daredevilkink | Prompt Post #4

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Prompt Post #4

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one of my favorite pieces of Natasha's characterization is her matchmaking, and this is amazing.

i love all of this.

Stop changing the subject lines when you comment. It's part of the rules for a reason - anyone who tracks the meme or views it in flat view will have no idea what you're replying to. If you keep doing it I will start screening your comments.

Oh my god, oh my god. This is the most amazing thing. Your Vanessa is so terrifying, she sent literal shivers down my spine several times.

Thank you so much for this fic.

I now have a mental picture of Marci together with Natasha and Foggy suffering terribly.

Author of the first fill here

I only noticed your comment op, what a doof!
But thanks, I'm really glad you appreciated : D I had fun breaking my "never wrote porn before" thing with this really good prompt!

*I only noticed your comment NOW

*facepalm*

(btw the dove thing had me laughing forever)

Author Anon -

Thank you so much! I'm glad you liked Vanessa; I fretted about her dialogue a lot, haha ^^;

“I really need to take First Aid classes,” says Foggy the next time Wanda climbs through his window, limping but on her own. “How's everyone else doing out there?”

“Mostly fine. I believe Daredevil is injured, but he said he had a nurse to go to when I said I have a friend in the area.”

That's probably best, all things considered. He's doing better at balancing his time between Matt and the Avengers, but he's feeling more guilty about lying to everyone about it by the day. “Well then, I'll just get out my kit and we can figure out how much patching up we can do before Sam gets here.”

“Thank you.” Wanda is frowning, and Foggy starts some water boiling for tea on his way to the bathroom to raid his medicine cabinet. “I'm not an effective fighter, when I'm exhausted from using the aether. I should ask Daredevil if he can help me. Natasha might be willing, but I don't think she likes teaching.”

Matt's a good teacher, or at least a good study buddy, and Foggy has poked through enough of the SHIELD files from the dump since he got to be friends with the Avengers that he can see why Natasha might not want to teach a lot. “I mean, you just said that Daredevil is the other one who got his ass kicked tonight,” Foggy calls from the bathroom, scooping everything into his arms and taking it back out to the living room.

“He was the first one on the scene,” says Wanda, with a shrug. Foggy really needs to have a chat with Matt about waiting for backup, once he's admitted who his new friends are. “He needs taking care of, I think. I can't blame him for not wanting to be on the team, but someone would be nice.”

“Everyone's got someone. He's got his nurse, apparently.”

“I suppose.” Wanda smiles at him in thanks when he dumps his supplies on the coffee table, and he leaves her to sort through what she actually needs before he goes to check on the water for tea. “Do you want to call your friend and ask him how he is? You often do, when there's been trouble. I don't want to interrupt.”

Matt is apparently hurt but okay, if he's getting to Claire on his own power, but he isn't going to say no to Wanda. She's still quieter than everyone else—Vision is quiet too, but he's observing, figuring humanity out. Wanda isn't. “Sure, thanks, I'll make sure he's okay.” He grabs his phone from the counter and turns off the stove so Wanda's tea can start steeping while he makes the call.

Matt picks up on the third ring, since Foggy called his burner phone. “Foggy? Is everything okay?”

“Just what I was calling to ask you, buddy. Life was way easier when we were just dealing with the mafia and not … whatever it was tonight.”

“They call themselves The Hand,” Wanda calls helpfully from the living room, and Foggy slaps his hand over the receiver.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” says Matt, because he's terrible. “Is someone there with you?”

The phone, he's discovered, is pretty much the only place he can lie to Matt, or if he can't Matt hasn't told him yet. He really hopes it's the first thing. “Just the news. You're okay?”

“I'm fine. I'm with Claire, and she wants me to put down the phone so I can steady her to—help patch me up.” Stitches, great. “Thank you for calling, though. I'll bring bagels to work tomorrow. Okay?”

