daredevilkink | Prompt Post #6

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Prompt Post #6

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My kingdom for this.

(though! I think we may already be getting a coincidental fill for this on AO3. the author of (my heart) never could lie to you is writing a companion piece from Matt's POV that looks like it could hit a lot of this prompt. ~~why no, I'm not ridiculously excited for the next update, why do you ask.~~)

But like, think about all the different ~~do-overs~~ positions! And every once in a while Matt could bring up, 'but what about this? i heard people doing this, how do i do this? foggy, i might elbow someone in the eye.' And so Foggy will have to demonstrate. Thoroughly.

(with much mutual pining and conflicted feelings and 'this is the last time, it isn't real, shouldn't keep doing this, just one more time.')

OP: Oh, man. This is brilliantly heart-wrenching. I love Matt's POV, here - his confusion not just at Foggy's reactions but his own distress is so well-done. Matt wanting to comfort Foggy in this situation is also heart-breaking. And Matt's internal dialogue throughout - "Matt's stomach clenched. No, no, no, no." - is great. And I love how you use the switching timeline and the cutaways to tell so much with just a few words, like all the implied horror in ""He shares his stuff with me, so he won't mind."" Gah. And ah, Foggy, whyyyyyyy. His dialogue in the flashbacks is brutal ("seduce my boyfriend" "subtle" "bros before hos" gahhhhhhhh). So yes, it's excellent throughout. And yes, absolutely no pressure, but if you wanted to do a coda or epilogue or something with Foggy's POV or something with a little more comfort to the hurt I wouldn't object. But either way, thanks again!

Helplessly imagining younger slave as Peter Parker, and the two of them cuddling as the only kind of ccomfort they can steal.

AA: Aw yay, thank you. I'm so glad all the bits came through for you.

As said above, I am thinking about a mini-cont of some sort, so that will prrrobably happen. Just gotta figure out how it'll go. I like the idea about a Foggy POV!

Cleaned up version is now on ao3 here: archiveofourown.org/works/4887391 so if I do write another piece to this, that's where it'll be.

I was browsing prompts and just came across this fill, and I love it! HS AUs are usually hit or miss for me, and this one is a huge hit. Thanks for writing it, can't wait for the rest! (Also, I hope you'll put it on AO3 when you're done?)

