New Recruit - Heroes - Matt/Monica
Title: New Recruit
Pairing: Matt/Monica
Word Count: 2957
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for a_to_z_prompts. AU.
Summary: When Monica joins the police force, Matt can't help falling in love.
The latest recruit on the force is young, sweet and innocent, the kind of person who shouldn't have to see the sort of thing they see, or meet the sort of people they meet. Sharing a squad car with her is easy, too easy. It makes Matt actually look forward to coming into work.
Her name's Monica and she has an accent that seems like it ought to belong on a rural farm rather than in this big, bad city.
When he first asked her why she'd moved here and signed up, she'd smiled that bright smile of hers and shrugged. "Guess I fancied a challenge," she'd said.
Smiling back, Matt had been able to believe her completely. Monica's the kind of girl who needs something there to aspire to and aim towards. The sky is the limit - infinity and beyond. That kind of deal.
And that's why, when he walks back to their car after he's stopped for lunch, he doesn't know what to do when he finds her crying in the front seat. She's hunched over, shoulders tight, and though her hands cover her face he knows he won't find any of her bottomless optimism in her eyes, not today. Uneasily, he moves around to the driver's side of the car and opens the door, sitting down behind the wheel.
As soon as he's inside she sniffles and wipes the back of her hand over her eyes, trying to appear fine and normal. With the skin around her eyes red and puffy, it doesn't work. Makes it worse.
"Um…" Matt clears his throat. Crying women, he's never known what to do around crying women. Crying anyone, for that matter. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine." Her smile lacks her usual sunshine. It's like the few strands of sunlight peaking through the black, menacing clouds on a rainy day. "Just feelin' a little homesick, that's all."
Matt can't stop watching her as she tries to pull herself together, though it would be polite to look away. "I get that," he tells her. "I moved here a couple of years ago. Still don't think I'm used to it, to be honest."
She looks up at him, water rimming her eyes. "I don't know anybody," she whispers quietly. Her voice shakes like she might start sobbing and Matt wants to beg her not to, wants to plead with her to be happy again, wants to do anything she wants him to do in order to cheer her up. "I've been here all this time and I still don't know anybody. I'm usually good at makin' friends. I am, really I am. But…" Her thought trails away into a hiccupping sob that makes Matt's heart ache.
Reaching out, he places his hand on her shoulder. "Well, you know me, right?" He quirks an awkward smile. "Yeah, maybe that just makes it worse."
"Matt…" she scolds, shaking her head at him. She leans back in the car seat and he allows his hand to fall from her shoulder. "I'm sorry. This is really unprofessional of me."
"You're only human," Matt tells her, flashing a smile that fades in three seconds flat. "I can't offer anything too impressive, but do you want to come back to mine for dinner tonight? It's my flatmate's turn to cook so you won't actually have to deal with my cooking. I promise."
She looks towards him and he makes himself smile again, trying to look warm and reassuring. He could peek inside her head to see what she's thinking and how she can help, but… No. He's learnt his lesson about that. Reading people's thoughts is way too dangerous - he always sees something he'd rather not.
Monica sniffs and pulls a tissue from her pocket. "Are you sure? I don't wanna impose."
Matt shakes his head. "Nah, it'll be fine. Mohinder and Molly'll love you."
"Molly. She's your kid, right?"
Matt pauses, because that story is far more complicated than he knows how to tell. How to explain Molly's involvement in their lives has been a difficult issue for him and Mohinder. "I'm looking after her, yeah."
That's as close as he can get. The only reason she's allowed to stay with them is because of some convenient legal loopholes Bennet found for them. Matt doesn't want to push their luck. He hasn't known her too long, but it feels like Molly's been in his life forever. It feels like she is his daughter, as if he's known her since she was a baby. She's a wonderful girl.
"That's cool," Monica says. Her voice sounds a little stronger now. "I looked after my brother, Damon, for a while. He's with my Nana now, back in New Orleans."
Matt wants to ask her what happened to her mother, and why she left her family behind, and a thousand other questions, but he holds his tongue. Prying wouldn't be fair and inexhaustible curiosity is no excuse.
