daredevilkink | Prompt Post #5

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Prompt Post #5

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Day 1

Foggy was late.

Matt had been sitting in office, dutifully working for the most part of the morning before realizing the fact.
When he did, he blinked. Sliding a finger on his clock, he frowned.
Foggy was sometimes late, especially if they have gone to drinks the night prior. But it was nearly lunchtime, and Foggy still hasn’t come in nor called.

Matt got up, leaning over the office door into the main area where Karen was probably scrolling something on the internet, going by the sound of her mouse.

“Has Foggy called you?”

She looked at him. “No?” She said, sounding as confused as he feels. “I tried to call him, earlier, but his phone is turned off.

Matt sighed. It was nothing to be worried about, it’s a rare occurrence but it won’t be the first time Foggy forgot to put his phone on charge. He was probably still sleeping in, cellphone forgotten with its battery drained.

Still, there was a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. Matt shook his head. No reason to be paranoid.

He slid his finger on the clock again, before muttering “I’ll give him another couple of hours.” unable to leave the scold out of his voice, and shuffled back into his office again, followed by the sound of Karen’s little laugh.

Day 2

No signs of housebreaking, nor fighting. The door was closed from the inside, as were the windows. The keys were on Foggy’s coffee table. Everything was in neat order, aside from the stained cup on the kitchen counter. It wasn’t the work of a burglar, seeing as not a drawer had been opened and the few object of any real value in Foggy’s apartment were still there.

Foggy’s phone was on his nightstand, near the untouched bed, battery drained.

Foggy was nowhere to be seen.

Matt was full of nervous energy, his foot tapping impatiently on the cheap linoleum floor as they waited the unbelievably slow officer to fill the missing person file. The only thing that kept him from the yelling at the guy was Karen’s hand firm on his bicep.

“I’m sure he’s fine.” She had said earlier that morning when they walked together into the police station. She tried to sound convincing, and she probably would’ve fooled anyone that didn’t had keen super-senses. She then gaped a little, probably trying to make up any reasons why Foggy would disappear and forget to call them for two days. When she couldn’t find any, she said again. “He’s probably fine.”

They had called every each one of the numbers registered into Foggy’s phone, but it had been useless. No one had seen him nor talked to him when he seemingly disappear.

(“He… He will be ok, right?”
Matt wanted nothing more than being able to reassure Mrs Nelson that her son was fine, and that he’d probably walk into the office, embarrassed and nervous with an incredible story to tell, at any minute. But he couldn’t find it in him.
“I’ll call you as soon as I have any news.” He murmured, instead.)

Brett walked in as soon as the file had finally been filled, short of breath. He had probably run there.

“Ehy.” He said, as they got up from the chairs. “Thanks, Lucas, I’ll take it from here.” He murmured to the officer, that nodded curtly and walked away. “What happened?”

That was the point. They had no idea.

When Matt failed to answer for long, tense seconds, Karen jumped in. “It’s… We don’t know.” She said, her voice barely itching. “We had just a normal day in the office, we all went home at the usual time. And then the day after, he was gone.”

Brett bit his lip. “No strange calls or messages?”

Karen shook her head, her shoulder sagging. Brett silently browsed the missing person report for a long couple of minutes, before looking up at them again.

“Do you think anyone with a grudge against the firm might have decided to act?” He asked, frankly.

Matt tensed slightly. That had been his first thought as soon as they realized that something was wrong.

But Matt wasn’t thinking that the grudge might have been against their firm.

He nearly missed the way Karen’s heart started to beat madly in her chest, too hard, too fast. The way her breath itched just barely.
He perked up, just slightly, as she murmured sadly. “Well, we did take the Fisk case, didn’t we?”

Day 4

His searching, both in his everyday clothes and his night ones, had proven fruitless.

He had tracked what was left of Foggy’s scent back and forth like a dog, repeatedly. It had drained his energies, hard and fast, leaving him with an hollow feeling in his stomach and a headache.

But it didn’t matter how many times he searched and searched, managing to track Foggy’s faint scent between the thousands and thousands of people, between the smells of the city and the smog.

Foggy had went home right from the office, and the trace ended there.

Day 6

When Matt entered the office Karen made a little strangled sound, but she said nothing. Shortly after that she got out saying she would be right back.

Half an hour before the client that made an appointment through the phone would walk in, she silently came back and walked into Matt’s office while unwrapping a brand new concealer. She took Matt’s glasses off his face and slowly started to cover the deep purple bruises scattered all over Matt’s left cheek and jaw.

(He had been slow, and stupid. Too tired on lack of sleep, forgot to drink and eat properly. Too worried, worried, worried, as he broke hundreds of bones and punched so many faces he lost count in the spawn of two days.

No one has seen Foggy. No one has taken Foggy. No one even thought that Foggy was related to the Devil in any way. They probably did, now, after he broke in so many little and big groups of criminals, shuffling around the kitchen trying to fill the power void left by Fisk, and beat the crap out of every single one of them demanding informations about the little lawyer that had disappeared into thin hair without even making the news.)

Day 15

He had just closed the call, Foggy’s mom on the phone sounded like she had been crying, but she had been kind, and reassuring, to Matt.

It was stupid. He was the one that was supposed to comfort her, not the other way around.
Matt had been comforted many times in the past two weeks, by everyone, even people he didn’t even realized knew him. He wasn’t sure why.

(“Murdock.” Marci said just outside the entrance door, were Matt was searching for the office keys, the wooden sign that said Nelson and Murdock hanging a little bit on his left.
“I was walking by.” Marci continued easily when he stopped searching for the keys, turning towards her without a word. “Just… You’ll get through this, ok?”
Matt had nodded, stiffly, before entering in the building. He only realized one hour later that Marci’s new place of employment was way far their office and that she never walked by on her way to work. That he hadn’t said a single word to her. That he didn’t really talk anymore unless it was strictly necessary, his voice scratchy with disuse those rare times when he did. That his night time counterpart talked more than he did, these days.)