She hadn’t been due for nearly another week, but it wasn’t like it was that much of a surprise. She supposed she ought to count herself lucky it hadn’t hit while her biomom had actually been in town, before flying off to California or Chicago or wherever she was now. And when it had been a shitty week even before she’d shown up.
Though when she felt the pain start up, she still initially hoped it had been that mystery meat they’d served for lunch. It was the beginning of class, it was the kind of professor you did not want to interrupt for a bathroom break, and she didn’t even have a pad on her anyway, or her pills. Plus she had another class immediately after this one, and her dorm room was all the way on the other side of campus, while her next class was only a building away. Not a run she was up to making if her cramps got as bad as she was now dreading.
But fifteen minutes in, she could feel too much liquid gushing out of her-not as much as would be coming out in a few hours, but enough that it was a good thing she was wearing darker jeans, and she wasn’t looking forward to assessing the condition of her panties next time she got a chance to. Plus the pain was getting worse.
She officially started counting down the minutes with about ten of them to go. By then she could feel the mess between her legs, and she didn’t even care about that much when it felt like her stomach was twisting itself around a rusty knife, having already been burnt open by a flaming hot poker which was still also stuck in there. It was all she could do to keep a straight face, and at around the six minute mark, her uterus spiked so badly she couldn’t keep back a couple of whimpers. When that momentarily subsided, she hastily ran her eyes around the room to see if anyone had heard them. No one gave any sign of it, not even Matt, who was sitting right next to her and she’d already noticed had somewhat better hearing than average. That was a little relief, at least.
Until finally, three long minutes after the clock should’ve declared the class over, they were dismissed. As she stumbled to her feet, looking anxiously at the chair even though she knew there hadn’t yet been enough blood for that, he stepped over to her, and asked quietly, “Foggy, are you all right? I thought I heard you whimpering. Are you in pain?”
There was no use telling him about this, Foggy knew. Doing so would either do nothing at all, or possibly hurt his masculine delicacy, and while usually when she was in this much pain Foggy was willing to tell any man with dumb masculine delicacy to go fuck himself, she was always stupid about Matt. She wished Wanda was in the class; she could’ve told her easily. Or even Pietro-he might not have reacted well, but again, she would’ve had no problem telling him to go fuck himself then.
But she didn’t know what to say instead, and even if she could probably get someone to lend her at least a tampon, there was no way she could get her pills, and that meant not only staying like this through her next class, but through the next hour before they kicked in, and at that moment, she felt like she absolutely could not stand another two hours of this.
But when she didn’t say anything, he leaned in and said, “Foggy, I, uh…I know you get bad cramps; I, uh….I accidentally knocked over your pills one time and Wanda explained to me.” Yeah, he was sounding as embarrassed as hell. “Is this a case of that?”
She nodded, which could’ve been excused as acting without thinking, though her quickly adding, “I just nodded,” couldn’t be. Somehow saying that caused the rest of pour out, “And I don’t have a pad on me, or my pills…”
“And you’re in no shape to get to your room and back in ten…but I think Wanda should be your room right now; she doesn’t have class right now, after all. Give me your keys. I’ll get over there and get her to get you a pad and your painkillers and run them over here.”
“WHAT?!” Foggy didn’t even know where to begin. “Matt, I know you’re capable of a lot of things stupid ableist people think blind people aren’t capable of, but that’s crazy, even ignoring that we can’t be sure Wanda’s in our room! Also, you’ve got a class of your own to get to, and it’s not in a convenient place for this.”
“I can do it, Foggy. I’ve got all the space I’ll be going through pretty well down by heart, so running won’t be a problem. And as for if Wanda’s not there…tell me where you usually keep your things and I’ll see if I can find them on my own. And it’s Water’s class; I can get away with being a few minutes late.
Please, Foggy, let me help.” And oh, when he talked to her like that, so anxious and caring, Foggy always felt even worse than she’d been feeling already. Greedy fool. Her biomom had said that to her two days ago, and she’d been right. Because she ought to be grateful he was such a good friend to her, not disappointed he had no interest in being more, in dating a fat girl who wasn’t nearly his equal in what they did.