Matt sounds so hopeful, and Foggy wants to yell and tell him it's not the bagels, and that now that Foggy knows the big lie the smaller ones are really painfully obvious, but he hasn't got a leg to stand on right now, so all he does is smile and say “Okay, Matty. Take care.”

Foggy hangs up and takes Wanda's tea over to her. She likes it strong, so she won't drink it yet, but it's something to do, and she seems most of the way through wrapping her ankle up in bandages. “He's fine, then?” she asks, taking the tea.

“He says so, anyway. I figure I'll trust him.” Foggy sits down on the other end of the couch. “Let's text Sam to let him know you need to be carried home tonight since I don't have crutches and then we can see what's on TV until he gets here.”

They end up watching one of the Harry Potter movies, and all the Avengers come through the window or the front door before the end of it, finishing it off before the late-night TV shows start playing.

He misses Matt, wishes things could work out so he could come along to things like this, but it's a good night.

*

“I've found a perfect date for you.”

Foggy winces and turns to face Natasha, who he should have suspected of subterfuge as soon as she offered to help him clean up instead of Steve. He's way too trusting. “Time and place are already set up, I'm guessing. Wardrobe?”

“I can cancel, of course, but I think you'll like him.” She smiles at him, one of the little ones that seem a lot more honest than her big grins. “He's attractive, and charming, and passionate about his work. I think you would find a great deal to discuss.”

A former SHIELD agent, maybe, though Natasha seems to know everyone everywhere so Foggy isn't willing to take bets on that. “And if he's so attractive and charming, why is he going on blind dates with one of the two poorest lawyers in Hell's Kitchen?”

“Because no one is perfect.” Natasha raises her eyebrows. “I think it's worth a try, Foggy. I'd like you to be happy.”

“You think I'm not?” He is, actually. He's got Matt, and Karen, and Marci, and now the Avengers, and that's a lot more friends than he's had at once in a long time. Matt is still sheltering him (not that he can blame him, he's letting himself be sheltered) and Karen and Marci don't know about any of it, but it's still good.

“I think,” says Natasha, “that things with your Matt are a lot more complicated than you like to let on. Maybe he knows you're in love with him, or you two used to date and you aren't over it, or it's something unrelated, but I think you could use the distraction. We're a good distraction, but we also fly off across the world at a moment's notice when we need to. A boyfriend might help.”

Foggy has to wonder if she knows. Vision has scary amounts of information access, Wanda can apparently read people's minds, and Natasha just knows everything. If they knew who Matt was, though, he thinks someone would tell him, probably Jim or Steve. The Avengers are universally kind of assholes, but they're good people. “A boyfriend might help,” he admits. Marci was helping, until they crashed and burned again.

“Wonderful. Friday night, unless there's an emergency in which case I'll text you, you have rooftop access to your building, don't you?”

“Because that's not an unnerving question at all. Yes. The landlord doesn't like it when people smoke in their actual apartments.”

“Friday night at seven thirty, then, he'll bring dinner, you just bring a picnic blanket. I'll bring him along, don't worry about him being able to get there.”

“This is a terrible idea. Fine. Friday night, I am bringing my baseball bat in case he turns out to be evil, people who hang out on rooftops are a little sketchy.”

Natasha laughs at him. “That's the idea. I'll see you then, Foggy, and don't worry, I do think the two of you will get along. He's even from your neighborhood, you'll have that to discuss if nothing else.”

“Fine, see you then.”

There are still dishes to do, but Natasha seems to take that as her cue to exit anyway. Through the window, of course.

*

This was the awkward bit Matt thought to himself. All the fighting was done, Hell’s Kitchen saved from yet another alien attack, and what on earth did the aliens think they were going to find in Hell’s Kitchen anyway? And while everyone was obviously very pleased that the Avengers had turned up and beaten back the alien horde it came with a certain amount of property damage that the people of Hell’s Kitchen was more than a little sick of. Foggy, probably because he’d been sick with worry about Matt during the fighting, had picked a fight with Tony Stark who had made the mistake of trying to reassure Foggy that he was going to put lots of money into the redevelopment of Hell’s Kitchen as compensation. Foggy was now, with help from an indignant Karen, explaining how you can’t just throw money at a problem and then absolve yourself of all responsibility. Because then crooked companies take all of the money and the people who actually needed the help get thrown out of their homes and basically stomped on. Stark kept trying to interrupt which Matt could have told him was a mistake. Stark was most certainly not a trained debater. Captain America and the Falcon were looking on somewhere between amused and concerned. The Black Widow and Hawkeye were huddled in a corner, discussing DIY for some reason, and Thor… Thor was heading over to Matt.

