daredevilkink | Prompt Post #4

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Prompt Post #4

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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.

I bet Mtt was fo r real in hsi dream, afetr all a demon can lure on your dreams.

(A!anon) Hard to say. Matt could have easily been the cause of the dream and subtlety isn't exactly his forte, but he's also an awkward duckling who doesn't really get stuff like relationships.

oh foggy, you are only just now realizing you're in trouble...? :D

(A!anon) he tries, but good lord he has no idea what he's doing

This turned out to be a bit of a mini-chapter since the next one is turning out to be pretty big in both size and content. Enjoy!

It was two days after Foggy got out of the hospital that Marci called him. Foggy had been confined to his apartment by Karen, Matt, and doctor’s order, and already he was getting a bit restless. This being said, when the opening chords to Baracuda started issuing from his phone, he was glad for the distraction.

“Hey Marc,” greeted upon accepting the call. They had talked on and off since he left L&Z and though he was loath to admit it, there were times that Foggy almost missed her.

“Foggy bear! You’re alive!”

“And with only one new hole in my side to show for it,” Foggy leaned back into his couch. “What drove you to call me up? Finally giving Nelson and Stahl some consideration?”

“Please,” Marci snorted, “Like you could afford me. I’m calling to see if you got the message with my get-well present.”

Foggy frowned, “Your what now?”

Marci snickered over the line; Foggy had a bad feeling about this already. “Oh you know, just a little something you should’ve gotten a few nights ago. You might have felt a bit hot under the collar?”

“Something I should have- Marci. Marci, no.”

The snickers coming through the speaker on Foggy’s speaker turned into outright cackles.

“Marci, did you give me a wet dream?!”

Marci’s continued laughter was an answer in itself.

“You utter harpy!”

It took a long time for Marci’s laughter to die out, all the while Foggy fumed with well-deserved rage.

“Oh, Foggy- whew! It wasn’t like I put anything new in your subconscious! I just… nudged some stuff forwards and your brain ran with it. I didn’t even to stick around to see the show.”

“That still doesn’t tell me why!”

“Professionally or personally?”

Foggy let out a noise of irritation. “Both! Why not? Entertain me.”

“OK, so first off? Anyone could tell you got a boat-load of lust for that boy. Bringing it to a peak was just too good to pass up and easy to boot. And the fact that the object of your temptation is Satan himself? That just looks good on my resume.”

“I hate you,” Foggy moaned, “That makes sense and I hate you for that.”

“Oh shush,” came Marci’s static-y response, “Just be glad you have high standards. It was far from the most disturbing dream I’ve had to plant.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I was never aiming for that. Let’s also not brush over the fact that I refuse to have the best lay of my seventh time in law school go down with some bullshit unrequited lust that’s never acted on. “

“The best? Seriously?”

“Don’t let it go to your head. Columbia’s got a pretty rigorous law curriculum this century; I was busy even without all of the… future investments I was making at the time. You were hardly at the top of my list of priorities.”

“You make me feel so loved,” Foggy said, voice dry as a bone.

“Hm, I’ll have to fix that then. And I know someone you could try—”

“No.”

“Come on! Take one for the team, Nelson!”

“There’s an obvious conflict of interest, Stahl. I’d bet everything that’s still mine that if I did happen to lose my very shaky grip on sanity right now and actually decide to pursue Matt you’d get a promotion or something.”

“Hey, a few positions have opened up Down Under. I’ve been topside so long I think I’m going native. You know what happened to the last demon that did that? He botched Armageddon itself!”

“Good for him. My point still stands, Matt is going to own my soul for all of eternity in a matter of time! It’d make for an awkward relationship! I’m not letting you use my sex life as a resume-building exercise.”

“You’re nothing outside of the box, Foggy bear,” Marci purred, her mind obviously set on something. Oh no, Foggy recognized this tone. It was the same tone Marci used every time she made a clearly bad idea seem plausible enough for Foggy to go through it.

“No,” Foggy cut her off. “I’m not doing this. I’m hanging up.”

And Foggy did. However, even after his thumb hit the ‘end call’ button, Marci’s voice still rang through the speaker.

“OK, you don’t want to hear me out for some ineffable reason but I am going to tell you one thing before I go. Consider it a freebie.”

Here, Marci’s voice dropped into a low, serious tone that Foggy hadn’t heard for a very long time.

“For whatever reason Matt’s got his sights set on you, anyone who’s anyone downstairs knows that. Use that wisely. But also, be careful of what that comes with. Take care of yourself.”

Finally, Marci’s voice cut off, and in the silence, Foggy was left to ponder just what she had meant.

marci is such a TROLL. <3

(A!anon) Her and Matt. I s2g they bring a new meaning to the phrase "match made in Hell."

Oh Marci i love your arpy sexy demon 7 times in law school self.

(A!anon) As do I, anon. As do I. (Thank you for commenting!!)

Aw man readers, I've had this chapter in the words for weeks now and i'm so excited to post it!!!! @u@ I hope you like it!!! This should mark a definite shift in the plot so buckle up!

Foggy was an admittedly heavy sleeper, so when he blinked awake at 3:06AM (on a weeknight too, a part of him groaned) he knew something was up. Sitting up, he quickly found out what it was.

Perched at the end of his bed was Matt. His profile was barely visible in the low light, but Foggy could tell that he was about to deal with some Olympic-grade brooding.

Foggy groaned, “I wish I could say this isn’t the creepiest way I’ve ever been woken up. What up, buddy? You OK?”

Matt didn’t say anything for a good long while, before he finally murmured, “I collected on a Contract tonight for another demon. In person.”

This was enough to set off alarms in Foggy’s head. The human sighed, steeled himself, and then drew from a lesson that his father had ingrained on him from the get-go: food might not solve problems, but wallowing in your misery on an empty stomach is somehow worse than when you were full.

“Hey, go take a seat in the kitchen. I’ll be right out and then we can talk.”