Meanwhile, she wasn’t very good at saying no to him, and she was in too much pain to resist further. Her keys came out of her pack and were held out. “My pills at right hand-corner back corner of my desks. There are two bottles there, so make sure you grab the round one. I’ve got a bag of pads in the bottom drawer of my bedside table. I…uh…” It occurred to her that Matt had likely never seen a menstrual pad, since he’d never even known his mother. “If it’s the only thing in the drawer, do you know what to get out?”
“Yeah, I know. I got Elektra a pad once. Don’t worry. I’ll go. Get to your next class and wait there.” And he was running off before she could make any further protests, banging his cane hard enough against the floor that several students hastily backed out of his way. But surely, Foggy thought, he couldn’t get everyone who’d be in his way out all the way across campus. She had crazy images of him being knocked down and injured, or worse.
And to make things for her at the moment even worse, she was stumbling down the stairs, trying to tell herself it wasn’t as painful when she was standing up, when one of her classmates caught up to her, and though Foggy hoped she wasn’t running down to her for the reason she thought she was running down to her, it was in vain. “Excuse me,” she said, breathlessly, “but, well, I heard…is it true your mother is Rosalind Sharpe? As in, the Rosalind Sharpe?”
My mother is Anna Nelson, she wanted to say. That woman who gave birth to me never acted as a mother to me, except possibly during my first few months, but probably not even then. She just came to see me for the first time since I was thirteen, and she said things about best friends that make me seriously want to hurt her.
Rosalind Sharpe is nothing to me, she also wanted to say. She also wanted to be able to mean it.
If she tried, she’d probably burst into tears. Instead she managed a clumsy mutter that was more or less an affirmation.
Which of course got the girl gushing, “That’s amazing! I remember when I first read about her, about the Diwell case, and how she got that woman off. You are so lucky.”
Now Foggy was totally going to burst into tears. There was no longer any avoiding it. “Please,” she managed, “excuse me,” and ran the rest of the way down the stairs and out the side door, only looking afterwards to make sure it wasn’t an emergency exit. Thankfully it wasn’t and she was left alone to find the closest tree and collapse against it to muffle her wails.
She could hear her biomom’s words in her head now, “Well, Frances, this is a pitiful sight. Do you know how embarrassed this would make me, if anyone found out my daughter, who got into Columbia on my legacy, was doing this level of work?” Matt, who after getting a taste of how her mother treated her had made a point of being present when the two of them were together as much as he could, had made a protest, but of course his grades were still better, and when he’d been forced to admit that it had become more ammunition against Foggy.
Don’t let her words get to you, all three of him, Wanda, and Pietro had said to her later. “You know she’d an evil piece of shit,” the normally more flower-mouthed Matt had added when he’d done so. “You even told her so.” Yeah, she had. It had been so easy when she’d made clear her horror of Foggy befriending three orphans, two of them from Eastern Europe, and Foggy had told her she ought to respect them for defying the odds like that.
The problem was, she still wanted to be like her. Not completely, of course; she didn’t want to be a heartless bitch who worked for the society’s elite and helped them keep the law from ever touching them. But every time she read a court transcript with her mother’s words in it, she dreamed of being in her place, of being so strong and badass and able to rule the courtroom. The belief, growing strong with each passing week, that no, she would never be that good, had made her flinch at every criticism her biomom had made of her work, her appearance, her hair, her eating habits, her cleaning habits, and her less than concrete ambitions for exactly what she was going to do once she had her law degree.
So pathetic. Here she was, reduced by some physical pain to just weeping outside a building and not getting to class or stopping Matt from getting himself hurt or doing anything constructive.
She might have even stayed there and been late for class anyway, had not Wanda, who thankfully had been in the room, run up to the two buildings calling her name, and then hustled her into the bathroom and then to the nearest water fountain to get things fixed up. Luckily the blood hadn’t soaked through the denim enough for there to be anything anyone was likely to see. Also luckily by running she was able to slip into her seats moments before Professor Anders walked in. The class was still hell, of course.