“Daredevil. Your friends are skilled warriors,” he said his voice deep and filled with a certain authority.

Matt was not usually intimidated by size. Possibly because he didn’t have visual reference points. He knew how big his opponents were, but in the same way he knew that that guy had a heart arrhythmia and that guy had a dodgy knee. But Thor was different, he was huge, and physically perfect, and he filled up all the available space and all of Matt’s senses. Big, loud, slow, heartbeat. Strange base note to his sent, like some unknown spice. Thor was intimidating.

“Erm… they don’t do much in the way of fighting…” said Matt carefully.

“I did not always appreciate it when I was younger, but words are a powerful weapon as well,” intoned Thor. “One that Tony Stark is skilled in, yet your Franklin Nelson is besting him easily.”

Matt got a warm feeling as Thor referred to Foggy as his. “Foggy is a very good lawyer,” said Matt with no small amount of pride.

Thor nodded and Matt found his attention taken by the other intimidating thing about Thor, his hammer. Matt was going to have to ask Foggy later what it looked like because to Matt it… sang. That was the best way he could think to explain it. It… messed with Matt’s senses, he couldn’t quite place how big it was or exactly where it was in space. But it did it in a way that was almost musical, Matt sort of liked being around it. And there was this… pull between it and Thor. Matt had made sure to stay away from Thor during the fighting to make sure he didn’t accidentally get in its way. That hadn’t been all that hard. He’d mostly been on the ground with Captain America and The Black Widow evacuating people while the others had been taking on the invaders directly. Matt wished he could ask about the hammer but he didn’t want the Avengers to know he was blind. He couldn’t think of a way to phrase what he wanted to ask, without giving the game, and possibly his secret identity, away.

Eventually the fight between Stark and Foggy was over. Mostly because Stark just took off in his suit. Thor laughed, a great booming sound that made Matt’s ears ring, and clapped Foggy on the back causing Foggy to stumble forward. “Well fought Franklin Nelson!” said Thor happily. “Now we must all take our leave.” He bowed to Karen. “Good day Lady Page, Daredevil, and Franklin Nelson. We leave Hell’s Kitchen in good hands.”

Karen awkwardly bowed back and Foggy tried to rub his sore shoulder. Thor and the other Avengers climbed into their plane… thing. Matt thought he’d heard Hawkeye call it the ‘Quinjet’? Black Widow smirked over her shoulder and waved as the ramp pulled up.

The three of them stood in silence as the plane disappeared into the distance.

“Foggy, what does Thor’s hammer look like?” asked Matt eventually.

Foggy shrugged. “Big hammer, pretty symbols on the side. Why?”

They were silent for a moment longer before Karen said. “Can we sue Stark? He’s an asshole.”

Foggy shrugged again and turned to Karen. “Don’t see why not Lady Page…”

Karen smiled and thumped Foggy’s arm, Matt chuckled to himself. He take this over the Avengers any day.

Aww, this is cute! Would you consider writing a sequel in which Matt gets to hold Thor's hammer?

Aw, Thor does learn eventually about the power of words. Now I kind of want Loki to have been eavesdropping and decide to fund Nelson & Murdock to sue Stark for the lulz and because he appreciates a good argument as much as the next mischief god ;)

Love the bit about mjolnir, I'd love Matt to ask Thor about it sometime no other avengers are about.

Augh why this not filled I need this in my life so bad.

