daredevilkink | Prompt Post #4

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Prompt Post #4

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^.^ Good to hear!

Oh god this fic made me CRY at the beginning. I love it XD seriously, it's so so good.

more?

:D Updates to this fic are the highlight of my morning/afternoon/midnight/whatever time the e-mail notification comes through!

I'M SO EXCITED FOR THE SENSE SHARING I CAN'T WAIT

Pfffft, that's so adorable. xD I kind of totally want to draw this.

Their own versions of love are just so encompassing they don't realize how equally encompassing the other's is! Can't see the forest for the trees. XD

<333 Thank you so much, brilliant anon!

OP: NNngggghhh

Everything about this story is amazing. Thank you so much!

The prose is fluid and beautiful. I love the little details you add about Foggy and Matt- like how Foggy lies about being a vegetarian or about how he almost drowned during Spring Break once. (I would love to see Spring Break Foggy). Or their adorable morning sabotage of each other. The writing is succinct and makes an impact in very few words. I'm sure I will find a new detail I like everytime I read.

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.

NNNNGGGGHHH.

It was too much. Much too much. A dizzying cacophony of feelings and thoughts brutally and unrelentingly were assaulting him, and all of his defenses were stripped away. Excitement. Desperation. Curiosity. Confusion. Lust. Anger. Where was he? What was happening to him? Whose emotions was he experiencing? There were so, so many and he couldn't separate them out from one another. He was vaguely aware that he was terrified, but he recognized that even his own feelings were getting lost in the morass of churning emotion he was stuck in almost as quickly as he noticed them. It was getting harder and harder to remember where other's emotions ended and he began. How long had this been going on?

Then, an oasis. Particular emotions, ones that he knew intimately. Panic and concern. Fury, but also devotion. Matt.

Instinctively and impulsively, Foggy focused on Matt's emotions, metaphysically grabbed them and yanked them towards himself. Once he had grasped them, he wrapped them around himself like a security blanket until he felt safe again, weighted himself with them so that he didn't get carried away, lost forever.

After a moment, he realized that he could feel himself breathing. In. Out. In. Out. And he was laying on a bed. He could feel it underneath him. It was his bed.

"-please," he heard someone say. Matt again. More weight, anchoring him. "Foggy," he could swear he heard Matt whisper reverently. "Foggy, please, I need you. Stay with me." But did he say it? Foggy couldn't tell if Matt was talking with his mouth or his heart. Did it matter? Maybe all that mattered was that Foggy heard it. He tugged on the blanket again, pulled it closer, wanted to burrow himself in the comforting warmth of Matt's emotions and keep listening.

Suddenly, he felt a shock run through his body. Surprise. A gasp. He opened his eyes, not even realizing that they had been closed, and found confused hazel eyes peering into his, felt a trembling palm stretched out over his chest, his heart hammering against it. "Foggy," Matt said, smiling the sad smile that always made Foggy's heart break, and Foggy saw Matt's lips moving. "You're awake."

"Matt?" Foggy said with curiosity, and he realized that his own lips hadn't moved. But he knew Matt heard it by the way his face twitched. Could Matt hear his heart in more ways than one?

Someone else was in the room with them. He drifted for a moment as Matt turned his head to talk to the other person, a woman who radiated calm and steely resolve. Claire, Foggy realized, but he couldn't really make out what was being said and didn't want to turn his head to check. He was too fixated on Matt. Matt's hand on his chest. Matt's other hand gripping his tightly. The fact that Matt looked so vulnerable without his glasses and his eyes were wet with tears.

"Why are you crying?" Foggy said, but again his lips didn't move.

Matt's head snapped back around to stare unnervingly at Foggy. Whatever he'd been saying to Claire was cut off, mid-sentence. Surprise again, Foggy realized. And awe. He was in awe of Foggy.

"You scared me," Matt said, and this time Foggy didn't see his lips move. He sensed Claire's concern, and her fear. Fear of them. Of what they were doing.

"She's scared because she doesn't understand this. I don't either. Foggy, what's happening?" Matt wondered.

Foggy just shook his head. He didn't know. He closed his eyes again, exhausted, but content that he was safe, that Matt was with him and wouldn't let him drift too far. He fell asleep cocooned in a gentle haze of relief and love.

"He's asleep," said Matt, but he didn't remove his hand from Foggy's chest, didn't get up from where he sat on the edge of the bed. His eyes didn't leave Foggy's face, even though Claire knew he couldn't see the man he was keeping vigil over.

"Do you want to tell me what the hell just happened?" Claire asked.

"I don't know," Matt said.

"Bullshit. You know something," Claire said. "Matt, you can't just ask me to come here and help you out with something like this without any explanation. This wasn't part of our agreement."

"I'm sorry, okay?" Matt snapped. "He... I think that he reached out to me somehow, with his abilities. It was like he was communicating with me, sending me emotions that he was feeling. I think he was using me to anchor himself. I can't explain it any better than that."

Matt's nerves were frayed, his patience worn thin.

When Foggy hadn't shown up for work that morning, he hadn't thought anything of it at first. He knew that Foggy had been weaning himself off of his suppressants. He hoped that maybe the man was just having a bad day. Matt could sense, more and more every day, how difficult a time his friend was having. It worried him. He didn't know how to help, if Foggy would want him to help.

When the morning had turned into the afternoon and after Matt left his fifth voicemail for Foggy, he realized that something might be really wrong. He didn't realize how wrong until he let himself into Foggy's apartment and found the man still in his bed, sweating and writhing and crying, completely out of his mind. In a panic, he had dialed the only person he knew who might be able to help.

When Claire arrived, it turned out that the hospital didn't see a lot of cases similar to Foggy's. Most powerful mutants were forced to go underground, or ended up at one of the schools, and the majority of them were much younger than Foggy. She hadn't been able to help much, had only provided Matt with the worrying information that one thing that the hospital did see a lot was suppressant overdoses. The experimental nature of the drugs and unpredictability of mutant abilities made it a common concern, but one which the general public didn't seem to care much about.

Matt was upset when he realized that he couldn't provide any information to Claire about Foggy's dosages, or how long he'd been taking them, or even the nature of what the man could do. Foggy had never talked to him about it, never shared that part of his life with him. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him, and the guilt he felt was overwhelming.

Matt remembered what Foggy had said to him as he'd sat across from him in his living room the day he'd found out about the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, sadly nursing his beer. "Are you telling me that since I've know you, any time I wasn't telling the truth, you knew?" Foggy had asked him, and he'd looked as though Matt may as well have jammed a knife in his chest. Matt had assumed that Foggy was mad about the little things. Times he'd been masturbating. Times he'd told white lies to spare Matt's feelings. Now, Matt suddenly thought back to all the times that he'd asked Foggy if he wanted to talk. If he was okay. And how so many of those times, Foggy had answered with a lie. And Matt had let it go. Because there were things Matt didn't want to talk about either. It was easier that way. But it meant that now, after all these years, this was his fault. Because he should have known.

And so he sat with Claire and waited, unsure if his friend would even recover from whatever it was that was happening to him. Unsure if there was anything he could do to help. Terrified that he would be left with no choice but to call the hospital. He pictured his friend in a straitjacket staring at padded walls or, worse, in a government lab or one of the specialized prisons that nobody wanted to admit existed for mutants who couldn't be controlled.

And then, just as his rage and anxiety were about to crest into a full-on panic attack, he had felt it. Felt his own consciousness, the part of him that the Catholic in him might call his mortal soul, being pulled towards Foggy's, even merged with it until for a brief moment he wasn't sure where he ended and the other man began. And then, just like that, he was himself again but staring at Foggy almost as though he could really see him for the first time. He was beautiful. And lost.

Of course Claire didn't understand. He couldn't possibly expect her to. But he knew that, whatever had happened between them, it meant that there was a chance that Foggy might be okay. Matt resolved that if Foggy really was lost, then he would be the one to help him find the way home. He owed him that.

Foggy blinked and tried to focus his eyes on the ceiling above him. As quickly as he regained awareness, he found himself drowning again under a flood of emotions that his tired brain couldn't identify, couldn't make any sense of. He gasped and struggled, tried to focus and avoid getting pulled away again.

