Ten Days Until The Release Of The Martin Scorsese Directed Film, Killers Of The Flower Moon, Starring

Ten days until the release of the Martin Scorsese directed film, Killers Of The Flower Moon, starring Lily Gladstone. If you haven't learned about the history of the Osage Nation, read up and discover their past, present, and future.

I'll never understand the side of the internet that believes The Amazing Spider-Man movies are the worst superhero movies ever made because they REALLY aren't.

Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone are lightning in a bottle as Peter and Gwen. SALLY FREAKING FIELD as Aunt May.

I especially like how the films move — or swing — through grief and coming of age with heart and humor and heroics from Peter AND Gwen AND May, etc.

The Amazing Spider-Man 2 is proof that the trilogy was only improving, and it’s still such a shame we never got that third movie.

I’ll NEVER get over how phenomenal Andrew Garfield is in his Spider-Man suit.

His physicality breathes life into his iteration of the iconic role. It’s incredible. Garfield’s Peter FEELS like a comic book character come to life in The Amazing Spider-Man movies — and No Way Home.

I wasn't sure where this was heading because the pot was boiling over and I was dancing around your words with two oven mitts and a fire extinguisher trying to protect the two leads from the anger like they were my progeny. And yet, sometimes those words have to be said don't they?! And you did it so well. The catharsis of telling each other what and why it hurts so. Well done!!

Taking the journey from anger and pain and pain and anger but when you do it together, with love and compassion, so worthwhile...

Mob!peter fan club member for life.

Love of Mine

Heeeey @hollandweather remember that request you sent me forever ago?? ii went with the mob!peter version ii hope you're good with that :)

Pairing: Mob!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: Lots of fighting and yelling, happyish ending, angsty. Let me know if I missed anything cause I'm sure I did.

Kind of a sequel but not really to this

Pretty please read and reblog!! thanks friend

Freshly painted black nails contrasted against the soft cream color of the armchair cushion as she dug her nails into the fabric. Standing in the dimly lit office waiting for him to notice her, she stood like a haunting figure in front of him, simply waiting for an acknowledgment. 

“Peter.” Her words came out soft, yet stern. Swallowing the angry lump in her throat as his eyebrows raised, and his chest fell.

“Yes baby?”

He spoke simply, not even lifting his head to acknowledge her. He was engrossed in whatever he was looking at some paper with a mugshot attached. Ever since the shootout that killed him Peter had been different. He came back different. Angerier, more cruel. Never to her, just others. She hadn’t been sure what happened, maybe it had given him time to reflect. Time to be angry at the cards he was dealt in life. 

“Do you not..?” She fumbled over her words in her upset. 

“It feels like you don’t care about..us anymore Peter.” There was a sad honesty in her voice. She wished she had been making it up, that it was all in her head. Peter threw himself into his work the moment he got better. He’d leave several times for days on end; not a single call to let her know he was okay or when he’d be home. It was unlike him. 

He furrowed his brows, looking at her finally. “Of course I care, baby.”

 Again, there's the distance in his voice. It feels rehearsed, almost like he’d been practicing this delivery for the months he’s been back. There were times where he didn’t seem himself, he was quick to anger and quick to jump. He and Harry having nearly had several physical altercations since being back. Felicia having gone ghost on them after she and Peter had it out over an action plan. His wife was feeling his anger, and it was nesting in her. She could try to nurse him back to his mentality before, she could settle his arguments with friends and colleagues. However, she could only handle him neglecting her for so long. 

“Do you know what today is?” She began to wander around the office. Their wedding picture is sitting snugly on the bookcase in a gold frame. Both are much younger in the photo having gotten married straight out of high school. 

“October 19th..wh- Oh, oh baby.” 

For a moment her Peter was there, the realization washed over the room. She knew he felt like an idiot rethinking the day. She’d made his favorite breakfast, they showered together, and she’d even gone shopping and excitedly showed him everything she had gotten. She was now dressed in a purple slip dress she’d bought today. 

 He forgot their anniversary. 

 Peter stood up from his desk rushing to her. She felt exposed under his touch, pulling her face away as he grabbed her jaw in his calloused hand. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry baby.” 

