Oh god readers I'm so sorry this took so long. Classes have started up again and my health had a little hiccup that made it hard to write. I'm going to try to update regularly, but I'm not sure I'll be able to do so at the same rate you saw this summer. @A@ I'm so sorry
Matt set Foggy up in an apartment less than half a block away from the rows and rows of demon suburbs that were clustered around the pillar. It should be noted that Foggy used the term “suburb” very loosely to describe the unsettling featureless black boxes Matt had told him each held a demon’s personal dwelling. When Foggy asked what was inside these boxes, Matt had just shrugged.
“Whatever they want. As long as it doesn’t interfere with business, it’s no concern of mine.”
The neighborhood Matt picked out for Foggy was definitely more… conventional, as most human dwellings seemed to be. (When asked, Matt said something about projections of what a “house” is and consciousness and cultural perceptions, but Foggy tuned him out as easily as he did his old philosophy professors.) By the look of it, it was more upscale than Hell’s Kitchen and the building looked relatively modern, but Foggy was surprised to find that the apartment itself was almost the same as his old one.
It was obviously not exactly the same (the nicer furniture and the lock that didn’t stick gave it away), but Foggy recognized the thought that Matt put into this and felt something akin to pride well up in his chest.
He was sure to tell Matt he appreciated the gesture, and the dork just smiled to himself before going back to fiddling with the handle of his cane.
He had no business being that endearing.
Matt had decided beforehand that it would be best for him to leave Foggy be for a few hours at this point. It would be a good let him settle into the space and get a little bit of peace before introducing him to what else Hell had in store for him.
Foggy had other plans.
Matt was getting ready to leave, inching towards the door with a tiny white lie on his tongue about how much work he had to get done when the human suddenly spoke the four most terrifying words that any language could conjure up.
“We need to talk.” Foggy’s voice was steady, but Matt noted how his elevated pulse betrayed how calm he was trying to sound. Almost in response, Matt’s own pulse started racing.
“About…?” Matt could think of a million different reasons that Foggy would take on that Very Serious Tone, especially in their situation, so while he wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to know what Foggy had going on in his head, he owed it to the human to listen.
“Right before I… passed on. You said you had feelings for me too.”
“Yes.”
“Did you mean that? Or was that just to make me happy?”
Matt stayed silent. The idea that Foggy thought he would lie about his feelings stung, but goodness knows the human trusted him too much already. A bit of suspicion was overdue, even if it was painful.
At Matt’s lack of an answer, Foggy sighed. He knew this wasn’t going to come easily.
“Matty, I like you. I like you a lot. You’re my best friend and my favorite person and I know you feel the same way. I also like you romantically, but if you don’t feel the same way… I need to know. It’s only fair and I think the least we could do for ourselves is communicate clearly about this.”
Even as the words left his mouth, Foggy found himself wanting to curl up and disappear. He knew he sounded accusatory and defensive, but the thought that Matt maybe had just said he had feelings for Foggy just to be… polite or as a weird obligatory part of their Contract that Foggy mistook for actual feelings turned his stomach.
His fears were soon quelled though.
“Yes.” Matt blurted out, before catching himself. “I mean, no— yes, I meant it. I feel— I feel the same way. Romantically.”
The sigh that left Foggy at that could have leveled buildings.
Despite this new information, neither of them moved, both suddenly unsure of what to do.
Surprisingly, it was Matt that made the first move.
“Can I…” Matt’s voice was small in the silence between them. Matt seemed at a loss for words, but held his arms out to Foggy. His expression was unsure, and if you looked hard enough, you could see that his hands were shaking.
“I want to. Can I?”
Foggy smiled. Matt was actually asking him for contact under no guise whatsoever. Something warm and fluttering (feeling oddly between pride and affection) started up in Foggy’s chest, which only spread throughout his entire body when he stepped into the circle of Matt’s arms and wrapped him up in the snuggest embrace that he could manage.
“Of course,” Foggy murmured into Matt’s shoulder, the wool of his suit rough against his face, “You don’t even have to ask.”
Matt shuddered in response. Turning his head, he pressed his lips into the skin of Foggy’s neck, right below his ear. Foggy huffed out a small breath at the contact, but waited for Matt to pull away before going in to press his own kiss to Matt’s lips.
It was chaste, simple, and probably lasted long enough to make anyone observing uncomfortable, but to them it just felt like they slipped into the spots that the universe carved out for them. Like coming to rest right where they belonged.
Like they were falling into place.
And God, who wouldn’t go to Hell for that? — Eventually they shambled their way to Foggy’s couch, which creaked familiarly under their combined weight (though that seemed more for show than anything else, given by its newfound sturdiness). Matt draped himself over Foggy, listening to the sounds of his vessel and trying to sort out what just happened. Foggy meanwhile, ran absent fingers through Matt’s hair. Neither of them felt the need to talk, and just enjoyed the easy silence and the warmth of each other, for no reasons other than the contact itself.
