daredevilkink | Prompt Post #4

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Official Date Night worked...surprisingly well, for all that they had a third wheel along. Marci wasn't ever going to go balls to walls for Matt like Foggy would, but she'd started to see...well, how they worked together, if not why, and they were pretty fucking seamless.

And there were weird moments of solidarity: she'd had two beers and a whiskey, and in a thoughtless moment (five hundred extra calories, damnit) she'd said "gonna hurt working all of this off tomorrow, though."

Matt had smirked, and sighed, and said "but at least you don't have to worry about the steak fries, I'm screwed."

"You loved the fries," Foggy said, and lowered his voice to daredevil levels of barely-audible: "plus I know you gotta heal up that - the thing on your man boob."

**

So there were moments when she got an idea of the human Matt, not the Daredevil or the robotic weirdo kid from law school, and then there were the times that she.

She'd never meant to feel bad for him: he was a violent vigilante staying juuuuust this side of the law, and to be honest if she hadn't been this stupid over Foggy she probably would've made an anonymous tip.

And then he pulled shit like this.

She'd demanded a change, a month in: Weekly Date Night was good, sure, and she was even okay with moving it week-to-week ("so nobody gets an idea of Daredevil's schedule," Matt had said.) but even though they got together as a group, and then she and Foggy went home, it was - she missed getting Foggy to herself.

"Yeah," he'd said. "I didn't want to. Does it sound selfish? I thought it was a little selfish. But."

"Oh, date night isn't changing," she told him. "I like seeing you two dressed half-way decent: I'm a good influence on your lives. You can take me out to lunch twice a week, though, so I can get you to myself."

"Yeah," Foggy said, relieved, and eager.

**

They realized the mistake after Matt showed up half-an-hour late to Date Night for the third time in a row.

"The hell, Murdock?" Marci asked, because it was rude as shit, and he didn't even look guilty.

"You okay, Matty?" Foggy asked, because he would always be a giant marshmallow around Matt.

"I'm fine," Matt said, sliding into his seat: his ears and his cheeks had gone bright red. That hadn't changed since law school; good to know. "I just wanted to. Give you guys. Space?"

Marci fought the urge to bang her head against the table. She'd just dyed her hair. She was wearing some nice mascara. Matt didn't have the right to make her freak out.

"No, Matt," Foggy had already started, gentle and serious, so Marci let him finish before she started, but start she would, damnit. "You're not in the way, bud, it's - we like having you along, we do."

"Lunchtime is my time," Marci said, smiling bright as a shark, even though Matt couldn't see it. "Date Night is when you get to show up at eight pm sharp, or have a damn good reason to ditch, because the whole point is that nobody has to worry about whether you're dead somewhere." (Had that been cruel enough? If it sounded bitchy enough, Matt probably wouldn't be able to tell that she meant it: god, she hoped it would be enough.)

I am really enjoying this fill, and how sharp and direct Marci is about getting what she wants. :D

oh man, i am CRAZY GLAD it is working for you.

(...as it turns out, matt and foggy and marci all have HUGE WEIRD personalities, and thinking about them together is tricky and intriguing? so hearing that it works is v. reassuring, honestly.)

"...I'll give you whatever we make off the next case," Foggy told the pillow, that Monday, "if you god help me let me sleep in another hour, I still can't feel my thighs."

"You sleep in if you want," Marci said. She felt - well. She was basically never going to get over how much she loved it when she got to put a buttplug up Foggy's ass and make him eat her out for as long as she could stand it: it geared her up, gave her energy for the new week.

There was the uncomfortable realization that it wiped Foggy out, which mean. She probably shouldn't do it on Sunday nights, damnit.

"You ever think about how responsibility is shitty?" she asked, clamping the eyelash curler shut.

"...ow," Foggy said, hauling himself past her bathroom door, towards the coffee pot. "Yes!" he shouted. "Being your own boss was supposed to get rid of the petty shit like "office hours" and "being on time," but now I feel extra guilty when Karen gets to the office before me."

***

That morning, bout eleven AM, was when both Karen and Foggy texted her in serious stages of panic: you should get over here, everyone's going nuts, Karen sent, and Foggy sent ur hired wanna defend an AVENGER get over hr RIGHT NOW before matt insults him outta our office HELP I NEED BACKUP stahl!!.

***

"Hey so," Matt said, a month or so later, looking happy and well-fed and pleasantly buzzed. Marci was starting to get how Foggy - normally so intelligent and even-keeled - had fallen for Matt. He was like those - what-was-it-called, the game theory: there was almost no chance of seeing him happy and relaxed on a reliable schedule, but sometimes you got lucky, and the infrequent, unpredictable days when he went loose and pleased were just enough positive reinforcement to get you hooked.

Also the ass. The ass was fucking perfect.

"I can't make it next Friday," Matt said. "So next Friday would be the perfect day for you two to check out that pho place."

"Junk food date!" Foggy cheered, and winked at Marci, and damnit, she couldn't go around grinning all the time just because her boyfriend was a cutie. That was for teenagers. "Wait, why? Are -" obligatory drop in volume - "criminals penciling you in, now?"

Matt threw back his head, giggling. Marci bit her lip and made a mental note to grab a cab: it had only taken one time when Matt had declared himself totally fine to walk home. The video had gone viral on youtube: thank god the aspiring film student hadn't gotten a shot of Matt's face, but there'd been a solid thirty seconds of a man in a shirt walking on his hands, tie dangling. Matt tipsy and in a good mood meant ridiculous shenanigans. "I wish they would," he said. "No, I have a date next Friday."

Marci blinked.

She was less than impressed by the idea that Matt could tell if someone was being honest or not: she'd met people who could pass polygraphs without flinching, people who knew all the tricks and shortcuts to use to get the jury on your side. She'd learned some of them, and she was still practicing some of them.

"Good for you," she said, and made sure that she meant it.

"Aw, yeah, bud," Foggy said, shaking his head, wry and pleased. "How do you do it? When do you find time to meet these women? Do you sleep? Wait, do I know her?"

Matt blushed, looking quietly pleased with himself; Marci buried herself in her white wine, thinking shit.

**

That night, at her place, Foggy flopped across her clean grey quilt and sighed in real despair. "I'm a fucking idiot," he told - her? the ceiling? - she wasn't sure.

this continues to be great! :D

♥♥♥

BE STILL MY BEATING HEART.
I just shouted that out white grabbing my chest. Thanks a lot.
(No but seriously this is great).

i've only just read all this and i love it so much and oh god please tell me there's more???

Prompt Post #4

Re: Marcy/Foggy/Matt

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Re: Marcy/Foggy/Matt

Re: Marcy/Foggy/Matt

Re: Marcy/Foggy/Matt

Re: Marcy/Foggy/Matt

Re: Marcy/Foggy/Matt

Re: Marcy/Foggy/Matt