daredevilkink | Prompt Post #4

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Prompt Post #4

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I think we all know what happens here.

A pizza box sat in the middle of a circle of shaky runes. At the four cardinal directions of the ring burned small clusters of candles, and in the corner of the room, patchouli incense smoked away merrily.

The pizza was a half-eaten meat-lovers.

It was perfect.

‘I always do these things drunk,’ Foggy thought wryly, staring across the picture that his living room made from the kitchen, ‘At least now I have an excuse.’ He slugged back his eighth shot of whiskey before dropping his glass in the sink.

This, he figured, was as much as he could do to recreate that night. Matt had told him that every little detail helped (sans the actual recitation of the summoning spell), but honestly he was too plastered and then too shocked the first time around to really take notes on anything but the Contract, so he made do with what he remembered.

Foggy plopped down in front of the old tome Marci had given him where it splayed open on the floor, as his place was now mostly devoid of furniture. He was going to try to take the thing with him; it had practically become a book of calling cards for his next destination. It might come in handy for… whatever he wound up doing in Hell.

“Now I jus’ gotta wait for Matt,” he muttered to himself, slipping into his habit of speaking his thoughts that tended to resurface when he was alone and drunk. “Said he’d be here a few minutes early, in case somethin’ happens.”

Foggy stared down at the open book for a few seconds, before glancing back up at his runes. “I shouldn’t check those again. Checked ‘em maybe… 20 times before this.” Defeated, he flopped down onto his side.

“Bored.”

And wasn’t that just rich? Centuries of humans selling their souls and he was probably the first one to feel honest-to-God bored waiting for the Devil to show up at his doorstep. Foggy himself never expected to feel this… hollow with regards to his upcoming ‘death’ but, here he was.

“This has gotta be the dullest part.” Foggy paused, then giggled. “I should live tweet this. I should set up a Twitter and do that.” Foggy dug through his pockets for his phone. It took a few minutes, but eventually he triumphed and then got down to business.

By the time Matt got there, pillar of flame springing up where the pizza box was and everything, Foggy was half-way through his third Tweet.

“Foggy,” the Devil said slowly, cold cardboard of the pizza box in his hands, “It smells like… is that Black Velvet? What are you doing?”

“Being hilarious!” was Foggy’s flippant reply, before pointedly pressing ‘Post.’

“…You’re drunk.”

Foggy looked up from his phone. “You said I needed to recreate the summoning as best I could up to the in- incan… ah fuck it, the spell.”

Matt blinked, he couldn’t argue with that. But…

“I’m not taking you like that.”

Foggy closed his eyes and spread his arms. “Sober me up.” After a muttered swear from Matt, Foggy felt most of the alcohol leave his system with a lurch.

“Much better,” Foggy sighed, his balance returning a little bit. “Now. Ready to go? I am.” Foggy snapped the book in front of him shut and hauled himself to his feet.

“Foggy,” Matt’s voice was serious enough to stop Foggy in his tracks. The human looked over to Matt, and now that Foggy was sober, he was able to see how hard Matt was pressing his lips together, how pallid he had gone.

“Yeah, buddy? Having second thoughts?”

If anything, Matt went a bit paler. “I…” Matt seemed to flounder for words, Foggy waited silently for the other to regain his footing. Finally, a question fell from Matt’s lips.

“Why did you make this deal?”

Foggy carefully eyed Matt’s tense form. There was something else to this question, something that demanded the truth.

“I wanted to feel better about myself.”

The answer didn’t smooth the furrow between Matt’s eyebrows. Despite what were probably his better instincts were screaming, Foggy found himself stepping forward, gently prying the pizza box from Matt’s hands and setting it on the floor.

“Hey,” Foggy murmured, reaching forward to clasp Matt’s shoulders, “I’m supposed to be the one freaking out here. I’m not too wild about sharing this spotlight. What’s going on?”

“I have to take you to Hell,” Matt sighed, “And you agreed to the Contract and knew this was coming.”

Foggy hummed but said nothing, trusting Matt to just spit it out.

It took a few false starts and Matt’s voice was so quiet that Foggy had to lean in to make out his words, but sure enough, Matt eventually spoke.

“Hell’s been… It’s there to prove a point, my point, The Point. It’s objectively an awful place. It’s meant to be. And you’re not even supposed to be there in the first place. But….” Matt reached up to lift his glasses and rub at his eyes. His voice only got quieter. “You’re the first in a long, long time I’ve wanted to be there not to punish, but to— to just be there.”

