Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out; my brain is stupid and decided that panic over nothing>writing. Ugh. ANYWAYS! There is some blood in this chapter, but it's kind of "blink and you miss it." Also, there is smut. ((which is weird because this is the first time I've ever posted smut??? I feel like a tiny, little old pigeon lady scattering filthy porn to a flock of readers. It's kinda great.
Hell’s Kitchen burned, as everyone knew it eventually would.
Foggy thought he’d never see the day.
He had taken Gusion’s advice and gone to Ms. Cárdenas’s apartment half an hour early with Karen in tow (looking up the name on his office’s latest visitor might have influenced that decision. Bad things usually happened to people who didn’t listen to predictions of the future by supernatural forces).
And apparently they arrived not a moment too soon, given by the explosion that knocked all three of them off of their feet a few minutes after they had walked in the door.
As expected, the ER was swamped when they arrived, Foggy and Karen supporting Ms. Cárdenas between them, who was sporting a nasty head wound. It took a good deal of elbowing to even get into the door with all of the panicking going on, but eventually they were able to get the sweet woman into a bed with medical attention more substantial than a balled up scarf pressed up to her forehead.
Sure it wasn’t much, just a bed and a professional to pay attention to the wound, but it was the small things that really counted during these times. Small things like Karen talking Ms. Cárdenas quietly through the things that the nurses were doing, the fact that the hallways had quieted down from their frantic shrieking to a frenzied mutter, or the fact that his own adrenaline had kept him from feeling the pain in his side for so long.
Wait, what?
A bit dazed, Foggy looked down to where his hand had automatically clamped down once his nerves started putting out all of the right signals.
‘Huh,’ he thought distantly, ‘I didn’t think that blood would look that dark.’
Foggy was out before he even hit the floor, unaware of the embarrassing sound he made that Karen would later liken to a swooning maiden from an 1800’s drama.
—
Foggy woke up later in a room by himself. The weak light filtering in through the blinds suggested that he had been out long enough for the night to pass. He felt gross; oily and gritty and… oddly lightheaded. None of this however took away from the sharp twinges of pain in his side.
Involuntarily, Foggy’s eyes slid shut and groaned long and loud, a sole noise of misery to broadcast his despair in all of its melodramatic glory.
Almost in response, a weight took up place on the side of the bed. Karen? Foggy hoped it was Karen, she was probably scared out of her mind.
“Ms. Page is fine,” an unfamiliar voice answered, “She went home a few hours ago.”
“Good,” Foggy mumbled. “Thanks for looking into my brain to get at that.”
An undignified snort of laughter came from the voice. “You were speaking out loud, Foggy.”
“No way,” Foggy answered, a slow smile creeping onto his face, “You totally read my mind. Weirder things have happened to me lately.”
“Oh really?”
Foggy decided to humor the voice. “Yeah, yesterday— wassit? Maybe the day before that— this woman came in and told me I should head over to my client’s house early. And what d’ya know! It saved my life!”
“Mhmmm.”
“And then she also did this thing where she- she reached out and booped my forehead.”
“She booped your forhead?”
“That’s what I said. An- And lemme tell you it was weird. Like she was giving me a…” Foggy paused, looking for the right word.
“…a title?”
“Yeah, or a promotion, or something. You’re totally reading my mind.” Foggy reached out, eyes still closed, for the voice’s body to clap a shoulder or give a playful punch but was disappointed to find he couldn’t reach anyone from his current position.
Groaning, Foggy pried his eyes open. Through his blurry vision, a man in a suit became apparent. Foggy took a few seconds to process this before a bigger grin split his face.
“Matt!” he chuckled, “Why didn’t you say it was you?”
The man smiled, more of a smirk than anything, “I thought you knew.”
“Your voice is different,” Foggy whined, “That’s cheating.”
“You’re the one cheating; you’re on painkillers.”
Foggy made an attempt to nudge Matt with the leg the Devil sat close to, but the shock of pain that caused was enough to discourage him. Matt twisted to face Foggy at the noise of pain that this made pass his lips.
“Hells, Foggy, I’m sorry-”
The human shook off his concerns woozily. “Literally not your fault, buddy. Unless you planted the bombs I got caught up in.”
Matt’s silence seemed to suck all the air out of the room.
“Matt…” Foggy said slowly, his voice low and accusing, “Why aren’t you answering me?” Matt’s flinch at the noise almost made him feel sorry for the other.
“I’m sorry,” Matt mumbled, “Some of my… demons planted the bombs. I think it’s a turf war.”
Foggy sighed in relief, “So it wasn’t you?”