Yaaaaaassss! I love that Matt's honestly intimidated by Thor's presence and size, and also Mjolnir, while he still appreciates them both in some oddly pleasant way. I echo the other nonnie's here who would love to see a follow up where Matt gets to touch Thor's hammer. OMG that sounds so dirty! \o/

Also Foggy and Karen taking on Tony and winning a battle of words? AH MY GOD LOVE IT.

I support this

“Why did you call me for this,” Claire says, and from the slight displacement of the air and the faint waft of deodorant (unscented), Matt guesses she just gestured.

“She just waved at all of you,” Foggy confirms, and Matt makes a defeated noise into the pillow.

“Bruises, I could do,” Claire starts, and there’s the snap of latex gloves. “Stitches? I could do. I definitely do stitches. Internal bleeding? No problem. But when my patient turns up looking like something out of a Lovecraft novel—“

Claire makes a noise that’s somewhere between frustration and perplexity, and Matt can’t agree with her more. There’s no ceremony in the way that she sits down on the bed and begins examining Matt, fussing with Karen and Foggy to remove their paws from her patient, please.

“Are they hurting you?” Claire interrogates, and Matt’s brain shuts down entirely when Claire presses at the root of one tentacle, right at the juncture where it meets the skin of his back. His body involuntarily shudders and God Matt prays Claire doesn’t realize what that just was.

“No,” Matt says, and for once he isn’t putting on a happy face to make Claire worry less. “No, they’re just. I can’t go out like this, Claire, you understand –“

He doesn’t finish that thought, Instead, he buries his face deeper into the pillow and lets Foggy rub his back, everywhere the tentacles aren’t. This is – relatively speaking? fine – this absolutely does not take the cake for Bad Things Happening to Matt Murdock. Nobu still holds that title, followed closely by microbots that were released into his respiratory system by some high-tech terrorist organization, AIM or HYDRA or whatever, he couldn’t keep track of them anymore, making their way to his brain and temporarily, but completely, blinding him.

Nearly dying and nearly becoming insensate. Tentacles were, erm, an entirely different beast. “I can’t leave my apartment looking like. This.”

“If I understood anything about this, Matt, you’d be the first to know,” And Claire gets out her phone, taps away on it until she makes a pleased sound. “But I think I know someone who could help you.”

“Define help,” Matt says, because if help in this case means getting Stark to scoop the tentacles out of his back like a melon baller, he’s beginning to consider the merits of being bedridden for the rest of his life.

“He’s…a renowned surgeon,” Claire replies, choosing her words carefully, “also happens to be networked with the Avengers, now, though his thing isn’t really being an asshole with tons of money or a radioactive science experiment or, uh, a literal god. Hell of a wizard, though.”

“Oh my God,” Karen says. “You don’t know Stephen Strange.”

“I’d like to know how you know that name,” Matt says, but no one listens to him, as per usual.

So Claire does know Stephen Strange, because apparently all medical professionals know each other or something, and she patches a call through to him asking for a very special house call and that’s the story of how Doctor Strange is going to be paying Matt a visit this next Wednesday.

“Please don’t tell me you told him I was Daredevil,” Matt groans.

“He doesn’t need me to tell him. Sorcerer Supreme? All-Knowing Protector of the Realm? He already knows, Matt. And he’s very pleasant to deal with, too, so just cool your jets, hm?”

“He’s hot, too,” Foggy adds. “I mean. You’d probably figure that out eventually, I just wanted to let you know."

--

this is! not really that much of a fill, sorry guys! i've been having too many ideas regarding the direction of this fic and i think i've got a cohesive plan down but just bear with me here. also, because i apparently cannot help myself, i added in a little reference to mark waid's daredevil -- the microbots that rendered matt insensate. in the comic they were administered by dr. doom, but since dr. doom is apparently licensed by fox in the cinematic world (he's the antagonist of the new fantastic 4 movie? WHO KNEW), the microbots now get blamed on AIM and HYDRA, since i'm pretty sure marvel retains the rights to those organizations.

also, this takes place in some weird offshoot reality where doctor strange is still played by joaquin phoenix and is actually attractive. live with it.