“With you?” Foggy’s murmur made Matt nod.

“Yeah. I just— I don’t want you to go.”

Foggy stayed completely still, digesting what Matt just said. Putting aside his not-100%-platonic feelings on the matter, Foggy wondered if Matt was feeling at odds with the idea of wanting the company of a human. But, this would be a downright asinine time for that particular thought to kick in. Something else was going on here and it was directly related to Hell.

Even outside of their contract, Matt wanted Foggy in Hell for personal reasons. And he was having trouble with it because… oh.

The realization made Foggy exhale just a tiny bit. Matt was worried that being in Hell would push them apart. That Foggy would be so repulsed by the place and the fact that this was Matt’s life’s work that their entire friendship would crumble and he would abandon Matt.

“Oh Matt,” Foggy whispered, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Matt said nothing, his hands dropped to his sides and his glasses fell over his eyes like shutters slamming closed, the furrow still firmly in place. Foggy would have to try harder.

“Hey,” Foggy asked, leaning in further, forehead almost touching Matt’s, “Wanna know something?”

Matt didn’t say anything, but leaned in so their brows were touching. He almost seemed to sag into the contact.

“My dad wanted me to be a butcher.”

“What?” Matt’s confused whisper made Foggy huff out a breath of laughter.

“Yeah,” he whispered back, “That’s what he did. That’s what his whole family did. That’s how he met my mother, back before she got into corporate law and had a soul. But when I first said for myself that I wanted to be a lawyer instead of my mom dictating it, you know what he said?”

Matt shook his head, softly as to not disturb their connection.

“He told me that the only difference between law and butchering is that when you’re a lawyer, whatever you’re cutting up talks back.”

Matt’s laughter was soft and sounded a bit half-hearted, but Foggy knew he had found something he could work with.

“He left me his old shop, you know. One of the last things he ever said to me was that if I ever got tired of college, I could drop out and we could restart Nelson’s Meats as business partners.”

“You didn’t.”

“Nope,” Foggy chuckled, “I was too much of a bookworm; I had to sell it. Also, a deli in Hell’s Kitchen these days? We’d go under in weeks and I’d be eating unsold salami for the rest of my natural life. That’s a terrible fate Matt! Just terrible.”

Matt laughed, soft and strained but sincere. Foggy considered this a victory and continued.

“And you know, when I got my hands on Marci’s book, I was at the end of my rope. I felt like I was already selling my soul for one thing, so why not sell it for the right thing. But now that I think about it, if you hadn’t have shown up, I might have cut my losses and restarted the deli all by my lonesome, if for nothing but some meat that didn’t ask for me to read it its rights.”

Matt leaned back, and Foggy’s eyes followed him carefully. The Devil blinked behind his glasses, almost owlishly. Then slowly, a grin sharp enough to cut yourself on split his face.

“You would be wasted on Heaven.”

The comment came out of nowhere and had Foggy throwing back his head and laughing, laughing, laughing until his sides were sore and Mrs. Watkins downstairs pulled out her broom and banged at her ceiling to get them to quiet down.

Matt didn’t laugh with him, but listened, content that this was how Foggy was going to spend his last few minutes as completely his own human. It felt right.

Finally Foggy calmed, but his hands remained on Matt’s shoulders and his forehead returned to rest against Matt’s.

“How much longer do I have left?” Foggy’s voice was dreadfully quiet, his questions seemed to stay in the air between them much longer than in should have.

“Three minutes and… 47 seconds,” was Matt’s equally quiet answer and Foggy hummed.

“Need to down some pizza before we go?”

“The Contract closing gives me enough energy to go without.”

“Ah. I’m gonna grab my book before we go.”

Foggy broke contact in order to nab his book, but upon turning back to Matt, he paused.

Matt, he suddenly realized, looked so small waiting for him to come back to him. A fond grin came over Foggy’s features and a wave of emotion threatened to reach up and choke him.

“Afraid?” Matt’s voice was soft, questioning.

“Nah, buddy, I’m just really happy.”

Matt cocked his head. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s OK, neither do I.”

The two fell back into a silence. However not even a minute had passed before Foggy piped up, “You see, the suspense is killing me now that I know that there’s a time limit. Tell me something about yourself.”