“It’s whatever Peter.” She backed away, tears pooling in her eyes. “I just wanted to know that you still cared and…well, I got my answer.” Angrily she stormed out of his office, slamming the door shut behind her. A photo of them falling off his decor table in the show of aggression, the frame bursting into dozens tiny pieces. 

Peter followed behind her, his feet slamming against the hardwood of the stairs. “I don’t care! Is that what you’re saying right now?” 

“That's what I said.” She yells back trying to slam their bedroom door in his face. Peter grabbed it, pushing it open. He stared at her in shock, standing there with his arms at his side. His wife glaring back at him, tears spilling down her cheeks. 

“You don’t care about me or us anymore. All you care about is killing those people who hurt you. All you care about is work, what’s being moved in and what's being taken out.” She started pointing a finger at him. “This is the last fucking straw Peter. I’m fucking tired. I can’t keep fixing the things you fuck up because you are so blinded by rage. You are so fucking selfish. You forgot my birthday, and our wedding anniversary. Harry doesn’t even want to see you any fucking more because you are not yourself. I want Peter back not whatever fucking stranger crawled into your body while you were dying. I want my husband because you are not him, he was a good husband.” 

Both her and Peter stared at one another. She knew she shouldn’t have said it.  

Her anger echoed in the room, she expected him to fight back. She wanted him to fight back, yell, scream, let her know that he in some way cared. Instead he turned and looked at himself in the mirror and then down at his socked feet. 

“So me proving I care about you, about Harry. About anything other than myself would mean I’d stop taking down the people who hurt me. I’d stop going after Li or Fisk’s guys who got together and planned to kill not only me but everything I cared about including you?”

 He stared at her like she had five heads. Not knowing how to respond she rubbed her hands down her face. He was putting words in her mouth. 

“Cool, cool  yeah. I’ll stop, fuck I’ll step down from being the head of this organization.  We can totally live a normal life not constantly looking over our shoulders.`` 

“You’re being mean, you’re putting words in my fucking mouth.” She warns. Peter takes a deep breath shaking his head as he looks down, something he did to keep himself from crying. 

“I went to that warehouse to protect all of you. Do you understand that? Because if I didn’t go to them, they were gonna come to us. Now, I am cleaning up a mess I made that has put you all at risk. I’m..” Peter’s hands shook at his side, before coming up to rub his face aggressively. He dropped down to the floor sitting his back against the wall. 

“I’m sorry I’m a bad husband, I haven’t been a good husband since that night and I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I left you here, I’m sorry I scared you. I’m sorry that I put you in any danger by coming back. But as a good husband and as a good friend or boss I have to kill them.” He whispered to her, as she joined him on the floor. 

“You have every right to be mad at me. I’m mad at myself. And this isn’t me guilt tripping you, this is me telling you that you’re right I haven’t been a good husband and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I forgot your birthday and our anniversary and that I’ve been a total piece of shit.”

“I didn’t mean it. I just, I knew it would hurt your feelings and I wanted you to hurt like I did.” 

Peter kissed her head, his hand cradling her cheek bringing her to his chest. She let out a soft sigh burying her head in his neck. “I just got caught up in keeping everyone safe that I forgot what I was protecting. I am so sorry for hurting you and doing anything that made you feel like I didn’t love you” He whispered in her hair, rubbing small circles on her back. 

“I know. And I know I’ll forgive you for it, but can we start by at least having an anniversary night? It’s all I want, just you and me, no work or anything.”

“I’ll give you an anniversary week, how's that?” Peter bargains. “Make up for the missed birthday. We can go anywhere you want.” 

“Anywhere?” She smiles up at her husband, who gives her a loving look before kissing her cheek. 

“Anywhere.” He confirms holding her closer. “I love you.” He assures her, pulling her legs over his thigh rocking her. 

“I love you too.”

Alright, alright, alright!

*Rubs hands together excitedly*

I read this late last night but saved commenting so thoughts could percolate a little bit along with the morning java. Going to be long so here's the TLDR for those who hate lengthy essays:

READ THIS ENTIRE FIC, YOU WON'T REGRET IT!