Much as it hurt when Foggy woke up that morning, she was relieved when she realized she’d gotten her period on schedule. It wasn’t like even her uterus could hurt as much as her heart did now, and it gave her the perfect excuse, after putting a pad on and gulping down her painkiller in the bathroom, to crawl back under the covers in her sleeping shirt and let herself be totally miserable there. She didn’t even care about changing the bedclothes; it really could wait.
It was still kind of surprising it hadn’t hit early this time. After all, within the past week, first Ash Blarflood had tried to rape her, and he would’ve succeeded had Matt not heard him putting the pill in her drink, and then when after Matt had thrown the glass to the floor hard enough to smash it to pieces, he hadn’t even tried to deny it. And then when he’d yelled at Foggy that a girl as ugly as her ought to be thankful anyone was willing to fuck her Matt’s fist had found the square of his nose right on the first punch, and yeah, by the time that fight had been over, Ash Blarflood had been covered with cuts on his back because Matt had pushed him down and deliberately into the shards of glass, and she wasn’t sure if anyone else had been watching his movements close enough to realize it but there was no way any blind person could be able to do all of what he’d clearly done on purpose, and anyway at that point she was more scared of her best friend than of the would-be rapist.
And then when she’d dragged him out of the party(and she’d needed all her developing lawyering skills to keep Blarflood or his friends from saying anything to anyone), and back to his and Pietro’s room, he’d confessed he’d been lying to her the entire two years they’d been best friends. There was a level on which Foggy kind of understood that, since it was true if he’d gone telling people he had senses so ridiculously heightened it had allowed him to foil and beat up Blarflood the way he had even without actually being able to see him, they probably wouldn’t have reacted well. But when he had always known whenever she’d lied to him, and not always needed the help she’d sometimes really gone out of her way to provide him with, and been the friend she would’ve told anything to, well, when she’d gotten him to admit he probably would have never told her if it hadn’t been for this, she didn’t even know what to say.
But she’d known what to say when she’d learned that not only had he had a pretty good idea about how she felt about him, but, contrary to all her assumptions, he’d been attracted back, but had apparently decided for her own good not only was he going to keep his distance from her, he was going to go to ridiculous lengths to keep her in the dark and make all the decisions about their relationship without her even knowing they were being made. Was anything ever real with us?! she’d yelled at him, as before her eyes he’d transformed into the worst kind of condescending man, the kind that thought she needed protecting and to be taken care of, and he hadn’t even asked.
After she’d finally stormed out of his dorm room, neither of them had made any attempt to contact the other. Matt had apparently told Pietro it was his fault, which he’d passed on to Wanda. Foggy had told her he was right, but refused to talk about it further.
Anyway, the twins had their own problems right now, had for months. They weren’t talking about them to their roommates either, but Matt had said he’d overheard talk about money(and now she was getting a much clearer idea of how he’d overheard it), and he was worried they might not be able to afford to stay at Columbia, even with their scholarships. Over the last two weeks they’d been having conversations just outside their dorm rooms in the middle of the night, been on the phone with who knew who a lot during the day, and Foggy was getting the feeling things were coming to a head.
So it wasn’t surprising when, fifteen minutes after she’d laid herself down as an aching, bleeding, heartbroken lump under the covers, Pietro came in with Matt and said, “Matt, Foggy, listen. Wanda and I have something to tell you, but I think this will be easier if you two are made up first.”
Foggy groaned for more than one reason, and then Matt was half-kneeling by her side, knees in such a weird position it could only be that he was struggling to hold himself back. “Are you okay, Foggy? Do you need anything?”
“Got it covered,” she managed. “You know, maybe you should tell me later, when my stomach’s not acting as if I had a bunch of knives for dinner last night.” And it hurt even more to be near Matt, to want to just throw her arms around him and beg to be allowed to forget everything she’d said to him, even though she knew she couldn’t do that.
“In half an hour then, both of you,” said Wanda. “We will be back.” Then the twins stepped out, and Foggy heard them lock the door behind them.
She could get her key, of course, to let Matt out. He also said, “I could get out through the window, actually. It’s early enough maybe no one will see.”
“You are crazy,” said Foggy simply. “But then, I already knew that.” She reached out and pressed very gently on his arm, and he folded down to his knees easily. He looked far too dazed. “Do you know what the two of them…”
“They’re dropping out,” said Matt. “Returning home, probably. From what I heard Pietro say, it sounded like they think there’s something they can do there by which they’d accomplish more than they might by becoming lawyers, although he didn’t say what. Kind of weird, actually, because it sounded like he was avoiding saying what…”
Which meant the two of them were about to lose their best friends besides each other. Foggy wasn’t even sure Matt had any real friends outside the three of them. It made perfect sense the twins would want to be sure their roommates still had each other before they broke the news to them.
“I…I suppose,” Matt stammered. “I shouldn’t have…have…”
“You’ve done a lot of things you shouldn’t have done,” said Foggy.
“I know,” he said. “I know. I’ve been think…thinking about it since, and you were right. I shouldn’t have…have…I suppose it doesn’t matter now, though. With our roommates leaving at least you won’t have to deal at all with me once they’re gone.”
“I…” and now, on top of everything else, Foggy wanted to cry, and she needed to respond to that, and she didn’t know how to. “I don’t…I don’t want to not see you anymore,” finally came out.
“But you don’t want to see me either?”
“No…I mean, no, it’s not…” She couldn’t stand this, she just couldn’t. “I’m lying here in ten different kinds of pain, and you’re so close, and I both want and don’t want you to go away, and I’m hopelessly in love with you, and right now I’m close to hating you too, and all I can think right now is how much I want to find a way back to where we were, and I don’t know if we can.”
“No, we can’t,” he said, and oh damn it, he still could break her heart harder. Until a moment later, when he said, sounding a little terrified, “And you don’t want that anyway, because I’ve been thinking it over and you’re right; that’s not the way we should be. But maybe we can find a way to move forward, Foggy.”
It was an offer Foggy wasn’t going to refuse, not if she could help it. “We need to have a lot of discussion, then,” she said. “When I’m in less pain. But for now, before we go any further, if we have any chance of having any kind of relationship, I want you to understand immediately: you don’t make my decisions for me behind my back. You think I should do this or that, you tell me so; maybe that’ll make me actually do it, you know.” In fact, she was aware it probably would more than it ought to. But still, she thought, it would be her making the choice to take his advice, and that was a crucial difference she hoped he could understand. “You think our relationship should be this or that, you tell me that too.
Of course if…” And she really couldn’t delay talking about it, not when the realization was starting to take hold and she couldn’t help but want, “If you really don’t want to date me for stupid self-sacrificing reasons, I guess I have to yell at you for being an idiot and then leave it at that. But…”
“Foggy,” and she didn’t expect that, the tension in his voice, as he said, “do you really still want to…shouldn’t you be too angry at me?”
“Yes, I should,” she replied, matter of factly. “And I would definitely want to take it slow. But…” Did she even have to say anything more? Surely he could figure plenty of it out from the way her heart was hammering it was making her chest burn even worse than her uterus. She reached her hand out. What had he said about it earlier? That he could hear it moving through the air. Also sense the warmth radiating off it. She liked that second idea more.
His hand was not warm; it was sweaty as Brett’s had been when they’d been fourteen and had experimented with holding hands. But he laced their fingers together, and it felt like moving forward.
They were still holding hands, talking quietly, when Wanda and Pietro came back in, which helped ease the pain of the conversation that ensued.