A huffed laugh.

“Anything?”

“Something interesting. Consider it payback.”

“Hmmm,” Matt stalled on the thought. “You’re the second person that I’ve wanted in Hell for personal reasons. You’re the first one however, that is interesting and that I like.”

“Aw man,” Foggy groaned, “you gave me something weirdly emotionally charged in exchange for me talking shop about a hypothetical deli? I feel like I’m ripping you off.”

Matt rose to the bait. “Well then, even the score.”

“A true businessman.” Foggy fell back into silence, Matt tried not to hurry the human along but nothing could stop the fact that between the pounding of Foggy’s heartbeat, the knowledge that the Contract’s effect was flaking off piece by piece was becoming more and more apparent to Matt. It was distracting.

“Hey Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“Promise what I say next won’t change anything between us?”

“I can’t guarantee that. Too many variables.”

“Damn, worth a shot. Ah well, to Hell with it. ”

Matt centered in on the rustle of Foggy’s clothes, cotton polyester blend still smelling slightly of whiskey moving closer, closer, all the way into his personal space. Then the firm grasp of Foggy’s hands over Matt’s, the tackiness of sweat on Foggy’s palms, The smell of Foggy’s shampoo became stronger and before his face Matt could feel the human’s warmth come in a bit closer.

Matt leaned in too, and only let himself be a tad disappointed when his forehead met Foggy’s yet again.

“How much time?” Foggy whispered.

“Sixty eight seconds,” Matt whispered back. Foggy heartbeat was so fast, so loud, the nerves were finally getting to him.

“Good,” Foggy chuckle here was downright conspiratorial, “Less time to mess up.”

Foggy took a deep breath.

“So I’ve been… I’ve had feelings for you for a while.”

“Oh.” Matt’s voice was soft, almost dazed. “That’s- that’s convenient.”

“Huh?” Matt could almost sense Foggy’s confusion, normally it would have amused him. Now he didn’t know what it made him feel. This was in no way going like he planned. He was supposed to let Foggy know what was going on with him in Hell, on his own turf, not in the middle of the human’s adrenalin rush when things could be jumbled up and misunderstood.

Still, sometimes you gotta make do.

“Me too.”

“Oh.”

“Hey Foggy?” Matt’s voice was rushed. This needed to be done. This needed to be done now.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t owe me this. You don’t owe me a thing.”

Without waiting for Foggy to answer, Matt reached forward and crushed Foggy into a vague approximation of a hug. It was tight enough that the worn corners of Foggy’s old tome, crushed between their bodies, dug painfully into their chests.

“Sorry, I don’t know if this hurts for humans.”

“You don’t-? You never asked anyone?”

“Never liked anyone enough.”

Before Foggy could react to that, he felt something, deep, deep in his bones (deeper?) spin out like a car on an icy highway and then suddenly everything was on fire and oh god it hurt-

And then it was quiet.

And then they descended.

OK readers I am super sleep deprived and gonna go sleep now.

i am really looking forward to foggy's first impressions of hell!

(A!anon) Me tooooooo! :)

I was on the edge waiting for that kiss to happen.
WHY DIDNT THEY! SDJSHDJAHDJKLHASJK

(A!anon) Sorry!@A@

Oh wow. I just finished reading everything you've written up to this point and it's honestly amazing. Like, thank you for continuing to update, I cannot wait for the next installment! (They have to kiss some time, right????)

(A!anon) oh gosh thank you so much for your kind comment! @///u///@ And there will be lip-locking! So help me there will!

The term “descended into Hell” didn’t quiet do Foggy’s trip down justice. Neither did “dragged to Hell” really, a classic though it may be.

No, instead imagine the scene from Labyrinth with the hand tunnel where the protagonist falls through a well shaft lined human hands. Now imagine that each of the hands were modeled after the lovechild of Wolverine and Edward Scissorhands and were being manned by very angry, underpaid interns.

OK, so there you have the first half of Foggy’s trip. The more pleasant part.

The second half is best described by the following: burning, crushing, twisting, rending, crunching, shredding, freezing, snapping, ripping, and then finally, just for good measure, whatever adjective you might use to describe the feeling that your insides not entirely living up to their name.

Foggy was genuinely surprised he didn’t pass out sooner on his way down, and also that he later woke up at all, even if it was face down on a concrete floor. Pain lingered in every part of his body (some that he literally didn’t know that could feel pain in, today was full of surprises) and a keening groan was the first thing to leave his lips.