She clears her throat and pulls herself together through sheer force of will. "But right now we gotta get back to work. Lunch is over."
"Are you sure you're okay? You can call in sick if you want..."
"No," she insists. "No. I'm good. A couple of tears aren't gonna keep me off my feet, Parkman."
He nods. "Yeah, can't imagine they would."
He can't imagine anything keeping someone like Monica down for long. She's stronger than anyone he's met in a long, long time - and he's proud to share a squad car with her, he can definitely say that much.
*
"A little more forewarning would have been nice, Matt," Mohinder hisses as he flicks through the pages of his recipe books. He speaks between gritted teeth and glances around Matt to where Monica and Molly are sitting at the table; Monica's helping Molly with her homework like it comes naturally to her. Doesn't baby her, but doesn't try to treat her like an adult either.
Matt shrugs apologetically and looks back towards Mohinder. "She's lonely. I wanted to help."
"And that's truly admirable," Mohinder says, in a sarcastic tone that implies he's very far from admiring Matt right now. "But, nevertheless, it wouldn't have killed you to call first, would it?"
"I will next time, I promise," Matt says - he leaves Mohinder muttering to himself about how Matt would be the one left doing the cooking next time. He takes a seat at the table with Molly and Monica, peering over at the workbook they're ploughing through. "What're you guys working on?"
"Math," Molly sighs. "I hate math."
"It's not that bad," Monica assures her. "You just gotta get your head clicked into it. Math is logic."
Molly sighs again. "I hate logic."
"She's got that right," Matt says, and his smile only brightens when Molly sticks her tongue out at him. She's playing up, acting younger than she is in order to get attention from their guest. Matt supposes that's understandable; she hasn't had a positive female influence in her life for a while, barring her teacher. He wonders if he ought to feel guilty about that; neither he nor Mohinder have wild social lives, and the kind of people that Mohinder does associate with aren't the kind that should be allowed anywhere near a little girl.
"When's dinner? I'm hungry."
"Should be soon," Mohinder calls through to answer Molly's question before Matt can attempt to do so. The rich scent that has filled the apartment is a million miles away from the ready-made pizzas that Matt sticks in the oven when it's his turn to 'cook'. He's never had to learn before. First there was Janice; now there's Mohinder.
"It smells real good," Monica says happily. The sunshine is back on her face, as if the dark clouds that had kept her down this afternoon are a thousand miles away. She's like a flower blossoming during the summer, opening up until she's more radiant and beautiful than ever.
Thinking that, Matt looks down at the table and scolds himself. She must be, what, half his age? Too young, that's for certain. "Yeah, Mohinder's good in the kitchen. We're lucky to have him around."
"I'm sure you cope just fine on your own."
"Matt makes pizza," Molly says, doodling in the margins of her homework instead of actually answering the question.
"I lived off fast food for years when I was going through my training," Monica says - hearing that makes the embarrassment fade a little. "I was studying all through the day and in the evening I had a job at a burger bar. Don't think I ate anything else for such a long time. I still can't eat fries any more. Think I had way too many back then."
"You don't eat fries?" Molly asks, looking up at her with her eyebrows raised.
"Nope," Monica says. She smiles at Molly then glances towards Matt, sharing the smile with him as well. It makes him feel warmer just to look at it.
The conversation drifts naturally back and forth, and when Mohinder joins them and brings the food with him it gets even better. Monica fits right in, and Matt doesn't stop smiling all evening.
*
It's a routine, nice and comfortable. Some nights Mohinder cooks; some nights Monica does. Molly's homework marks start to go up with Monica's help - because she knows how to talk to children. She doesn't overcomplicate things like Mohinder does.
"I like it here," Monica observes one evening after Matt has pointed out, laughing, that she spends more time at his place than she does at her own. "Feels like home."
There's something about that that makes Matt beam with pride - and he doesn't stop even after she's left.