This was shattered by a series of quick, quiet knocks on the door.
Foggy sighed, “Neighbors already? Ugh. Come on, skooch, I should answer that.” He wriggled his way from out under Matt, gently admonishing him as he went. Matt’s groan of discontent was a truly pitiful thing, and Foggy completely ignored it.
Finally untangling himself, Foggy hurried over to the door. A small part of him was wondering if it would be wise to even answer the door. On one hand, he would have done it without thinking while in Hell’s Kitchen, but he wondered now just how good were the odds that he would open this door to find that his next door neighbor was a serial killer… or a door-to-door salesperson.
Still, what was the worst that could happen? He was already dead.
For all of the thought he put into the issue by the time that he actually opened the door, he found who was standing on his doorstep to be… kind of anticlimactic.
Don’t get him wrong, he liked seeing his old coworkers, but having Dave Wallace from L&Z accounting standing on your welcome mat a few hours after you got to Hell was not exactly Faustian material.
“Dave…?”
Foggy’s hesitant question was cut off when Dave whipped an honest-to-God parchment scroll out of thin air and reading it off in a voice too high and fast to connect to the laid back person who carried pictures of kittens around in his wallet that Foggy knew.
“I- I bring tidings from Lord Abbadon, Angel of the Abyss, The Destroyer, Bringer of Swarms, and the promise of a gift from him. This is the first of a series of gifts given in homage by each notable demon of Hell (done so in alphabetical order as to avoid any signs of favoritism among the ranks). Please let him present to you a plague of locusts to release upon the mortal plane if you so desire, the likes of which have not been seen on Earth for centuries.”
Here, Dave held out a huge corked bottle pot, buzzing and wrapped in velvet that Foggy took dazedly while Dave continued reading.
“Should you find this unsatisfactory, my Lord would like to offer his most sincere apologies and accept whatever punishment you would deem necessary for such an insufficient offering. He hopes it is to your liking.”
“Dave…” Foggy tried to interrupt the demon while he was taking a deep breath, but Dave quickly continued talking at a breakneck speed, seemingly oblivious of Foggy’s concern as his eyes were glued to his parchment.
“My lord wishes upon you good fortune in your new position in this realm and that you keep him in your good graces. That is to not say that he doubts your judgment, only that he is excited to see what you plan on doing with your newfound eternity. After all, your—”
“Dave!” Foggy’s sharp yelp was finally enough to make Dave look up, who regarded the human with something that looked uncomfortably like terror.
“What the hell, Dave? What’s going on?”
From the living room, Matt’s voice piped up. “He needs to finish the scroll! It’s spelled to sense any deviations from the text it contains and Abbadon has a flair for dramatic punishment.”
Foggy shot Dave a meaningful look, and was dismayed to see the demon nod in affirmation. With a sigh, Foggy just sighed and nodded at Dave to continue, who did so at a much slower pace.
“After all, your appointment to the esteemed position of head of conflict resolution and interest management is an unprecedented movement in Hell’s upper management. He is most interested to see the development of this department and how the introduction of a human into this process will affect this realm as a whole. And so, with wishes of best luck, My Lord gives his warmest welcomes.”
The sigh of relief that left Dave on that last line was accompanied by an odd buzzing pulse in the air that Foggy could only suspect was the… spell on the scroll being released.
The human waited a few second for Dave to re-catch his breath, before asking again slowly, “Dave, what the hell?”
In response, Dave just shifted and muttered, “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
Despite himself, Foggy could feel a strangled scream building up in his throat. Was Earth the only place that he could get a straight answer from anyone?
It was at this moment that Matt decided to poke his head into the entryway. “Should I go?” he asked, innocent expression firmly in place. The shudder that ran through Dave at the sight of Matt was truly impressive, but the demon only managed a slight squeak of fright.
It was obvious that Foggy wasn’t going to get anything out of him like this.
“Dave and I are going to get some coffee,” Foggy said, leaning down to reach for his shoes. “And when I get back, we’re going to talk about your hiring process.” Foggy paused in the middle of doing up his laces to shoot Matt a stinging (but largely moot) look, only to see Matt’s obviously rehearsed look of innocence slide into something a bit more smug.
“Sounds good,” Matt said, “See you then.”
Grunting, Foggy straightened up and stepped out of the apartment, closing the door a bit harder than necessary. Fully knowing Matt could still hear them, he turned to Dave and put on his most charming smile (which Karen used to say could look downright threatening if used in the right context).
“I’m sorry, I should have asked you before I stepped out, but could we get a cup? I don’t have any money I can use down here. I need a few answers and some caffeine couldn’t hurt.”
