daredevilkink | Prompt Post #3

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Prompt Post #3

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Foggy likes to think of himself, vigilantism-related revelations aside, as a fairly roll-with-the-punches kind of guy. And it's not like he hasn't –

– that one time aside, again(that one time always and forever aside), college is stressful, law school is very stressful, he has seen Matt cry, okay, but not –

shit, not like this.

Matt is bawling, choking on what might be attempts at words, he's still got his face buried against Foggy's chest and the shaking is somehow still getting worse.

So it takes maybe a couple seconds for Foggy's brain to catch up with everything.

“Matt – Matt, buddy, you're okay, I've got you–”

“Tell me,” Matt gasps, “t-tell me he's – he's n-not here, tell me he's – not – in my home, Foggy, please.” Matt is pulling at Foggy's sweatshirt like the fabric is the only thing he has left in this world and Foggy's heart might be kind of breaking, just now.

“Stick is definitely not here, man, I promise.”

“Tell me – t–tell m... tell me you are,” Matt sobs, and, oh, yep, broken.

“I'm here,” Foggy says softly, and adds, progressively less softly, “very here, super here, absolutely really here. And offering you an exclusive free pass to be as creepy as you want with your super senses, okay, you can literally sniff me right now, I will not complain, just – I'm here, Matt, I'm real, I promise.”

Matt wails something unintelligible, muffled into Foggy's shirt. Foggy is starting to lose his grip on him; he's sliding down and he's shaking too hard now to keep hold of, and Foggy's been sitting on his knees for the past few minutes and his legs are starting to go numb.

“Matt – Matt, I'm gonna move you real quick, okay? Is that okay? I need to hear you answer before I do anything.”

“Okay,” Matt chokes, as his knees hit the floor, and Foggy tries not to think about what he must feel like he's touching now – doesn't let him stay there long enough, he hopes, for him to think about it much either.

He fumbles briefly for the best way to proceed, finally hooks an arm under Matt's knees and swings his legs up onto the couch, figures he probably shouldn't be drawing any amount of attention to the floor and hesitates for a moment before straightening his own legs out along the sofa and maneuvering Matt to basically just lie on top of him.

Matt's legs are heavy, they've still got the body armor and he's still wearing his boots and Foggy is still wearing shoes, this is probably not great, overall, for the couch, which he feels vaguely, bizarrely guilty about, but Matt seems – somewhat happier, to not be touching the floor.

Still. Make sure. “Hey. This okay?”

Somewhere in the vicinity of Foggy's collarbone, Matt nods, whimpering. Foggy wraps an arm around him and says, “Is Stick still here?”

Louder, affirmative-sounding whimpering. Foggy tightens his hold. “Is he somewhere specific? Could I, in theory, kick imaginary Stick's ass in a way that you'd be able to tell?”

He is half joking and half serious, honestly, at this point, but Matt doesn't laugh at him or tell him to go for it; Matt panics, struggles for a moment to free his hands from underneath himself and wraps both arms around Foggy and hisses, “He'll kill you!”

“Hey, hey, no, okay! Okay! I'm not fighting anyone, there's no one to fight, Matt, remember? He's not here, I promised you, right?”

Matt takes a moment to think about this. Foggy holds his breath until Matt nods into his shoulder.

“M'tired.”

“Go to sleep, buddy.”

“D'you know what I'd – what I'd dream about?”

“I'm pretty sure you're dreaming about it now.”

Matt shakes his head. “Nnn...nnno, it'd – it'd be worse, if I was – 'f I was asleep and couldn't – at least – I need to – keep hearing you. Talking t'you.”

“Okay,” Foggy says quietly. “We can definitely do that. I'm almost afraid to ask, but what do you want to talk about?”

“Seen any–” Matt giggles into Foggy's shoulder, which is a definite improvement, at least, “any good movies lately?”

“Nah, movies are no fun anymore without someone to narrate to.”

Matt slurs something that Foggy takes a second to understand as “You're good at that,” because it comes out more yrguht'that.

“I try,” he says, and pats Matt's back.

“Gla'yr'still here,” Matt mumbles. “'ven though I – 'm sorry, Foggy.” And Foggy does not need any kind of weird, freaky super senses to be able to hear, in Matt's voice, the tears flooding his eyes again – “'m sorry I lied an'-an'-an'- 'm a terrible frien'an'-”

“Hey, hey.” Foggy hopes he sounds calm and authoritative, and not guilty and terrified. “We're past that, okay?”

“You still d- don'like it, I kn- I know you don't.”

Well, shit. Okay, Nelson, whatever you do, definitely don't lie. “I don't have to like it for us to be okay. There's stuff about me you don't like, right?”

Matt shakes his head, and Foggy rolls his eyes. “Rolling my eyes at you, Murdock. What, you like smelling onions on my breath two days after I eat something?”