‘Oh, I still have lips. That’s a start.’ The thought was distant, hard to grasp, but still something to cling onto. He had a body, and he should probably see if he could use it to figure out where he was. Though the very thought of moving made Foggy want to cry a little bit, he still gathered his arms below him and hoisted himself up on his elbows.

He almost wished he hadn’t.

For a moment Foggy was convinced that what he heard about Hell being literally on fire 24/7 was true since stretching out around him was just stagnant grey smoke. However there was no sound, the temperature seemed fairly normal, and whatever this stuff was, it didn't burn his lungs like any other smoke he had encountered. Also, it seemed that the smoke that seemed to have… formed lines stretching from one end of his field of vision to the other.

That… OK. That was unsettling. Reaching their limit, Foggy’s arms gave out and he flopped back down to the floor.

Maybe… maybe he should try to sleep this off. Yeah.

Foggy fell unconscious once again.
—
When Foggy woke up this time, he hurt significantly less than at first. However, that was a low bar so Foggy still felt like he had just gotten mugged three times in a row after completing a triathlon.

Still, it was enough that he could manage to get his wits about him and sit up.

Around him, the smoke around him had turned absolutely turbulent. Whereas before had been neat lines as far as the eye could see, now there was a chaotic sea, churning without order and… not touching him. It was still silent enough to make his ears ring.

Weird.

“The hell?” he whispered.

“Oh, that’s a new one.”

The dry, scathing voice behind him nearly made him jump out of his skin.

Twisting his neck, Foggy was surprised to see a human form slouching perhaps ten feet from him.

The form was a man, old, grizzled, and lanky. He was dressed in jeans and a shirt that looked like they had seen at least four Presidents, maybe five, and perched on his nose were sunglasses. In his hand was a cane, though if Foggy concentrated hard enough on it, it glinted concerningly in the ambient light.

“Death?” Foggy guessed, and the man laughed.

“Close, princess. I’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

“Ok, not concerning at all. Wanna tell me where we are?”

“Not particularly,” the man snorted, “but it might be fun. This-” the man spread his arms wide, gesturing all around him, “is the great mail processing center in the sky. Each mortal soul across the universe comes here and gets sorted into the afterlife for whatever crackpot religion they trusted themselves to when alive.”

Foggy blinked. Blinked again. He shuffled around to face the man, but was too busy processing this information to say anything.

“So, not Hell then,” Foggy finally ventured.

“That’s what I said, dumbass.”

Foggy shot the man a dirty look. “Any reason it’s so…” the human waved his hand, gesturing to the chaos around him.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific.” The man’s voice was so flat you could have used it as a level. Ah, the glasses.

“There looked to be order before. Now it’s all… fog machine convention gone wild.”

“That’s your fault.”

Well at least the man was honest.

“…why?”

“Did’ya notice that you got a meat sack? Yeah, that never happens with mortal souls. Never.” Here, the man’s voice turned downright scornful. “The idiot you made a deal with thought ahead, made sure than when you got here you’d have your vessel ready to go.”

“Come again?”

The man groaned loudly, “Look around you. Most souls don’t get here with a body, they have to form their own vessels as they acclimate to this realm. You,” here, the man pointed the business end of the cane at Foggy, “got a freebie from whoever you dealt with. And that makes you important.”

“OK…” Foggy said slowly, “How does that make… whatever’s happening here my fault?”

“Because whoever likes you so much followed you here,” the man’s voice took a turn from condescending to deathly serious.

“So Matt’s here?”

“Who the fuck is- oh.” The man laughed, a dry, wheezing thing. “Oh, Matt, that is just rich!”

“What’s so—” Before Foggy could finish his question, the man stood right in front of him, leaning way into his personal space. The man took a deep whiff of the air around Foggy (which, hello creepy), before laughing again and turning to walk away.

“Well, Franklin, tell Matt that an old friend says hi. Also,” the man turned to look back over his shoulder, “that he should tell you about Jack Murdock.”

The man then continued to walk away, chuckling to himself as his visible form was swallowed up by the billowing smoke.

Foggy looked after him for awhile, not entirely sure what to think. Finally he sighed, squared his shoulders, and looked around him for any clue as to where he could go from there.

The blank scenery offered him nothing.