A weight shifted on top of him, and Foggy realized that it wasn't abstract. It had mass. There was a chest and arms and a leg draped over him like an actual human blanket. Matt. He could sense the way Matt's chest was rising and falling with each breath, feel his friend's heart and lungs pressed against his own. It was intimate. But it felt right. In. Out. In. Out. It made him happy to feel how at peace Matt was as he slept. He slowed his breathing so that it synced with Matt's and wrapped his arms around him to pull him closer, lay there for a moment allowing Matt's presence to center and calm him.

Then, without thinking, as naturally as breathing, Foggy continued to reach out and entangle himself with Matt, wrapping his consciousness, everything he was, around Matt to reassure him and extend the peace.

Suddenly, Foggy felt flashes of things, stronger than he had ever experienced before. They weren't emotions, but they were related. They weren't visual, but all of them formed pictures in Foggy's mind. Memories. They must have been Matt's.

Memories of the two of them each tersely changing the subject in conversation accompanied by stabs of guilt piercing him like daggers. Memories of an old man crumpling up a paper bracelet and walking away accompanied by a feeling of falling down a deep, dark pit of loss and shame. Memories of standing over a horrifically beaten man and dripping blood from his fists accompanied by a feeling of burning rage but also triumphant victory.

Foggy felt the panic and loss of control grip him again, tears welling up in his eyes as his breathing quickened and his chest tightened.

With a start, Matt's eyes opened and once again Foggy looked up into them to see confusion but also realization and pain.

"Foggy," Matt said, desperation in his voice. "I didn't mean... I'm sorry." He rolled away, and Foggy sat up slightly, upset.

Foggy couldn't say anything. He wanted to, but he was certain that if he did it wouldn't come out the way it was supposed to, that the words wouldn't form. It scared him. So he reached down inside of himself and projected the way he felt at Matt, hoping he would understand. "It's okay," he tried to say. "You're okay. I accept you. I'm not going anywhere. I need you. I love you."

He felt Matt calm slightly. Understood that Matt wanted to know what was happening to him, what he could do to help. So Foggy took Matt's hands in his own and opened everything up, untethered himself. He tried to let Matt into all of the emotions he could sense and show him what his world felt like.

Foggy could tell it had worked when Matt jerked his hands out of Foggy's and leaped back, severing the connection, panting and gasping. "Is that..." Matt said out loud, his voice seeming to boom and echo without Foggy's voice present to counterbalance it. "Foggy? I can't. I'm sorry, but I just can't."

Was Matt rejecting him? Foggy reached back out to gently try and find out, to re-anchor himself to Matt, and was relieved when Matt let him. There was no rejection, only guilt, fear, and apprehension. Matt was worried about what was going to happen next, about what the connection Foggy had forged with him meant. And he felt bad that Foggy had never talked to him about his abilities, that he hadn't known that this could happen or how bad it had been.

"I didn't know either, Matt," Foggy said without words. "I'm scared too."

Suddenly, a noise broke the tense silence. "Karen, Karen, Karen", it said. It was Matt's phone. Matt picked it up and looked at Foggy, like he expected that Foggy might want to answer. He shook his head no. He didn't think he could, even if he wanted to. It was everything he could do to block out the din around him. It narrowed his world to him and Matt only, left no room for anything or anyone else.

"Karen," Matt said into the phone as he pressed the answer button. Foggy saw him hold the phone away from his ear once she started talking. He could vaguely hear the way she was laying into Matt.

"He's fine, Karen. I'm sorry," Matt said. Foggy wished the man didn't spend so much of his time apologizing. As he thought it, he noticed Matt register it and withdraw into himself slightly. "I should have called. We just got caught up in something. No... no you don't need to come over. Wait..." Matt sighed, and Foggy knew that Karen had hung up and would be there soon.

Foggy had been floating for a long time, he knew. He vaguely recalled Matt talking to him in a concerned tone, a hand stroking his face, gentle sobs punctuating the emotional noise crowding everything else out. But he just coasted along, letting it all settle around him, too tired to keep fighting, to keep struggling to make sense of any of it.

So it was a surprise when he registered Karen's presence, felt it fight it's way through the haze and make itself known to him. He recognized it clearly, the love and affection reminding him of their whispered conversation earlier on the floor of his darkened office. How long ago had that been? Foggy couldn't remember.

"What are we going to do?" he heard her ask Matt. Her voice sounded hoarse, and there was a lump in her throat.

"I don't know," Matt replied, and Foggy knew that Matt was tired too, the exhaustion bone deep, as though he'd been up for days. Maybe he had been. Foggy couldn't be sure.

"Has he said anything to you at all?" Karen asked.

"Not out loud," Matt said, "But I've been getting through to him. I hope."

Foggy realized that his head was in Karen's lap, and her arms were wrapped around him. He blinked his eyes and looked up at her, reached out to try to let her know he was still with them, that he was still capable of finding his way back.

She gasped slightly and looked down to smile at him. "Foggy..." she whispered. "Hi."

Matt must have felt it too because he moved over to sit closer to them, to take Foggy's hand in his again. Foggy could only stare sadly. He knew that Matt was frustrated with him, and disappointed.

As quickly as he registered Matt's feelings, they were replaced with new ones, these ones directed at him with confidence and clarity. Concern. Hope. Determination. Things that Foggy could tell Matt wanted him to have for himself too.

But Matt alone couldn't help him. The currents of emotion battered at him, and he didn't know if he was strong enough to resist it and gain stability. But... Karen. She was there too. And next to Matt, she was the strongest person Foggy knew.

Gently, so as not to shock her, he reached out and tugged her towards him, tried to wrap her around himself too. And she let him, willingly, pushed herself forward and embraced the connection with a surprising zeal, nodded at him and took a deep breathe.

And suddenly it was like Foggy was standing on solid ground. Gravity reasserted itself. He sat up and pulled Karen into a hug, felt Matt join it. And even once the hug ended and he pulled away from them both, he still knew that they were with him, a part of him. The emotions were still there, brushing at the edge of his consciousness. But he knew who he was again. Or at least, he knew who Karen and Matt needed him to be.

His stomach growled and he laughed. Matt smiled and got up to fix some food for them. Maybe things would be okay after all.

“Natasha says she's impressed and you're welcome,” Matt says a few nights later, leaning into Foggy's shoulder. Now that they're whatever they are, Matt can't seem to keep his hands off, which is both great and really embarrassing. “She mostly sounded annoyed. I honestly thought she guessed, but it seems she didn't.”

“It's really hard not to be smug about that. Go us, we're super spies. How about everyone else?”

“A few of them were more curious about my blindness than invested in you and I.” That makes Matt frown. He hates it enough when regular people treat him like he's going to break. If any of the Avengers got anywhere close to trying Foggy's surprised Matt didn't punch them. “I think Vision knew, but it's hard to get a read on him. Wanda might have. She said I should take care of you.”

“Already did.” Foggy is still feeling pretty smug about that, too.

Matt laughs and elbows him. “I don't think any of them are really angry with you, if you were worried. They know you were protecting me.”

“Like none of them have ever had to worry about secret identities. Natasha is the queen of secret identities, if she was really mad I would have to be really unimpressed.”

“Mostly just irritated she didn't figure it out before we told her, I think.” Matt puts his head on Foggy's shoulder. “I'm sorry you had to keep the secret for me. I know you hate doing it enough with Karen and your family.”

“I have never once told you I want my family to know about you, they would kill me and then kill you and then my mother would cry.” The Karen argument is getting old at this point, so he ignores it. “And I figure technically the Avengers are your people, you get to decide when to come out of the superhero closet.”

Matt shakes his head, dislodging it from Foggy's shoulder. “They're your people, I just fight with them.”

Foggy grabs for Matt's hand and squeezes it. “Maybe they can be our mutual people. I'm pretty sure you and Wanda are actually going to love each other, and probably Steve as well.”