Applied Contract Law, 12/?
Matt set Foggy up in an apartment less than half a block away from the rows and rows of demon suburbs that were clustered around the pillar. It should be noted that Foggy used the term “suburb” very loosely to describe the unsettling featureless black boxes Matt had told him each held a demon’s personal dwelling. When Foggy asked what was inside these boxes, Matt had just shrugged.
“Whatever they want. As long as it doesn’t interfere with business, it’s no concern of mine.”
The neighborhood Matt picked out for Foggy was definitely more… conventional, as most human dwellings seemed to be. (When asked, Matt said something about projections of what a “house” is and consciousness and cultural perceptions, but Foggy tuned him out as easily as he did his old philosophy professors.) By the look of it, it was more upscale than Hell’s Kitchen and the building looked relatively modern, but Foggy was surprised to find that the apartment itself was almost the same as his old one.
It was obviously not exactly the same (the nicer furniture and the lock that didn’t stick gave it away), but Foggy recognized the thought that Matt put into this and felt something akin to pride well up in his chest.
He was sure to tell Matt he appreciated the gesture, and the dork just smiled to himself before going back to fiddling with the handle of his cane.
He had no business being that endearing.
Matt had decided beforehand that it would be best for him to leave Foggy be for a few hours at this point. It would be a good let him settle into the space and get a little bit of peace before introducing him to what else Hell had in store for him.
Foggy had other plans.
Matt was getting ready to leave, inching towards the door with a tiny white lie on his tongue about how much work he had to get done when the human suddenly spoke the four most terrifying words that any language could conjure up.
“We need to talk.” Foggy’s voice was steady, but Matt noted how his elevated pulse betrayed how calm he was trying to sound. Almost in response, Matt’s own pulse started racing.
“About…?” Matt could think of a million different reasons that Foggy would take on that Very Serious Tone, especially in their situation, so while he wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to know what Foggy had going on in his head, he owed it to the human to listen.
“Right before I… passed on. You said you had feelings for me too.”
“Yes.”
“Did you mean that? Or was that just to make me happy?”
Matt stayed silent. The idea that Foggy thought he would lie about his feelings stung, but goodness knows the human trusted him too much already. A bit of suspicion was overdue, even if it was painful.
At Matt’s lack of an answer, Foggy sighed. He knew this wasn’t going to come easily.
“Matty, I like you. I like you a lot. You’re my best friend and my favorite person and I know you feel the same way. I also like you romantically, but if you don’t feel the same way… I need to know. It’s only fair and I think the least we could do for ourselves is communicate clearly about this.”
Even as the words left his mouth, Foggy found himself wanting to curl up and disappear. He knew he sounded accusatory and defensive, but the thought that Matt maybe had just said he had feelings for Foggy just to be… polite or as a weird obligatory part of their Contract that Foggy mistook for actual feelings turned his stomach.
His fears were soon quelled though.
“Yes.” Matt blurted out, before catching himself. “I mean, no— yes, I meant it. I feel— I feel the same way. Romantically.”
The sigh that left Foggy at that could have leveled buildings.
Despite this new information, neither of them moved, both suddenly unsure of what to do.
Surprisingly, it was Matt that made the first move.
“Can I…” Matt’s voice was small in the silence between them. Matt seemed at a loss for words, but held his arms out to Foggy. His expression was unsure, and if you looked hard enough, you could see that his hands were shaking.
“I want to. Can I?”
Foggy smiled. Matt was actually asking him for contact under no guise whatsoever. Something warm and fluttering (feeling oddly between pride and affection) started up in Foggy’s chest, which only spread throughout his entire body when he stepped into the circle of Matt’s arms and wrapped him up in the snuggest embrace that he could manage.
“Of course,” Foggy murmured into Matt’s shoulder, the wool of his suit rough against his face, “You don’t even have to ask.”
Matt shuddered in response. Turning his head, he pressed his lips into the skin of Foggy’s neck, right below his ear. Foggy huffed out a small breath at the contact, but waited for Matt to pull away before going in to press his own kiss to Matt’s lips.
It was chaste, simple, and probably lasted long enough to make anyone observing uncomfortable, but to them it just felt like they slipped into the spots that the universe carved out for them. Like coming to rest right where they belonged.
Like they were falling into place.
And God, who wouldn’t go to Hell for that?
—
Eventually they shambled their way to Foggy’s couch, which creaked familiarly under their combined weight (though that seemed more for show than anything else, given by its newfound sturdiness). Matt draped himself over Foggy, listening to the sounds of his vessel and trying to sort out what just happened. Foggy meanwhile, ran absent fingers through Matt’s hair. Neither of them felt the need to talk, and just enjoyed the easy silence and the warmth of each other, for no reasons other than the contact itself.
