daredevilkink | Prompt Post #5

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Matt's hugging his knees and his expression is downright miserable. He's close to tears, Foggy can tell. "Of course I believe you," Foggy says, using his most authoritative, take-no-shit tone. "And fuck what my grandmother says, she might be a paranoid old hag after all." It's not exactly fair to Grams, who's definitely not a hag even if she is a bit paranoid. "And fuck Ray too, he did that on purpose, he's an evil miserable goddamn motherfucking bastard whose only joy in life is manipulating and emotionally tormenting people. He's always been like that, so fuck Ray."

"So are we," Matt hesitates, God, he sounds so fucking hopeful, "are we okay?"

Foggy sits down on the sofa next to Matt, careful not to touch him. He's not sure how Matt'd react, and as far as he's concerned, right now? No express permission or express desire means no touching.

"I don't know," Foggy tells him and Matt's expression crumbles like a house of cards that's been built on unsteady ground. "Are we? Are we okay from your side?"

Matt frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I've told you how I feel. Fuck Grams, fuck Ray, fuck any and all haters. You're my best friend, you're my family, I love you, nothing's gonna change that. I'm with you all the way. But what about how do you feel? Can you--"

Foggy stops. He's not sure how to finish that sentence. For a split second he wanted to say 'can you forgive me?', but that wouldn't be fair, to either him or Matt. Neither of them knew. Foggy didn't lie to Matt, not about this. 'Can you live with this?' Sounds awful.

"Can you even stand the sight of me now, now that you do know?"

"The fact that I can't see probably helps," Matt says and there's a small, shy smile playing on his lips. And yeah, Foggy walked right into that one, and not even on purpose, Matt saw — oh Christ, they're hilarious tonight — a chance and took it. It's a good sign, cracking their usual dumb blind jokes.

"You're hilarious," Foggy says, voicing his thoughts. The shy smile gets a tad bigger. Foggy takes a breath. "Communication, Matt, we've talked about it. Tell me what you need and I'll do it, even if it's me getting the hell away. Because I need to know that you're okay."

"I need you," Matt whispers. "I can't lose you. You make me better."

"And what about me now? There isn't much I can do, realistically, except for maybe officially disowning Ray, but that won't change the fact that he and I share roughly 25% of DNA." God, that thought makes him sick. "Are you going to be okay with me?"

Matt doesn't nod immediately; he actually takes his time thinking about the question, he gives it some thought and that's progress, because for once Matt Murdock is thinking about what he wants and needs and what he can or cannot do.

But he does nod eventually. "Then the answer to your question is 'yes'," Foggy tells him. "Yes, we are okay. Or we will be. The offer to disown him still stands, though."

Matt lowers his head and picks at the rim of the sweater. God, he looks so young and vulnerable without his glasses. "Why?" he asks. "Why do you--"

Care, Foggy's mind supplies the rest of the question. Why do you care?

"You take care of Hell's Kitchen and everyone in it," he tells Matt, shrugging. He doesn't bother narrating. Matt knows. "So I figure, someone should take care of you in return."

Matt's head snaps back up and he purses his lips. "I don't need to be taken care of."

"I know," Foggy says. He thinks about what Jess said right before she left his apartment. "But that doesn't mean you don't deserve it."

They're silent for a moment. Foggy remembers the tea he left in the kitchenette, jumps off the couch and runs to check if he can still salvage it. It's not hot anymore, but it's warm enough, so he takes out the bag and adds a teaspoon of honey. He brings it to the living room and hands Matt the mug. Matt wraps his hands around it. He looks pensive.

"There's...something else," he says slowly and Foggy's blood runs cold. God, what now. "You--hugged me. Used to. You stopped."

"You didn't want it," Foggy reminds gently. "You told me to stop."

"I know." Matt sips the tea, most likely to postpone having to speak. "I'm sorry." He falls silent. Foggy patiently waits for him to continue. "It was--overwhelming. But I--liked--it. Can I--Can I take it back? That I want you to stop."

"You want me to hug you?"

"... Yes?"

Foggy starts laughing. He laughs and laughs, and Matt frowns at him, lost. Foggy takes the mug away from him and puts it on his coffee table, he catches Matt's wrists and tugs him close, so that Matt's half-leaning against him, with his head on Foggy's shoulder. "Snuggling totally counts as hugging."

A puff of hot air hits the skin of his neck and he realises that it's Matt, laughing under his breath. Matt scoops even closer and his hand grabs the material of Foggy's T-shirt, twists in it. Foggy brings his arm around Matt and presses him close, presses a kiss to the top of Matt's head. He closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of rainwater still fresh on Matt's hair and the scent of Matt, safe, safe and so close.

***

"Ray," Matt says, tasting the word, seeing how it fits on his tongue. "Ray?"

They're lying across the sofa, Foggy leaning against the armrest and Matt sprawled across him in a lazy embrace. Matt's head is pressed to his breastbone, right under Foggy's chin. Déjà vu all over again.

"Raymond Connor. From Maine."

"Maine?" Matt asks and doesn't bother to hide his distaste.

Foggy chuckles. "Yeah," he says. "You know, I broke his nose."

"Broke his nose?" Oh. Matt sounds borderline impressed. "When was that?"

"Today," Foggy tells him proudly. "When I ran after him. I punched him and broke his nose, he didn't see me coming.

Matt hums into the fabric of Foggy's T-shirt and settles more comfortably against him. One of Foggy's hands starts tracing abstract patterns on Matt's back.

"Ray," he says suddenly, as something occurs to him. "He can do the same stuff you can, right?"

"Sort of," Matt murmurs. He's starting to sound sleepy. Maybe Foggy will backrub him to sleep. "Some things he can do better. Some things--not."

"What about your crazy polygraph thing? Can he do that?"

"Yes," Matt slurs. Yep, definitely on his way to dreamland. "Why d'you ask?"

"I told him I'd kill him if he ever got close to you again. Promised him that, in fact."

Matt makes a pained noise. "Foggy," he says, and sounds more awake than a second before, damn, why can't you ever keep your mouth shut, Nelson, "why did you--He'll kill you, Foggy, I can't let that happen--"

"I don't think he will," Foggy murmurs. "He looked almost impressed after I told him that. And he said--"

"What?" Matt asks.

Foggy thinks about it for a minute. Whether Matt's right and Ray — Stick —Ray really can do the polygraph thing. Whether this meant that Ray thought Foggy was capable of killing.

"He said that he believed me."

Matt doesn't say anything to that, doesn't seem fazed by this, but for once Foggy knows that it's just a front, a mask of outward calm. Matt's grip on Foggy's T-shirt tightens and he's laying pressed so close that Foggy can feel his heartbeat speed up at this confession.

It doesn't slow down until Matt falls asleep and Foggy finds himself wondering what Matt was thinking about that it made him so nervous.

Everything about this is hitting all my buttons. I just keep rereading it, savoring every word. The image of Matt half-frozen out on Foggy's fire escape, the echoing of the previous fic, the snuggling. How are you so good at writing them?

You're my favorite, basically.

This is so good, but you seriously can't leave it there after all that. Please?

A!A: Tagline fail, it's supposed to be 11/11 of course. Now also available on AO3! Head over to: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4660350

Prompt Post #5

Fill: nothing he can't endure [11/?]

Re: Fill: nothing he can't endure [11/?]

Re: Fill: nothing he can't endure [11/?]

Re: Fill: nothing he can't endure [11/?]