“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.
Fill: All Our Yesteryears [16/16]
“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.