“Mutual people,” says Matt, and he's probably trying to sound like Foggy is being ridiculous but mostly he's smiling so much that it comes out fond. A lot of things have come out that way for the past couple days. Karen's been grinning at Foggy on and off at the office because they are embarrassingly obvious. “I suppose they can be.”

“I'm glad you've accepted that I'm always right. I knew there was a reason I love you.”

“Oh.”

It takes Foggy a second to figure out why Matt is suddenly all damp-eyed and quiet instead of arguing about who's right more often, and then he shifts until he can put his arm around Matt's shoulders. “Come on, you already knew that. I say it once a week.”

“Now I know the way you mean it.” Matt moves his face so he's talking right into Foggy's neck. “You too.”

He hasn't actually said the words, but Foggy knows Matt has plenty of baggage. He's not expecting him to say it quite yet, and that's really just as good. “Yeah, buddy, I know,” he says, and pulls Matt's face up so he can kiss him.

*

The next movie night is awkward for about five minutes, all the Avengers weird about Matt now that he's wandering around in sweats and sunglasses instead of body armor, before Wanda hands Matt a mug of tea and then sits down in front of where he's sitting on the couch.

“Thank you, this is my favorite,” Matt says, looking a little surprised.

“I know, it says Matt's, gross on the package in Foggy's handwriting.”

Matt laughs and elbows Foggy, and just like that, everyone relaxes. There's probably still some weirdness to get through, but the hurdle is over. Foggy is going to have to thank Wanda later, but for now, he says “One morning I was out of my tea and I tried one of Matt's teabags and I had to use mouthwash to make my mouth stop tasting like grass.”

“It doesn't taste like grass,” Matt says, taking a drink. If he thinks he's going to kiss Foggy with that mouth he's got another think coming.

Natasha, who's been looking between the two of them ever since she came through the window, not exactly suspicious but something close to it, finally quits it and catches Foggy's eye to give him a nod before she says “Would you like audio description on the movie? I found one with a track.”

Matt glances at Foggy. “If you don't mind, he'll just tell me what's going on this time. It's what we're used to.”

“I don't mind,” says Steve, with a shrug, and smiles at Foggy. “It should be interesting.”

Foggy does his best with the movie commentary, and grins every time he makes someone laugh. Wanda is leaning back against Matt's knees, Natasha is perched on the arm of a chair with Steve's arm looped around her waist to keep her on, and Vision is on his front on the floor, peering at the screen with his usual attention.

Halfway through the movie, during a dialogue-heavy section, Foggy gets up to start the second round of popcorn, and he's not totally surprised when Sam follows him into the kitchen.

“Things are good? Natasha was feeling kind of shitty that she outed your crush on Matt by accident by setting you two up.”

Foggy shrugs. “It ended up okay, I'd say. If Matt had turned me down I might have been annoyed at her, but it worked out. I'm only sorry because it means she's going to have to find a new victim. Steve might want to prepare himself.”

Sam laughs. “I'll make sure he knows.” The apartment is small enough that at least half of the people are hearing this, but Foggy's getting used to that. It's not like he keeps a lot of secrets, especially now that the big ones are out of the way. “I've got to say, man, I'm pretty glad I called you up when we got into town, it seems to have worked out pretty well for both of us.”

Foggy looks out of the kitchen and at the crew watching the movie. Jim is texting someone, grinning at his phone, Steve and Natasha are laughing about something, Vision glancing up at them, and Wanda is narrating quietly for Matt, taking over Foggy's job for a few minutes while he's gone. “Me too. Now let's get that popcorn and get back in there.”

THE END

(Thank you for reading, everyone! The reposted version should go up on the AO3 sometime in the next 24 hours, hopefully tonight.)

I can only imagine how things will get when he doesnt have Matt or Karen around him, how all the feeling will make him crazy and how on hsi frustration he will do things to make them go away. H ewill control people to feel different and i can feel Foggy will go crazy for doing that

Oh god, anon. PLEASE. I would be all over this. I hope one day you write this, oh my god.

(Prompter here)

CLAIRE! YAY!

None of this was on purpose, mind you, but there was this one mutinous part of Matt that was chomping at the bit to get Foggy angry enough to lash out at him.
Oh Matt.

“What do you really do? I’m waving my chopsticks at you threateningly, FYI.”
“Oh no, not that,” Matt drawled, “Anything but tiny, little bamboo sticks. What am I to do?”
“Hmmm, answer my question honestly and I’ll consider mercy.”
Oh boys. *sporfles* This is too perfect.

“I shouldn’t have asked that, should I?” Foggy’s sheepish voice made Matt’s shoulders sag with relief.
“Probably not,” he muttered.
“Want to tap out of this conversation?” Under the table, Foggy nudged Matt’s bare foot with his own. “It’s totally fine if you do.”
“Yes, please. Sorry.” With each syllable, Matt’s shoulders inched up towards his ears, making Foggy frown. Was Matt really that ashamed?
Either Matt’s ashamed or really turned on by the prospect of Foggy chastising him. Either way, I am so here.

She pinned Foggy with another look, “And you could have done so much more with a soul like that.”
OUCH.

Gusion is a great choice! : D

It’s hard to explain what exactly happened next. On this plane, Ms. Temple reached across Foggy’s desk and placed two fingertips against Foggy’s forehead, who suddenly found it much harder to move. Foggy felt a shiver of something roll over his entire body but before he could question it, the contact was gone and Ms. Temple was brushing some imaginary dust off of her slacks.
On another plane however, a hole in the shape of a human soul suddenly took up residence in one of its dustier corners, invisible to this other plane’s inhabitants.
In Hell, Matt paused in his movements over a soul he had strung out over the rack. Something with his contract with Foggy had shifted. He concentrated a bit harder on the feeling.
Ah, just Gusion making the necessary preparations. She always was good at that.
Ooooooo, what was that?!?!?!?!

i love the image of matt wandering around foggy's apartment all dorky and comfortable in his sweats (and also that he keeps his glasses on, because he doesn't know/trust the avengers to that degree), and later on wanda just casually taking over narration duty while foggy slips out to the kitchen for a minute. bless. <3

Aw, I'm sad to see it end, but it was a really good end. All the warm, fuzzy feelings. <3

(Prompter here)

Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Update is great!

Foggy came to with his head cushioned on someone’s lap, a hand stroking through his hair, and the most surreal sense of being removed from his body. “Please say I’m actually dead this time,” he mumbled blearily.
*shrieks into hands* This is a good start. : DDDDD

“H’oh shit!” Foggy slurred when he saw his body. His very glowy, very translucent, and very, very shapeless body.
OH GODS *hides under bed*

“You were particularly keen on the River Lethe,” Matt replied. Foggy finally noticed how tense his voice sounded. “Forgetfulness.”
*weeps*

Matt hugged him carefully. Foggy bit back an alarmed cry as he felt more of his body solidify where they touched. “Take all the time you need,” Matt murmured against Foggy’s hair—which, weirdly, felt completely whole. Then again, he had woken up to Matt stroking it. If there was something about contact with a demon that made his body rematerialize faster, it made sense.
That is creepy and also super cool. I love this.

“A second, a minute, a year, another ten years,” Matt soothed, arms tightening around him. “It doesn’t matter. Time doesn’t mean anything anymore. We’re home.”
Whoa there, Matt, dial it back a bit.

Matt’s hands clenched and occasionally jerked as if he was holding himself back from manhandling Foggy upright himself, probably out of some respectful bullshit about giving him space or letting him do it on his own. Foggy appreciated the thought, but it wasn’t really helping at the moment.
Oh Matt. Holding back on touching Foggy and REALLY wanting to touch Foggy awwwwwww.

“Not… all demons,” Matt said slowly in the sort of tone that told Foggy he was hiding something.
Ahahahahaha. Prince of Lies, my ass.

“You pulled my soul out of the Styx, Matt. I really don’t care if you get a little handsy at the moment. I just want to be able to sit up,” Foggy grumbled. “It’s not like I’m not asking you to stick your face in my liver and kiss it better so I can go drink my sorrows away.”
Matt went very still.
Foggy stared at him. “You… want to stick your face in my liver?
Matt that’s a bit much.

