weren’t always easy, as you’d become wholly consumed by the people in your life, which was often too intense for the recipient of your attention.
But Dex was different.
You matched one another’s earnestness and curiosity, you were both so acutely attentive to those you deemed important. You both had so much passion just bubbling beneath the surface, passion that proved overwhelming when it burst.
So, it only made sense that you found your way to one another again and again and again.
That’s how you knew at this exact moment that someone else was in your home. That, specifically, Benjamin Poindexter was back in your life, even if only temporarily.
It’s not that he ever meant to abandon you.
After Dex’s fatal incident with Fisk, the FBI covered up so many things. First, they hid the fact that he survived in order to perform experimental surgery on him. You only found out about it because you began snooping around in confidential files because in your gut you just knew you weren’t being given the full story.
Following that incident, you put in your notice after your boss made not-so-subtle suggestions that you were in deep shit for poking into classified business. Proving further corruption than you would have guessed, the FBI then tried to send a newly recuperated Dex to silence you.
Clearly, that didn’t work. After all, you were the only target he could never hit, even if he wanted to. Even now, six years later, you still had to lay low, knowing that any day things could come crashing down around you if the FBI so chose. They didn’t appreciate losing two assets, especially two assets they thought they could control.
Over the course of those years, Dex had been on a constantly changing trajectory. From hiding somewhere in the city to being in prison, then back to hiding out with you, then prison again, then off on a killing spree and so on.
You knew that he wasn’t technically a good guy - you’d seen him kill, you’d noticed that dangerous look in his eyes time and again, you’d heard detailed accounts of all the bad things he’d done.
But Dex was yours. Yours to protect, yours to keep, yours. No one would ever understand you quite like he did; you knew that without a doubt.
So, whenever trouble found him again, you were always there to help pick up the pieces. If, of course, you got to him before the police could.
“Dex?” You called into your small apartment once you had the door locked behind you. One of the troubles that came with a life of hiding was shitty apartments with awkwardly spaced light switches and lamps, forcing you to walk through the dark. Not that it was a particular pain - you’ve been here so long that you could now navigate with ease.
Finally reaching the nearest lamp, it dimly illuminated the living space, your gaze instantly drawing to Dex’s bulky form sat upon your worn out couch, holding ice wrapped in a towel to his forehead.
Your body deflated at the familiar sight of him, one part relieved and another part concerned. Relieved because being together again was like slipping into a familiar pair of shoes; concerned because of the sweat and blood that dirtied him.
Looking up to meet your eyes, Dex gave you a toothy, bloody smile. He seemed to relax, too, shoulders slightly sagging, gaze twinkling as he drank in the sight of you.
“Hey, darlin’.”
Oh, the sound of his voice made you exhale contently, a faint grin on your lips as you crossed the room to kneel before him. With the kind of ease you only had with each other, you studied his marred visage, brow furrowing as you gently clasped his chin, turning his head this way and that.
All the while, Dex watched you unblinkingly. He always stared at you with a certain intensity, as if he feared that he might forget some important part of your features if he didn’t focus hard enough.
Your eyes flicked up to meet his briefly, the corner of your mouth turning up as you teased flatly, “Took you long enough.”
Again, his smile gleamed; he always looked a little bit mischievous, even when he was being sincere.
“Don’t wanna draw attention to you.”
It had been months since the last time you and Dex saw each other. You no longer made a habit of counting the days like you used to; you never had to worry that Dex wouldn’t come back eventually. Considering that at one point you went a whole year without being together, a measly few months was a blessing in comparison.
Your cheeks warmed ever so as you bit the inside of your lip, feeling a kind of tranquility to be in a room together again.
Dex made it a habit to learn how to interpret your micro-expressions through the years. You were so subtle compared to others - you never smiled too wide, never laughed too boisterously, never glared too harshly. It wasn’t in your nature, and he’d come to covet that no one else saw the range of your emotions the way he did.
Dex knew what it meant when you had that sharp V between your brows, or when you brushed your tongue along the frontside of your teeth. He understood the differences in your quick glances versus your side eye. He studied you so very closely every chance he got, the act becoming a familiar habit.
Your eyes flicked down towards his torso then back up, “You hurt?”
The both of you already knew the answer to that question. What you were really asking was how bad it was. It felt as if you only ever saw Dex bloodied and bruised anymore. It seemed to be the only time he allowed himself to come to you without fear.
Without needing his answer, you stood up and started towards your bedroom, knowing he would be just a step behind. Passing through into the cramped, dingy bathroom, you pulled out your first aid kit, a routine like second nature.