He got up the couch, with all the intentions to put on the suit and go out, ignoring his tiredness and the sheer need of sleep. He’d been extending his patrolling a little bit more every night, breaching well out the borders of Hell’s kitchen.

(Though patrolling might not have been the right word. It was more of a desperate search, really.)

He still hasn’t found nothing. Not a voice, not a sighting, not a single lead. Hope was getting dimmer every each day, and with it his patience in dealing with the scum that littered the city.

He had just opened the trunk when a soft knock startled him out the rage boiling at the pit of his stomach. It was a blaring alarm of how far gone he was, that he did not realize Karen had got into the building, climbed all the way up to his place, and was not waiting at the door smelling of tears.
He ignored the alarm.

When he opened the door, she walked in without a greeting, slightly shivering. She’d been drinking.

“Matt.” She said, her voice trembling, just after he closed the door. “I think it’s my fault.”

Matt walked in the middle of the living room and stood there, dumbfounded, in his loose t-shirt and sweatpants, glasses forgotten somewhere.

“What is?” He asked, low and slowly, as she hiccuped a little.

“Foggy.” She whispered, voice itching. “I think i-it might my fault- Maybe someone took him— Fisk’s men, probably—“

The police had been on the connection with the Fisk case enough to make it a dead horse, and so did Matt during his nights.
It was a total dead end.

“How’s that your fault, Karen?” He asked, tiredly, and in that instant found out exactly why people had been comforting him instead of the other way around.

Because he didn’t had it in him to say that everything would be fine. Not without Foggy.

“I-“ She sobbed, and hand on her mouth, then took a deep breath, and started talking.

Of Fisk’s mother, of the way she had been taken right from her front door. Of henchmen calmly explaining to her how badly she’d fucked up, of guns, of bullet and blood.

Of the way she’d shoot the man who probably was the second most important person in Fisk’s life.

Matt just stood there, a buzz of white noise getting louder and louder in his head as Karen unloaded the truth on him.

And in any other moment, he would’ve hugged her, told her she was only defending herself. Told her she was just trying to do the right thing, that she couldn’t blame herself for that. Told her it was gonna be fine.

In any other moment, when Foggy was safe and sound at their side. In any other moment, not when his best friend had been gone for weeks without the slightest clue of what could have happened to him.

In any other moment. Not this one.

Before he even realized, the coffe table was rolling over the floor with loud crashing noises as Karen let out a startled hiccup and hurriedly took some steps back, softly hitting the wall.

“WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU ONLY TELLING ME THIS NOW?!”

“M-Matt—“ Karen sobbed, as Matt’s throat burned and his breath got heavy and ragged.

“Didn’t you think that, maybe, you should’ve told this to the police oh, I don’t know— Right the fuck away?!” He yelled, irony heavy in his voice. “What is the point, two weeks after?!”

“Matt, I’m sorry—“ She whispered, sounding frightened, letting out a little yelp when he kicked the already flipped table with a frustrated growl. “I—“

“Do you even really care?!” He cut her off, taking some steps in her direction. He stopped abruptly when he realized she was scrambling away from him in fear.

They stood there, as if there was a rift on the floor between them, in silence, for what felt like an eternity. Matt forced himself to ease, calm his mind, shift his posturing from menacing to neutral, let his hands relax from the tight fists he was making.

Then he turned, walked into his bedroom, and closed the door on his back.

A minute later he heard the entrance door softly closing.

Ten minutes later, he went to put on the suit and got out.

Day 16

“Karen… It’s me. Sorry… Sorry about yesterday. It’s not your fault, and even if you said something sooner it wouldn’t have changed anything. Don’t— Maybe you shouldn’t tell anyone, for the time being. You’d only put yourself in trouble. We’ll cross that bridge when— Another time. I’d understand if you don’t want to— But please, call me.”

Day 19

“Your hand is probably broken.” Claire sighed, tone flat. “There’s nothing I can do about that. You should go to a hospital.”

Matt didn’t answer. Everything hurt, not only his hand -which had a minor fracture. It was nothing Matt couldn’t handle-. Clare had to sew so many injures it took her nearly two hours. He was exhausted. He needed sleep, and food.
A new suit, also, probably.

“That bullet graze was starting to get infected, make sure it doesn’t.” She added tiredly when he didn’t answer. “And, for the love of God, eat something.

Matt nodded, slowly getting up. He fell right back on the bed Claire had pushed him on when she nudged his shoulder.

“Stay, you need to rest. I can clean the injuries and put fresh gauzes on you when you wake up.”

“I can’t sleep here—“ Matt started, as Claire pushed him down.

“You can and you will, you’ll drop to the floor in a block in the conditions you are now.” She replied, firm. “Stay down. Sleep. I’ll prepare something for you to eat later.”

“Claire—“

“Shut up. Sleep.”

Matt sighed, closing his eyes. He knew when to pick his battle, and this one was already lost.

“Did you find anything about your friend?” Claire asked, softly, after long minutes of watching over him. Matt shook his head.

Nothing— Even with the new… “info” provided by Karen.
There was nothing.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, sincere, gently combing his hair away from his forehead with her fingers.

Day 31

With the help of Karen, they put everything away in boxes in a single afternoon.

They didn’t spoke much. Karen had gracefully accepted his apology for the show of temper, days prior. They briefly talked about what happened with Wesley and agreed to keep it to themselves. Foggy would’ve probably not approved of that, but Matt didn’t want to put Karen in trouble for defending herself, and it’s not like he was in any position to make moral judgments. Pot meet kettle, and all that.

But something stayed broken between them. There was a tension always humming in the background, making both of them jumpy and prone to snap around each other.

Matt had been mulling over the fact that he should do something about it. But, to be honest, he couldn’t muster the energy to really care.