Walking aimlessly seemed like his only option, or at least, the only option that didn’t involve becoming a sitting duck for any other assholes hiding around here. So he did. Foggy walked on and on for what could have easily been hours, but nothing gave him any idea for how long this lasted. The roiling fog, the unsettling silence, the sheer mind-numbing blankness of the place plus the fact that his body didn’t seem to be slowing down at all made for a very static experience.

After a while it was driving Foggy more than a bit up a wall; he could swear the smoke was avoiding him and the longer he stayed here the wider the radius around him seemed to get.

Finally, however, another form started to make itself known. Foggy was sure for the first few seconds he saw it that his brain had just conjured it up to have something, anything to look at. However, then the figure started sprinting towards him.

Foggy stumbled back a few steps however before he could turn and make any real headway, the figure slammed into him, almost bringing him to the ground. For a split second limbs went everywhere and oh god it would be so easy to hurt him this close up and being the squishy human he was and to top it off he was a lover not a fighter—

“Foggy,” the relieved gasp caught his attention, as did the almost aggressive press of lips to his temple.

“Matt? That you?”

“Who else?” Matt’s voice was breathless and more of a laugh than anything, and it made Foggy’s arms wrap around him that much tighter in response.

“Aw man, I’m so glad to see you. This place is giving me the creeps.”

“Thought I lost you,” Matt rasped, lips still pressed against Foggy’s temple, “Your book made it through, but I didn’t have as good a grip on you as I thought.”

“It’s fine, I’m OK.” Foggy squeezed a bit harder for emphasis, sensing Matt’s distress. “Let’s go. You have an entire Hell-scape to introduce me to.”

Matt chuckled weakly, “Most people would be avoiding that.”

“Shaddup,” Foggy teased back, “Let’s try this again.”

Without another word, the two blinked out of that certain plane. In their wake, the smoke stopped swirling as tumultuously, and slowly, slowly began drifting back into lines again, not without a few more curious wisps prodding at the spot where they previously stood.
—
Matt had said that Hell (or at least, Purgatory) was a bit like New York and well, Foggy guessed he could see the resemblance. Cityscape sprawled out for as far as he could see; it was dirty and noisy, and even from way above it, he could see that it was definitely crowded.

However there were a few things that Matt didn’t mention. For instance, the neighborhoods seemed to run into each other and sometimes seemed to be out of different centuries. It actually made for a really interesting look. For instance, down on the south side there was a section where buildings straight out of 1800’s urban London was surrounded by 1600’s Italian architecture and a neighborhood of modern Russian housing. Then there was the obvious sectioning of Purgatory by religion and country which some of these people were born in, but it seemed very lax. Foggy mused that once you were in Hell, your perspective might shift just a little, so this didn’t surprise Foggy greatly.

Ah yes, then there was The Pillar.

Like the rest of Foggy’s life, The Pillar looked to be something straight out of a horror/sci-fi novel and was the biggest landmark that Foggy had seen ever. It stood right in the middle of the sprawling mess that was Purgatory and the base was at least several city blocks square. Its outside looked to be nothing but solid sinew and gore, writhing and pulsing in a way that Foggy never wanted to think about for too long. Foggy wasn’t sure about how far up it went, but he found it safe to assume that it was just as tall as conceivably possible and then some.

Matt’s office was at the top (however high up that was) and it was their first stop in Hell. The space was startlingly bland in comparison to the glimpse of the outside building that Foggy got before landing. The office went past Spartan and was just flat out stark in design with a huge wall of windows looking out over the city; if Foggy didn’t know better he would have suspected it had been set up to intimidate anyone coming in (and since he did know better, he was certain of it).

“Whoa,” was the first word out of Foggy’s mouth, staring out the windows. “This is-?”

“Yep,” Matt popped the ‘p’ on his word and leaned against his huge mahogany monstrosity of a desk, feigning nonchalance like it was second nature. “I’m told it goes as far as the eye can see.”

“Well you were told right,” Foggy said, “It’s so crowded… how do you even concentrate here with your bat-hearing?”

“We’re very high up. Even if we weren’t, I could do something about it. I have complete control over this place.”

“So you’re responsible for the… gore pillar?”

“That, ah, not my fault. I just created and control this plane, I didn’t decorate it.”

“Matt, this building is covered in—”

“Viscera, yes. It’s just the unused vessels of souls on the rack and only on the outside. Think of it like recycling.”