It's got everything promised so far and this chapter delivered better than a box from Mendl's bakery (the iconic bakery from The Grand Budapest Hotel just in case readers haven't seen the film)

Here is the remaining commentary below a cut (for spoilers) and also length:

*Paces floor, muttering: where to start, where to start*

Sooo tempted to begin with the food but I'm going with the relationship because that is, after all, the main course. And what a course it is! The delectable Chef Matt giving off quite the show for Reader in the intimate confines of Fogwell's and they're all alone too. Not for nothing was I hearing Joe Jonas singing in the background, "...let's start living dangerously..." when all that cake was right there. RIGHT. THERE. Just a little squeeze Reader, try it go on...but no...she just thinks it. Great line btw, still giggling over the quarter.

Then again, when Reader reacts instinctively and thinks less, everything just flows. The hug of reassurance was quite sweet. Not sure I would have been brave enough for that, but that is my personality talking and I'm quite tickled that it was just the natural thing to do when observing someone reveal a deeper side of them.

Ditto for the scene where Reader is attempting to gain Matt's perspective and tries the punching bag. Very nicely done.

Now, let's talk about their footwork. Boxing? No! The verbal sparring and the mental dancing around the two of them keep doing. OH MY LORD. It's half adorable half tearing my hair out and half 'just bang already'-little Crazy Stupid Love ref there-Wait, that's three halves, so maybe it's a sum of the parts expression. Anyway, I loved it. "You think I'm cool?" Yeah, Matt, she does. And then not two minutes later Reader is right back to heart on the floor with "it's just a thank you" as she mentally tries to scrape it together with a dustpan. Matt is not helping matters either, thank you very much AUTHOR. (Not really scolding you, I"m smirking at you if you can't read tone in text.) All in all, I could write about the apartment scene for four more paragraphs but I cannot hold off any longer. I HAVE TO TALK ABOUT THE FOOD.

OH MY LORD. (for the second time no less). The food. Final four right there. National championship material. You had me at basil, but the guanciale mention...oh the savory seduction of guanciale. Sweatergawd, that stuff is amazing. I can understand why Matt used the pancetta though. I once grabbed a bestie for a road trip because the closest place I could buy guanciale w/o online ordering is two hours away. So, pancetta is what I use most often too.

But how she wasn't just simply 'take me I'm yours' after THAT meal is sheer torture for us readers AND YOU KNOW IT. It's raining, they've eaten a lovely meal, shared some wine, and THEY END WITH A HUG. Now, never mind Reader, you could scrape ME off the floor with a dustpan because that left me just weak from exhaustion. Matt better pour on the charm like melted butter because this reader wants to get served I'm telling you. I don't know what you have up your sleeve for the next chapter, but I've got my nose pressed to the glass window by the light of that neon sign waiting for these two knuckleheads to get out of their headspace and just react to what they feel.

I'm going to stop here, but well done all around. I love this series!

Cooking Up Love, Chapter 7

Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader

Rating: T

Story Summary: Here 

Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness (and speed that their relationship develops, lol), no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, idiots in love, pining... so much pining

Word Count: ~3800

A/N: As promised, here's the 2nd half of Chef Matt & Reader's Sunday afternoon together! Enjoy!

And thank you as always to @theradioactivespidergwen for the super cute divider she made for me!

Tag List: @yarrystyleeza @hailey-murdock @mattkinsella @bellaxgiornata @danzer8705 @chezagnes @shouldbestudying41 @thepunisherfrankcastle @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment

Where the hell are we going? you wondered as you and Matt headed away from Clinton Church. 

It wasn't like you weren't afraid he was taking you off somewhere to murder you -- you truly did feel safe with Matt and hadn't been lying when you had said that you trusted him. "Any hint as to where we're going?"

Matt shook his head. "I know it sounds weird, but I'd rather just show you, if that's okay?"

You nodded. It seemed important to Matt that your destination remain a mystery, so you decided not to push. "Okay."

You continued walking past various shops and storefronts until finally Matt stopped. "Okay, we're here."

You peered at the faded letters on the door. 

Fogwell's Gym

You remembered Matt saying that he frequently worked out after service, but couldn't quite understand what was so special about the location that required the need for secrecy. Well, at least that explains the gym bag.

Matt pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door before stepping inside. "Come on in."

You followed him into the darkened gym and waited as he turned the lights on before looking around.

Cubbyholes lined the wall to the left of the door while several punching bags hung to the right. A large boxing ring was situated in the middle of the room, with wooden steps leading up to it. 