He liked and cared about Karen, he did. But maybe, he had realized that what really had kept them connected was Foggy’s presence.
Now that he was gone, now that the real Matt was surfacing without his best friend to keep him tamed, Karen was probably rethinking her choice to stand by Matt’s side.

And how could he resent her for that? Matt didn’t want to be at Matt’s side. Now less than ever, for sure.

Then Foggy’s landlord called. He was truly sorry, he said. He understood the difficult situation, he said.

But he couldn’t leave the apartment empty. It was only a matter of time before rats or cockroaches would invade the empty space that was not being cleaned and taken care of. He had a line of people waiting to get an apartment, so could they please come over and get Foggy’s stuff?

Karen had been fuming, but when Matt said that they were gonna take care of it without a single complaint, she followed. They brought empty boxes, filled them, and patiently dragged them to Matt’s place. There weren’t many, really. Barely took them an afternoon.

Matt pushed them in little neat stacks under the fire hose, so he wouldn’t accidentally trip on them.

“Maybe we should give them to his family?” Karen mused, voice low, chewing on her nail. Matt belatedly realize it was the first thing she had said in hours.

“It would be a pain to transport them to the other side of the city.” Matt replied with a shrug. “And Foggy wouldn’t let me hear the end of it, when he gets back and has to go get his stuff all the way to his parents’ house.”

Karen’s breath itched as she stopped abruptly chewing on her nail.

She said nothing, but Matt smelled the salty pang of tears as her gaze burned into the back of his head.

Day 33

Before he could really registered what he was doing, Matt was opening the boxes.

When they packed, he didn’t let himself think about what he was doing. He couldn’t really help in deciding what has to go where, so he let Karen pass him stuff as he put it away as neatly as he possibly could. It was a sign of how little Foggy had, that a blind man could help pack away his things in a single afternoon.

But now he was opening the boxes. There wasn’t much. A small tv and Foggy’s old, battered playstation 2. Some books. Five mugs Foggy had been dragging around since law school. Mostly clothes, suits and shirts neatly folded between the occasional piece of more casual clothing.
Everything smelled of Foggy, so much, that Matt found himself drunkenly pushing his face against a shirt, breathing deeply.
Breath itched in his throat as a broken sob escaped his lips, followed by another, and another one. It was hard to breath and his chest protested painfully at every each sob, but his eyes remained stubbornly dry.

Day 35

Foggy had a photo album. It was packed, some pictures stacked up all over the others.
Matt had never quite missed his sight as much as he was doing now. He would sell his soul for just a minute of his sight back, to look at the pictures.

Foggy liked to take pictures, back at school. He used his phone, saying it might not be the best quality, but that way he could catch the moment super fast. Building memories, he said. He liked to take pictures of Matt, with Matt, even when they were doing something as boring as taking coffee. He liked to visit one of his uncles that worked a office job in Manhattan and sneakily use the office copiers there to print the pictures and put them in the album.

He liked to narrate them to Matt. “This one was from when we went to Jennifer Hale’s birthday party- It’s pretty cool, you are standing over the big windows and there’s the full moon behind you. Very suggestive.” but when Matt touched the picture printed on cheap paper, he could feel the indents of Foggy’s writing behind it. The date, and “Jennifer Hale’s birthday, just a second before Jhonson puked all over Matt’s shoes. Priceless.”
“Foggy.” Matt scolded, with a smile, and Foggy snickered loudly.

But there were more recent pictures, one even dated just a week before Foggy disappeared.

”Selfie with sleeping Matt at the office.”

Matt was ready to bet Foggy was making a ridiculous face in that picture. Or maybe making obscene gestures over Matt’s head. He remembered that day, waking up from an impromptu nap with Foggy snickering, answering “Nothing!” when Matt asked what he was doing.

There were a lot of really recent pictures that Foggy never had the time to narrate to him. Matt read all of them, over and over, thinking that he would give his soul to be able to look at them.

Day 62

“You know that— After all this time— There might be the chance—“

Matt stood abruptly, effectively cutting Mr Nelson off.

“I’ll be right back, sorry.” He gritted out, marching toward the bathroom, not even pretending to use his cane. He banged the door open, his breath getting shorter and faster.

He didn’t know what was with everyone, approaching him like he was a lion in a cage, trying to convince him that Foggy—

It had been barely two months, and they were already giving up.

He shook his head, took his glasses off to scrub a hand over his face. It was as if the world was going insane.
He approached the sink, opening the water on cold to splash on his face.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—“ Karen murmured, clearly uncomfortable, from the other side of the diner. Matt perked up, drops running down his chins.

“No, no, you did the right thing, dear.” Mrs Nelson replied, tears in her voice. “You are worried, it’s understandable.”

Mr Nelson sighed. “I… got scared when I’ve seen him. That boy is wasting away in body and mind. I understand why you decided to call us.” He said, voice low. “I knew he and Franklin were close, but—“

“Do you really— I mean—“

“Believe that Franklin it’s not coming back?” Mr Nelson supplied with a mirthless chuckle when the silence stretched. “We are his parents, there’s nothing I want more than have him back.” He added, his voice trembling. “But we are his parents— Matthew, he’s still young. He needs to move on. Franklin would want that.”

Matt felt as if something inside him broke.

He climbed out the bathroom window, leaving the cane at the table with the three people that suddenly felt like strangers.

Day 63

Karen entered in the office, tense and closed off. She put the cane on his desk with studied slowness.

“Nothing to say?” She asked when he stubbornly kept his mouth shut.

“Mrs Nelson spent the entire afternoon crying, thanks to you. I hope you are proud.” She added, sharp, when he still didn’t reply.

“Oh, could’ve had me fooled.” Matt replied with a dark chuckle. “By how fast they were trying to convince me to let everything go, I was surely convinced they didn’t really gave a fuck.”