In lieu of an answer, Matt got up and shuffled out. Foggy sighed yet again, before rolling out of bed and stretching. Taking time to throw on a robe (because dang it, February was cold), Foggy soon followed after his friend.

Once in the kitchen, Foggy flipped on the lights. In the harsh fluorescence it became quickly obvious to him that Matt wasn’t on this plane with a decent sacrifice (Marci had been the one to fill him in on that detail, bless (maybe?) her heart). His vessel’s skin was patchy with splotches of unnatural color, his hands were just this side of too spindly and clawed, and atop his skull sat two little nubby horns that would have been adorable if not for the situation. Matt had never been this far from human with him before.

Foggy made a beeline to his emergency cocoa powder stash, already dreading what was to come.

“I’m gonna make some hot chocolate, kay? It’s what my dad used to make whenever he felt that he hit rock bottom. Left me a mean recipe. It’s not much, but it’s something I can do.”

Matt grunted, “You could try taking this seriously.”

“Matt,” Foggy turned to level a flat look at the Devil, “I am. Stop trying to pick a fight. You need to solidify a bit and this might help.” Foggy turned back to his pantry, plucking containers of cloves, cayenne, and cinnamon from the shelves to use later, before moving to the fridge to grab the other ingredients. “I am listening however, so talk as much or as little as you want.”

It took about 5 minutes of Foggy bustling about before Matt chose to speak.

“He wasn’t a good man, they guy I collected. He lied, stole, and hurt people even before he entered into a Contract. He moved up to murder once he entered into that agreement.”

Foggy hummed, “But…?”

“…he made the deal to protect a friend. He wanted to keep their activities and identities out of the public eye. His friend would have probably gotten caught without the protection.” Foggy nodded, efficiently zesting an orange into the pot of heating milk. Behind him, Matt started absently running his fingers over the scratches in Foggy’s old kitchen table.

“They both went public after the deal ran out. That was months ago.”

Foggy looked up from the stove. “So what gives? Someone on your end goof up?” Matt shook his head. “My people don’t goof up on collecting Contracts, especially with such influential people. This man had protection.”

“Protection?” Foggy scoffed, “From the forces of Hell?” Matt nodded and Foggy sighed, “What, did he have like, an angel or something?”

“Partially,” Matt deadpanned, “He make friends with a human descended from the Nephilim. One that knows her way around a pentagram.”

“Oh,” Foggy said, probably more shocked than he should be. “That sounds bad.”

“Half-angels are the worst,” Matt scowled, “All of the righteousness of an actual angel, but none of the direction. They get their teeth into something and it’s nigh impossible for them to stop. The witch gave him protection enough to keep the Contract-holder off his back as long as he did.”

Foggy went back to stirring the cocoa. “So what was different about tonight?”

“She was indisposed. The charity ball she was attending with the Contract-holder’s friend had something nasty in the champagne. Not my fault. None of my people know who did it.”

“Hmmm…”

“…he was dead before I got to him. He went to intimidate someone he suspected of poisoning the half-blood, but he got himself shot.” Matt snorted, “The Contract was the only thing keeping him on this plane.”

“So that’s how you caught him.”

“Yeah, but Foggy,” Matt took a deep breath. “He was— the things he did were horrendous. And trying to get out of a deal using a half-angel— that's just asking for trouble. I had to deal with him myself; there is no higher authority he could have gone to.”

Foggy said nothing, but made a quick detour to grab a can of whipped cream he kept for particularly bad nights. This seemed like an appropriate occasion.

“I worked him over for days, Foggy. Days and he didn’t once try to bargain with me to get off the rack, he didn’t ask for a way out, no matter how much I ripped him apart. Most don’t make it an hour under my lash. By the time we were done he was unrecognizable, but he didn’t break. It was like he knew he deserved it. And I don’t think he regretted it.”

Matt’s voice quieted to a whisper by the end of this small speech. Foggy was suddenly reminded of two things. One was his earlier conversation with Marci; her words of caution seemed suddenly infinitely more applicable. The second was Matt dodging Foggy’s earlier questions about what he did every day. This was Matt fessing up; this was Matt coming right out and saying that yes, he did in fact torture human souls on a daily basis.

But this was also the same Matt who hated puns and anything licorice-flavored, and couldn’t take his coffee with anything less than four little packets of sugar.

This was Matt, who was shaken enough by a soul not regretting its own awful actions that he came to Foggy to reconcile.

Matt, who was probably waiting for Foggy to get angry, even though he was just doing what he felt was right.

Staring into the cocoa whirlpool he created, Foggy said slowly, “He scares you.”

“Humans scare me,” Matt’s brittle scoff rang around the small room uncomfortably. “I’ve been doing this for centuries and I still- they just-” Here, Matt made a frustrated noise before hissing, “They’re mistakes. They always were. They do awful things constantly and play into my hands like they were made for it. Useless.”

A bit dazedly, Foggy mused that he should probably write this down later. He’d make a killing off of it in the right occult circles. He tried to ignore the very tangible waves of rage that rolled off of Matt, slowly pushing everything away from the fallen angel ever so slightly and sending chills down his spine.

“And they’re so easy to fool too. It’s great! And when it comes time for me to step in…” Here, Foggy could hear Matt drag in a raspy wheeze of a breath before sighing, “They scream so p̭̲̬̱̝̲̪͈͐̓̎͂r̰̹̠̍̆̏ͭe̜̣͎̦̳̦̽͒̋͂ͭͪͅt̮̩͙̭̏ͤt̞͕͕̉͑̑̈́̋́ͥ̈́y̥̻̎͆͗̋͌͋̾̔.”

The last word hung in the air, until Foggy turned, heart hammering in his chest, to look at Matt, who seemed to be somehow less human than when he had last looked (though for the life of him, he couldn’t exactly say how).

Matt seemed to shake himself.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, “That was uncalled for.”