“They are my responsibility.” This time Foggy went through with lightly kicking Matt.
“You’ve got a lot of misplaced guilt in you for being Satan and all.”
Matt shot him a reproachful look. “I am their superior. I should have been aware that their spat was going to affect my dealings.”
“No one can see the future.”
Matt snorted, “You know that’s not true.”
Foggy rubbed at his temples, temper slowly rising through the brain fog brought on by the drugs. “Yes, but you couldn’t have known it would come to that, Matt.”
“I know many that did. I didn’t hear of this once. I should have been more diligent.”
Foggy sagged back into the bed, troubled. It was obvious that Matt was convinced that this was his fault and there was probably nothing Foggy could do about it. “OK,” he conceded, “you’re not going to change your mind on this, regardless of how wrong you are.” He ignored the indignant expression on Matt’s face at that and kept going. “But I am not going to do your self-fla- flage- self-flagellation for you. You seem to be doing that just fine by yourself.”
Here, Matt hung his head, shame evident in every line of his body. Foggy paused before speaking again. “I’ll be upset with you when you’re at fault, OK? And trust me, you’ll know when I am. Promise.”
Matt looked a bit conflicted over the idea, but eventually nodded, his expression carefully kept blank.
Foggy huffed out a breath and then closed his eyes, strength suddenly leaving him.
“You should get some more sleep, Foggy,” Matt murmured.
“Bossy,” Foggy replied. “But OK, I could go for a nap. These drugs are gonna mangle my sleep schedule.”
From further down the bed, Matt hummed in agreement. Foggy almost jumped when a cool, dry hand swept back the hair from his forehead, but decided against saying anything.
For the second time in less than 24 hours, Foggy dropped out of consciousness almost instantaneously.
—
Foggy and Matt were watching a movie.
This wasn’t anything new, but what was odd was then no matter how hard Foggy concentrated he had no idea what the film was. Also, he was pretty sure they had never gone to a movie theater before.
“Ah, I like this part.” Matt’s voice made Foggy look over to see the other man looking at the screen through his sunglasses.
(‘Ah, this is a dream.’ Foggy thought, ‘Matt can’t see.’)
The thought was swept away when Matt laughed at what he apparently saw on screen, open, sincere and all together breath-taking. Foggy was familiar with the sight, but he tried to never take it for granted.
Foggy tried to look at see what Matt was laughing at, he really did, but before he knew it Matt was facing him again.
“You missed it,” the man accused softly, “It was so good.”
Foggy shrugged, “Better things to look at, I guess.” Matt started at him for a while, obviously bemused. Around him, the dark interior of the movie theater morphed into an apartment, stark and Spartan in its decoration. The only lighting came from off to the side where a huge, flashing billboard took up most of the view. Foggy had never been here before.
“Better,” Matt murmured. “I wouldn’t know.”
(‘Ah good,’ Foggy mused, ‘Brain’s back to reality I see.’)
Foggy chuckled, “But it’s true.” Matt remained still, quietly observing the human.
Without warning, the scenery changed again and Matt kneeling between his legs, hands going for his fly.
“Hey, budd- ehng!” Foggy’s question was cut off when Matt deftly undid Foggy’s jeans and well, Foggy would be lying if he hadn’t thought about his before but wow this was a sudden development, dream or not.
Matt said nothing even as he heckled Foggy into lifting his hips and sliding his jeans and briefs down just far enough that Foggy was laid bare in front of Matt, cock standing out embarrassingly hard in the cool air. Almost wanting to get away (for want of trying to figure out what was going on), Foggy leaned back into the couch he was on, but Matt sat back on his heels, almost contentedly.
“What a treat you are,” he murmured, and the breathy words made Foggy twitch.
“Matt, buddy,” Foggy choked out, “Wanna tell me what you’re doing?” At his question, Matt leaned forwards, resting his chin on the crease between Foggy’s thigh and this pelvis, close enough to Foggy’s dick for some of his hair to barely brush against it. The picture it made was exquisite, Matt looking submissive and pliant in a way that Foggy hadn’t thought would’ve worked on someone with a jaw line that chiseled.
“Worshiping, “ was Matt’s simple answer, before he brought his head back and kissed the tip of the cock in front of him, letting his lips linger on the slit almost chastely.
Foggy felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs, but decided to go with it. “Don’t you need a deity or something for that?”