Smiling, Matt raised his hands. “This is going to be weird,” he warned as he pressed them to Foggy’s hairline and began to move.
What about this isn’t?

They eased down his throat, and rather than feeling choked or threatened, Foggy felt like he could breathe again.
This is beautiful.

I love how Foggy’s in Hell and the first thing Matt HAS to do is rub his hands all over Foggy’s body.

Plus, there was the very polite fact that Matt had put off making his dick for last. What a sweetheart, sparing him the possibility of an awkward post-mortem boner.
Fun fact those are called “angel lust.” FUN FACT.

“Shhh,” Matt hushed, pulling off his glasses and tossing them aside. There was no clatter indicative of a fall; they simply disappeared into the air.
NICE.

He could also feel bodies all around them. They kept their distance but moved around in a way that said they were definitely paying attention. They were tense, worked up, excited, but he couldn’t tell if it was a good excitement or a bad one.
WAR BOY DEMONS! YAAAAAAAYYYYY!

And hey, at least he wasn’t in a toga or something. Not that he really had any right to complain either way; at least he wasn’t locked in an iron maiden or positioned in a guillotine.
Yet.
Matt interrupted his spike of fear with a nudge. “Stop worrying. You’re going to be fine,” he promised again.
“Uh-huh.”
“Foggy.”
*incoherent noises of delight*

Midway through his rant, Matt’s voice had changed. It got louder, firmer, sharper, shifting the way Matt’s body language did when he became Daredevil into a simmering threat of violence. It wasn’t just his tone, though; the very syllables rolled off in an entirely different, and entirely inhuman, fashion.
His voiceless fricatives hissed a warning, with “Hellhounds” bringing to mind the smoke of a dying bonfire. His nasals were hot and moist and almost toxic. Half of his velar consonants were a growl from deep in his throat, and his vowels were like knives slicing through the air. “Devoured” sent shivers down his entire body, and he wasn’t sure if they were the good or bad kind or a blend of both; “disemboweled” was a particularly vicious-sounding word.
Oh hell yeah, Devil speak that you can FEEL. YESSSSSSS.

Foggy knew he’d follow Matt anywhere.
To hell and b… oh.

“Okay,” he agreed simply, bumping Matt playfully. “Show me your world. I’m dying to see it.”
Oh gods Foggy, the PUNS. I love you. So does Matt.

(A/N: This was another one of those scenes that ran away with me. SIGH. The way that still-alive Foggy was supposed to be around 1500 words and wound up being 5000, this was supposed to be like a three-paragraph blurb of Foggy waking up. Whoops…)
No complaints from me! Take as much time as you like with this!

This fic can now be found here on the AO3, since I found time to fix it up sooner than I thought!: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4349531

awww beautiful!

65.

Foggy goes to the storage locker after work. He finds the right container and opens it, and shit, Karen wasn't joking when she said that she and Matt packed all his stuff. It's all there's, the whole space is filled with dusty cardboard boxes. They're even labeled, in Karen's tidy and compressed script. Clothes, says one box. Games, another. Kitchen stuff and bedroom closet and living room shelves. Matt kept it all these years. He and Karen put it here and then he'd kept the storage space rented, kept the key, almost as if he kept hoping.

Maybe one day Foggy will even give himself time to feel properly grateful, and to go through all these things to decide what he truly wants to keep, which parts of the life that is over and is gone are worth holding on to.

But it's not today. Today he's stayed at work longer than necessary and he made a promise to his friend — and it was a promise, and Matt was his friend, and it could all work out in the end, perhaps, if he tried, if he tried and fought for it — and he was tired but happy, and there was only one thing he was looking for anyway.

One small shoebox labeled ‘Columbia 2010-2013’.

He finds it at the bottom of the big ‘bedroom closet’ box. He takes to shoebox out, lifts the lid and peeks inside. Yup, everything seems to be there, all the shit that he’s accumulated. Good. He’ll need it. He puts the lid back down and the box under his arm, shoves the key back into the keyhole and closes the door behind him.

Everything else that’s in there will just have to wait for a more convenient time. For now, he has work to do.

66.

Back at his apartment — he somehow cannot force himself to call it ‘home’, it’s not home, it’s never been home, home was not a place, it was the people you loved who constituted that and Foggy hasn’t had that for a long, long time – he starts up his laptop and opens up his Facebook, looks at his friends list and the names of people he hasn’t seen in years.

He flexes his fingers and sets them on the keyboard.

This better be fucking worth it.

67.

Saturday rolls around before Foggy even has a chance to notice. Most of his cases and contracts are wrapped up and waiting to be signed or passed on to his successor, who still hasn’t been named, but Foggy is fairly sure it’ll be Alana. His office has been cleared out; he’s still coming in to work on Monday — his last day, and he did hear some hushed talks of the dumb interns throwing a little celebratory party, Christ, he’s never had anyone be happy about him leaving before — but just for a few hours, and then he’ll be finally and officially gone.

It probably shouldn’t feel liberating, but it does.

“You made it, you made it, you maaade it!”

A black-and-blue blur collides with him and Foggy lets out an oof! Before looking down at the mop of black hair somewhere at the level of his waist. The black mop is connected to a head is connected to a five-year-old body of a little boy, who currently has his hands wrapped around him and is lifting his face up to look at Foggy. Jack smiles wide and happy and looks Goddamn delighted.

“I knew you’d make it,” he tells Foggy. “Aunt Marci said you wouldn’t, and Mummy said you might be busy, but we knew you’d come.”

“We?” Foggy asks. He bends on one knee, lets jack wrap his arms around his neck. He scoops Jack into his arms and lifts him up, and Jack clings to him like an octopus, settles comfortably against his shoulder and doesn’t let go. Foggy could get used to that.

“Daddy and I,” Jack tells him. “We knew.”

Foggy is even less than deserving of the faith Matt apparently has in him, but the knowledge that it’s there warms him nonetheless.

“So that’s two beers that Marci owes me and Karen,” Kirsten tells him when he walks up to what used to be a picnic table, but is now just a giant pile of birthday presents. She grins and pecks him on the cheek. “Put it here with the rest of the things we don’t have the space for at home,” she tells him after he manages to fish out a wrapped present out of his bag without having to put Jack down.

Foggy takes note of all the other presents; most of them are giant boxes, some almost as tall as Jack himself is. Foggy’s present pales when compared with that, just a simple book-sized box wrapped in dinosaur-print paper. Nothing fancy. Nothing mind-numbingly expensive. Foggy steps in place, shifts his weight uncomfortably. Perhaps he should have gone with the toys he’d checked out at the story after all.

“Matt’s over there with the grownups,” Kirsten points at the second picnic table, not far from them. “I’m on the kid meet and greet duty today. We drew lots,” she adds and winks.

“That’s Dani,” Jack whispers in Foggy’s ear and points at a small Black girl in a yellow dress, her curly black hair in two pigtails. She’s chasing a boy perhaps a year older than Jack around the immediate area. “And that’s Nate. That’s Sarah and Lewis, and those are Katie and Jack, we go to school together.”

“Another Jack, huh?” Foggy laughs. “Which one of these wild kids is your best friend?”

“That’s Greg,” Jack tells him, ”but he’s not here. I don’t know if he was invited.” Jack makes a sad face. “I think Daddy is still angry that we blew up our last home with Greg and his dad.”

Something clicks in Foggy’s mind. He remembers Jack telling him about his friend Greg and his friend’s Greg’s crazy father. He also distinctly remembers Matt telling him something about his last apartment being blown up by kids—and about Tony Stark babysitting at the time…?

“Wait a moment.” Foggy cranes his head back and looks square at Jack. “Are you telling me that your best friend is Tony Stark’s kid?”

“Yes?” Jack blinks at him, and then whips his head to the side. “He’s here!”

Foggy puts him down and Jack immediately runs off. And true, Foggy sees a red-haired boy no older than Jack — probably his age, to be honest — accompanied by an equally red-haired and sharply dressed woman whom Foggy recognizes as Virginia Potts solely because they were introduced by Wendell once. Virginia Potts walks up to Kirsten and they start talking, while Jack and the boy — Greg, his name is Greg — fall into each other’s arms, start giggling and then run to join the other children.