"She's awfully young, you know," Mohinder points out while he's doing the washing-up. Molly's already gone to bed - though she's probably sitting up, reading - and the apartment is quiet, peaceful. "You should be careful."
Matt frowns as if he doesn't know exactly what it is that Mohinder's talking about. "She's just a friend."
"I know," Mohinder murmurs. "She's a wonderful woman. I don't want to see either of you get hurt."
"I wouldn't hurt her," Matt says indignantly. "I would never…"
"Not intentionally, I'm sure," Mohinder agrees. With his back to Matt as he scrubs dishes in the sink, Matt doesn't have to see his face. He's relieved for that.
"Don't worry about it," he mutters. "Nothing would happen there anyway. She's just a friend."
And that's all she would ever be - all she'd ever want to be and all that he'd ever let her be. She's too young and he's too... him. Matt's far from a catch, still on the bottom rung of his chosen career, caring for a daughter and living with a man he barely gets on with. Why would anyone willingly allow themselves to become entangled in that mess?
Monica already has, a small voice whispers to him at the very back of his mind, but it's almost impossible to hear over the din of doubt that already swirls there.
"I'm going to go to bed," he says, though he isn't tired and he knows he will stay awake and stare at the ceiling for a long while yet. "Good night."
"Good night," Mohinder replies tensely. He takes a deep breath as if he's considering saying something more - maybe an apology; maybe more unwelcome intrusions - but in the end nothing comes at all and Matt is left to retreat to his bed in peace.
*
"You've been kinda quiet all day, Matt," Monica observes at the station the next day, glancing towards him with a small frown on her face. "Is everything okay?"
He nods, stiffly, and it takes a world of effort to make himself smile for her. "Yeah. I didn't sleep well, that's all."
"I'm not surprised in that madhouse," Monica says, as her frown dissolves into a beautiful smile. Matt tries to focus on anything else. Ever since Mohinder spoke up, he hasn't been able to live under the veil of friendship - not happily, in any case. He's always plagued by thoughts that could have and should have stayed hidden. "If you ever need a break, you know, you can always stay at mine for a night. I hear my couch is pretty comfy."
He tries to smile, but it breaks before anything can come of it. "I don't think that'd be a good idea," he says.
The way her brown eyes watch him makes him wish that he could swallow the words right back up. "It's…" not you it's me? Just how clichéd does he plan on getting? "We've been spending a lot of time together recently, Monica."
"I thought you liked me." Her voice is small, so small, but there's a flicker of anger trying to ignite.
"I do. I do." That's the whole problem, but as he runs a hand over his face he can't tell her that. He closes his eyes, and a dip into her mind tells him that he has to get out of here, and fast: because he's done exactly what Mohinder cautioned him not to. There's nothing but pain in her thoughts right now. Pain, betrayal, confusion. "I have some paperwork I have to do," he mutters, though for once he's on top of it. It's an excuse to get out of there, though, and he feels flooded with relief when she allows him to go.
He finds excuses to stay away from his desk for the rest of his shift. Thankfully it's just an hour, but it's one of the longest of his life. In the bathroom, he looks at himself in the mirror above the sink. He looks tired; he feels hideous.
The clock hits five and he's out of there, rushing out of the door - only to find that Monica is already there, coat on, waiting for him. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and despite her small stature and gentle nature she looks as if she might be persuaded to cause some serious damage. "Matt…"
"Monica, listen-"
"No." It's said so bluntly that whatever further words of protest had formed in his mind fade just as quickly. She steps closer to him, looking up. "Listen to me, okay? I don't know what it is I've done to upset you, okay? I don't know, and you don't have to tell me. But… You're pretty much the nicest guy, the nicest person, that I've met the entire time I've been here. And if I've done something wrong, then I wanna fix it. Any way I can, I wanna make it right again."
"It's not anything you've done," Matt mutters. He wants out of here. He wants to escape in any way that he can, and he thinks that maybe he'd do just about anything to trade powers with someone else right now: he could teleport or go invisible. Something useful. "Mohinder says-"
"Screw him!" Monica's eyes widen as if she's as surprised with herself for saying that as he is for hearing that, but she doesn't back down. "You're my friend, Matt. And friends don't back down. I like you."