Matt looked up at the question and smiled softly. “Yeah, you do.” he agreed, but before Foggy could answer Matt ducked his head and lightly ran his tongue around the head of Foggy’s dick. Once again, Foggy found himself speechless, and the feeling only grew exponentially when Matt slowly slid his lips down, down, down Foggy’s shaft, carefully laving attention to every vein and ridge he passed until it became obvious that Matt was not going to stop until Foggy was pressed to the back of his throat.
“Holy shit,” Foggy breathed, and Matt, the smug fucker, huffed out a laugh despite his full mouth. Matt’s slick, hot mouth, the gentle pressure of his tongue, the press of his hands against the inside of Foggy’s thighs, all of these made Foggy’s nerves thrum below his skin. Foggy curled his fingers into Matt’s hair, perhaps a bit too tightly, but the other didn’t seem to care.
Almost too quickly, Matt’s lips found their place at the base of Foggy’s member, and Foggy had to remind himself to breath at the sight. Then, almost coyly, Matt gently swallowed once, twice, and the heat around Foggy damn well rippled.
Huffing out another laugh at Foggy’s strangled gasp, Matt pulled back, sucking all the while with a look on his face that Foggy’s fried brain could only describe as “reverent.”
It wasn’t the red of Matt’s lips that did Foggy in, nor was it the barely-there hint of teeth along the shaft as Matt worked his way back up. It wasn’t the contented little moan that Matt let out when he stopped at the head of Foggy’s dick again, suckling awhile longer on the flesh, nor the flick of his tongue against Foggy’s slit.
No, it was the wet, lewd pop! and the yearning whine that Matt’s mouth made when he finally let Foggy’s cock go that did Foggy in.
—
Foggy woke up in his hospital bed.
Slowly, he looked down, only to confirm to himself that yes, he was in fact hard enough to pound nails. Oh this was everything that he didn’t want to deal with right now.
“You, Franklin P. Nelson,” he muttered to himself, “would be going to hell even if you already hadn’t already sold your immortal soul.”
Foggy hefted himself up, groaning at the pain that still lingered in his side. After taking a few seconds to breathe through the pain that this caused him, he grabbed his IV stand and hobbled to the small bathroom off to the side.
“I’m not going to get caught spanking off like a teenager by a nurse on my last night here. They’ve been too lovely to me to deserve that.”
After the deed was done and Foggy was making his way back to the bed, he suddenly realized that he couldn’t blame *this on the medication. He’d wanted it for too long. Wanted Matt for too long.
That was troubling. He was going to ignore that for now.
Never let it be said that Foggy couldn’t deal with his emotions like a reasonable, mature adult. It was more that he chose not to.
Applied Contract Law, 6/?
Hell’s Kitchen burned, as everyone knew it eventually would.
Foggy thought he’d never see the day.
He had taken Gusion’s advice and gone to Ms. Cárdenas’s apartment half an hour early with Karen in tow (looking up the name on his office’s latest visitor might have influenced that decision. Bad things usually happened to people who didn’t listen to predictions of the future by supernatural forces).
And apparently they arrived not a moment too soon, given by the explosion that knocked all three of them off of their feet a few minutes after they had walked in the door.
As expected, the ER was swamped when they arrived, Foggy and Karen supporting Ms. Cárdenas between them, who was sporting a nasty head wound. It took a good deal of elbowing to even get into the door with all of the panicking going on, but eventually they were able to get the sweet woman into a bed with medical attention more substantial than a balled up scarf pressed up to her forehead.
Sure it wasn’t much, just a bed and a professional to pay attention to the wound, but it was the small things that really counted during these times. Small things like Karen talking Ms. Cárdenas quietly through the things that the nurses were doing, the fact that the hallways had quieted down from their frantic shrieking to a frenzied mutter, or the fact that his own adrenaline had kept him from feeling the pain in his side for so long.
Wait, what?
A bit dazed, Foggy looked down to where his hand had automatically clamped down once his nerves started putting out all of the right signals.
‘Huh,’ he thought distantly, ‘I didn’t think that blood would look that dark.’
Foggy was out before he even hit the floor, unaware of the embarrassing sound he made that Karen would later liken to a swooning maiden from an 1800’s drama.
—
Foggy woke up later in a room by himself. The weak light filtering in through the blinds suggested that he had been out long enough for the night to pass. He felt gross; oily and gritty and… oddly lightheaded. None of this however took away from the sharp twinges of pain in his side.
Involuntarily, Foggy’s eyes slid shut and groaned long and loud, a sole noise of misery to broadcast his despair in all of its melodramatic glory.
Almost in response, a weight took up place on the side of the bed. Karen? Foggy hoped it was Karen, she was probably scared out of her mind.
“Ms. Page is fine,” an unfamiliar voice answered, “She went home a few hours ago.”