Foggy shakes his head fondly and resumes his walk to the ‘grownups table’ as Kirsten put it. The spawn of Tony Stark, the same Tony Stark that Matt used to curse at least weekly for good measure. Who would have thought.

“Damn,” Marci says when she notices him. “You couldn’t have stayed home like a good repentant man that you are?”

“Hello to you too, Marci,” Foggy greets her warmly. It’s a beautiful day, the sun is out, it’s warm, he’s casually dressed and in the park, Jack was delighted to see him and apparently there’s a still a tiny part in Matt that refuses to give up believing in him. It’s a wonderful day and nothing can ruin that. “I didn’t think a kid’s birthday party was your sort of an event.”

Matt snorts. He’s sitting on the picnic table, guarding — at least it looks like he’s guarding it — a tourist fridge full of what Foggy hopes are beer bottles. Matt reaches into the fridge and takes out one bottle, yup, it’s beer, Matt’s favourite fancy Czech beer because God forbid Matt Murdock drank your usual pisswater. He offers the bottle to Foggy and Foggy takes it, grunting out his thanks.

“I’m not going to stay long,” Marci says, “but I couldn’t not come. It’s the whelp’s birthday party, not just any kid’s. God help me, but I love him. The one and only kid in existence that makes me want to aww.”

“He is very loveable,” Foggy agrees.

“Which means you cannot, in good conscience, judge me for any of this, Foggy-Bear.” Matt laughs at that and Marci punches him in the arm. “And you shut your face, Murdock, it’s all your fault anyway that your whelp is so cute and tiny.”

“Cute and tiny,” Matt wheezes out through the peals of laughter. He takes his glasses off and rubs at his eyes, wiping the tears away. “’Cute and tiny’, you’re never living this one down, Marci.”

“And this is my cue to leave.” She puts her hands on the table’s surface as if preparing to push herself off, but stops mid-motion. “But not before I see this one.”

Foggy turns around to see what caught Marci’s attention. Virginia Potts is walking towards their table, one hand on Greg Stark’s shoulder. Greg’s keeping his head down as if ashamed, and Jack is trailing a few paces behind them, looking worried.

“Hello, Matt,” Virginia Potts greets him when they stop in front of their table.

Matt smiles. “Hi, Pepper,” he says. “And Greg.”

Virginia Potts squeezes her son’s shoulder. “Gregory has something to say,” she announces. She pushes the boy towards Matt a little. “Greg?”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Greg Stark says to the tips of his sneakers, “Mr. Murdock.”

“And?” Virginia Potts prompts.

Greg swallows. “And I’m sorry for blowing up your apartment last year,” he says very quietly. “Dad is sorry too, but he won’t say, so I’m saying it. Sorry. Can I play with Jack now?”

Jack peeks out from behind Virginia. “Please, Daddy?” he adds.

Matt makes a half-miserable, half-teary face as if someone just punched him in all his most vulnerable feels. He runs a hand over his eyes. “Yes, of course you can go and play,” he tells Greg, who finally looks up from his shoes and smiles faintly at him. “And… Don’t worry about the apartment. It’s—It’s nothing. We were going to move anyway.”

“Thank you, Mr. Murdock!”

Greg Stark grabs Jack’s hand and they run towards a nearby playground. Foggy notices Dani and Nate breaking off from the bigger group and chasing after the two boys. Kids. Meanwhile, Virginia Potts exchanges her thanks and goodbyes with Matt and Marci, and then leaves them, heels somehow not getting stuck in the grass and ground. Foggy’s not surprised. Between making sure not one but two Starks didn’t blow up half of New York and running a company, she was a busy woman.

Marci’s snickering brings him back to reality. “You’re so soft, Murdock,” she says and shakes her head. “So soft. ‘Don’t worry, we were going to move’, seriously? He blew up your old place and yet you still invited him to the party? Who does that?”

Matt shrugs. “He’s Jack’s best friend, what was I supposed to do?” he asks. “It’s not like I can say anything about Jack’s strange tastes when it comes to best friends.”

Marci shakes her head again. “That you can’t,” she says and it sounds less like a well-meaning mockery and much more serious. “You are so fucking soft, Matt.”

“And this is your cue to leave.” Matt grins at her. “Thanks for the ship, it’s amazing, Jack loves it.”

“He better.” Marci kisses Matt’s cheek and gets off the table. She pats Foggy’s shoulder as she passes him by. “I’ll text you if I ever find myself in San Fran, we could go grab a drink or two or six, and then I could drag your drunk ass onto a boat and set it afloat in the ocean.”

“Charming as ever, I see.”

She smiles and actually leans in to kiss his cheek too. Foggy counts that perhaps not as a victory, but as a small indication that she could still forgive him one day. After she leaves, Matt pats the empty space on the table next to him, inviting Foggy to sit down. Which Foggy does. Matt clinks his beer bottle against Foggy’s.

“One hell of a birthday picnic,” Foggy says. Mentions his hand around. “Lots of people. All your friends? Or are some just the parents of Jack’s guests?”

“Some are both,” Matt clarifies. He starts pointing at people. “that’s Luke Cage, Dani’s father. Good guy, we sometimes team up, even though he’s insufferable when in the company of his best friend, Danny.”

“The ‘last year’s mysterious Halloween disaster’ Danny?” Foggy asks, remembering a piece of conversation he heard at Matt’s house.

Matt laughs. “Yeah. They—That’s a long story.” Foggy hums. Matt takes a sip of his beer and points at another person, “that’s Peter. He’s actually here only because he’s a great photographer and Karen’s too busy running around with a video camera. She’s obsessed with making videos, you should see the one she took of the wedding.”

“I’d love to see the video of your wedding,” Foggy says quietly.

Matt blinks. “Well,” he clears his throat, “you can ask Karen for it. She has the original unedited seven-hour-long video. Kirsten says it’s mad. Anyway,” he continues, “Kate Bishop you know. She brought Nate Barton to the party, because Clint’s busy. The Avengers got into another disaster somewhere in Australia.”

“She’s moving to the West Coast.”

“Yeah,” Matt nods. “Stanford, she got accepted there. Seems like everyone’s leaving for California lately.” Foggy opens his mouth to say something, tell Matt everything, but Kirsten walks up to the table and he shuts it without uttering a word.

She seats herself on the table next to Matt and puts her head on his shoulder. “This is officially everyone,” she tells Matt. “We’ll start opening presents any moment now, because I don’t know how much longer Karen will be able to keep that little abomination from running up to the kids.”

“Abomination?” Foggy asks.

Kirsten grins. “We got Jack a puppy,” she says. “It’s the most adorable and lively labradoodle I’ve ever seen and Matt hates it.”

“I don’t hate it,” Matt shoots immediately back. “It’s just--everywhere, I’ve already tripped over it twice at the office. It’s still better than the alternative, though.”

“Do I want to know what the alternative present was?”

“Jack wanted a puppy or a sister,” Kirsten tells Foggy. “We’ve decided that a puppy was less high-maintenance than a baby, so a puppy it is. I hope he likes it.”

Matt shrugs. “If he doesn’t like it, we can always rely on Kate.”

Foggy frowns. “Kate Bishop? How does she factor into this?”

“Kate Bishop has a tendency to steal other people’s dogs,” Matt explains.

And Kirsten throws in, “she did that with Clint’s Pizza Dog too.” She intertwines her hand with Matt’s. “There’s one present that magically appeared out of thin air and is smoking. I thought it might be from Stephen, but I think Skye could have brought it too.”

“It’s definitely from Stephen,” Matt says. “I just hope it isn’t a dragon or a hell-portal to another dimension, Jack is way too young for that.” He squeezes Kirsten’s hand. “Is Skye still here?”

“Yes. She’s making rock slides for the kids. Said it was her day off and SHIELD and the Avengers could survive without her.”

“That’s very nice of her,” Matt comments with a wry smile. “I don’t think your father’s here, however. Did he forget again?”

“He’s not and he didn’t. I just told him the party was next weekend.”