Ditto!

“Foggy, how are you?” Karen’s voice drifted out to him from the bedroom, low and soothing. It had taken the better part of the week to convince her neither Foggy nor he would mind a visit outside of office hours. Then again, it had taken nearly as long to convince Foggy he was in no condition to be handling paperwork while under the influence of painkillers.

“I’m down to Percocet, which I guess is cool because so far I’m just tired. Matt asked them to switch it after I told him I saw Batman on the roof.”

Evidently Percocet also made Foggy dangerously honest, not that Matt would ever tell him as much. In fact he hadn’t said anything at all about any sort of man on the roof, but after Matt had caught him trying to sneak to the window for the eighth time or so he had asked Claire if there wasn’t something milder that wouldn’t make him sleepwalk.

Batman, though? Matt wasn’t sure whether to be amused or offended.

“That’s good, I guess.” Karen sounded as uncertain as he was, but she pushed ahead anyway, “Does that mean you’re coming back to the office soon? Matt is lost-”

That was his cue. Matt swept out of the kitchen on cat’s feet, light and swift. It had taken long enough to convince Foggy to stay down for once and he wasn’t about to jeopardize that even for the sake of a friend.

“Are you staying for dinner, Karen?”

She leapt- Matt could hear her toes clear the floor for a split second before touching down again. Foggy’s laughter drowned out the shocked gasp that escaped her; for months now she had been on edge, since they had put Wilson away. He would have to find some way of convincing her the kingpin wouldn’t escape, anything to quell her near constant anxiety. If he had dealt with Stick- and a week without contact did not necessarily prove that- there was no question but that he could deal with the shade of Wilson Fisk.

“Um, no. No, I have leftovers in the fridge-”

“C’mon, stay. Matt’s a half-decent cook-”

Matt was a damn good cook. He leveled a look in Foggy’s direction he knew his partner would have no trouble interpreting.

“And he owes it to you for completely forgetting to call.” Foggy’s tone took on that bossy edge he was only just beginning to find again. For days after his release he had tip-toed around Matt, stinking of guilt. He had tried at first, to make a joke of it- the blind leading the lame, he had said, forcing an uneasy laugh. It wasn’t easy for him, the bed-rest and the time off work. They had argued for hours over whether Matt would even so much as bring him files from the office.

Matt had conceded eventually, but only because he knew Foggy wouldn’t realize how very not himself he was without experiencing it first hand.

“No, really, I should go.”

Matt tried not to appear too relieved, but he could feel Foggy getting tense again, already seeking out a way to justify what he perceived as his weakness.

“Helpless” was not a word Foggy Nelson had ever associated with himself, but the past week had changed that. Help to and from the shower, in the shower, even so much as sitting up during the first days. The first time he had sneezed after the accident had taken him to tears, and Matt heard his shame in the way his fingers clenched on the floorboards where he had fallen.

That was the beginning of bed rest. The doctor had warned him that would be best, but Foggy being Foggy he had exercised his right to autonomy and staunchly resisted it for two days.

When Matt had finally coaxed him to the bed it had felt like nothing short of a miracle. When he had tried to tuck him in, Foggy had put his foot down again, begging for some last scrap of dignity while he was laid up. Matt understood that feeling all too well, but he was only now beginning to appreciate what it must have taken for his father to stand back and offer his encouragement and support instead of smothering him, wrapping him up in so many layers nothing would damage him again.

Foggy would recover. A few months, the doctor said, for his ribs. Hard experience had taught Matt to budget a month longer than expected. Amazing all the things one learned about core muscles and the rib cage after that first broken rib. Maybe a year for his back, longer with his pelvis in the shape it was in. Pity they hadn’t studied to be chiropractors. The concussion had been the source of his worry, but aside from a sensitivity to light for a few days after and a splitting headache his meds had managed spectacularly, Foggy claimed to be feeling well. At least until he remembered his hands were all but out of commission for another six weeks.

