This was different. Pretty different. Daredevil isn’t a stranger to having partners who did what he did. He’s had plenty in the past. But this? This was very different.

You’d both rendezvoused back at his apartment and he was already there waiting. It wasn’t too active on his end of the neighborhood, he said. That was only half true. The other half of it was that he didn’t want you to be the one to wait up for him.

So, he watches in silence as you find the first aid kit on the coffee table and begin patching yourself up. He’d left it out for you on purpose. And yet, it didn’t feel like it was enough.

He can smell the blood in the air. Not too much, but enough to leave a slight taste. He can feel the muscles in the way you moved. The heat from irritated skin.

There wasn’t a word spoken. Daredevil leaves his corner of the room to make his way over and offer his assistance. Before he can stop and think if it’s too cheesy of a move, he reaches over to take your hands in his. And he plants kisses to bruised and scraped knuckles oh so softly.

This was different. It felt so natural. So human. Something he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.