Foggy, who was just taking a sip of his beer, chokes and sputters on it. Matt’s face betrays a similar emotional reaction. “You did what?” Matt asks.

“Told him that it was next week,” Kirsten repeats calmly. “That we were busy this weekend and we pushed the date. It’s payback for ignoring Jack on their day out. I swear, he sees his only grandchild once every six months and then can’t leave his office long enough to actually take him to the park. His grandfather privileges have been revoked.”

Matt makes a pained face. “Please don’t antagonize your father, honey,” he says. “He’s taking you to Hawaii in two weeks, don’t make it weird.”

“I’m not making it weird.” Kirsten lets go of Matt’s hand and reaches for a beer. “We’re not going to Hawaii with him.”

“Kirsten...”

“What?” She shrugs. “We’re not. First he fails to invite my husband — not that you’d have accepted the invitation, but he still should have asked — and then he completely fails as a grandfather. Thank God for Franklin, who bravely saved the day.” Kirtsten winks at Foggy. “So Jack and I are definitely not going on that stupid Hawaii cruise. You and I are going to take two weeks off in August, after Marci is back from Greece, and we’ll take Jack camping. It’ll be much more fun.” She looks at Foggy. “Or we could just go to Cali and crash at Franklin’s new place and not tell my dad that we’re visiting. I hope your new house is by the beach.”

“It’s not,” Foggy says.

“Damn.” Kirsten gulps down her beer and puts away the bottle. “I think Luke’s wrestling with the present from the Avengers, I better go and see if he needs help. Did you know that Thor threw in those amazing Asgardian mead cookies?”

“Did he?” Matt asks, a smile creeping back onto his face. “Perhaps we should send him a ‘thank you’ note?”

“Oooh, those cookies are definitely worth that.”

Foggy watches Kirsten walk away from them, white dress billowing on the slight wind, high ponytail bouncing from side to side. Then he looks at Matt, who can’t actually see his wife, but still wears the most love-struck and dumb expression possible. It’s beautiful, how much he loves her and how obvious he is with his affection.

Foggy laughs. “Where did you get that woman?” he asks. “It’s amazing how well you fit together, like you were tailor-made for each other.”

“She almost killed my case in court,” Matt tells him, still smiling. “One of the best things that ever happened to me. I wouldn’t have met her if you—if you were here, so I suppose there’s one good thing in all that.”

“Phh, nonsense,” Foggy says, “why wouldn’t you have met—“

He trails off. Remembers what Karen told him. I mean... He was in love with you. He swallows his words back. Matt wouldn’t have met Kirsten if Foggy were there, if he hadn’t left. He wouldn’t have met her and he wouldn’t have fallen in love with her, or married her, or had the most amazing kid with her, or been ridiculously happy with her. He wouldn’t have done that, because he was in love with Foggy and would have held out hoping that one day Foggy would notice. That one day Foggy would perhaps return those feelings and would love him back.

“Matt, I—“

“Daddy, Daddy, you have to see this!” Jack runs up to them, and Foggy once more gets interrupted. If this is the universe’s way of saying that he shouldn’t tell Matt anything, the universe can fuck off. “Daddy, look!”

“That might be somewhat difficult,” Matt jokes when Jack gets to him, Kate Bishop hot on his trail. Jack’s not wearing his blue T-shirt anymore, but a purple one, and has a small child-sized bow slung across his shoulder. He pushes what appears to be a book into Matt’s hands and Matt takes it, opens it and runs his fingers across the first page, and oh. Shit. That’s his present, that’s the present Foggy got Jack.

“What is this?” Matt asks, frowning. His fingers dance on that first page, between the rough texture of the paper and the smooth rectangle in the middle.

“It’s you,” Jack says, excited, “it’s you and Uncle Franklin, and there’s you and Aunt Marci,” Jack flips a few pages and puts Matt’s fingers on another photograph, “and there’s you with a really weird hat, and you sleeping on a pile of books, and you—“

“It’s a photo album,” Kate cuts in. “Of you in law school.” She cocks her head. “At least Kirsten says it’s from law school, it’s super cool, she almost didn’t want to let go of this, she and Luke almost fell down laughing over that one pool party pic with a giant inflatable di—“

“Thank you, Kate,” Matt interrupts her, before she has the chance to fully describe that amazing photo. “Where did you get this?”

“It was one of my presents!”

“I made it,” Foggy says quietly and three heads turn towards him. “I—Jack liked listening to our law school stories, and Kirsten said you didn’t have any pictures, so I threw this together for him. For posterity. He should know what a giant dork his father was when young.”

He almost adds ‘and beautiful’ as a joke. Almost. Doesn’t, in the end.

Jack presses the album close to his chest. “I love it,” he states. “It’s the best present, even Mummy says so.”

“I agree,” Kate adds, “and I’m the one who bought the bow and arrow.”

“You got my son bow and arrow?”

“Clint’s idea.” She pushes Jack a bit away, towards the rest of the party, and the kid takes the hint and leaves. “can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure,” Matt answers.

Kate reaches into the pocket of her skirt and takes out a folded piece of paper. She unfolds it and hands it to Matt. “I know you can’t read it,” she says, “but it’s a letter, from Columbia. I got in.”

“You got—“ Matt drops his hands. “Kate, congratulations. But what about Stanford and the West Coast?”

Kate puts a lock of her brown hair behind her ear. “I don’t want to go to the West Coast,” she says. “I don’t want to leave New York. All my friends are here. My job’s here. Clint’s mostly here, these days. Clint’s kids are here. You are here, you and Kirsten and Jack. I don’t want to leave all that.”

“Your dad’s here,” Matt adds with a wicked grin.

Kate rolls her eyes. “My father is actually a point for moving all the way to Cali.” She sighs. “I didn’t think leaving would be this difficult and I’ve realized I don’t want to do it.”

Matt folds the acceptance letter and hands it back to Kate. “You and Clint patched things up?”

“It’s a work in progress, but we’re getting there,” she says as she pockets her letter. “But you have to admit, co-parenting the dog from the West Coast would be impossible.”

“Very true.”

Kate sways on her heels. “So, on the off chance that you haven’t hired a new babysitter yet, you don’t have to. I’m staying in New York.”

“I’m glad you’re staying,” Matt says, takes out two new beer bottles and offers one to Kate, “if that’s what you want. Don’t compromise your future for an archer Avenger and a five-year-old with a crush on you.”

Kate smiles and takes the offered bottle. Foggy could bet that she’s not actually old enough to drink yet, but he’s not going to comment. It’s an important private moment between these two. “But that is my future,” Kate teases. “Columbia is a good university, which you can attest to. And I’m staying in New York because it’s my home.”

“Jack will be happy to hear that. And no, we haven’t found a new babysitter yet. You should go and tell him that he won’t have to say goodbye to you.”

Kate turns on her heel and goes to do exactly that.

“So,” Foggy says, after the silence stretches for too long and edges close to the ‘uncomfortable’ territory, “it seems not everyone is going to Cali after all.”

“No, it doesn’t seem like that anymore.” Matt turns his head to the side in a gesture that Foggy knows means he’s focusing all his senses on a person. On Foggy, now. “When are you moving?”

“Wednesday,” Foggy tells him. Matt hums, opens the bottle and drinks the beer. “Yesterday I closed the deal on my new apartment.”

“That’s nice.” Matt turns the bottle in his hands. “Kirsten was joking about those holiday plans, but call us when you’re settled. We’d love to come and visit. It’d be nice to check out your new place, to see if you’ve upgraded from the last place you were renting.”

“Har har, very funny,” Foggy says. He takes a deep breath as Matt takes another sip of his beer. Now or never. “You know, if you want to see my new apartment that bad, you can just come and toast it with me on Wednesday. After all, I’m just moving to Brooklyn.”

Matt chokes on his beer so hard Foggy has to hit him on the back. “What?” he manages to force out through the coughs.

“My new place is in Brooklyn,” Foggy repeats. “I’m not moving to San Francisco. I’m staying in New York.”

“You’re not leaving,” Matt says, slowly. “But—your job. You quit. What about that San Fran friend and his practice? What will you do now?”