(To the anon wondering about the AO3--never fear! When I finish, I'll repost.)

“You and Foggy are talking again.”

Matt, sprawled on his back on Claire's bed, grimaces. “I'm aware. Do you think we shouldn't?”

“I don't think it's a good idea, no. Either you're torturing him or you're torturing yourself. Unless you two are going to get back together.”

Matt shakes his head. “I would never ask him for that. And I don't think I'm torturing him. He was the one who still wanted to debate together, and he's been friendly. We still aren't eating lunch together, or spending study halls together, at least as much. I hope we're friends.”

“That answers the torturing him part of things.” Claire sighs. “Probably the torturing yourself thing too. You can tell him debating with him is a bad idea, Matt. He'll understand.”

“It would be selfish.”

“Bullshit.” Matt frowns, and Claire's desk chair squeaks, swiveling to face him. “You've got feelings for him, and even if you were a dick about things, that doesn't make them not real. If you don't want to spend time with him and make it worse, that's up to you. If wasn't selfish of him to break it off with you even though you actually want to date him now, and it's not selfish of you to back off if you need to.”

“I don't want to.”

“If you're sure.” She taps the pencil she's been doing her homework with a few times on her leg. “I'm not going to tell you not to do it, Matt, but I don't want you to end up with your heart broken.”

“I'm fine.”

“I know. You always are.” Claire laughs a little, quiet. “I should have known. You always fall hard for inconvenient people. I should be grateful it's not Elektra, I guess.”