“Good,” Foggy mumbled. “Thanks for looking into my brain to get at that.”
An undignified snort of laughter came from the voice. “You were speaking out loud, Foggy.”
“No way,” Foggy answered, a slow smile creeping onto his face, “You totally read my mind. Weirder things have happened to me lately.”
“Oh really?”
Foggy decided to humor the voice. “Yeah, yesterday— wassit? Maybe the day before that— this woman came in and told me I should head over to my client’s house early. And what d’ya know! It saved my life!”
“Mhmmm.”
“And then she also did this thing where she- she reached out and booped my forehead.”
“She booped your forhead?”
“That’s what I said. An- And lemme tell you it was weird. Like she was giving me a…” Foggy paused, looking for the right word.
“…a title?”
“Yeah, or a promotion, or something. You’re totally reading my mind.” Foggy reached out, eyes still closed, for the voice’s body to clap a shoulder or give a playful punch but was disappointed to find he couldn’t reach anyone from his current position.
Groaning, Foggy pried his eyes open. Through his blurry vision, a man in a suit became apparent. Foggy took a few seconds to process this before a bigger grin split his face.
“Matt!” he chuckled, “Why didn’t you say it was you?”
The man smiled, more of a smirk than anything, “I thought you knew.”
“Your voice is different,” Foggy whined, “That’s cheating.”
“You’re the one cheating; you’re on painkillers.”
Foggy made an attempt to nudge Matt with the leg the Devil sat close to, but the shock of pain that caused was enough to discourage him. Matt twisted to face Foggy at the noise of pain that this made pass his lips.
“Hells, Foggy, I’m sorry-”
The human shook off his concerns woozily. “Literally not your fault, buddy. Unless you planted the bombs I got caught up in.”
Matt’s silence seemed to suck all the air out of the room.
“Matt…” Foggy said slowly, his voice low and accusing, “Why aren’t you answering me?” Matt’s flinch at the noise almost made him feel sorry for the other.
“I’m sorry,” Matt mumbled, “Some of my… demons planted the bombs. I think it’s a turf war.”
Foggy sighed in relief, “So it wasn’t you?”
“They are my responsibility.” This time Foggy went through with lightly kicking Matt.
“You’ve got a lot of misplaced guilt in you for being Satan and all.”
Matt shot him a reproachful look. “I am their superior. I should have been aware that their spat was going to affect my dealings.”
“No one can see the future.”
Matt snorted, “You know that’s not true.”
Foggy rubbed at his temples, temper slowly rising through the brain fog brought on by the drugs. “Yes, but you couldn’t have known it would come to that, Matt.”
“I know many that did. I didn’t hear of this once. I should have been more diligent.”
Foggy sagged back into the bed, troubled. It was obvious that Matt was convinced that this was his fault and there was probably nothing Foggy could do about it. “OK,” he conceded, “you’re not going to change your mind on this, regardless of how wrong you are.” He ignored the indignant expression on Matt’s face at that and kept going. “But I am not going to do your self-fla- flage- self-flagellation for you. You seem to be doing that just fine by yourself.”
Here, Matt hung his head, shame evident in every line of his body. Foggy paused before speaking again. “I’ll be upset with you when you’re at fault, OK? And trust me, you’ll know when I am. Promise.”
Matt looked a bit conflicted over the idea, but eventually nodded, his expression carefully kept blank.
Foggy huffed out a breath and then closed his eyes, strength suddenly leaving him.
“You should get some more sleep, Foggy,” Matt murmured.
“Bossy,” Foggy replied. “But OK, I could go for a nap. These drugs are gonna mangle my sleep schedule.”
From further down the bed, Matt hummed in agreement. Foggy almost jumped when a cool, dry hand swept back the hair from his forehead, but decided against saying anything.
For the second time in less than 24 hours, Foggy dropped out of consciousness almost instantaneously.
—
Foggy and Matt were watching a movie.
This wasn’t anything new, but what was odd was then no matter how hard Foggy concentrated he had no idea what the film was. Also, he was pretty sure they had never gone to a movie theater before.
“Ah, I like this part.” Matt’s voice made Foggy look over to see the other man looking at the screen through his sunglasses.
(‘Ah, this is a dream.’ Foggy thought, ‘Matt can’t see.’)
The thought was swept away when Matt laughed at what he apparently saw on screen, open, sincere and all together breath-taking. Foggy was familiar with the sight, but he tried to never take it for granted.
Foggy tried to look at see what Matt was laughing at, he really did, but before he knew it Matt was facing him again.