Foggy chose not to respond, but turned back to the stove. Silently, he tested the cocoa, before pouring it into two of his favorite mugs, chipped and worn with age. After taking some time to top off their mugs with whipped cream, he brought them over to the table. “Your two-o’-clock,” he murmured, setting Matt’s mug in front of him.

The devil took the cup without comment. Cautiously he took a sip, and Foggy could see the discolored patches on his skin meld back into pale peach and the bones in his hands reform themselves into something a bit more human. The horns however, stayed.

“And then there’s you and him.” Matt’s mutter into his mug made Foggy look up.

“Him? Like, upstairs Him?”

“No,” Matt’s answer was quick and he jerked his head up to look at Foggy sharply. The effect was slightly ruined by the spot of whipped cream on the tip of his nose, but Foggy tried to ignore the funny feelings that particular detail did to his chest.

“No, I was talking about the soul I collected. You both… made deals to benefit others. Others who aren’t necessarily good people.”

Foggy hummed into his own mug. “Some people would call that noble. You did.”

“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t inane.”

Foggy considered Matt carefully, the expression behind his glasses was more troubled than angry, there was clearly something deeper than this. “He and I both made our decisions.” Foggy took a sip from his mug, steeling himself for the next thing that came out of his mouth.

“I think you’d know a few things about that.”

Matt went off like a supernova in Foggy’s kitchen.

“Both you and him are going to pay for those decisions for all of eternity! You have literally no idea what that entails!”

“Some decisions are worth it.” Foggy’s calm voice betrayed how hard his heart was beating. This seemed to frustrate Matt even further.

“How could you possibly know that? You can’t!” he spat, his hands gripped tighter at the mug in his hands. “You humans never learn! If you’d all just accept what you’re given and break even instead of being selfish and questioning how things are then you’d be spared a literal eternity of pain— and you can trust me on that last part— and then I wouldn’t have had to step in and do what’s meant to be done!”

The frantic, bitter edge to Matt’s voice spurred Foggy into action. With hardly a thought spared for how this could go wrong, he stood and hastily crossed the space to Matt’s chair to stand by the other, who was still ranting.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s noble or right or whatever! Once you’ve cast yourself out of good graces that soundly there- there’s no going back and you don’t seem to get-”

Almost on autopilot, Foggy thread his fingers into Matt’s hair, reaching for any friendly contact that would bring him back from whatever ugly place his own memories dragged him. Matt immediately barely leaned into the touch, angry words dying on his tongue. Foggy took the hint and leaned in as well, hands running down to cup the back of Matt’s neck (trying frantically not to think about how intimate the gesture was).

Matt however, in all of his ‘personal-space-is-a-human-construct-that-I-don’t-understand-nor-do-I-want-to-since-it-can-be-used-to-unnerve-some’ glory, took no notice and twisted to bury his face into Foggy’s side.

“You were projecting a bit,” Foggy murmured, hand going back to smoothing back Matt’s hair, carefully avoiding his horns.

“Was not.” Matt’s petulant mutter was enough to make Foggy chuckle.

“Whatever, you know I’m right.”

Matt hummed, face still pressed into Foggy. “You usually are.”

Foggy tried to ignore the hitching breath that came from Matt, if for nothing more than the dignity of the other, but they still tugged at his heartstrings. Against his better instincts, Foggy leaned over Matt in a protective curl.

“Shh. Matt, Matty, I’ve got you.”

Matt turned his face towards Foggy’s voice, and the human was a tad started to see that somehow the other’s glasses remained intact and still perched on Matt’s face.

“Yeah you do, ironically enough,” Matt murmured, obviously contemplating whatever implications that had for him.

“My life is ironic,” Foggy groused, only half-joking. Matt huffed out a laugh before re-burying his face into the terrycloth of Foggy’s robe. The human frowned at that; he knew how sensitive Matt’s skin could be.

“That can’t be comfortable,” Foggy gently admonished, but if Matt’s answering groan was anything to go off of, then he didn’t care, or was just too wrapped up in physical touch to do anything.

Foggy felt a fond smile creep onto his face. “Tell you what,” he finally bargained, “You finish up that cocoa, mine too if you want, and stick around for a while. I’ll throw on a sweater that doesn’t feel like sandpaper to you and we can start up where we left up on the couch where you don’t have to twist your neck like that.”

Matt was silent for a while before finally sighing, “Fine.”

With one final stroke to Matt’s hair, Foggy extracted himself from Matt’s clinging hands. “Good, I’ll be right back.”

This was how an hour later, you could find the two laying on Foggy’s beaten up old couch, Matt on top of Foggy, with the human’s hand stroking through his hair. In the background, an old “Wheezer” album played, low enough for the two to talk quietly over it.

It had been a long time since Matt had enjoyed a pleasure so simple. It had been a long time since he had been this at peace.

It was then that Matt realized that Foggy meant more to him than a source of possible chastisement, despite his original intentions.

He had originally been planning to place Foggy at a high position in Hell’s chain of command as a show of how confidence in Foggy’s ability to reason and clearly perceive the nuances of human (read: grey) morality, but Matt knew that this wasn't enough. Matt wanted something a bit more personal.

Sure, Foggy would still get his high office, but Matt could also see something to the tune of “Consort” in his future.

Now all he had to do was run the idea past Foggy. Just like he had to tell him that Gusion had made sure that Foggy would be able to transition into the Ether (any by extension, Hell) smoothly by permissioning him to exist between fae and demons and gods alike after his Contract was up,

That couldn’t be that hard.

and matt is officially IN LOVE! yes!!! *throws confetti*

(A!anon) took him long enough, bless him

I get why Matt broke like that. He saw the two sides of the same story one with Weasley and Fisk and the otehr with Foggy and his City, whie one did it yo hurt people, the other did it to save them but no matter the reason, you are gonna be punish anyways cause you went to the wrong side for help and no matter how good your intentions were you are gonna suffer for whatever you did.
I love this. I really do.