This was shattered by a series of quick, quiet knocks on the door.
Foggy sighed, “Neighbors already? Ugh. Come on, skooch, I should answer that.” He wriggled his way from out under Matt, gently admonishing him as he went. Matt’s groan of discontent was a truly pitiful thing, and Foggy completely ignored it.
Finally untangling himself, Foggy hurried over to the door. A small part of him was wondering if it would be wise to even answer the door. On one hand, he would have done it without thinking while in Hell’s Kitchen, but he wondered now just how good were the odds that he would open this door to find that his next door neighbor was a serial killer… or a door-to-door salesperson.
Still, what was the worst that could happen? He was already dead.
For all of the thought he put into the issue by the time that he actually opened the door, he found who was standing on his doorstep to be… kind of anticlimactic.
Don’t get him wrong, he liked seeing his old coworkers, but having Dave Wallace from L&Z accounting standing on your welcome mat a few hours after you got to Hell was not exactly Faustian material.
“Dave…?”
Foggy’s hesitant question was cut off when Dave whipped an honest-to-God parchment scroll out of thin air and reading it off in a voice too high and fast to connect to the laid back person who carried pictures of kittens around in his wallet that Foggy knew.
“I- I bring tidings from Lord Abbadon, Angel of the Abyss, The Destroyer, Bringer of Swarms, and the promise of a gift from him. This is the first of a series of gifts given in homage by each notable demon of Hell (done so in alphabetical order as to avoid any signs of favoritism among the ranks). Please let him present to you a plague of locusts to release upon the mortal plane if you so desire, the likes of which have not been seen on Earth for centuries.”
Here, Dave held out a huge corked bottle pot, buzzing and wrapped in velvet that Foggy took dazedly while Dave continued reading.
“Should you find this unsatisfactory, my Lord would like to offer his most sincere apologies and accept whatever punishment you would deem necessary for such an insufficient offering. He hopes it is to your liking.”
“Dave…” Foggy tried to interrupt the demon while he was taking a deep breath, but Dave quickly continued talking at a breakneck speed, seemingly oblivious of Foggy’s concern as his eyes were glued to his parchment.
“My lord wishes upon you good fortune in your new position in this realm and that you keep him in your good graces. That is to not say that he doubts your judgment, only that he is excited to see what you plan on doing with your newfound eternity. After all, your—”
“Dave!” Foggy’s sharp yelp was finally enough to make Dave look up, who regarded the human with something that looked uncomfortably like terror.
“What the hell, Dave? What’s going on?”
From the living room, Matt’s voice piped up. “He needs to finish the scroll! It’s spelled to sense any deviations from the text it contains and Abbadon has a flair for dramatic punishment.”
Foggy shot Dave a meaningful look, and was dismayed to see the demon nod in affirmation. With a sigh, Foggy just sighed and nodded at Dave to continue, who did so at a much slower pace.
“After all, your appointment to the esteemed position of head of conflict resolution and interest management is an unprecedented movement in Hell’s upper management. He is most interested to see the development of this department and how the introduction of a human into this process will affect this realm as a whole. And so, with wishes of best luck, My Lord gives his warmest welcomes.”
The sigh of relief that left Dave on that last line was accompanied by an odd buzzing pulse in the air that Foggy could only suspect was the… spell on the scroll being released.
The human waited a few second for Dave to re-catch his breath, before asking again slowly, “Dave, what the hell?”
In response, Dave just shifted and muttered, “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
Despite himself, Foggy could feel a strangled scream building up in his throat. Was Earth the only place that he could get a straight answer from anyone?
It was at this moment that Matt decided to poke his head into the entryway. “Should I go?” he asked, innocent expression firmly in place. The shudder that ran through Dave at the sight of Matt was truly impressive, but the demon only managed a slight squeak of fright.
It was obvious that Foggy wasn’t going to get anything out of him like this.
“Dave and I are going to get some coffee,” Foggy said, leaning down to reach for his shoes. “And when I get back, we’re going to talk about your hiring process.” Foggy paused in the middle of doing up his laces to shoot Matt a stinging (but largely moot) look, only to see Matt’s obviously rehearsed look of innocence slide into something a bit more smug.
“Sounds good,” Matt said, “See you then.”
Grunting, Foggy straightened up and stepped out of the apartment, closing the door a bit harder than necessary. Fully knowing Matt could still hear them, he turned to Dave and put on his most charming smile (which Karen used to say could look downright threatening if used in the right context).
“I’m sorry, I should have asked you before I stepped out, but could we get a cup? I don’t have any money I can use down here. I need a few answers and some caffeine couldn’t hurt.”
Dave gulped nervously, but nodded.