Foggy stared at Matt, who just shrugged.

This was off to a good start.

Kind of a short chapter, but I hope you like it!!

this is so neat!

(A!anon) thank you!!!

That reunion with Stick was interesting. What Matt has to tell about Jack Murdock¿?.

(A!anon) Thank you!! And that, for now, is a secret.

(Prompter here)

So sorry I didn’t comment before! I got a job, at last, took up a lot of my time initially.

“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.
Oh my gods, Foggy, the Sailor Scout. YES.

“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.”
OOoooooooo.

(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)
If there was anyone close in Foggy’s life, they’d probably think he was about to kill himself. Giving away his possessions, saying he’s going away on a trip … *shivers*

“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.
OMG. *cackles forever*

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.”
Oh Foggy, he’s not letting you out of arm’s reach.

“This has gotta be the dullest part.” Foggy paused, then giggled. “I should live tweet this. I should set up a Twitter and do that.” Foggy dug through his pockets for his phone. It took a few minutes, but eventually he triumphed and then got down to business.
Oh my gods, Foggy. (And later that twitter account becomes an urban legend creepypasta story …)

The realization made Foggy exhale just a tiny bit. Matt was worried that being in Hell would push them apart. That Foggy would be so repulsed by the place and the fact that this was Matt’s life’s work that their entire friendship would crumble and he would abandon Matt.
“Oh Matt,” Foggy whispered, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Foggy be careful he will hold you to that, also HELL. OMG. HELL. IT’S GOING TO BE AWFUL.

“You would be wasted on Heaven.”
Awwwwwwwww? … Awwwwwwwwwww.

“So I’ve been… I’ve had feelings for you for a while.”
“Oh.” Matt’s voice was soft, almost dazed. “That’s- that’s convenient.”
Oh my gods MATT, that is not how you handle this!

No, instead imagine the scene from Labyrinth with the hand tunnel where the protagonist falls through a well shaft lined human hands. Now imagine that each of the hands were modeled after the lovechild of Wolverine and Edward Scissorhands and were being manned by very angry, underpaid interns.
Euuuggghhhh.

“Well, Franklin, tell Matt that an old friend says hi. Also,” the man turned to look back over his shoulder, “that he should tell you about Jack Murdock.”
Stick how dare you try to fuck up this already problematic relationship.

Like the rest of Foggy’s life, The Pillar looked to be something straight out of a horror/sci-fi novel and was the biggest landmark that Foggy had seen ever. It stood right in the middle of the sprawling mess that was Purgatory and the base was at least several city blocks square. Its outside looked to be nothing but solid sinew and gore, writhing and pulsing in a way that Foggy never wanted to think about for too long. Foggy wasn’t sure about how far up it went, but he found it safe to assume that it was just as tall as conceivably possible and then some.
Nasty. I like it.

They're in Hell! Woohoo! So excited for more!

(A!anon) No worries, congrats on the job!! Matt's so awful at expressing his feelings, he can be a bit frustrating to write. Also, writing Hell and building some of Matt's relationships upis super interesting. I just- I'm having so much fun writing this. :D

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.”

Dave gulped nervously, but nodded.

ahaha, the demons are giving presents in alphabetical order to stave off inter-office conflicts over precedence! that's beautiful.

also, yay! matt and foggy admitted they love each other! :DDD

(A!anon) Demons can be petty like that, it seemed like something they'd have to hash out. And ohmigosh I was so happy to get these two getting together :)

Oh yum.

Matt being hurt that Foggy needs reassuring about Matt's feelings for him, and then actually asking for contact afterwards - that's a huge step forward.

I wonder if Abaddon was aware that Dave knew Foggy when he sent him as messenger?

And then Matt casually explaining the thing with the scroll, and following up by offering to leave so that Foggy can process in peace/spend time with his friend without the devil hovering over them. And Foggy just casually overriding that, almost ordering Matt to wait for him while he socialises - Dave's head must be spinning, here's this laid back ex-mortal casually telling the Lord of Hell how it's going to be, and the Lord of Hell looks smug and happy about it.

(A!anon) I'm glad you liked these parts! By the end of this Dave's going to need a huge raise, he is in for quite a lot

Re: Applied Contract Law, 12/?

(Anonymous) - 2015-09-10 21:56 (UTC) - Expand

No apology necessary, I just think it's awesome you're still writing it.