Matt gestured towards what you assumed was the locker room. "I'm going to go get changed into my workout clothes. Be right back."

You nodded. "Okay."

While Matt was in the locker room, you took the opportunity to look at the flyers advertising various past boxing matches tacked to the wall. Johnson vs Lewis, Conway vs Roberts, Creel vs Murdock…

You sucked in a breath, reaching out to touch the poster. Creel vs Murdock. Now it makes sense.

You heard Matt come out of the locker room and set his bag down. 

"This is where your dad trained, isn't it?" you asked, your eyes still on the poster.

You heard Matt sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

You turned towards him and froze. As handsome as he was while wearing his chef's coat and black slacks or a t-shirt and jeans, he was even more gorgeous in a black tank top, gray sweatpants, and tennis shoes.

Your gaze drifted up to his face. His glasses were gone, revealing beautiful hazel eyes that were fixed in your direction. 

Matt must've felt you staring at him, because he ducked his head and began rummaging through his gym bag. "I, uh, I started coming here back when I was in culinary school," he explained. "I was struggling during my first semester and thinking about dropping out, so I came to the one place I knew where I would feel close to my dad to see if I could figure out what he would say."

He took out a small bundle of what looked like Ace bandages and began to wrap his hands. "I was having a particularly bad day that day -- there was this one professor who had been giving me a hard time about my need for certain accommodations -- so I began to take my frustration out on a punching bag."

You had found when people started to open up it was better to just let them keep talking rather than interrupt with questions, so you remained silent.

"With each punch I could hear my dad telling me that he was proud of me," Matt continued as he finished wrapping one hand and started on the other. "And that Murdocks never give up no matter how hard things get. So I decided to stay in culinary school and work my ass off to prove that I have what it takes to be a great chef and make my dad proud of me."

Before you could second-guess yourself, you walked over to Matt and wrapped your arms around him in a hug.

You thought for a split second that you might have crossed a line, but before you could let go and apologize Matt relaxed into your embrace, circling his arms around you and tucking his face into your neck.

You held him briefly, then let go and stepped back. 

Matt began to redo the wrap that he had begun, keeping his face turned downward. "I've, uh, I've never actually told anybody about that before. Not even Foggy."

Your heart constricted. You couldn't even begin to imagine the hardship that Matt must have had to go through in order to prove himself as a chef. "Thank you for sharing it with me."

Matt paused. "I don't suppose I can ask you to keep that off the record, can I?"

You nodded. "I will, if that's what you want. It'll stay just between us."

Matt huffed out a breath. "Thank you."

You sat on the bench as Matt moved in front of the punching bag. "So, I suppose you're going to show me some moves, huh?"

Matt chuckled. "If you'd like."

You watched as Matt did a few stretches, appreciating the way his biceps flexed as he moved. And if your eyes drifted southward, well… you were only human. Cake, indeed. One could bounce a quarter off of that ass.

Your eyes snapped back to Matt's face, which bore a small smirk. 

He reached out and touched the punching bag, found the center, then adjusted his stance, raising his fists in front of his face.

You watched in fascination as he skillfully maneuvered his way around the bag, landing punches as if he was squaring off against one of the greatest fighters of all time. He certainly doesn't fight like a blind man.

Finally he paused, chest heaving.

He steadied the punching bag. "Would you mind handing me that towel, please?"

You resisted the urge to lick the sweat off of his neck. "Oh, uh, yeah, sure."

You handed the towel to him. "So are you sure you haven't had professional training?"

Matt grinned as he wiped his face and neck down with the towel. "Yeah, I'm sure."

He draped the towel around his neck and picked up his gym bag. "I'm going to go take a quick shower and change, but I'll be back in a minute, if that's okay?"

You nodded. "Yeah, of course."

While you waited for him to return you checked your phone for messages, replying to an email from an artist you had featured a few weeks prior thanking you for your article.

You put your phone away and stood, glancing briefly over at the entrance to the locker room before walking in front of the punching bag.

You closed your eyes, curled your right hand into a fist, and swung, missing the bag completely. 

You opened your eyes, frowning. Maybe I wasn't close enough.

You moved a bit closer, then closed your eyes again.

You swung at the bag, this time barely connecting.

"...Your stance is off."

You gasped and whirled around, a hand flying over your chest. "Jesus, Matt, you scared me."