While he's shaking his head, she pauses and breathes deeply. He doesn't understand at first - she looks the way she does when she's screwing up the courage to walk into a domestic confrontation - but seconds later, when he feels her hand on his shoulder and her lips against his own, he does understand. It only lasts a second, as sweet and short as a burst of summer rain.
She pulls back and steps away hurriedly. Looking down at the ground beneath her feet, she says, "I really like you."
He speaks without conscious thought. "I really like you too." It's good, so good, to admit that aloud, and the way that she smiles means that he can't even feel guilty about it. "But, c'mon, this is crazy. Crazy, really."
"I like you; you like me… The only crazy thing here is you tryin' to push me away, doofus."
I'm too old for you, you'll get sick of me soon, no one would approve, he could say, but instead he laughs and feels himself blushing. "Are you busy tonight?" he asks.
"I am now," she says - and he can't believe he's doing this, she's doing this, they're doing this, but he'll try damn hard not to question his luck.
*
It's quiet when he gets in - past Molly's bedtime. Matt winces as he closes the door behind him, hoping that he hasn't woken her up.
"Did you have a good evening?" Mohinder asks, sitting on their couch with a book in his lap.
Matt tries to evaluate the expression on Mohinder's face, but it's nothing but civil. There is no sign of the cruel twist of amusement he might have expected, but that doesn't mean that it isn't there, buried down deep. "I know you don't approve, Mohinder, but-"
"Approve?" Mohinder's expression is perfectly baffled. "Matt, I don't lean either way on the issue, presuming we're talking about Monica. I want both of you to be happy. That's it."
Maybe that's a lie, maybe it's the truth, Matt can't tell either way. He could dip into Mohinder's mind and sieve until he found his real thoughts on the matter, but he doesn't even try. His friend and flatmate's approval is nothing but the cherry on top of a fantastic day: because the gentle memory of Monica's lips means that this is going to go down in Matt's memory as one of the best days of his life.
Pairing: Matt/Monica
Word Count: 2957
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for a_to_z_prompts. AU.
Summary: When Monica joins the police force, Matt can't help falling in love.
The latest recruit on the force is young, sweet and innocent, the kind of person who shouldn't have to see the sort of thing they see, or meet the sort of people they meet. Sharing a squad car with her is easy, too easy. It makes Matt actually look forward to coming into work.
Her name's Monica and she has an accent that seems like it ought to belong on a rural farm rather than in this big, bad city.
When he first asked her why she'd moved here and signed up, she'd smiled that bright smile of hers and shrugged. "Guess I fancied a challenge," she'd said.
Smiling back, Matt had been able to believe her completely. Monica's the kind of girl who needs something there to aspire to and aim towards. The sky is the limit - infinity and beyond. That kind of deal.
And that's why, when he walks back to their car after he's stopped for lunch, he doesn't know what to do when he finds her crying in the front seat. She's hunched over, shoulders tight, and though her hands cover her face he knows he won't find any of her bottomless optimism in her eyes, not today. Uneasily, he moves around to the driver's side of the car and opens the door, sitting down behind the wheel.
As soon as he's inside she sniffles and wipes the back of her hand over her eyes, trying to appear fine and normal. With the skin around her eyes red and puffy, it doesn't work. Makes it worse.
"Um…" Matt clears his throat. Crying women, he's never known what to do around crying women. Crying anyone, for that matter. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine." Her smile lacks her usual sunshine. It's like the few strands of sunlight peaking through the black, menacing clouds on a rainy day. "Just feelin' a little homesick, that's all."
Matt can't stop watching her as she tries to pull herself together, though it would be polite to look away. "I get that," he tells her. "I moved here a couple of years ago. Still don't think I'm used to it, to be honest."