“I’ll walk you to the door.” Matt prayed the implied stay down fell on Foggy’s ears.

Lo and behold his prayers were not answered. “We’ll walk you to the door, because we’re partners, and partners consult with partners before doing something, right?”

If he had been in even marginally better condition, Matt would have kicked his shins to knock the smug tone out of his voice. As it was… “Agreed. Partners should be absolutely honest with each other.”

Karen’s muscles were tensing, heartbeat steadily picking up, radiating the same guilt Foggy had that first night. Matt hadn’t read the cues then, tonight he had no intention of making the same mistake. Foggy too had bristled with offense- Matt could feel him trying not to lean too heavily when he curled a hand about his arm. He adjusted slightly to take more of Foggy’s weight, forcing Foggy to offer it to him. Pride was a sin he was all too acquainted with.

“Sometimes we keep things back to protect each other. It’s in the small print of the ‘friends’ agreement.” He was defensive again, completely unaware of the interplay between Matt and Karen.

“Agreed.” Matt had long since given up trying to talk Foggy out of his stubborn self-reliance; he wasn’t really in the best position himself to lecture about it, and Foggy always managed to circle the argument back around to who had been keeping destructive secrets in the first place.

Karen nodded, swallowing a lump of pure fear.

He was going to have to leave Foggy tonight. What Karen would not share with her colleagues, she might confess to the man that had rescued her once before.

Tonight, then. After Foggy was asleep, after he had patrolled around their home to be certain the past hadn’t come back to haunt them again. Maybe he could call Claire for good measure, get her to watch over Foggy with phone in hand.

It was going to be weeks before he felt comfortable leaving any of them alone again, but there was only so long the Devil could afford to be off the streets.

He waited until he heard Karen’s footsteps on the first landing before saying as much to Foggy.

“Finally. Geez, I thought you were going to mother-hen me forever.” Humor, but it was not untinged with genuine relief.

Matt smiled with him, mischief writ in every line of his face. “Szechuan tonight? With chopsticks?”

Foggy started to laugh, sobbed out a breath instead. “Fuck. Don’t make me laugh, Murdock.”

“Dead serious. I’ll feed you, we’ll flirt, and I’ll show you a thing or two I learned about blowing off steam with extensive injuries. Trust me, I’ve learned a trick or two.”

“Hell, yes. Please.” He added belatedly, for once not hesitating to climb back into his silken prison. “I can’t remember why I ever liked beds any more. A reminder would be fantastic.”

It took every scrap of well-honed self-control for Matt to step away and ignore the disappointed huff that said Foggy was ready and willing to skip dinner. He did, though.

Just.

He made it to the door before he reconsidered, truly one of his more heroic feats.

Considering the ease with which Foggy divested him of his shirt, entirely with his teeth, Matt knew surrendering to temptation was by far the better part of valor.

So glad you enjoyed, OP! I had a great time writing it, so thank you for prompting! :D

Thank you! Action scenes are a little tough for me, loving introspection as much as I do, so I'm glad to hear it wasn't anticlimactic. :)

Not OP but This is perfect. You are perfect. I'll just camp here till you're done.

I can feel Matt being all "Wait, are you taking me where i think you are taking me?" lol that would be so funny,

There's already a propmt like that with Stick. I suspect it would end with Stick getting his ass kicked. (Stick may have secret ninja trained a won a boxing match a man with fists made of steel, you do not fuck with papabear Jack Murdock.)

AWWWWWWWW omg I'm dying! That's so sweet of Karen and Matt!!

Ummmm, in our current reality doctor strange is played by benedict cumberbatch. Not that I object to you recasting for this, but are you seriously implying benedict cumberbatch isn't attractive? Because I'm pretty sure that amounts to declaring war on tumblr......

their interactions got me like
https://31.media.tumblr.com/7543149d50ae1421803dc37e001e4fed/tumblr_ndxiwohFNM1rbc9h1o1_500.gif

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Prompt Post #4

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