Matt stood next to the boxing ring, this time dressed in a dark blue t-shirt that clearly showed off his muscles and dark blue sweatpants.

He smiled softly at you. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

You shook your head, trying to calm your racing heart. "It's alright. I was just… um… just…"

"Trying to figure out how a blind man can hit a punching bag so easily?" Matt nodded in understanding. "I probably should have told you, but I'm not actually completely blind."

"Oh," you replied, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I'm so sorry, I just assumed…"

Matt shook his head. "It's okay. The chemicals that got into my eyes basically fried my synapses, so whatever is directly in front of me looks like a black mass and the rest of my line of vision is what I can best describe as a 'world on fire'."

He tapped the side of his glasses, which you had belatedly realized were back on his face. "The red lenses help neutralize that part."

You huffed out a light laugh. "And here I thought you just wore them because they made you look cool."

Matt grinned. "You think they make me look cool?"

More like slightly mysterious and incredibly hot. Your face heated slightly. "Eh, maybe a little."

Matt shook his head with a chuckle. "Ready to head out?"

You nodded. "Mmhmm."

Matt gestured towards the door. "After you."

"So, where to next?" you asked as the two of you headed outside.

Matt shook his head. "Actually, that was my last errand." 

"Oh." You couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed that you had to go your separate ways. "Okay, so I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Yeah, tomorrow." Matt bit his lip. "Um, that is… unless you'd like to have dinner with me tonight? My place? My apartment's not too far from here."

You nodded, unable to keep a smile off of your face. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd actually really like that."

Matt unfolded his cane. "Great!  I mean, it's the least I could do after you helped me out this afternoon at the soup kitchen."

Your heart sank slightly. Of course he meant it as a thank-you, how else would he have meant it? "Oh. Um, it was no problem. I was happy to help."

Matt turned the opposite of the way you were facing. "This way, then."

As you headed down the street, you couldn't help but entertain the thought of Matt having invited you over for dinner not because he felt obligated to as a thank-you, but because he hadn't been ready for your time together to end either.

You mentally shook your head. It's just as a thank-you for helping him out at the church, that's it.

…You just wished it hadn't been.

Why the hell did I say that? Matt thought to himself as the two of you walked towards his apartment. He'd had every intention of asking you to have dinner with him as a (sort-of) date, but the second you had said yes he had second-guessed himself and blurted out the bit about it being as a thank-you for helping him out at Clinton Church. 

He mentally shook his head as the two of you stopped at a crosswalk. Maybe I can fix this.

Before he could say anything, you cleared your throat. "You know, I'm sure you're tired and I don't want to be an inconvenience, so I actually think I'll just head ho--"

"No!" Matt shook his head. "I mean, no, it's not an inconvenience. I was going to make something to eat when I got home anyway, so it's not a problem to make an extra serving."

He inwardly cringed. Way to make things worse. "Actually, what I meant was that I've really enjoyed your company today and would like to have dinner with you."

He could feel you relax. "I've enjoyed your company today too," you admitted softly. "If you're sure it's not a big deal…"

Matt nodded. "I'm sure."

"Then okay. I'd love to have dinner with you."

Matt smiled in relief. "Great. And actually now that I think about it, I do have one more stop before we get back to my apartment. I need to harvest some herbs from my plot at the community garden, but it'll only take a minute."

"Okay."

The two of you continued on as the crosswalk signal beeped and changed to walk .

"So what kind of herbs do you grow?" you asked.

"All sorts of culinary varieties," Matt replied. "Rosemary, thyme, basil, lavender, and mint."

"Oh, cool."

Matt nodded. "Unfortunately I have to outsource my herbs for the restaurant since I don't have the space to grow the amount that we would need, but this works for my own personal use."

He slowed as you reached the garden. "Welcome to the Hell's Kitchen Community Garden."

"Oh wow," you said. "I never even knew this was here."

Matt led you down the center path then to the right, following along the fence line to his plot in the back corner. "It hasn't been here too terribly long, maybe six months or so."

"And you said Claire from the farmer's market runs it?"

Matt nodded. "Yeah. She petitioned the council to turn the property into a community space and keeps track of who has which plot and everything."

You hummed. "I might have to talk to my boss about covering the community garden for the paper too. This is really neat."