She looks up at him, water rimming her eyes. "I don't know anybody," she whispers quietly. Her voice shakes like she might start sobbing and Matt wants to beg her not to, wants to plead with her to be happy again, wants to do anything she wants him to do in order to cheer her up. "I've been here all this time and I still don't know anybody. I'm usually good at makin' friends. I am, really I am. But…" Her thought trails away into a hiccupping sob that makes Matt's heart ache.
Reaching out, he places his hand on her shoulder. "Well, you know me, right?" He quirks an awkward smile. "Yeah, maybe that just makes it worse."
"Matt…" she scolds, shaking her head at him. She leans back in the car seat and he allows his hand to fall from her shoulder. "I'm sorry. This is really unprofessional of me."
"You're only human," Matt tells her, flashing a smile that fades in three seconds flat. "I can't offer anything too impressive, but do you want to come back to mine for dinner tonight? It's my flatmate's turn to cook so you won't actually have to deal with my cooking. I promise."
She looks towards him and he makes himself smile again, trying to look warm and reassuring. He could peek inside her head to see what she's thinking and how she can help, but… No. He's learnt his lesson about that. Reading people's thoughts is way too dangerous - he always sees something he'd rather not.
Monica sniffs and pulls a tissue from her pocket. "Are you sure? I don't wanna impose."
Matt shakes his head. "Nah, it'll be fine. Mohinder and Molly'll love you."
"Molly. She's your kid, right?"
Matt pauses, because that story is far more complicated than he knows how to tell. How to explain Molly's involvement in their lives has been a difficult issue for him and Mohinder. "I'm looking after her, yeah."
That's as close as he can get. The only reason she's allowed to stay with them is because of some convenient legal loopholes Bennet found for them. Matt doesn't want to push their luck. He hasn't known her too long, but it feels like Molly's been in his life forever. It feels like she is his daughter, as if he's known her since she was a baby. She's a wonderful girl.
"That's cool," Monica says. Her voice sounds a little stronger now. "I looked after my brother, Damon, for a while. He's with my Nana now, back in New Orleans."
Matt wants to ask her what happened to her mother, and why she left her family behind, and a thousand other questions, but he holds his tongue. Prying wouldn't be fair and inexhaustible curiosity is no excuse.
She clears her throat and pulls herself together through sheer force of will. "But right now we gotta get back to work. Lunch is over."
"Are you sure you're okay? You can call in sick if you want..."
"No," she insists. "No. I'm good. A couple of tears aren't gonna keep me off my feet, Parkman."
He nods. "Yeah, can't imagine they would."
He can't imagine anything keeping someone like Monica down for long. She's stronger than anyone he's met in a long, long time - and he's proud to share a squad car with her, he can definitely say that much.
*
"A little more forewarning would have been nice, Matt," Mohinder hisses as he flicks through the pages of his recipe books. He speaks between gritted teeth and glances around Matt to where Monica and Molly are sitting at the table; Monica's helping Molly with her homework like it comes naturally to her. Doesn't baby her, but doesn't try to treat her like an adult either.
Matt shrugs apologetically and looks back towards Mohinder. "She's lonely. I wanted to help."
"And that's truly admirable," Mohinder says, in a sarcastic tone that implies he's very far from admiring Matt right now. "But, nevertheless, it wouldn't have killed you to call first, would it?"
"I will next time, I promise," Matt says - he leaves Mohinder muttering to himself about how Matt would be the one left doing the cooking next time. He takes a seat at the table with Molly and Monica, peering over at the workbook they're ploughing through. "What're you guys working on?"
"Math," Molly sighs. "I hate math."
"It's not that bad," Monica assures her. "You just gotta get your head clicked into it. Math is logic."
Molly sighs again. "I hate logic."
"She's got that right," Matt says, and his smile only brightens when Molly sticks her tongue out at him. She's playing up, acting younger than she is in order to get attention from their guest. Matt supposes that's understandable; she hasn't had a positive female influence in her life for a while, barring her teacher. He wonders if he ought to feel guilty about that; neither he nor Mohinder have wild social lives, and the kind of people that Mohinder does associate with aren't the kind that should be allowed anywhere near a little girl.
"When's dinner? I'm hungry."