(A!anon) The interesting thing about Matt is that while he has been around humans for such a long time and sees all of these weird parallels and contradistinctions, he's still stuck in his odd light/dark morality schtick. It's SUPER interesting to write. Thank you for your comments! I'm glad you enjoy this!!!

(Prompter here)

PERFECTION! OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG

“And then she also did this thing where she- she reached out and booped my forehead.”
Ahahahaa.

“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.”
Ahahahahaa.

“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.
Yeah, the flagellating can come later. : D

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.
*fans self*

“You, Franklin P. Nelson,” he muttered to himself, “would be going to hell even if you already hadn’t already sold your immortal soul.”
Oh yes! : DDD

“Marci, did you give me a wet dream?!”
Marci’s continued laughter was an answer in itself.
Good girl, Marci! *high fives*

“Hey, a few positions have opened up Down Under. I’ve been topside so long I think I’m going native. You know what happened to the last demon that did that? He botched Armageddon itself!”
*side eyes my copy of Good Omens*

Perched at the end of his bed was Matt. His profile was barely visible in the low light, but Foggy could tell that he was about to deal with some Olympic-grade brooding.
Heh heh heh.

“She was indisposed. The charity ball she was attending with the Contract-holder’s friend had something nasty in the champagne. Not my fault. None of my people know who did it.”
WHOA WHOA WHOA!

“I worked him over for days, Foggy. Days and he didn’t once try to bargain with me to get off the rack, he didn’t ask for a way out, no matter how much I ripped him apart. Most don’t make it an hour under my lash. By the time we were done he was unrecognizable, but he didn’t break. It was like he knew he deserved it. And I don’t think he regretted it.”
Oh wow, Wesley …

“Humans scare me,” Matt’s brittle scoff rang around the small room uncomfortably. “I’ve been doing this for centuries and I still- they just-” Here, Matt made a frustrated noise before hissing, “They’re mistakes. They always were. They do awful things constantly and play into my hands like they were made for it. Useless.”
*shivers* Damn. This is … this is great.

“And they’re so easy to fool too. It’s great! And when it comes time for me to step in…” Here, Foggy could hear Matt drag in a raspy wheeze of a breath before sighing, “They scream so p̭̲̬̱̝̲̪͈͐̓̎͂r̰̹̠̍̆̏ͭe̜̣͎̦̳̦̽͒̋͂ͭͪͅt̮̩͙̭̏ͤt̞͕͕̉͑̑̈́̋́ͥ̈́y̥̻̎͆͗̋͌͋̾̔.”

Matt enjoying his job. Yessssssssssss.

Almost on autopilot, Foggy thread his fingers into Matt’s hair, reaching for any friendly contact that would bring him back from whatever ugly place his own memories dragged him. Matt immediately barely leaned into the touch, angry words dying on his tongue. Foggy took the hint and leaned in as well, hands running down to cup the back of Matt’s neck (trying frantically not to think about how intimate the gesture was).
Matt however, in all of his ‘personal-space-is-a-human-construct-that-I-don’t-understand-nor-do-I-want-to-since-it-can-be-used-to-unnerve-some’ glory, took no notice and twisted to bury his face into Foggy’s side.
*whimpers* Oh gods yes please.

It was then that Matt realized that Foggy meant more to him than a source of possible chastisement, despite his original intentions.
*cackles*

He had originally been planning to place Foggy at a high position in Hell’s chain of command as a show of how confidence in Foggy’s ability to reason and clearly perceive the nuances of human (read: grey) morality, but Matt knew that this wasn't enough. Matt wanted something a bit more personal.
Sure, Foggy would still get his high office, but Matt could also see something to the tune of “Consort” in his future.
Matt “he pet my hair, I’m gonna marry him” Murdock, ladies and gentlemen.

That couldn’t be that hard.
Ahahahaha, good luck!

(A!anon) Aw man I'm so glad you like this, Good Omens references and all!! I had so much fun tying in Fisk and Wesley and I'm glad with how it turned out!!

Aw man, readers. another day another chapter. Um, out of curiosity, I'm thinking of putting together a playlist for this story since tbh I've done that for shorter ones before and was wondering if any of you would want the link and/or to make suggestions. I'm really curious to hear what you have to say! ^u^

The next few years passed in a bit of a blur. When Foggy wasn’t busy at work (which amped up when some big-wig politician bent on illegal gentrification of Hell’s Kitchen was put away and then cases started coming out of the woodwork), networking his merry way across half of New York State, or socializing, he was making preparations for when his curtains would come down.

This last bit was an odd process. On one hand, you had the practical aspects of this… relocation. Some of these included making sure that Karen got a job with the New York Bulletin (a Mr. Urich had been very instrumental in convincing his boss to get her an interview), hammering out his last will and testament, making sure all of his clients knew that he would eventually be moving “Down Under” and really wouldn’t be able to reach him after November 6th, no really he was going somewhere quite remote and wasn’t even sure if he could receive e-mails.

Then there was the more emotional stuff. The messier part.

Foggy didn’t exactly have a lot of close ties with people. He didn’t have any quirky childhood friends that stuck around long enough and most of his college and law school friends had moved on and that suited Foggy just fine; he felt that a lot of those relationships had run their courses. As for family, well, after his father died during his sophomore year of college, all that Foggy had in the way of family that still contacted him was his mother (see also: the direct cause for his alienation from the rest of the Nelson Clan), and his relationship with her was rocky, to say the least.

Truth be told, the last time they had talked was when Foggy told her he was going to go into defense instead of prosecution. Rosalind Sharp had clicked her tongue, forced out a stiff, “More power to you, Franklin,” and then they said their goodbyes. The phone call lasted less than four minutes. That was years ago.