“I told that friend, in very polite terms, to shove it,” Foggy explains. “And I’ve already applied for a new gig.”

“You have?”

“Yup,” Foggy says, over-pronouncing the ‘p’, making it pop out of his mouth. “I have it on good authority, since I’ve heard it from a very reliable source, that the position of assistant D.A. will open up next month. They haven’t chosen the new A.D.A. yet, so I thought, why the hell not? Nothing can be worse than being a corporate douchebag sitting behind a desk and reviewing variations of the same document over and over again.”

“You’re running for assistant D.A.?” Foggy shrugs. “But you haven’t actually been in a courtroom for over six years! Do you even remember how it’s done?”

“Low blow, Murdock, low blow,” Foggy murmurs and Matt presses a hand to his mouth to hide his giggles. “I’ll tell you why I’m doing this. I’m doing this, because the D.A. is so afraid of you that he’s not even trying to fight you anymore. Someone has to step up and be worthwhile competition for you, and save the D.A.’s office’s reputation. So beware, Murdock. We shall meet in court.”

“You’re going to run cases against me?”

“If I get the job, you bet.”

“You honestly think you’re up for this?”

“If memory serves,” Foggy says, “and if it doesn’t, ask Jack, I included the department newspaper clipping in his album specially for this, I have one win over you.”

“Impossible.”

“And yet.” Matt shakes his head. “We went against each other once and I won, Matt, fair and square. Ergo, my track record is much better. So perhaps the question should be, are you up for this?”

“I don’t remember you ever winning against me.”

“Ah!” Foggy tsks. “Professor Riley’s employment law moot court, second year. I steamrolled you.”

“Employ—That was hardly a win during what could hardly pass for a moot court.”

“Steamrolled you.”

“Then I suppose we’ll just have to see which of us is better in an actual courtroom.” Matt shakes his head, as if he couldn’t quite believe this. “You’re not leaving.”

“Well, no.” Foggy glances down at his already empty bottle that he’s fiddling with. “You know, I promised to turn Jack into a mini golf champion, and that’s not something I can do over one of those amazing and state-of-art technologies like Skype. Besides, “Foggy tears the corner of the Czech label off the bottle, “New York is my home.”

“You’re not leaving,” Matt repeats again.

“No.”

“You’re really not leaving.”

Foggy looks up from his bottle and at Matt, at Matt’s face, Matt’s disbelieving goofy smile that so radiant and happy that it physically hurts to look at.

“No,” Foggy tells him, and packs as much affection and conviction into it as he can, “I’m never leaving again.”

68.

"Are you happy?"

They’re sitting on the floor of Foggy’s new place. Foggy has swung by Matt’s office to pick him up Wednesday afternoon, after Kirsten has left to get Jack from pre-school and Marci has left on her date and Karen has left to go home and write her thesis. It’s not much bigger than Foggy’s Hell’s Kitchen apartment, but it’s in a much safer neighbourhood and there’s even a playground around the corner. There are swings there, nice for when Jack will come to visit him, because that’s something that he knows will happen, now, Jack visiting him. He’ll come and they’ll have pizza, and a proper sleepover one day.

Matt smiles at his beer bottle, the cheap and disgusting stuff that they’ve picked up on their way here. It’s the kind of smile Foggy has seen on him a lot since he came back, and the same smile Matt used to give him back in law school, unguarded and genuinely happy. It’s nice to once more be the reason for it, to be the person who put it on Matt Murdock’s ridiculously handsome face.

"Yeah, Foggy," he says and maybe Foggy cannot hear heartbeats and is not a walking polygraph, but he still knows Matt is sincere. "I am. I am now."

Matt grins. Foggy grins back. He cannot help it.

For the first time in a very long time, he is too.

Honestly.

aaaaaahhhhhh, i am SO HAPPY for all of them! <3

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

:'D

=D (Probably morning? If you're US... I tend to post just before I go to bed so I get comments in the morning.)

Hehe. =)

OH. I would love you forever if you drew that. Because my art skills leave much to be desired and this should exist.

Exactly! Also they're not poking at each other's emotions yet... just kind of trying not to be too invasive. It won't last.

You're welcome brilliant OP! <3

This is so fucking good i dont want it to end.
AMAZING,BEAUTIFUL, HEARTBREAKING. Everything that a fic should be.
I need that part where Foggy is agains Matt. I need that fic.
Everythign ws so good. This is pure gold.

Glad you enjoyed, OP! I thoroughly enjoyed writing it, and something tells me Spring Break Foggy would be all kinds of adorably mischievous.

(I was so tempted to write a coda to that last line, but honestly I'll leave the mechanics of injured!sex to more experienced writers than I. Let your imagination go where it will. :P )

There's a tentative count for how many more parts this has- I planned out the rest of the fic to have another five 'chapters' (not including this one) plus an epilogue to make 11 parts (plus the interlude). Subject to change on my whims. I have many whims. Hope you like this!

Matt finally sags into the hug, a sense of contentment slipping into his mind. Foggy adds to it instinctively, barely aware of doing so, just wanting to get the sheer self hatred he'd felt out of his friend. Who the hell broke his Matt so much that he honestly believes Foggy is better off without him?

Surprise/lying?/notlying/what? Well that's descriptive. Thanks Matt.

Foggy tightens his hug, ignoring how his knees are starting to hurt from his position on the floor. Friend/mine/good/honest Matt-

Matt shakes his head. 'Foggy-' Foggy, '-I can't. I... Foggy.' Foggy. Flashes of Foggy, as Matt perceives him, flash over from Matt. A kind voice; steady hand; friendship; equals; kind; heartbeat; coconut/bagel/cheese; FoggygoodminebestfriendFoggy. Matt pushes Foggy back for a moment, then drops to the floor before him, so Foggy isn't reaching up. I can't. Please Foggy. It's too much.

Okay. Foggy can work with this. Too much now. But he's got a long time - the rest of their lives - to deal with this. He'll wait.

'Foggy-'

Time to change the plan of attack. Give up the battle, win the war.

What?

Foggy grimaces as years of watching war documentaries with his father flashes through his mind. Boredupsetscaredbored. They weren't his thing but he picked up a few details.

'I'm a battle?' Matt sounds - no is- amused by the thought. Foggy reluctantly rises because he really does need to change his tactics.

'Oh man, first day and you're already stuffing up the mind reading. I compared battling your-' Foggy waves a general hand, '-issues, to a war not a battle. Scale.'

Matt rises too, somehow not sore. How even? Control. Training. No fake cheese. 'I'm glad my 'issues' are of such great concern to you.'

He's being sarcastic. He'll learn. My cheese balls are the best - a flash of eating the snack, cheesy goodness dissolving on his tongue- and you know it. 'You are welcome.'

Is that how they taste to you? Matt sends chemicalprocesseddisgust over and Foggy gags.

You better keep your taste buds to yourself please! He moves into the kitchen, desperate for a glass of water to wash away that awfulickyhowthehelldoyoustandit taste from his mouth and memory. A flicker of sunlight catches his attention and Foggy checks his watch. Oh joy it's six. Morning. They've been awake all night - God it's only been twelve hours since this nightmare began - and not so much as a catnap of rest.

Suddenly all Foggy can feel is the tiredness pulling at his limbs. Matt yawns. Foggy yawns. They yawn together.

'Foggy?' Matt mutters drowsily. 'You have the-' another yawn, triggering Foggy's which in turn triggers another unison yawn, '-bed. I'll take the couch.'

But Foggy isn't having that. InjureddyingsickMatt 'Nope. You'll be in that bed or I'm not sleeping.'

Matt smirks and Foggy barely has time to process before a wave of tiredness runs through him, nearly causing him to fall where he stands. But Matt's miscalculated. It flows back at him and Foggy is woken from his half sleep by Matt's butt hitting the floor as he does fall over.

You're more tired awakelongerdyingsickdying than I am. Foggy manages to make his way to Matt and get an arm under his. He pulls his friend to his feet. Amusement/Imright/fondness. Come on Buddy.