Karen’s breath itched. “That’s not fair, it wasn’t like that, and you know it.” She murmured, sounding dangerous.

“Do I, now?” Matt replied, getting up abruptly. “You deceived me just so the parents of the only person I ever considered family after my father could tell me to give up. Doesn’t that sums yesterday up about right?”

“Matt, that’s not it, you know that—“

“No, I don’t!” He yelled, banging a fist on the desk, cutting Karen off. “I fucking don’t! What I know is that you all are fucking quitters and are trying to convince me to forget this whole story, to forget Foggy, as if nothing happened!”

Karen took a deep breath, trembling slightly. “You are twisting everything.” She replied, trying to keep calm despite the tears obvious in his voice. “No one wants you— No one wants you to forget about Foggy, Matt. But you have to take in consideration the possibility—“

“No!” He interrupted her again, circling the desk to stand right in front of her. “Enough, ok?! You had no right to do what you did yesterday, and you have no right to tell me what to do! He was my only family, everyone keeps forgetting about that! He was all I had, and I’m not gonna shrug and move on as if he was nothing! I don’t know what you are trying to accomplish, but whatever it is, stop it.”

“What I’m trying to accomplish is making you take care of yourself!” Karen sobbed back. “You are a mess, Matt, ok?! You don’t eat, you clearly don’t sleep, and you get into the office every each other day covered in bruises or with a broken hand, or limping with blood stains on your shirts! I have no clue what the fuck you do when you are out of here, but whatever it is, it’s destroying you! All I want is for you to face reality, and stop!”

They both breathed heavily into the silence for long seconds, before Matt spoke, slowly.

“Fine, then you won’t have to look at me destroying myself anymore. Get out.”

He could hear Karen paling abruptly. “What?”

“Get out. I’m done with you, I’m done with Foggy’s parents.” Matt continued, walking into the main area to go rummaging into a drawer. “I’m done with fucking everyone.” he kept muttering, until he found what he was searching. He took the sheet of paper out. Karen’s contract.

He ripped it in half.

“You can’t—“ Karen said, choked, but he cut her off again.

“I can. I did.” He replied, cold. “Get out.”

“Matt—“

“GET. OUT!”

Karen sniffed, an hand over and mouth, and rapidly took her purse, stepping out the corridor. Matt heard her sobbing as she got farther.

Day 64

Part of him knew he had been unfair. He couldn’t really bring himself to care.

He clutched the phone in his hand, but he didn’t call Karen, nor Foggy’s parents.

Day 81

Matt belatedly realized he hadn’t shed a single tear every since Foggy has disappeared, as he heard the man whose leg he had just broke sobbing into the concrete.

Day 102

“Already going away? You hadn’t even got inside.”

Matt turned toward Father Lathom. He hissed.

“Jesus, look at you.” He murmured, and in another time, maybe Matt would’ve playfully pointed out the profanity.

“I was just walking by.” He replied, voice flat, resuming his walk. The priest followed him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to have a chat? I haven’t seen you in forever.” Father Lathom said, forcing a peaceful tone out. “What happened, son?”

Matt found himself letting out a cold chuckle. “My human half went missing.”

Day 172

Stick didn’t even try to conceal his traces.

“What do you want?” Matt asked, tiredly, the instant he stepped in his apartment. It had been a long day at court and a long case. He had a ton of paperwork to take care of alone at the office and Jennifer Walters had asked him out for drinks again. He had no patience to spare, today.

“Just checking on you.” Stick replied from his couch, sipping at one of his beers. “Glad to see you’ve upgraded from that piss you called beer.”

“I don’t want anything to do with you, get out.” Matt replied flatly, launching his suitcase on one of the armchair and stripping from the suit and shirt. Stick chuckled.

“What an attitude, finally learning something?” He put the bottle down the coffee table with a clink, standing. “I’ve heard what happened to your little pal. People always talk about the five stages of grief, or shit like that. By the look of it, you are going through all of them at the same time.”

Matt froze. He had done the impossible to find a lead on Foggy’s disappearance, and failed. But, incredibly and dumbly, he hadn’t took into consideration Stick and his war.

“Do you have anything to do with it?” He murmured, dangerous. Stick sighed.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, boy. If it was me, you’d know. I’d make a point of it, trust me.” He replied. “No, I’m not dumb enough to touch your things, learned my lesson, long given up on getting your head out of your ass. Whoever it was, it had nothing to do with us.”

He sounded sincere, but then again, it was not like Stick hadn’t lied plenty to him in the past and sounded honest. Matt slowly walked to him untile they were standing barely inches apart.

“If I discover you and your war have anything to do with this.” He said, slowly. “I will find you, and I will kill you.”

Stick full-on laughed in his face. “You won’t have the balls, boy. You never did.”

“Don’t test me.” Matt growled, voice low, gaining another laugh.

“You are adorable.” Stick replied, ironic. “But again, boy, I know you don’t have it in you. I can test you right now.”

“Stick—“

“This stuff.” Stick continued, ignoring him, walking toward the boxes still sitting under the fire hose. “It’s your friend’s, right?”

“Stick, I don’t have any patience for this bullshit today—“

“What’s this, a photo album?” Stick said, picking it up and browsing it, running his fingers all over the pictures. “What is even the point of keeping this, boy? Matt studying for Tort.. Really? You are that much of a sap?”

“Put that thing down, I’m warning you—“

“Selfie with Matt. Passed the tort exam!” Stick read out, in a sing song voice. Then took the picture, and crumpled it in his fist.

Matt snapped.

Day 186

“I…” The man sniffed, voice trembling. “I thought you didn’t kill—“

“I’m done playing nice.” Daredevil replied through his teeth.