"That would be great. It definitely would raise more awareness and hopefully bring more funding for upkeep." Matt stopped in front of his plot. "This is mine."

He knelt down and felt his basil plants before picking a few leaves and placing them into a small storage container he kept in the side pocket of his gym bag. "All set."

He led you back out of the garden and down the street towards his apartment building, frowning at the distant rumble of thunder. Well, there goes my plan to have dinner on the roof. "Sounds like it's about to rain."

"Yeah, it does seem like it's getting a bit cloudy," you replied. "Is your place much farther?"

Matt shook his head. "No, it's just up ahead."

"Oh, okay."

You walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence.

"Okay, here we are," Matt said as you reached his apartment building.

He led you to the elevator and pressed the button for his floor, the sound of rain beginning to fall as the elevator began to ascend. "Sounds like we made it just in time." 

"Yeah, thank goodness," you replied. "I wasn't expecting it to rain so I didn't bring my umbrella with me."

You can always just stay the night… Matt shook his head. "I have one you can borrow if you need to, or I can call you a cab if it's still raining hard when you leave later."

He took his keys out of his pocket as the elevator stopped and the doors opened. "This way."

He led you down the hall to his apartment and unlocked the door, then opened it and ushered you inside as another roll of thunder rumbled overhead.

He closed the door and dropped his keys into the bowl on the side table in the entryway before folding up his cane and setting it next to the bowl. "Come on in."

He tried to ignore his sudden nervousness. It had been a long time since he'd had someone who wasn't Foggy or Karen in his personal space and hoped you wouldn't judge how barren his apartment was.

He turned on the lights then headed to his refrigerator. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Oh, um, sure," you replied. "Whatever you're having is fine."

He heard you walk over to the large window in his living area as he pulled out 2 bottles of beer along with a block of pecorino cheese and some pancetta. He had gotten an incredible deal on his apartment because of the gigantic neon sign that was situated on the roof of the neighboring building, so he was sure that was what you were looking at.

He quickly washed the fresh basil he had picked and patted it dry, then set the cheese and pancetta down on the kitchen island before popping the tops off of the bottles and walking over to you. "Here you go."

Your fingers brushed his as he handed you the bottle, a now-familiar tingle coursing through Matt's veins. "Thank you."

Matt swallowed and took a sip of his beer. "Quite the view, huh?" he said, gesturing out the window.

You huffed out a laugh. "It's very, um… picturesque."

Matt shook his head with a grin. "Funny, that's exactly how the real estate agent that sold me this place described it." He leaned in conspiratorially. "I have a feeling she might not've been telling me the truth though." 

You laughed again. "Okay, it is a bit obnoxious."

Matt chuckled. "I really do keep meaning to get some blackout curtains, but since it's just me it's never really been a bother."

You hummed. "I honestly don't mind it. It gives your apartment an interesting glow."

Matt could imagine the two of you together on his sofa, the glow of the billboard the only light in the darkened room as he gently caressed your cheek, your lips inches from his own--

He mentally shook his head and gestured to his kitchen island. "Have a seat and I'll get started on dinner."

He heard you sit as he began to gather the rest of the ingredients, placing the eggs he had taken out of his refrigerator that morning into a bowl and setting it on the island before washing his hands and filling a pot about halfway with water.

He set the pot on the stove and seasoned it with some salt, then turned the burner on high to let the water boil.

He crossed back to the island and roughly chopped the fresh basil he had picked, then quickly whisked together 3 egg yolks and an entire egg before grating a generous amount of cheese into the mixture, giving it an additional stir before setting it aside.

He could feel you quietly watching him as he unwrapped the pancetta and began cutting it into small cubes, unable to help but wonder what you were thinking. You'd had the same focus the day before when he had made your crepes, but you had been recording your conversation then and had asked questions about his culinary process. This felt… different. More personal, like you were deep in thought.

He cleared his throat. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"What?" You startled slightly. "Oh, sorry, it's nothing. Just trying to figure out what we're having for dinner."

You were lying to him, but Matt couldn't figure out exactly why or what about. "Oh, I'm making spaghetti carbonara. It's traditionally made with guanciale, but my supplier was out, so pancetta will have to suffice for today."

"Your supplier… Oh, right, Frank, wasn't it?"