Matt laughs, and then hiccups, and then he's sobbing again. The sound is weaker and he's not shaking as hard; he's too tired to maintain hysteria. Foggy struggles to free his other arm from where it's been trapped against the couch, rests his hand on the back of Matt's head. “You're gonna be okay, buddy.”

“Don'leave,” Matt begs him, gasps for breath, and then seems to get stuck. “Don't leave, don'leave, please, please don't-”

“I'm not leaving. I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere.”

“Don'jus'mean now,” Matt slurs, plaintively. “Don't – don't... I can't... I can'do it, anything, can't... without you, I n- I need you.”

Foggy may actually have to superglue his heart back together after this. “You've got me. I'm sticking around, okay? So we had a fight, people fight, it's fine, you're not getting rid of me that easy.”

“Took a swing at you,” Matt mutters. “Can't – shouldn've... sorry, sorry, I'm sorry," and he dissolves into gasping sobs and less and less coherent apologies.

You had me get ahold of her, after you took a swing at me for trying to get you to the hospital.

Promise if I get violent you'll leave.

Of course, of course, Matt would fixate on that. Foggy exhales, slowly, wills himself to remain calm and his heartbeat to not – do whatever it apparently does, because on his worst days, Foggy also tends to fixate on that time his dying best friend tried to slug him.

“Matt – Matt, hey, come on, I never said you actually hit me. You missed by, like, a lot. It's cool, Matt, I mean – we're not fighting about that stuff anymore, okay?” Certainly not right now.

Matt makes a pitiful, mewling sound, like a – like a drowning kitten, fuck, how is Matt making these sounds? It's distressing. Foggy sort of – okay, not sort of, he pets him, with the hand on his head, and the other one is still on his back, so he starts rubbing in circles. “You're okay, we're okay, buddy, you're gonna wake up tomorrow and wonder why the hell you're on top of me and it's gonna be awkward and great, okay?”

“Okay,” Matt hiccups, and, oh, more tears. Great. Because Matt really needs to be dehydrated, on top of drugged and hallucinating.

“Got you, buddy, I got you,” Foggy murmurs, keeps moving his hands; he's trying for soothing but, failing that, he at least wants Matt to keep remembering he's here. “Everything's gonna be fine.”

Matt sniffles. “No'won't.”

“Well, okay, I'll give you that one, but eventually you're not gonna be drugged anymore, is what I'm going for, here.”

“Drugged?” Matt sounds skeptical.

“...Yes, Matt. You've been drugged.”

“Oh. Tha'makes sense.” Matt brings up his outside arm from around Foggy's waist, takes hold of his shirt again, less frantically this time. “C'I go t'sleep?”

“That is a fantastic idea, buddy. You go to sleep, and I'm gonna stay awake and make sure you keep breathing, because you've been given an unknown dosage of an unknown substance, sound like a plan?”

Matt yawns, hiccups again. “Mmhm.”

“Awesome.”

Matt sleeps.

Foggy stays.

I am now crying as well. This was heartbreaking

This is so good <3 poor Matt ughhh

Part 1 made my skin crawl (are you the same anon writing the creepypasta prompt?), and part 2 broke my heart. Oh Matt.... <3

Haaa, no, I'm actually a huge wimp when it comes to actual horror so I haven't even read much of that one yet.

Sorry about your heart, here is a new one <3

great job!

my heart might need superglue after this. Oh Matt...

Wonderful writing, would break heart again.

ow my heart </3 ;_; can we see the part where matt is not drugged anymore and foggy tells him he's never going to leave him (and then matt looks like he's about to star crying AGAIN and foggy's like noooooo don't do this to me again murdock!)

Agh, I may never recover from this. I love it, but ow. Ow.

i felt the need to tell you that I am now crying.

oh! but i mean. the way you captured their friendship, and matt's deepest darkest fears, as filtered through Lots of Drugs - oh god. I can't quite get over it yet.

you're amazing. feel proud.

Whoa.

Foggy may actually have to superglue his heart back together after this

Me too, Foggy. Me fucking too.

(I'm pretty sure my heart is either in pieces or as shrunk to the size of a peanut OMG)

This was so very wonderfully angsty and good.

“Stick keeps yelling at me,” Matt says, and bursts into tears.

Noooo, baby ;___; Bless Foggy for looking after him.

Would you mind putting this up on Ao3 too? :>

Authornon

Just as soon as I write the part three that the anon below you suggested C:

Please write awkward!fluff, making-it-all-better part 3! PLEASE. (Or don't, because that's your right and I should be grateful not greedy).

I feel as if you just grabbed my heart and squeezed it HARD with this fic, it HURTS. The part with Jack Murdock almost killed me, being convinced that your dead parent's body is laying in the room you're in is something that I just cannot bear. It would be TORTURE for me, Matt's reactions feel so real and close to home in that one scene. UGH. I hope you wrote that third part and made it better, I will go and look for a lot of fluff now because clearly otherwise I will go to bed crying.

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Prompt Post #3

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