Day 432

People had been screaming, loudly. They had been screaming, and running, and everything reminded him of years back, of portals opening in the sky and aliens pouring out of them.
So he put on the suit, and went out, because that’s what he did when he wasn’t being judge and jury for criminals. He helped.
He tried to make out what was happening for people’s frantic speaking, and all he could understand was that there had been portals, again, but not in the sky, this time. Portals at sidewalk level, sucking people in and spitting other things out, portals—

Suddenly, he felt pure darkness and the sensation of being on a roller coaster, then he was back again on solid ground, inside a building. A office, going by the sounds, in New York—

This New York was not his New York.

The city was the same, but he still could feel something different. It was on his skin, on his tongue, in the way the city reverberated to his senses.

And this office was not his office. Mainly because he had stopped having a office a month prior.

“You are one of those, aren’t you.” A feminine voice he could not recognize sighed. “Don’t worry, we’ll send you back in the blink of an eye, so don’t freak out, ok?”

Matt wanted to ask what the hell she was talking about, but was cut off by two men opening the door and stepping inside, clearly engaging in some kind of playful banter that was interrupted when they -presumably- laid eyes on him.

“What—“ One of them, the taller one, said, and his voice sounded strangely familiar.

“He popped out of nowhere in the middle of the office.” The woman explained curtly, and the man sighed.

“I’ll go call Stephen.” He said, sounding tired as he walked into another room.

“I’ll go cancel today’s appointment, it’s not like we can send him somewhere else.” The woman said, walking out as well.

The last man looked around, before sighing. “Honestly, those two.” He muttered. “C’mon, Matty, don’t stay there on the floor, we have perfectly fine couches. Are you hurt? Hungry? Do you need anything?” The man said, taking his hand gently to help Matt on his feet. He added, as is it was an afterthought “You have a me in your universe, right?”

Matt managed to stop gaping for a second. He knew that voice, even if te timbre was slightly different. He knew that smell, even if it was nearly covered by the stench of some kind of chemicals. He knew that hand, even if the fingers felt too thin under his. He knew the smell of that shampoo, even if his hair was shorter.

“Foggy?” He managed to breath out.

—

“Something gone wrong with some kind of magic. Or maybe it’s the Avengers’s fault, wouldn’t have been the first time.” Foggy sighed, pushing a cup of tea in Matt’s now gloveless hands. “Anyway, there’s been a lot of universe rifting lately, and we have got a lot of visitors from other universes similar to ours. You are just one of many, but don’t worry, we know how to send you back home, so just relax until Strange gets here, ok?”

For all he was understanding, Foggy could’ve been speaking actual punjabi. But this Foggy (not his Foggy, apparently.) Had help him out the suit, tutted when he seen how thin and unkempt he was. Gently cleaned the blood off his face and gave him tea and cookies.

Now he was sitting at his side on the couch, watching him with mild interest.

“You look really young, and also like shit.” He said, raw honest. “Not that I’m surprised, mind you. Things rough on your side of the multiverse? Do you want to talk about it?”

Matt gulped around a knot in his throat. “Foggy?”

“Yeah, that’s my name.” He replied, gently, with a smile in his voice.

Matt let the cup of tea drop on the floor with a loud crush, closing his fists on Foggy’s shirts and pressing his forehead against Foggy’s chest with a single, dry sob.
—

“Ehy, ehy, it’s ok… It’s ok…”

It wasn’t ok, Matt wanted to wail as this Foggy petted his hair and hugged him like he had knew him for a lifetime. It wasn’t ok, it was never gonna be, because you aren’t home with me.

All he could do was sobbing harder, instead.

—

“The woman you met was Kirsten. Do you have a Kirsten? No? You two are constantly dancing around each other, is in equal parts funny and irritating. But you’d make a cute couple.”

This Foggy was talking nonsense at him, letting Matt cling to him. He had stopped sobbing, finally -still dry, still no tears-. But he wasn’t gonna let Foggy go, ever.

“You look really different than my Matt. I thought the gingerness was a constant of the multiverse, but I had been proven wrong, don’t I? Dark hair suits you, even if it’s strange. And you are a bit shorter too, it’s kinda cute.”

"You never went universe hopping, did you? You looked very confused, earlier. It wouldn't be surprising, you are really young. Well, get used to weird stuff if you keep wearing your superhero garbs—“

"I'm not a superhero." Matt managed to choke out.

"Oh, so you do know how to talk." Foggy teased him playfully. He patted Matt's hair gently. "I don't like how sad you look, Matty. Want to tell me what's wrong?"

What's not wrong?. "You..." Matt licked his lips nervously. "You are gone." He finally forced out, voice low and choked. Foggy tensed.

"Oh." He said, in a whisper. "I'm sorry. What...?"

"It's been more than a year." Matt continued, hands tight on this Foggy's shirt. "You were there and then the next day you were gone. Disappeared without leaving a single trace. I searched for you everywhere, in every way I could possibly think of. But you were gone."

"Oh, Matt, I'm sorry—“

It was as if Matt couldn't stop. He kept talking. "I turned away every person that ever cared about me. I... I did the unthinkable. I killed a man." A cold, hysterical chuckle escaped his lips. "Willingly. I killed many more after him. I closed the firm not much time ago, I was alone and I wasn't working anymore anyway."

Foggy had tensed significantly, and Matt let his shirt go as if he'd got burned.

"You did what?" Foggy asked, breathless, and choked. "Oh, I— Why did you— All that, because of me?"

"Not because of you. Because I'm me>/i>." Matt replied in a defeated whisper. “You’ve always been my moral compass. Without you, I’ve got lost.”

"Matt..." Foggy started, his voice tense, as he shifted slightly away from him unconsciously. The door opened. The other Matt entered, followed by another man.

"... Am I interrupting something?" The other Matt asked, half jokingly half serious. Foggy immediately stood, walking toward his friend.

Putting a safe distance between himself and Matt. It was understandable, really, but Matt was sure he could convince him to forgive what he had done—

"It's nothing. Hi, Stephen." Foggy said, sounding unsure. "Ready?"