Some part of Foggy wanted to reach out to her, not for the Life Time-worthy reconciliation that he was sure wouldn’t happen, but rather to ask her what the fuck her problem was. But he knew that ship had already sailed. He wouldn’t get any answers that would fix those years, he wouldn’t come out the other end and forgive her, and Foggy was almost certain she didn’t see the problem with her clearly abusive child-rearing tactics such as withholding food as motivation or ignoring every accomplishment he shared with her but hyper-focusing on his failures.

No, the biggest tie he had to sever was with Karen. He was going to miss her. She was probably the best (human) friend he ever had, even if they had only known each other for less than 5 years when all was said and done.

She had seemed a bit betrayed when he told her that he was going to have to stop taking all of these pro bono cases and leave the city soon, but had finally accepted this decision at his insistence. He didn’t quite tell her what exactly what was going on, but when she pushed he had admitted that he might have gotten involved in some more unsavory characters who wanted him gone after a certain date.

She gave him a look that told him she understood that situation a little bit too well for comfort, but finally dropped it.

And really, if you thought about it, Foggy getting ready to leave didn’t hinge completely on breaking connections. Part of all of the networking that Foggy was going was seeing just how many of the associates he made were among Matt’s “people.”

Foggy felt that it would be important to have friends on the other side, for when he got there.

However, all of these new bonds paled in comparison to how close he and Matt had become.

After The Cocoa Incident it was like a flip had been switched in Matt. He suddenly became a lot more… sincere, was the best word that Foggy could think of. Before, Matt had been dorky and wry and all together an absolute treat to be around, but all too often lost in his own thoughts and a tad distant. Now, while Matt was most definitely still dorky and an utter delight, most of the reservations he had toward Foggy seemed to have been chucked out the window.

For starters, if Matt had been a little but spotty on ideas of personal space before, now Foggy was sure that he was just straight up ignoring them. Mind you, Foggy didn’t mind this change one bit, but he couldn’t help but be bemused every time Matt do stuff like flop across Foggy’s lap if they were sharing the couch or leaned into Foggy if they were ever side-by-side, public or private alike. Even funnier were the flimsy excuses that Matt would sometimes throw out (“I’m cold,” “this’ll help tie me to this plane for a while,” and “vessels are confusing” seemed to be the more popular ones).

If Matt’s idea of being subtle he was doing a piss-poor job of it, but Foggy wasn’t upset. Foggy got being touch-starved, and it seemed like Matt felt he couldn’t just ask for some contact and instead was weaseling it out of Foggy in the only way he knew.

Additionally, Matt also seemed to let go of a lot of reservations he had about telling Foggy what was going on at his work and started giving more active opinions on whatever Foggy was doing. All in all, he got a lot more talkative, and their nights in became more of a dialogue than Foggy monologue-ing.

And the fact that Matt was funny and caring and too fucking perfect to be fair was just icing to the cake and more often than not left Foggy breathless in that typical pain/giddiness that feelings and such often brought.

Ugh, his life was a mess and Foggy was roughly 70% sure that Matt didn’t notice the particular brand of hell he was giving the human. For being a relatively omnipotent being, there were times where Matt was cringe-worthy-ing oblivious.

This particular quirk can be best illustrated by an event about half way through Foggy’s Contract period. The two had decided that for once, the New York summer heat was more pleasant than miserable and had decided to roam around Hell’s Kitchen to kill off some boredom. Everything had been sunshine and ice cream (literally, Matt couldn’t go too long in public without a sacrifice before he started popping out extra appendages), until they stopped at a park and Foggy absently started narrating what was going on around them.

“…there’s a guy across the way that has the most horrendous shirt on. I’m pretty sure he took one of those Hawaiian shirts and used it to make a tank top, with safety scissors.”

“Hm,” Matt said, gnawing on a popsicle, “‘A’ for originality. Is he carrying a margarita? That would complete the look.”

“Aaah, nope.”

“Damn, ‘C’ for effort.”

Foggy’s laugh at that was an embarrassing snort of a thing, but it made Matt grin all the same. Chewing contemplatively on the end of his popsicle stick, Matt nudged Foggy’s side. “What else you got?”

“Hmmm, ah, there’s a couple to our ten o’ clock using the walking trail, a guy and a girl. They look like they’re talking about something serious, but more importantly I’ve seen grad students during finals that look less jittery than their dog.”

Matt took a second to drop reach out in the general white noise of the public space, until he heard a grave voice around the same distance at the noise that tiny, pattering paws made.

“…don’t understand why you can’t support me in this,” came a frustrated voice; it was deep, and barbed in a way that someone who felt attacked would speak.

“I am supporting you! And that’s the problem! While you’re off following your dreams in every dive bar gig this side of town, I have to stay home and pay the bills.” The other voice was angrier, enunciating crisply enough to grate unpleasantly against Matt’s ears.

“I bring in as much-”

The first voice was ruthlessly cut off before it could begin. “No, you don’t. Ever since you got laid off from your real job I’ve been footing almost all of the bills. If you had just listened to me and not-”

Here, Matt pulled back, and studied them a little closer. Just as he expected, the shape belonging to the second voice was clear to Matt, anger and blasphemy radiating out from their core to rest just under their skin. The second voice however was less clear to Matt, but pride and, oh! Quite a bit of infidelity had made their home there.

Matt leaned back onto the bench he and Foggy were perched on. “They probably get into some spectacular spats; they sound quite angry. No wonder the dog is stressed.”

Foggy was silent at this, and Matt immediately knew he had done something off. “Foggy?” he ventured.

“Matt,” the human murmured, “they’re more than fifty feet away. How’d you know that?”

Oh, oh hells Foggy didn’t know about his senses. Against his better instincts, Matt decided that maybe now was a good time to lead with the truth.

“I… sensed them.”

“So, you can hear them. At this distance?” The accusatory tone hadn’t left Foggy’s voice and it made Matt squirm more than he’d like to admit.

“Among other things,” he quickly answered.

“Really.” Foggy’s voice was flat and unimpressed. “Like what.”