(An anon whose own works have stalled for the last six weeks)

(A!anon) thank you! @A@

for moment i thought it was Mar knocking ont he door. Bringing gifts an lost of sexua toys cause Matt migth be her boss but she still loves teasing him

Re: Applied Contract Law, 12/?

(Anonymous) - 2015-09-10 19:22 (UTC) - Expand

(Prompter here)

No need to apologize! I graduated last May and I now have two part-time jobs. I understand completely. I’ll eagerly await updates but I can be a patient person. I understand that the updates from this summer are not a workable schedule now that it’s fall.

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, the adorkable Devil in love. This is perfect.

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.
Ahahahahahahaha.

“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.
THESE TWO WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME. *WAILS* I CAN’T HANDLE MY EMOTIONS.

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.
Auuuuuwwwwwwwwwwww.
Just … wow. Matt draped over Foggy, Foggy petting his hair, just … yesssssssss. This is good. So good.

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.
Foggy just told the Devil to skooch over. OMG.

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.
*cackling forever*

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).
I did a similar thing in a film script I never got filmed.

“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.
Ahahahahaha. “Head of conflict resolution and interest management” … nice.

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.
*laughs so hard I’m crying*

“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.”
Matt likes it when Foggy gives him orders. Niiiiiiice.

Can’t wait for more, but do keep your studies as a priority!

Re: Applied Contract Law, 12/?

(Anonymous) - 2015-09-11 14:16 (UTC) - Expand

i just stumbled upon this place and first thing i got to read is this amazing thing! i've never even imagined actualdevil!matt was a thing i needed in my life until now. i'm so impressed by this fic it's absolutely glorious! thank you so much for writing this! I am laughing my ass off every time these two dorks try to communicate, you write it all so accurately!

oh, and also did you say something about making a playlist for this? because this is the best idea ever! I have a bunch of songs that popped into my mind immediately during the reading ~~(but i'm not sure if i'm welcomed to share the titles?)~~ but a whole playlist from the author would make me pretty much dead.

Re: Applied Contract Law, 12/?

(Anonymous) - 2015-09-13 03:12 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Applied Contract Law, 12/?

(Anonymous) - 2015-09-15 10:18 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Applied Contract Law, 12/?

(Anonymous) - 2015-09-19 21:13 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Applied Contract Law, 12/?

(Anonymous) - 2015-09-23 20:28 (UTC) - Expand

Hey folks! I decided to put this half of the chapter up now since it's done and you guys have been SO PATIENT with me (thank you so much) and it keeps getting longer and I keep revising the second half so much that it might take a while to get out. In other news, chapter 13 is going to be the last linear chapter of this series, and is going to be followed by 5 or 6 snapshots of Matt and Foggy's relationship developing in Hell and what this new period holds for the both of them. Note! This fic will be posted on ao3 once it's completely done AND will have the playlist that I've been talking about attached so keep an eye out for that. That's it from me!

The duo was able to find a relatively quiet cafe a few minutes’ walk from Foggy's new place. Their walk was mostly silent, Foggy taking in the sights and smells around him and definitely seeing what Matt was taking about when he compared Purgatory to New York.

Dave lead him up to a hole-in-the-wall shop where the idle chatter and exposed brick of the walls echoed nicely, the drinks were bordering on obscenely overpriced, and the smell of impending caffeine reminded Foggy of just how tired he was. The familiarity of the place was jarring to Foggy; he'd seen this scene many times. It was in these sorts of shops that he spent a majority of his finals weeks in.

While Dave ordered their drinks, Foggy picked his way over to an empty table, slightly away from the other patrons. He took a few moments to look around him. Sitting at the table closest to him were of three women, bickering over which of Hitchcock’s post-mortem movies were best.

It was then that Dave set Foggy's latte in front of him, starling him out of his thoughts.

As he watched his ex-coworker settle down into the seat across from him, Foggy suddenly noted how jittery the other seemed, hands fluttering over his own espresso cup and eyes incessantly darting anywhere but to Foggy himself. Despite himself, he felt a pang of guilt.

"I'm sorry if I forced you into coming out today," Foggy started.

Dave let out a shuddering breath. "No, no, it's fine."

Foggy eyed the other before deadpanning, "It's not, is it?"

Dave gulped, staring into his cup. Despite Foggy's unasked question, he said nothing in response. The human knew he would have to take another route.