"Should be soon," Mohinder calls through to answer Molly's question before Matt can attempt to do so. The rich scent that has filled the apartment is a million miles away from the ready-made pizzas that Matt sticks in the oven when it's his turn to 'cook'. He's never had to learn before. First there was Janice; now there's Mohinder.
"It smells real good," Monica says happily. The sunshine is back on her face, as if the dark clouds that had kept her down this afternoon are a thousand miles away. She's like a flower blossoming during the summer, opening up until she's more radiant and beautiful than ever.
Thinking that, Matt looks down at the table and scolds himself. She must be, what, half his age? Too young, that's for certain. "Yeah, Mohinder's good in the kitchen. We're lucky to have him around."
"I'm sure you cope just fine on your own."
"Matt makes pizza," Molly says, doodling in the margins of her homework instead of actually answering the question.
"I lived off fast food for years when I was going through my training," Monica says - hearing that makes the embarrassment fade a little. "I was studying all through the day and in the evening I had a job at a burger bar. Don't think I ate anything else for such a long time. I still can't eat fries any more. Think I had way too many back then."
"You don't eat fries?" Molly asks, looking up at her with her eyebrows raised.
"Nope," Monica says. She smiles at Molly then glances towards Matt, sharing the smile with him as well. It makes him feel warmer just to look at it.
The conversation drifts naturally back and forth, and when Mohinder joins them and brings the food with him it gets even better. Monica fits right in, and Matt doesn't stop smiling all evening.
*
It's a routine, nice and comfortable. Some nights Mohinder cooks; some nights Monica does. Molly's homework marks start to go up with Monica's help - because she knows how to talk to children. She doesn't overcomplicate things like Mohinder does.
"I like it here," Monica observes one evening after Matt has pointed out, laughing, that she spends more time at his place than she does at her own. "Feels like home."
There's something about that that makes Matt beam with pride - and he doesn't stop even after she's left.
"She's awfully young, you know," Mohinder points out while he's doing the washing-up. Molly's already gone to bed - though she's probably sitting up, reading - and the apartment is quiet, peaceful. "You should be careful."
Matt frowns as if he doesn't know exactly what it is that Mohinder's talking about. "She's just a friend."
"I know," Mohinder murmurs. "She's a wonderful woman. I don't want to see either of you get hurt."
"I wouldn't hurt her," Matt says indignantly. "I would never…"
"Not intentionally, I'm sure," Mohinder agrees. With his back to Matt as he scrubs dishes in the sink, Matt doesn't have to see his face. He's relieved for that.
"Don't worry about it," he mutters. "Nothing would happen there anyway. She's just a friend."
And that's all she would ever be - all she'd ever want to be and all that he'd ever let her be. She's too young and he's too... him. Matt's far from a catch, still on the bottom rung of his chosen career, caring for a daughter and living with a man he barely gets on with. Why would anyone willingly allow themselves to become entangled in that mess?
Monica already has, a small voice whispers to him at the very back of his mind, but it's almost impossible to hear over the din of doubt that already swirls there.
"I'm going to go to bed," he says, though he isn't tired and he knows he will stay awake and stare at the ceiling for a long while yet. "Good night."
"Good night," Mohinder replies tensely. He takes a deep breath as if he's considering saying something more - maybe an apology; maybe more unwelcome intrusions - but in the end nothing comes at all and Matt is left to retreat to his bed in peace.
*
"You've been kinda quiet all day, Matt," Monica observes at the station the next day, glancing towards him with a small frown on her face. "Is everything okay?"
He nods, stiffly, and it takes a world of effort to make himself smile for her. "Yeah. I didn't sleep well, that's all."
"I'm not surprised in that madhouse," Monica says, as her frown dissolves into a beautiful smile. Matt tries to focus on anything else. Ever since Mohinder spoke up, he hasn't been able to live under the veil of friendship - not happily, in any case. He's always plagued by thoughts that could have and should have stayed hidden. "If you ever need a break, you know, you can always stay at mine for a night. I hear my couch is pretty comfy."