“I can um-” (oh shit there was no way to put this nicely Matt was just going to have to run with it and hope for the best) “I can sense people’s... flaws. One of the two over there, is very wrathful.”

Foggy was silent a while longer before lowly asking, “So you’ve got super hearing and sinner-sense, and you didn’t tell me… why?”

“Humans never exactly take that well.” Ignoring Foggy’s grumbling at that, Matt went on, “And I was going to tell you! I just, I didn’t want you to act differently around me and I guess I kinda… forgot.”

“You forgot.” If it was possible, Foggy’s voice went even flatter, “You forgot to tell me you could clearly see every misdeed I’ve considered since the start.”

Matt winced. “It only works on deeply-rooted stuff. Like, habits or character flaws. There’s a big difference between a kleptomaniac and someone who steals to survive.” Matt was going to have to appeal to Foggy’s sense of morality to get out of this.

Foggy hummed, “No wonder you dislike humans so much. All you can see is the bad stuff.”

Matt groaned, “Yes, I know I didn’t think that through. But Foggy, it’s not seeing. I’m able to put together an idea of where I am more accurately than blind humans with these senses, but I have not been able to see for centuries. Screens and books are lost on me for the most part, and I mostly rely on my hearing to get me places. And the… 'sinner sense' isn’t sight either, it’s- it’s like sonar that I have to concentrate on.”

“…I keep leading you around and telling you where stuff is.”

Matt quickly picked up on the unasked question here. “And I appreciate that. I really do. It’s… a relief. All of the… data I get is often overwhelming and filtering out the unimportant input sometimes takes more concentration than I can spare.”

Here, Foggy let out a huge breath, but his heart rate remained relatively high. “I’m upset that you didn’t tell me this.”

“I understand.”

Foggy glanced over at Matt, who had taken up to fiddling with his popsicle stick. “You really forgot?”

Matt sighed, “It doesn’t come up often. I guess I forgot you didn’t know.”

In spite of himself, this wrung a slight chuckle out of Foggy. “You would.”

Matt huffed out a soft breath. “I would.”

i continue to love this, jsyk!

(A!anon) @//u//@ Thank you!!

Oh yum. This is tasty.

Foggy telling people he's going to be moving 'Down Under' and out of touch - and then telling Karen that an unsavory character wants him out of Hell's Kitchen by a certain date.

Foggy trying to network with Matt's people so he'll have support on the other side (so he doesn't have a clue that Matt's planning to take him as Consort)

Matt being touch-starved, but constitutionally incapable of admitting it and instead just being a cat and demanding petting whenever he feels like it - or is this his idea of seducing Foggy? Of easing him into the idea of being Matt's consort slowly?

And then the revelation of Matt's senses, and how much better it goes than in canon - partly because Matt isn't human here, but partly because it didn't come out in a high stress situation after Matt's been caught out and out lying to Foggy.

Re: Applied Contract Law, 8/?

(Anonymous) - 2015-07-29 23:31 (UTC) - Expand

(Prompter here)

Oooooo, Foggy preparing to die, omg. *bites nails*

She had seemed a bit betrayed when he told her that he was going to have to stop taking all of these pro bono cases and leave the city soon, but had finally accepted this decision at his insistence. He didn’t quite tell her what exactly what was going on, but when she pushed he had admitted that he might have gotten involved in some more unsavory characters who wanted him gone after a certain date.
She gave him a look that told him she understood that situation a little bit too well for comfort, but finally dropped it.
Lucky Foggy, picking someone who actually understand that sort of thing, at least a little.

And really, if you thought about it, Foggy getting ready to leave didn’t hinge completely on breaking connections. Part of all of the networking that Foggy was going was seeing just how many of the associates he made were among Matt’s “people.”
Foggy felt that it would be important to have friends on the other side, for when he got there.
Foggy networking with demons is the best thing.

However, all of these new bonds paled in comparison to how close he and Matt had become.
*cackles evilly*

After The Cocoa Incident it was like a flip had been switched in Matt. He suddenly became a lot more… sincere, was the best word that Foggy could think of. Before, Matt had been dorky and wry and all together an absolute treat to be around, but all too often lost in his own thoughts and a tad distant. Now, while Matt was most definitely still dorky and an utter delight, most of the reservations he had toward Foggy seemed to have been chucked out the window.
Matt the adorkable devil is wonderful.

For starters, if Matt had been a little but spotty on ideas of personal space before, now Foggy was sure that he was just straight up ignoring them. Mind you, Foggy didn’t mind this change one bit, but he couldn’t help but be bemused every time Matt do stuff like flop across Foggy’s lap if they were sharing the couch or leaned into Foggy if they were ever side-by-side, public or private alike. Even funnier were the flimsy excuses that Matt would sometimes throw out (“I’m cold,” “this’ll help tie me to this plane for a while,” and “vessels are confusing” seemed to be the more popular ones).
*sporfles* Oh Matt. Oh dear.

“So, you can hear them. At this distance?” The accusatory tone hadn’t left Foggy’s voice and it made Matt squirm more than he’d like to admit.
Heh heh heh. The Devil’s got a kink.

“…I keep leading you around and telling you where stuff is.”
Matt quickly picked up on the unasked question here. “And I appreciate that. I really do. It’s… a relief. All of the… data I get is often overwhelming and filtering out the unimportant input sometimes takes more concentration than I can spare.”
Glad they addressed that.

Re: Applied Contract Law, 8/?

(Anonymous) - 2015-08-05 04:27 (UTC) - Expand

After the reveal of Matt’s powers, little changed between Matt and Foggy. The human almost found it odd how he’d be rolling with the punches so well recently, but knowing that Matt appreciated the habits Foggy had picked up for his sake softened the blow.

Really, the most unnerving thing to Foggy was the fact that Matt could essentially be used as walking, talking lie detector (which Foggy figured out via a tiny little fib about how many “Nickleback” albums he owned because shut up it was a phase, I will fight you if you snicker one more time Matt, I swear to your dad, square the fuck up), and even that seemed minimal.