Matt shook his head then moved back to the stove, dropping the spaghetti into the pot of boiling water before moving the pancetta to the pan. "He doesn't do cured meats. I get those and other specialty items from Nelson's Meats."

You made a curious sound. "Nelson… as in Chef Nelson?"

Matt nodded as he stirred the pancetta around. "Foggy's family owns it. Best capicola in the tri-state area."

He finished cooking the pancetta and turned the skillet off, then scooped some of the pasta water into a measuring cup before draining the pasta and adding it to the pancetta. "Dinner's almost ready if you want to move to the table."

"Okay."

As you moved to Matt's dining table, he gave the egg mixture another stir before pouring it into the pan, adding a bit of the pasta water and using tongs to mix it all together.

Once it was a perfectly smooth consistency, he added some freshly-ground black pepper and separated it into two bowls before adding an extra sprinkle of cheese and some chopped basil on top of each serving. 

He placed a fork in each bowl, then brought them over to you, setting yours in front of you and his in front of his spot across from you. "Dinner is served."

You gave a slight gasp. "Oh my goodness, Matt, this looks amazing."

"Thanks." Matt quickly grabbed two wine glasses and gave them a quick rinse before taking a bottle of Pinot Gris out of his refrigerator and pouring you each a glass. 

He set your glass down before sitting across from you. "The beer we were drinking doesn't really go with carbonara so I've selected a wine pairing, if that's alright?"

You gave a hum of affirmation. "Of course it's alright."

Matt nodded. "Okay, well, enjoy."

He waited nervously as you took a bite.

You let out a pleased sound. "Oh my goodness, this is so good."

Matt grinned in relief. "Yeah?"

"Yes, absolutely. Everything you've made for me so far has been amazing." 

"I'm glad." Matt took a bite of his own carbonara, the silky smoothness of the sauce pairing perfectly with the crispy pancetta and al dente noodles. "It's not quite traditional carbonara but it's very close."

"Right, you said it's traditionally made with guanciale."

Matt nodded. "And no herbs are usually added, but I like the flavor a bit of fresh basil adds to the dish."

"Mmm. Mmhmm. Yeah, I like it too."

You both continued eating and once you were done, Matt stood. "Here, I'll get this for you."

"Thanks."

"I'm afraid I don't have any dessert prepared, but would you like another glass of wine?"

"Yeah, I'd love one."

Matt grabbed the bottle of Pinot Gris and refilled your glasses. "Care to go sit on the couch?"

"Sure."

You took a sip of wine as the two of you sat together on Matt's sofa. "I really like your apartment, by the way. It suits you."

Matt shook his head with a small smile. "It's not much, but it's home."

You huffed out a laugh. "It's not what I originally expected, but to be honest, neither were you."

"Oh?" Matt turned towards you. "And what did you expect?"

"About you or your apartment?"

"Mmm, both, I suppose."

"Well, had I based my idea of what your apartment would be like on my first impression of you it would've been cold and industrial with no heart."

Matt winced. "Ouch."

"However, having gotten to know you over the past few days I would say warm and inviting with a certain charm."

A smile spread across Matt's face. "You think I'm charming?"

"Your apartment? Very. You? Maybe a tiny bit."

Matt smirked at the teasing tone in your voice. "A tiny bit? I guess I'll just have to work harder on charming you then."

You let out a light laugh. "No need, I'll send you a copy of my article before publication anyway."

"Okay, thanks." Although that's not the reason I want to charm you.

You finished your glass of wine. "And speaking of my article, I should probably get going -- I have to be at the Bulletin early tomorrow for our weekly staff meeting."

Matt nodded and stood. "Here, I'll walk you out."

"Thanks for inviting me along today," you said softly as you reached the door. "I had a really great time." 

Matt nodded, unable to keep a smile off of his face. "I did too."

"I'll see you tomorrow evening?"

Matt nodded again. "Six o'clock?"

"Yeah, that sounds perfect."

"Okay, great."

The two of you stood there for a moment longer. Finally you reached out and gave Matt a brief hug. "Goodnight, Matt."

Matt hugged you back, committing what he could of you to memory. "Goodnight."

He waited as you let yourself out, an idea forming in his mind.

…He just hoped he was able to pull it off.

A lover's ear is a fascinating and tender spot upon which to place one's lips.