“You missed it,” the man accused softly, “It was so good.”
Foggy shrugged, “Better things to look at, I guess.” Matt started at him for a while, obviously bemused. Around him, the dark interior of the movie theater morphed into an apartment, stark and Spartan in its decoration. The only lighting came from off to the side where a huge, flashing billboard took up most of the view. Foggy had never been here before.
“Better,” Matt murmured. “I wouldn’t know.”
(‘Ah good,’ Foggy mused, ‘Brain’s back to reality I see.’)
Foggy chuckled, “But it’s true.” Matt remained still, quietly observing the human.
Without warning, the scenery changed again and Matt kneeling between his legs, hands going for his fly.
“Hey, budd- ehng!” Foggy’s question was cut off when Matt deftly undid Foggy’s jeans and well, Foggy would be lying if he hadn’t thought about his before but wow this was a sudden development, dream or not.
Matt said nothing even as he heckled Foggy into lifting his hips and sliding his jeans and briefs down just far enough that Foggy was laid bare in front of Matt, cock standing out embarrassingly hard in the cool air. Almost wanting to get away (for want of trying to figure out what was going on), Foggy leaned back into the couch he was on, but Matt sat back on his heels, almost contentedly.
“What a treat you are,” he murmured, and the breathy words made Foggy twitch.
“Matt, buddy,” Foggy choked out, “Wanna tell me what you’re doing?” At his question, Matt leaned forwards, resting his chin on the crease between Foggy’s thigh and this pelvis, close enough to Foggy’s dick for some of his hair to barely brush against it. The picture it made was exquisite, Matt looking submissive and pliant in a way that Foggy hadn’t thought would’ve worked on someone with a jaw line that chiseled.
“Worshiping, “ was Matt’s simple answer, before he brought his head back and kissed the tip of the cock in front of him, letting his lips linger on the slit almost chastely.
Foggy felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs, but decided to go with it. “Don’t you need a deity or something for that?”
Matt looked up at the question and smiled softly. “Yeah, you do.” he agreed, but before Foggy could answer Matt ducked his head and lightly ran his tongue around the head of Foggy’s dick. Once again, Foggy found himself speechless, and the feeling only grew exponentially when Matt slowly slid his lips down, down, down Foggy’s shaft, carefully laving attention to every vein and ridge he passed until it became obvious that Matt was not going to stop until Foggy was pressed to the back of his throat.
“Holy shit,” Foggy breathed, and Matt, the smug fucker, huffed out a laugh despite his full mouth. Matt’s slick, hot mouth, the gentle pressure of his tongue, the press of his hands against the inside of Foggy’s thighs, all of these made Foggy’s nerves thrum below his skin. Foggy curled his fingers into Matt’s hair, perhaps a bit too tightly, but the other didn’t seem to care.
Almost too quickly, Matt’s lips found their place at the base of Foggy’s member, and Foggy had to remind himself to breath at the sight. Then, almost coyly, Matt gently swallowed once, twice, and the heat around Foggy damn well rippled.
Huffing out another laugh at Foggy’s strangled gasp, Matt pulled back, sucking all the while with a look on his face that Foggy’s fried brain could only describe as “reverent.”
It wasn’t the red of Matt’s lips that did Foggy in, nor was it the barely-there hint of teeth along the shaft as Matt worked his way back up. It wasn’t the contented little moan that Matt let out when he stopped at the head of Foggy’s dick again, suckling awhile longer on the flesh, nor the flick of his tongue against Foggy’s slit.
No, it was the wet, lewd pop! and the yearning whine that Matt’s mouth made when he finally let Foggy’s cock go that did Foggy in.
—
Foggy woke up in his hospital bed.
Slowly, he looked down, only to confirm to himself that yes, he was in fact hard enough to pound nails. Oh this was everything that he didn’t want to deal with right now.
“You, Franklin P. Nelson,” he muttered to himself, “would be going to hell even if you already hadn’t already sold your immortal soul.”
Foggy hefted himself up, groaning at the pain that still lingered in his side. After taking a few seconds to breathe through the pain that this caused him, he grabbed his IV stand and hobbled to the small bathroom off to the side.
“I’m not going to get caught spanking off like a teenager by a nurse on my last night here. They’ve been too lovely to me to deserve that.”
After the deed was done and Foggy was making his way back to the bed, he suddenly realized that he couldn’t blame *this on the medication. He’d wanted it for too long. Wanted Matt for too long.
That was troubling. He was going to ignore that for now.
Never let it be said that Foggy couldn’t deal with his emotions like a reasonable, mature adult. It was more that he chose not to.