So the world continued to turn, the Earth continued to rocket through space around a giant ball of burning hydrogen and somehow, without Foggy realizing it, it got to be two weeks until his Contract was up. His landlord knew his move-out date, all of his cases had wrapped up, Karen had started her training with the Bulletin, and Foggy had no idea what to do with himself.

So naturally, he called up Marci and demanded that they get plastered together at Josie’s.

She accepted the invitation with more unholy glee than Foggy felt comfortable with.

That night found him drunker than he had been in a long time, giggling at Marci retelling the story of one of the more recent cases she had taken.

“…And then he comes in and sees that I’m the one handling his case and the look on his smug, fat face! Oooh!” Marci’s laugh bordered on straight up maniacal. “I doubt he’ll ever catcall someone like that ever again. Now I have ‘im by the balls!”

By then, Foggy had to plant his face into the bar in order to stay in his chair he was laughing so hard. “That’s righteous!” he gasped, “Oh god, you’ve gotta wring everything you can out of him! You- The- It’s like the universe wants you to!”

The two broke down into snickers once again, oblivious to the arched eyebrow Josie sent their way over the glasses she was polishing. Marci poured them another drink from the bottle Foggy had convinced Josie to leave with them.

“To revenge!” Marci crowed, and behind her a few figures raised their glasses with her.

“To justice!” Foggy echoed, pushing himself up to his elbows to reach for his glass. They both slammed back their shots.

“You would drink to that, Nelson,” Marci chuckled once she had plunked down her glass, absently watching it wobble before landing right side up. “In all of your martyr-y glory.”

“What can I say? Love and justice are my jam.” Foggy shrugged, “I’m one magical cat away from being Sailor Moon.”

Josie, who had passed them to get to another patron, choked back a snort of laughter at that.

“See!” Foggy yelled after her, “Josie thinks I could do it! I could totally rock a miniskirt! Have you seen my thighs? They’re spectacular!” The rude gesture Josie threw back was enough to make Foggy break out into hysterics.

“Aw man,” Foggy said, scrubbing at his face as his laughter eventually faded, “I’m so glad I’m not drinking alone right now.”

“Most people would be, this close to their time being up. You’re suspiciously bender-free.” Marci’s dry observation almost made Foggy start giggling again.

“Why would I? I got everything I wanted from this: food on the table, more cases under my belt than lawyers twice my age, I feel better about where I stand with myself. And even better, I got to really help out the people I grew up around, and-” Suddenly Foggy’s smile slipped off his face and he went silent for a long while. “And I got friends. I got Matt and Karen. I got to spend more time with you.”

Foggy paused again, and Marci chose to bite back the arsenal of comments she could whip out about how awfully sappy this was. Finally, the human let out a sigh and laid his head down on the bar again.

“I got so much. I wish it could have lasted longer.” Foggy’s voice was small; it was a small miracle that Marci could hear it over the clamor around them. “I never really had friends before-”

“No.” Marci’s interruption was immediate. “Not doin’ this Nelson. I will never be drunk enough for the trail of self-pity you’re about to start blazing.”

“Marci,” Foggy whined, “I’m about to be tortured for all eternity! Let me have my pity party!”

“You’re not going to be tortured,” Marci deadpanned. “Where the hell did you even get that idea from?”

“Years of popular culture and listening to Matt talk about his job.”

“Well did Matt say you were gonna get tortured?” Marci’s voice turned downright saccharine.

Foggy scrunched up his face at the condescension, but answered honestly. “No. But that happens to people who make deals all the time.”

“Because demons are… demons, it’s what we do. You aren’t put to the lash unless the demon you’re dealing with wants you to. Hasn’t anyone told you this?”

“Yeah,” Foggy mumbled, “But this is Matt. He’s got a reputation. What would letting a human get off easy look like?”

“Like something you’d normally have to pay to see.” Marci leaned out of the reach of the attempted shoulder punch that earned her. “But in all seriousness,” she continued, “Matt has enough of a reputation built up that whatever he does with you probably won’t touch him. No one would dare.”

“He’s not that bad,” Foggy said, half-joking, “He’s a bit of a dork once you get past all the fire and brimstone nonsense.”

Marci turned to him, eyes cold in a way Foggy hadn’t seen before. “You didn’t see him during the 1300’s. That ‘nonsense’ has a very real kernel of truth.”

Foggy hummed, reaching for their shared bottle and pouring himself another drink. “I guess you had to be there.”

Marci didn’t reply.

“Hmmm.” Foggy poured her a drink to give her some time to shake herself out of the funk she got herself into. “So, do I even have to go to Hell after this deal is up? Or did I break my lease agreement for nothing?”

Immediately as Foggy was done pouring, the demon knocked her drink back. “Hmm? Oh don’t worry Foggy bear, all Contract-holder souls go to Hell after their time’s up. If a soul belongs to something that can’t naturally exist on a certain plane, it can’t either unless there’s black magic fuckery or divine intervention bullshit involved.”

“I thought you guys were firmly pro-black magic fuckery. Like, it’s your shtick.”

“Sometimes. Mostly it’s humans and other deities that go that route.” Marci snorted, “Demons tend to be fairly straight forward once you get past the lying.”

Foggy rolled his eyes, before throwing back his drink, wincing at the sting of cheap alcohol (read: the only kind Josie stocked, bless her). “So what’s it like, the ride down?”

Marci shrugged, “Never liked anyone enough to ask. Go ask Matt.” She shoved her glass at Foggy, demandingly. “Hit me again. It’s weird calling him that.”