"Yes, of course." The man called Stephen replied in a calm, collected tone. "Ready to go back, Matthew?"

What? "I don't want to go back." Matt replied, breathless.

The declaration was followed by long seconds of silence.

"But you have to." Stephen reasoned calmly. "This was an unnatural occurrence, you have to get back to your own universe. Your presence would create even a bigger rift-"

"I'm not going back." Matt replied, stubborn, voice trembling.

He could hear Foggy and the other Matt exchange a look, and he distantly wondered if this Matt could see.

"Look, it's not a available choice, your presence here could become dangerous for the entire planet, and the entire universe after.” Stephen said, sounding slightly impatient. “It’s not something up to debate.”

Matt took a step back, and the other Matt instantly surged forward and grabbed his arm, growling “Don’t even think about it.”

“You can’t—“ Matt choked, trying to fight against the other him’s surprisingly strong hold. “I don’t want to go back!”

“Stephen—!” The other Matt half-yelled, dodging Matt’s punch. He turned Matt’s arm on his back, painfully, closing the other arm around Matt’s neck.

“I DON’T WANT TO GO BACK!” Matt screamed, trashing against his counterpart to no avail. The other Matt was obviously more experienced, because he didn’t give even an inch. “DON’T SEND ME BACK, < i>PLEASE!”

The last thing he heard before the sensation of being on a roller coaster was this universe Foggy’s choked sob.

Day 432, reprise

Matt fell badly on his knees and his hands hit concrete as he tried to find his balance back, barely gulping down the bile that was rising in his throat.
Loud noises surrounded him, people screaming, was he back? HIs sense were on the fritz, nothing made sense—

“He came out of there— shoot!“ Someone booming voice said above the deafening noise.

“But he looks human—“

“Shoot!”

Matt had tried to stand, confused, wobbly on his legs. He was pretty sure he tried to stand, but he heard a loud noise that made his ears ring now he was back down, concrete pressing on his face, pain radiating from his abdomen—

Sounds came muffled, indistinct, under the ringing still in his ears, but he could feel the blood seeping over the shirt that Foggy -The other Foggy, the one that petted his hair and called him “Matty”, the Foggy that shuffled away from him when he discovered just how really fucked up Matt was- had gave him, spilling on the concrete.

The other Foggy had let him go without a protest, the other Foggy that heard him scream and did nothing—

He felt something on his cheeks. Blood—? Oh. No.

Hi tears were back.

The other Foggy had done nothing.

Not his Foggy, not the one that had disappeared a lifetime ago, leaving him alone without a guidance in a world that did its best and succeeded in chewing Matt up and spitting him out as broken as it gets—

Not his Foggy that— Smelled— In that way that Matt was smelling right now.

An hand on his head, an hand on his shoulder, firm and familiar.

The light shuffle of long hair brushing shoulders.

“Matt?”

His Foggy.

I spent the entire day writing this non-stop so when I finally finished I went straight to posting and forgot to put at least a little bit of commentary at the start, lol.

Anyhow, as an anon said above, Matt doesn't deal. Things happens. don't hate me for the ending plz.

OP here! Thank you for the full. Trust me this is no way bad. I Love this!

Oh, man. I need this, and the scary thing is, it wouldn't actually contradict anything we see in canon. Why did Matt keep up his training? He had to be able to take care of himself. Why doesn't he seem to have anybody other than Foggy who gives a damn about him?

Does Foggy know? Does he find out in college, or later; does he work it out, or does Matt let something slip? Maybe Matt seems a lot more intimately familiar with the soup kitchens than he'd have any reason to, maybe he knows where people sleep and what places they'll go to for kitchen scraps.

Yeah, this needs to happen.

*SOMERSAULTS IN THROUGH YOUR BEDROOM WINDOW* BOOM HELLO YES I'M HERE FOR THIS

<3333333333

(Okay, so this was supposed to be a short fic and it kind of grew into this? IDK. I hope you like, OP.)

The first time he and Matt fall into bed together, they’re slightly tipsy, extremely sleep-deprived, and Matt has just gotten his ass kicked by at least three different goon squads, so Foggy doesn’t really think much of it when he ends up on top and Matt goes tense and still beneath him. It’s just for a moment, anyway, and then Matt’s legs come up around him, and he’s arching off the bed, and Foggy is actually airborne before he knows what the hell is going on.

He lands on his back in the center of the mattress, Matt straddling his hips, and his breath comes out in a surprised laugh. “I’m sorry, for a second there I forgot I was being seduced by a ninja.”

Matt throws back his head and laughs, all the weird tension draining out of him. “I thought you were seducing me.”

“Hey, if you want to give me the credit, I’m not complaining.”

“Somehow, I didn’t think you would.” Matt kisses him quickly on the lips, and then he’s sliding down and pulling off Foggy’s boxers as he goes, and yeah--definitely not complaining.

The first time he notices is about a month later. It’s a slow, happy evening after a good win in court. They cook spaghetti in Matt’s apartment, make fun of the news with their legs tangled up together on the couch. Daredevil hasn’t been hit with a baseball bat in at least a couple of weeks and there are no fading bruises on Matt’s body.

Everything is good, is the thing, and that’s why he notices. They’re laughing all the way into the bedroom, and Matt is trying to tell some kind of rambling story about wedding cake in between kisses, and then Foggy topples him onto the mattress and climbs on top of him and he just. Stops.

“Matt?” Foggy asks carefully.

Matt gets his legs up, knees jabbing Foggy painfully in the chest as he shoves himself away. It’s not always easy to read Matt’s expressions, but if he was going to hazard a wild guess, he’d be going with ‘freaked the fuck out.’

There’s not much that freaks Matt out. Getting shot at doesn’t freak Matt out, at least not nearly as much as Foggy wishes it did. He climbs off the bed and steps back a couple of paces for good measure. “Matt, are you okay?”