Matt puts his hand over his face. He can't see her, but he doesn't want her seeing him either, right now. “It's not because they're inconvenient. I liked Foggy even when he was convenient. I liked Elektra because she didn't baby me. I liked you.”

“And I decided I wanted to be your friend.” Claire is gentle, even though they don't talk about it ever, and he knows she wants to pretend none of it ever happened. They're better as friends, but it doesn't erase the rough beginning. “But that doesn't really matter. Foggy was never convenient—well, he was convenient before you noticed he was around.” Matt winces, but it's a fair point. He doesn't object. “But as soon as you found out about that note and said yes anyway, he stopped being convenient.”

“You really think I shouldn't—anything, with him. Not that I would. I know he doesn't want to. I've said that.”

Claire sighs. “I'm not trying to make your decisions for you. I just know that you're on a collision course with heartbreak, here, and I think that part of you likes that.” Matt opens his mouth, but she's already continuing. “We don't have to argue about it. But you and Foggy talking again, debating with each other … be careful, if you're going to insist on doing it.”

“We're debating against Vanessa and Wesley.” She makes an encouraging noise. She knows his non sequiturs by now. “They're the ones who sent the note. I'm almost sure.”

“Okay.” There's a lot behind that, in her heartbeat and the way he knows to read the tone of her voice, but she leaves it. He's grateful. “You planning to beat them?”

“Of course.”

“You have any plans beyond that?”

“No.” He takes his arm off his face. “Not yet.”

“Right.” She gets out of her chair and comes to sit on the bed next to him, rests her hand on his chest like she does when she wants to make sure he's okay. Usually it's on days like he was having when Foggy found him in the bathroom. He doesn't know what that says about anything, but it can't be anything good. “If he breaks your heart right back, that's not tit for tat, you know? I will be fully qualified to kick his ass.”

Matt breathes out. “Thanks, Claire. I don't think it will be necessary, and I don't want him hurt anyway, but thank you for saying it.”

“Yeah, you're welcome.” She taps his chest. “Don't break your own heart either, okay? And sit up. I need to drill you on math rules.”

*

“I hear you're taking on Public Forum.”

Matt stops walking. He's heading for the front of school, to meet Karen after the school paper meeting, and he wasn't expecting Fisk to talk to him. They've avoided speaking to each other as much as possible after Fisk graduated, and after a pre-meet practice Lincoln-Douglas where they ripped each other to shreds and Owlsley benched Matt even though both of them were out of line. “Hello. Are you here to pick up Vanessa?”

“Yes. Going somewhere?”

“Just to meet Karen.” He shifts his backpack on his shoulder. “And yes. I'm taking on Public Forum, if that's the right way to phrase it. Foggy and I want to see how we work as a team.”

“Not as much prestige in that.”

“Practice for a few things I'm interested in, though.” The conversation is already getting Matt's hackles up. Fisk may be assisting with the coaching, but he doesn't have a stake in this, not really. “Any reason you ask?”

“Just making conversation.” There's always an air of menace, with Fisk. He was never a bully, precisely, when he was at school. He just took the lunch table he wanted, walked the halls like a king, never got in trouble with the administration and got people he didn't like in trouble, and nobody ever said anything about it, because no one ever figured out that he didn't have to stick kids in lockers. He got everything he wanted without it. “Foggy Nelson, though?”

Matt smiles as pleasantly as he can and keeps his cane clutched tight in one hand. “He's got plenty of killer instinct. I think it will stand us in good stead.”

“Weren't you two dating for a little while?”

“You seem to care a lot about the social lives of high schoolers. Don't you have forensics at whatever school you're at?”

“I'm mentoring.”

He's poking at Matt's bruises because they've never liked each other, and both of them know it. If Vanessa and Wesley were the ones behind the note, Fisk must know. He must have laughed, and encouraged it—maybe they wanted to humiliate Foggy, but Fisk is smart even if he plays stupid sometimes. He would have known there would be some way of hurting Matt in there too. Some chance of it. “Or you couldn't hack it on their team, no matter how many competitions you won in high school. I guess pure brutality doesn't work well at that level.”