You could feel Dex’s broad frame come up behind you, allowing your gaze to briefly look at his reflection in the mirror before resuming your task. Your medical bag wasn’t pristinely organized by any stretch of the word, but you nonetheless had a system as you sorted through bandages and a suture kit, alcohol wipes and painkillers.
All the while, your heart stuttered under Dex’s watchful gaze. You figured that you could go your entire life still feeling giddy around him.
Though you didn’t love to see Dex battered like this, you loved to tend his wounds; you loved to take care of him. There was something soothing about the process of washing his face and cleaning his cuts, of putting a band-aid to his skin. Even stitching him up - when it was necessary - had a calming effect on your body, relieving you of any tension or stress you carried through all other moments of your life.
Really, everything about Dex put you at ease even as your heart fluttered.
It was like a meditation. Dex sitting on the edge of the tub, stripped down to his underwear so you could take in his injuries and scars and taut muscles. You, methodically treating his abrasions and contusions, an unwavering attentiveness in your eyes until you finally finished.
You enjoyed this part of your reunions just as much as you enjoyed the inevitable moment when you two would crawl into bed and Dex would hold you close. Sometimes, all you had were a few hours together, and so you came to love each and every second.
Even after you finished playing nurse, Dex continued to stare, his gaze burning into you. Once more, you caught his eye in the mirror; he gave you that ever familiar smirk, to which you gave a fond, tight smile in return.
Continuing to watch through the reflection, you finally drank Dex in as he stood to his full, occasionally imposing height. Your eyes lingered everywhere for a moment each, from his strong arms to his sturdy chest, from his waist and back up to his handsome face.
So much of your time together was spent in unspoken conversation. Drinking each other in, staring into one another’s face. Touching the curves and blemishes of each other’s body like intricate brail.
Dex stood behind you again, gingerly touching his fingertips to your elbow, a silent request that you turn to face him. You did so while biting the inside of your cheek, leaning your rear against the lip of the counter as you met his eyes straight on.
In the cramped quarters, you were practically standing on top of each other, simply staring for a long beat as if you were both afraid of breaking the silence.
Even when you did, your voice was quiet and gentle, “Are you staying?”
Dex cupped your jaw in one hand, his head cocking attentively, fondly, as you nuzzled into the familiar touch. Staring up at him like this, it was impossible to see the dangerous man that you knew he was. The so-called Bullseye was nowhere to be seen in his sharp, imperfect features, no hint of madness glinting in his eyes or hardening his brow.
He was just Dex. The Dex who saw in your face all the things you didn’t say, who knew each minute detail of you like the back of his hand. Within this safe little bubble, he was your Dex.
His tone was a low grumble, “As long as I can.”
Your chest swelled as you stood up on your toes, your lips brushed his tenderly, so gentle that it almost couldn’t be called a kiss.
Nonetheless, it made your stomach knot with fever as Dex smiled against your mouth. His careful hand rounded to the back of your neck to keep you close, fingers weaving in your hair, kissing you firmly.
You and Dex weren’t anything. Yet, you were also everything.
Considering the unique circumstances, your relationship was all encompassing and yet undiscussed. You kissed him with longing, he clung to you with earnest. You worshipped at one another’s feet, yet this relationship was entirely secret, entirely your own to keep close.
You weren’t sure if you’d ever be so bold as to say all the things that you felt. You feared that something fragile would shatter, that something precious would be ruined.
The both of you understood that any day could be the last, but you also understood that terms didn’t have to be made. Without uttering a word you could express your adoration for Dex; his devotion to you was evident in each touch and glance.
Snaking your arms up and around his neck, you pressed Dex’s mouth to yours as if he was the air you breathed. Flush to one another, his own hands trailed down, feeling your body gently beneath his fingers till he easily scooped you up onto the counter, slotting between your knees as if he belonged there.
The intimacy was deeper than something carnal, even as Dex rolled his hips against yours, even as your hands flexed possessively at the base of his skull. His kisses were hungry and steadfast, holding you with reverence, your body melting into his.
Dex could be gone again at any moment, you both accepted this with somber understanding. He never stayed for too long, because the last thing he wanted was someone to come for you - either an enemy or Fisk or the FBI. You were too important to him for that risk. But he took what he could get, even if the moments were short. He visited you more than you even realized, watching from afar just to make sure you were okay, keeping his distance so as not to draw attention to you.
You leaned back from his lips far enough to meet one another’s eyes, hooded and tender and attentive. Your face was alight in that way that Dex loved most - relaxed and vulnerable and unabashedly adoring of him.
Without uttering a word, he seamlessly hooked his arms beneath you and carried you back towards the bedroom. You had to make the most of the limited time you had before you were apart once again.
But if there was one thing you could rely on, even when he was gone, was that Dex would always come back eventually.