Matt shakes his head sharply, then says, “I’m fine. You want to come back over here?”

He’s trying to smile, but it’s not quite working. Something cold is squeezing at Foggy’s insides, an awful suspicion taking shape in his mind, and despite the fact that he was kissing Matt like he needed him to breathe less than a minute ago, he can’t remember ever being less interested in sex. “No, I don’t think so. Are you okay?”

Matt’s face twists. “I said I was fine,” he says shortly, climbing off the bed. He usually keeps up the habitual pretense that his super-senses don’t actually exist, but not this time--he’s shoving past Foggy and out of the room without so much as touching the wall. Foggy can hear the stairs clang as he climbs them two at a time, and the roof door slamming shut.

He sinks down on the edge of the mattress and buries his face in his hands. Matt is--he’s always been a little standoffish, and Foggy’s always chalked it up to being blind or, after the whole Daredevil revelation, to his freaky senses--but.

The thing is, he’s sitting here, and he’s remembering Marci telling him in a hard voice to not ever pin her down if he didn’t feel like getting castrated. That she didn’t like people on top of her. And it’s--

It’s Matt, he’s a fucking superhero, and he’s literally taken down crime syndicates singlehandedly.

And that means fuck-all, given the wrong set of circumstances. Jesus.

Foggy pushes himself to his feet, runs his fingers through his hair, and takes a deep breath. It’s not outside the realm of possibility that Matt has actually decided to go off along the rooftops rather than risk Foggy coming after him, but in the off chance that he’s still up there, there’s a conversation that definitely needs having.

***

Matt is still there. He’s sitting at the edge of the roof with his bare feet dangling over sixty feet of empty air. It makes Foggy’s heart thump sharply in his chest with fear, and Matt must hear that, because he tilts his chin without turning. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Foggy says quietly, picking his way across the minefield of old air conditioning units and pigeon shit. He sits down cross-legged on the stone a few feet from the edge; his nerves can’t quite handle the prospect of a five story drop tonight. “Please tell me you weren’t going to leap off the roof and go Daredevilling in your pajamas.”

“‘Daredevilling? Is that a word now?”

“What can I say? I’m a linguistic radical.”

“You’re something, anyway,” Matt mutters, but he sounds mostly fond. Good. Maybe that means that Foggy isn’t about to get his ass unceremoniously dumped tonight. “And no, I wasn’t. I’d probably kill myself, taking a dive off of this roof.”

“Oh,” Foggy says.

“I’m not a super-soldier, you know,” Matt says irritably. “I can get hurt.”

That’s more true than Foggy really wants to think about, right now. “I know.”

Matt sighs and turns his face away until Foggy can only see the curve of his cheekbone. “I know what you’re thinking. Just ask already and get it over with.”

Foggy doesn’t speak for a minute or so. “I dated this girl in college,” he says finally. He won’t say Marci’s name. That’s not for him to share, not even to Matt. Not even for this. “Her high-school boyfriend raped her, and she never really got okay with being pinned, feeling like she couldn’t get away. She always had to be in control.”

Matt doesn’t shake his head, doesn’t tell Foggy that he’s way off base, and that by itself is enough to confirm it, even before he says, “And you want to know if that’s what my issue is.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Foggy says, “but yeah, I’d be lying if I said there weren’t some similarities.”

Matt nods shortly. His hands curl into fists on his flannel-clad thighs, and his voice is flat when he speaks. “The answer is yes.”

Foggy closes his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time before you met me.”

“I’m still sorry.” He takes a deep breath. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but Matt--you have to tell me if there are things I shouldn’t be doing. If there are ways you don’t want to be touched. I can’t--I don’t ever want to upset you like that again.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Matt says, still in that flat, colorless voice. “It’s my issue. I’ll deal with it.”

“Yeah, that’s now how this works,” Foggy says. “Sex is supposed to be fun, not something you just tolerate for my sake,”

Matt does turn toward him at that. “Foggy, that’s not--”

“Because I love you, and I want you to be okay, and not just, just putting up with it, Jesus, Matt.”

Matt doesn’t answer. Foggy replays what he just said in his head and winces. It’s not that it isn’t true, but he’s never said it out loud, and this was probably not the best moment for it. “I--”

“I’m not just putting up with it,” Matt says. He turns back toward Foggy. His eyes are wet, but he looks relatively composed. “Can you come here?”

Foggy scoots closer, until he can feel the heat emanating off of Matt in the cool night air. He doesn’t know if touching is good or bad right now, but when he lifts his arm slightly, Matt tucks himself against his side, the familiar shape of him, all whipcord muscle and bone. He presses his wet cheek to Foggy’s shoulder for a moment, like he’s grounding himself, and says, “It’s not usually a problem. Mostly, I’m good at stopping people when they do something I don’t like.”

Mostly. “I don’t want you to have to stop me. I don’t want to do something you don’t like in the first place.”

Matt smiles against his neck, like Foggy has just done something remarkable instead of expressing a basic degree of human decency. He does that sometimes, and it always makes Foggy want to go back in time and beat the shit out of everyone who ever hurt Matt, who made him think he wasn’t worth taking care of and treating well. “It’s really just the--the pinning me down. It reminds me of--he was a lot bigger than me and I couldn’t--I couldn’t get away. Sometimes it’s fine, but sometimes it’s--not.” He pauses. His hand comes up to Foggy’s chest, pressing gently over his heart. “You’re angry.”

Foggy lets out a slow breath. “Yeah,” he admits. “But not at you. Times like this, I kind of get why you do what you do.”

Matt laughs wetly. “That’s one good thing, I guess.” He’s silent for a long moment. “I never told anybody else. I didn’t--” he shrugs a little. “I have a hard time trusting people, sometimes.”