Stubborn. Bed. Foggy.

Compromise/tired/movingurgh. Share? Foggy all but throws Matt at his bed and tries to get his jacket off. It's putting up quite the fight.

Share. Matt's thoughts go gentle and soft. Foggy wins the battle with the jacket and throws himself at the bed.

Just in time; Matt's mind pulls at his and sleep claims Foggy too.

********

Matt's warm. It's kinda nice. He snuggles into the warmth, vaguely aware of something - someone - happy and content beside him. Very content actually; they're half awake with a warm body in their arms who is happy to be there. It's always good to start the morning making someone else happ-

Wait, what. Who the hell is in his bed?

Matt snaps all his senses into focus and opens his eyes unnecessarily as he hears a gasp from the man holding him. Foggy. What?

'Dude that was really freaky.' Matt catches a flash of an image of him - him, he knows what he looks like now - opening his eyes at the same time Foggy does and the events of last night coming speeding back to him.

And Foggy. 'Oh man.' He groans and rolls over, taking away the warmth. The nice warmth.

There's a long pause, then Foggy rolls back over. Warmthniceagreement. He moves his arms back into position, though he makes sure Matt isn't pressed against him. Mattseyes/nice/comfortablewithme/likeseeingthem.

For a long moment they stew in the silence of each other's thoughts. Matt finally has to break it. 'Time?'

Foggy glances at his clock. 'Just after four. We got a lot of sleep Buddy.' He shuffles. 'Seems like you needed it.'

Matt glares in hi...no, at him. He knows where Foggy is now, as instinctively as he knows where every inch of his body is. 'You tricked me.'

There's no apology in Foggy. Pleasure/happiness/healthlyMatt 'Just get used to it.'

It is at that moment, their stomachs growl. In unison. Huh. Still kinda cool. With a groan Matt pulls himself out of bed Reluctance/warm/comfort/Foggy and heads for the bathroom. The second he crosses the threshold, he feels/hears Foggy start to scream out a song in his head. It drowns out Matt's thoughts - and Foggy's ability to sense Matt's actions. Clever. Though Defying Gravity, really?

They swap and Matt heads for his kitchen.

Food/hunger/me?. It takes a moment for Matt to realise what Foggy's offering.

Food/hunger/ME Matt runs through his fridge's contents, sniffing to see what's best to be used and picking through ideas for meals. There's not many he can make with what he has. Breakfast or nothing Foggy.

Agreement. Breakfast is brilliant. Foggy's actions aren't bothering Matt; he's heard far worse from total strangers. Which NoshareNO isn't something he thinks about Yousharedhateyoujerk usually.

Eggs/pancakes. Your choice.

Both? Hope/Mattscooking/tastebest/oweme/oversharer

Flattered and a tiny bit apologetic, Matt grabs the eggs, milk and flour. He leaves the eggs for Foggy and starts mixing pancakes. Foggy drifts in, and Matt catches the sight of his kitchen through blinking eyes.

Then Foggy closes them. Guide me.

Guide yourself. For a moment Foggy pauses, then something pushes at Matt's mind - more of a push than he's felt since this began - and his sense of Foggy greatly increases. So does Foggy's sense of Matt, if his thoughts are any indicator.

Foggy grabs an egg and cracks it against the pan, throwing the shell at the bin without looking, tracking it with Matt's hearing and sense of smell. It lands perfectly. They smile. Matt finishes mixing the pancake mix, pacing the kitchen as he does. Foggy is always a step ahead of him - or with him - and never in the way as he cooks their eggs and they drift around the kitchen as if dancing. By the time they're done, the pancake mix is ready and Matt steals bites of his eggs - cooked to perfection - as he cooks them.

The sound Foggy makes when Matt first takes a bite of his eggs is nearly pornographic. This Godgoodperfectionwhateven is how things taste to you?

Only the good notchemicalhomecookedloved things.

Fine. Share your whatevenbestmealever taste buds sometimes.

Matt smiles and flips the final pancake, throwing a previously cooked one at Foggy. He tracks its path.

Foggy catches it, despite sitting side on to it. Matt hears/feels the movement of his head as he turns to look at Matt, finally opening his eyes so Matt can see his own smile. Handy

Agreement. Matt takes a bite of one of his pancakes and Foggy makes another low moan. Hateyouloveyoukeepeatingholyshitsogood

This might make up for everything.

SHRIEKING AN UPDATE AN UPDATE!!! :D

Surprise/lying?/notlying/what? Well that's descriptive. Thanks Matt.
--- *snorts* XD

'Foggy-' Foggy, '-I can't. I... Foggy.' Foggy. Flashes of Foggy, as Matt perceives him, flash over from Matt. A kind voice; steady hand; friendship; equals; kind; heartbeat; coconut/bagel/cheese; FoggygoodminebestfriendFoggy. Matt pushes Foggy back for a moment, then drops to the floor before him, so Foggy isn't reaching up. I can't. Please Foggy. It's too much.
--- Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. ;___;

Is that how they taste to you? Matt sends chemicalprocesseddisgust over and Foggy gags.
You better keep your taste buds to yourself please!
--- *cackles* Oh man MATT DON'T RUIN FOOD FOR FOGGY

But Matt's miscalculated. It flows back at him and Foggy is woken from his half sleep by Matt's butt hitting the floor as he does fall over.
--- *cracks up* GOOD JOB, MATTHEW.

He groans and rolls over, taking away the warmth. The nice warmth.
There's a long pause, then Foggy rolls back over. Warmthniceagreement.
--- *melts* Awww!

The second he crosses the threshold, he feels/hears Foggy start to scream out a song in his head. It drowns out Matt's thoughts - and Foggy's ability to sense Matt's actions. Clever. Though Defying Gravity, really?
--- *CACKLES* FOGGY, YOU BRILLIANT THING, YOU. Also, yes, Matt. Don't hate. Defying Gravity is awesome!

Then Foggy closes them. Guide me.
Guide yourself. For a moment Foggy pauses, then something pushes at Matt's mind - more of a push than he's felt since this began - and his sense of Foggy greatly increases. So does Foggy's sense of Matt, if his thoughts are any indicator.
--- *bites fist* OMG SENSE SHARING AHHHHHH awwww AHHHH!

This Godgoodperfectionwhateven is how things taste to you?
Only the good notchemicalhomecookedloved things.
Fine. Share your whatevenbestmealever taste buds sometimes.
--- :DDD

*wails* I love everything so much. ;_________; You goddess!

Eep! I haven't forgotten this, but I haven't made enough progress in my other fics to justify starting a new one! D: I have been thinking about it a bit, though, off and on. :D I was thinking for Foggy, since he's not a violent person the way Matt is and he has more respect for privacy than Matt does, that his power is related to immortality, but he can still get injured and feels pain - but when he's injured/sick, contact with others makes him automatically start absorbing their health, and with it their immediate thoughts - he'd feel awful about hurting other people and invading their privacy on a level even worse than Matt...?

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Prompt Post #4

Re: Stick V. Nelson-Murdock (End)

Re: Fill: Foggy is going blind, 6/7

Re: that's not my name 2/5

Re: Fill: Clear and Honest Communication 4/?

Re: Stick V. Nelson-Murdock (End)

FILL: A World of Emotions (5/?)

[FILL] Any Possible Similarity (7/7)

Re: FILL: A World of Emotions (5/?)

Re: AU If Stick Had Never Left

Re: Applied Contract Law, 5/?

Re: [FILL] Any Possible Similarity (7/7)

Re: [FILL] Any Possible Similarity (7/7)

Re: [FILL] Requiem Æternam [Part 2.2]

[FILL] Any Possible Similarity REPOSTED

Re: [FILL] Any Possible Similarity (7/7)

Fill: All Our Yesteryears [15/?]

Fill: All Our Yesteryears [16/16]

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [16/16]

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [16/16]

Re: Fill: Clear and Honest Communication 4/?

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [16/16]

Re: Stick V. Nelson-Murdock (End)

Fill: Clear and Honest Communication 5/11(?)

Re: Fill: Clear and Honest Communication 5/11(?)

Re: Another Powers AU