"How have you been? I haven't heard from you in a while."

The question made Dave twitch. "I've been fine," he answered carefully, eyes still on his cup, "A bit busy since L&Z picked up a few big-name clients.”

Foggy hummed in response. “I heard you’re getting a lot of business after that politician was sacked a few years ago. What was his name? Frisk? The one who wanted to gentrify Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Fisk,” Dave corrected. “Many of his… associates came to us for their cases.”

“Aaaah, that makes sense.”

The two fell into an awkward silence. Foggy took a sip from his latte and grimaced. It really was overpriced.

“Mr. Nelson…” Dave’s hesitant question made Foggy’s attention return to the demon across from him.

“That’s my father,” Foggy chided, more good-naturedly than reprimanding, “Nothing’s changed there.”

If anything, the look on Dave’s face got even more pinched. “But it has,” Dave murmured, before visibly starting at his own words and quickly backpedaling. “Not that that’s a bad thing I simply mean— I mean that your situation has changed and you—”

“Dave,” Foggy interrupted, “I’m a lawyer. Well, was, but you get the idea. My job is to tell when people are lying.” Here the human pinned Dave with a ‘please just stop’ look that had him squirming.

“Now,” Foggy sighed, “Could you please tell me what exactly has changed?”

Dave seemed to mull the question over before venturing, “You… know who that was, right? In your apartment?”

“Yes, I know who Matt is.” Foggy said, perhaps a bit sharply.

“Then you know,” Dave paused a bit, obviously aiming for dramatic, “That he’s Satan, not ‘Matt.’”

Foggy almost rolled his eyes at his efforts. “I know Matt is Satan, yes.”

Dave almost choked on his own spit, “You— you knowingly— Foggy you knew he’s Satan and you sassed him! That— That’s—”

“Reckless, ill-advised, and none of your concern.” Despite himself, Foggy felt his nerves fraying. He wanted answers; he was tired of feeling in the dark. “Now could you please tell me what’s going on? What was that production on my doorstep? What’s with this ‘homage’ business? More importantly, why haven’t you looked at me since we got here?”

If possible, Dave stiffened further. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A scream almost wormed its way out of Foggy’s throat. “You damn well do,” he accused, slipping into his ‘I’m a professional and you will treat me like it’ voice with practiced ease. “And I would really appreciate it if I didn’t have to use my apparently impressive position of power that I had no idea about until 20 minutes ago to get these answers out of you.”

Foggy’s words had the desired effect. “You’re my superior!” Dave’s panicked admission was whispered, but his eyes remained downcast. “I’m not even supposed to interact with you; you’re that high up! I mean—” Dave ran his hands through his hair, gripping tightly and exhaling shakily.

“Foggy, the Boss likes you! What did you do?”

“I made a Deal,” Foggy explained slowly, “It’s what people do with demons.”

“With demons, Foggy. Satan isn’t a demon; he can make deals and collect on them, but he isn’t bound to fulfill them. And it barely happens nowadays! You humans have a legend about the last guy who did that. You can still hear the poor bastard screaming on some floors of The Pillar.”

“Then he must have done something awful.” Foggy quipped.

“He didn’t! He just wanted to get the hang of chemistry! Which brings me to my second point.” Now that he started, Dave seemed unable to stop even at risk of being rude. “Matt, Satan, whatever you call him, he hates humans, that— that’s his shtick! Why does he like you? Why did he create a new division just to put you at the head? That makes no sense! You’re just a human! Foggy, you should have been strung out on the Rack the second you got here—” Dave’s voice here died in a pitiful gurgle, and Foggy was suddenly aware of just how many people around them had started talking.

However, the human just watched the demon as his expression slowly morphed from confused to horrified as he realized what he had just said, and to who. Foggy wasn’t above admitting that watching this particular revelation gave him an odd sense of satisfaction.

“I— I’m sorry. I was out of line.” Dave’s voice was quiet, barely a shadow of what it was a few seconds before.

Foggy just hummed noncommittally, and allowed them to fall into a silence as he took a long sip from his drink.

“OK, Dave,” Foggy said, decisively putting his latte down on the table between them, “Now that I know how you really feel, you’re going to answer my questions.”

He punctuated this statement with a smile, and the earlier satisfaction from getting Dave to crack only multiplied as he saw sweat break out on the other’s brow.