That’s the understatement of a lifetime, but Foggy doesn’t say so out loud. “Thank you for telling me.”

Matt nods against his shoulder, doesn’t answer. They sit like that for a long time, the night cooling down around them. This high up, the noises of the street seem distant, but he can hear sirens. He knows Matt can hear a lot more than that, but it’s a long time before he shifts against Foggy, lifts his head, and says, “It’s going to rain. We should go inside.”

“You can hear rain coming?” Foggy asks, accepting the hand up that Matt offers.

“Smell it,” Matt says. “When it’s close.”

“Well, that’s not weird or anything.”

“It really isn’t. You could probably smell it too, if you paid attention.” Matt’s smiling at him in the dim light. It looks a little faded, but it’s not fake.

“I seriously doubt that.”

“I’m serious. Here.” Matt’s hands on his face, turning him toward the gathering breeze. “It’s like--electricity and wet asphalt.”

Foggy breathes in deep, but all he can smell is fabric softener and Matt’s deodorant. “I got nothing.”

“Hopeless,” Matt says, shaking his head. “Stand out here for another five minutes, if you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you,” Foggy says, as Matt tugs him toward the door.

Matt pauses under the overhang, reaches up. His fingers find Foggy’s face, tracing the shape of his cheekbone, his jaw. Learning him by feel, and it’s far from the first time Matt’s done this by now, but it never fails to make him shiver, and now is no different. In spite of everything.

Matt’s smile isn’t faded this time; it’s warm and genuine and Foggy can feel it against his mouth when Matt leans in and kisses him. It’s just a brief, sweet press of lips, and then he pulls back and says, quietly, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything,” Foggy says.

“Yeah,” Matt says firmly, “I really do.”

He pushes the door open, and Foggy follows him inside. Outside, the rain starts coming down.

With less dumb typos I'm apparently incapable of detecting until I actually post the thing

http://archiveofourown.org/works/4384103

Mostly, I’m good at stopping people when they do something I don’t like.”
Mostly. “I don’t want you to have to stop me. I don’t want to do something you don’t like in the first place.”
--- ;_; Foggy, you are perfect.

“I have a hard time trusting people, sometimes.”
--- GEE, MATT, REALLY?!

Ahhhh, this is so beautiful. ;_; Foggy, you are darling.

I'm so glad everyone got this joke. :)

ow, my heart. *sniffles*

i love how foggy puts the pieces together, and how matt (of course) reacts by trying to minimize and play it off, and then running when that doesn't work. and then the bit at the end, with the approaching rain and matt touching foggy's face, is just gorgeous.

(also i love that foggy doesn't name marci when talking about her, because yeah, that's private and she's the only one who gets to decide to reveal her past or not.)

oh, this is perfect.

Damn, I started filling this tonight, and I have a feeling we're writing the exact same thing. I better stop writing now. :-\

Oh no, anon D: I'm sorry! Please continue if you want, even if similar, I'd love to read a different take than mine on this!

Love this. Can't wait for the next part! :-)

SAYRT: I haven't really read your story (yet!), but I saw you used the "Day 1", "Day 2" thing, which is what I'm doing too. The first few paragraphs were almost exactly the same as mine (well, obviously phrased differently). I mean, yeah, these are characters we know and who would (hopefully) behave similarly in the same situation, so that's not all that unusual.

Without reading your story, obviously I can't tell if we're going in similar directions, but really, how many ways can this go if we wanna stay true to the characters?

Thing is, I kinda don't wanna read your story until I've decided what I want to do with mine (and believe me, I really, really, REALLY want to read yours!!!). I just have a feeling it's gonna be the same thing, just with different words and phrases. Which is maybe not such a bad thing. You know, I'm just sayin'... :-)

And don't you dare apologize. Anyone should be happy about a prompt being filled twice at the same time. I know I am! Yay for daredevilkink awesomeness.

In one of the issued from Waid's DD, Bullseyes comeback and uses diferent people to try and copy the acciden t that made Matt teh way eh is, most of them die but He succeds with Foggy and makes Foggy blind and with the senses thing, Matt finds him too late and Foggy is overwhelmed by everything.

As they say, great minds think alike XD

I think all in all it's not that surprising if the start it's similar, it's a way to introduce with the prompt given by the OP- But I'm ready to bet that once that it's done, a fic could go many ways and it's not so certain that your story might go the same way as mine.

(which is a long way to say: please please write your fic too I really want to read it **)

I love this idea. I really hope someone writes it!

SAYRT: All right, all right, you've convinced me. Besides, this prompt was just too good to pass up. Guess I need to write a rather long-winded explanation in the A/N about all this. :-)

You need to give me a few days on it being ready, though. My evenings are short, and my daytime is filled with pesky work that doesn't involve fanfic writing. Stay tuned!

I love this. I really hope someone fills it!

Yay! \**/

Lovely

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 65 of 186

Prompt Post #5

Fill: These days we've lost. (part 1)

Fill: These days we've lost. (part 2)

Re: Fill: These days we've lost. (Last part)

Author anon here

Re: [MINIFILL] i'll give you shelter from the storm

Re: Homeless Youth Matt

Re: Tw: suicide

Re: FILL: The Boxer's Son

FILL: will you still call me superman 2/2

Now on Ao3

Re: FILL: will you still call me superman 2/2

Op here

Re: FILL: will you still call me superman 2/2

Re: FILL: will you still call me superman 2/2

Re: Now on Ao3

Re: Now on Ao3

Re: FILL: Surprise Visit (1/2)

Re: Now on Ao3

Foggy gets kidnapped by bullseye and he uses him for his experiment and try copy Matt's abilities

Re: Now on Ao3

Re: [any/any] role reversal: karen as daredevil

Re: Now on Ao3

Re: [any/any] role reversal: karen as daredevil

Re: Now on Ao3

Re: Fill: We'll Fight Like Twenty Armies