The human grinned, “That I can do.”
—
It was the day after Halloween. Foggy had gotten ahold of Matt, using a trick that involved a mirror, a bowl of water, and a pint of pig’s blood from Ms. Sa’s grocery store, with an invitation to binge on B-horror movies and marked down Halloween candy. All of last week, Matt had been cleaning up the clusterfuck that always arose around that time of year (a bit literally in the case of one Icelandic cult, humans could be so nasty), so he jumped on that offer as soon as it came up.

It seemed like as Foggy’s time got closer to being up, Matt’s schedule became freer and freer to spend time with Foggy. However if anyone had anything to say about it, they didn’t let it get to Matt’s ears.

Regardless, this particular night in was going just fine. The two had made their way through three bags of mixed mini candy bars, though if they were completely honest, it mostly Matt. They had settled down onto Foggy’s couch, (one of the few bits of furniture left in his apartment after he’d given a good chunk of it away a few weeks ago) Matt stubbornly draping his legs over Foggy’s. On screen, the a SyFy original movie that Foggy could find with audio description played, and aside from the occasional request for the candy bowl, the two had fallen into a comfortable silence.

That is, until Foggy decided to raise a question of incredible delicacy with the level of tact that he so favored with friends. “So, how the hell do I prepare for… Hell?”

The question came out of nowhere and made Matt snap his head towards Foggy. “What?”

“You know, in… six? Yeah, six days I’m going to be on the biggest, sulfury-ist waterslide imaginable straight to your humble abode. I wanna know what to pack. What do I gotta do to help get this rolling?”

Matt was floored. What had the world come to when a human asks the Devil how they could help him take them to Hell? It was ridiculous, half-brained, and… dreadfully considerate, as per usual for Foggy.

“When the day comes, it’s… easier for me if you to try and recreate the summoning right before I— before ownership transfers.” Matt answered slowly, his face unreadable.

Foggy hummed, “OK, buddy. What else? Should I pack PJ’s? A toothbrush?”

The odd look on Matt’s face stayed. “Hell will have everything you need, but, I’ve never tried taking someone with… luggage. I can try, but I doubt it’ll survive the trip. It can get rough, even when I’m not trying to be—” Matt waved his hand, obviously looking for a word.

“Hell-bent on terrifying your passengers?” Foggy offered.

Matt’s paused, face sour at the pun, but eventually he sighed and nodded. Foggy snickered at this, even after Matt threw a few balled up candy wrappers at him in retaliation.

“You’re too laid-back about this,” Matt muttered, “It’s unsettling.”

“Hey,” Foggy responded, still chuckling, “I’ve had this coming for years. I’ve made my peace.”

“You don’t even know what Hell’s like. You could be in for an eternity of pain.”

“True, you could tell me about it though.”

Matt blinked, but nodded slowly. This… was the first time where Foggy had openly suggested Matt talk about Hell. He had always just assumed that the human was going the ‘ignorance is bliss’ route.

“It’s... well, for humans, they can either go to the torture racks or Purgatory. Comparatively, not a lot of human souls are made to spend all their time on the rack, only ones that are under Contract with demons who want them there or are truly corrupt go there for all eternity.”

Foggy cocked his head, mulling this over in his head. “So the rest go to Purgatory?” At Matt’s answering hum, Foggy prodded, “So what’s Purgaotry like? I’m guessing that’s where I’ll be.”

“It’s uh, I guess you could say it’s a lot like New York.”

“You’re kidding.” Foggy’s voice was caught between exasperation and laughter, but changed into outright laughter when he saw the pinched look on Matt’s face. “You’re not kidding! Holy shit!”

“It’s bigger,” Matt muttered, “and more crowded in the newer sections. The taxes are higher too, but it’s easier to find a job since there’s so many people that start their own businesses down there.”

This only made Foggy laugh harder. “Taxes and private business,” he wheezed, “Are you telling me there’s capitalism in Hell?”

Matt shrugged. “It’s Hell,” he offered up for explanation. It took Foggy a good while longer to compose himself after the laughing fit that set off.

“Aw man,” he giggled, “I’ve been laughing a lot lately for being this close the death. Ah, that reminds me.” Foggy nudged Matt with his feet. “Should I call an ambulance for my body?”

Matt cocked his head, before realizing what Foggy was getting at. “Oh, no need. You should be able to keep your body for yourself.”

“Do you tell everyone that?” Foggy teased, nudging Matt again. “Or are you just lying to make me feel better?”

Matt pinned him with a surprising direct look, the kind that made Foggy have to remind himself that Matt was super-duper blind. “Not about this,” Matt murmured, “Not to you.”

Something about the phrase made contentment curl low and warm in Foggy’s belly. “Thanks,” he murmured back, reaching out to pat Matt’s knee fondly, “It means a lot.”

Matt’s eyebrows arched at Foggy’s thanks, but he seemed to take it in stride before settling down further into the couch and pulling the bowl of candy into his lap.

“Other than that,” Matt continued, “There are demon quarters. It’s technically part of Purgatory but…”

“Like the difference between Hell’s Kitchen and SoHo?”

“That’s… actually pretty accurate.” Matt replied, knowing how fond some of his demons could be about boutiques of all things. The two fell back into a contemplative silence.

“So where am I going?” Foggy eventually asked, quieter than he had been that whole evening. He had promised himself he wouldn’t ask and just take what he was given, but he was too damn curious.

Matt groaned, he knew this question was coming. “I… You’re not going to the racks. I have a place picked out for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Foggy sighed, “I get the feeling you don’t do that for everyone.”

Matt’s face went blank. “No I don’t.”

Foggy knew by that particular expression he would get nothing out of Matt if he pushed the issue, so instead he said, “You’re going to have to visit me, lest I get lonely. I get the feeling you’re usually pretty busy.”

Matt’s smile was warm enough to drown out the millions of other questions Foggy had brimming behind his teeth.

“Yeah,” he huffed, “I’ll make time.”

I'm sorry if it seems like I'm just holding off on taking Foggy to Hell! It'll happen! I promise! My playlist offer from last chapter still stands!

(A!anon)Yeeepp!! :D

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