He tries to smile, but it breaks before anything can come of it. "I don't think that'd be a good idea," he says.
The way her brown eyes watch him makes him wish that he could swallow the words right back up. "It's…" not you it's me? Just how clichéd does he plan on getting? "We've been spending a lot of time together recently, Monica."
"I thought you liked me." Her voice is small, so small, but there's a flicker of anger trying to ignite.
"I do. I do." That's the whole problem, but as he runs a hand over his face he can't tell her that. He closes his eyes, and a dip into her mind tells him that he has to get out of here, and fast: because he's done exactly what Mohinder cautioned him not to. There's nothing but pain in her thoughts right now. Pain, betrayal, confusion. "I have some paperwork I have to do," he mutters, though for once he's on top of it. It's an excuse to get out of there, though, and he feels flooded with relief when she allows him to go.
He finds excuses to stay away from his desk for the rest of his shift. Thankfully it's just an hour, but it's one of the longest of his life. In the bathroom, he looks at himself in the mirror above the sink. He looks tired; he feels hideous.
The clock hits five and he's out of there, rushing out of the door - only to find that Monica is already there, coat on, waiting for him. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and despite her small stature and gentle nature she looks as if she might be persuaded to cause some serious damage. "Matt…"
"Monica, listen-"
"No." It's said so bluntly that whatever further words of protest had formed in his mind fade just as quickly. She steps closer to him, looking up. "Listen to me, okay? I don't know what it is I've done to upset you, okay? I don't know, and you don't have to tell me. But… You're pretty much the nicest guy, the nicest person, that I've met the entire time I've been here. And if I've done something wrong, then I wanna fix it. Any way I can, I wanna make it right again."
"It's not anything you've done," Matt mutters. He wants out of here. He wants to escape in any way that he can, and he thinks that maybe he'd do just about anything to trade powers with someone else right now: he could teleport or go invisible. Something useful. "Mohinder says-"
"Screw him!" Monica's eyes widen as if she's as surprised with herself for saying that as he is for hearing that, but she doesn't back down. "You're my friend, Matt. And friends don't back down. I like you."
While he's shaking his head, she pauses and breathes deeply. He doesn't understand at first - she looks the way she does when she's screwing up the courage to walk into a domestic confrontation - but seconds later, when he feels her hand on his shoulder and her lips against his own, he does understand. It only lasts a second, as sweet and short as a burst of summer rain.
She pulls back and steps away hurriedly. Looking down at the ground beneath her feet, she says, "I really like you."
He speaks without conscious thought. "I really like you too." It's good, so good, to admit that aloud, and the way that she smiles means that he can't even feel guilty about it. "But, c'mon, this is crazy. Crazy, really."
"I like you; you like me… The only crazy thing here is you tryin' to push me away, doofus."
I'm too old for you, you'll get sick of me soon, no one would approve, he could say, but instead he laughs and feels himself blushing. "Are you busy tonight?" he asks.
"I am now," she says - and he can't believe he's doing this, she's doing this, they're doing this, but he'll try damn hard not to question his luck.
*
It's quiet when he gets in - past Molly's bedtime. Matt winces as he closes the door behind him, hoping that he hasn't woken her up.
"Did you have a good evening?" Mohinder asks, sitting on their couch with a book in his lap.
Matt tries to evaluate the expression on Mohinder's face, but it's nothing but civil. There is no sign of the cruel twist of amusement he might have expected, but that doesn't mean that it isn't there, buried down deep. "I know you don't approve, Mohinder, but-"
"Approve?" Mohinder's expression is perfectly baffled. "Matt, I don't lean either way on the issue, presuming we're talking about Monica. I want both of you to be happy. That's it."
Maybe that's a lie, maybe it's the truth, Matt can't tell either way. He could dip into Mohinder's mind and sieve until he found his real thoughts on the matter, but he doesn't even try. His friend and flatmate's approval is nothing but the cherry on top of a fantastic day: because the gentle memory of Monica's lips means that this is going to go down in Matt's memory as one of the best days of his life.