“And you would know.”

Matt would. He takes a step forward, into Fisk's space, just because it will make him uncomfortable but sighted people never tell Matt to step back because they don't know he's getting so close on purpose, more often than not. “I guess we'll see at the practice debate.”

“I guess we will. Have a good day, Murdock.”

“You too,” Matt says, and steps out of his way, just in time to put his cane just shy of tripping him before he can walk on. “I hope you can make it to the debate, by the way. To see Foggy and me win.”

Fisk just grunts, and Matt moves his cane to let him walk away.

That might have been stupid, but it felt satisfying, and Matt and Foggy have been practicing. It's an event they have interest in doing, and even if Vanessa and Wesley make a good team, it isn't their preferred event. They can show all of them exactly how little impact that note, whatever its purpose was, had on them.

*

“Doris says you're still welcome to come to dinner some time,” Matt blurts when he and Foggy are packing up their books. Foggy has kept coming back to his library table, even though they don't work a lot on debate, mostly homework. They don't eat lunch together, and they don't spend time together after school unless it's a debate day, so Matt treasures the study halls, even if there isn't a lot of conversation during them.

“Um, are you … sure that's a good idea?”

“As a friend. Since it seems like we're still hanging out sometimes, she says.” Matt can feel the warmth in his cheeks. He must be blushing, and he hates not being able to control it. “I'm not trying to put pressure on, or anything, she just always seems to know whether I pass messages like that on or not.”

“That's because you're a shitty—well. I guess not.” Matt winces. He is shitty at the little lies, the ones about homework and passing messages. He's got at the big ones. Foggy has reason to know. “Plus it's mom radar, must happen even when it's not a blood mother.”

“Right.”

Foggy fidgets and then shuts his book with a gentle thump. “I don't know, Matt. I don't really want to blur any lines here.”

“Of course.” Matt swallows. “I'm not going to get my hopes up. I have Claire over for dinner all the time, and Karen has friends sometimes. It isn't like only boyfriends or girlfriends get invited over.”

“Right, yeah. It's just, you know. We used to date. So there's weird baggage, I guess.”

“Like I said. There isn't any pressure.” Matt runs his fingers over an equation or two on the printouts he's been using to help him study for math, which never works as well on the screenreader. “But I would like to be friends.”

“Of course you would.” Foggy sighs, and runs his fingers through his hair. His heartrate is a little elevated, but not enough to tell Matt anything but that he's anxious. “I kind of would too, but I'm trying to figure out how. Like, we're working with a lot less false pretenses now, which is good, but there are a lot of messy feelings going around, and I don't want to discount those.”

Matt nods and clasps his hands in his lap. Sometimes his fidgeting gives him away, when he wants to say more than he's saying, or when he's upset. “Slowly, I guess. Step by step.”

“Yeah, I get that part. I guess the question is just where I want to end up.”

“Of course.” Matt knows where he wants to end up, but even if Foggy comes to trust him again, there's no promise that he'll still be interested, or that he'll ever be able to trust him that much. “Let me know if you figure it out. I'm willing to try anything.” He squeezes his hands together. “Even if it's just being debate partners.”

“Just? We're going to be the most kickass debate partners out there.” It's a little too jovial, but it's an olive branch. Matt isn't going to discount those, even if it's not totally sincere yet. “Murdock and Nelson, unstoppable team, heading to Nationals!”

Matt laughs. “I guess that means we'll have to do a little more preparing.”

Foggy instantly relaxes, now that they're back on safe ground, and starts talking about his International Extemp prep and how it's helping him do research for potential Public Forum topics, and how Matt should help him. Matt joins in on the conversation even if he really needs to study for his math quiz, and he doesn't bring up dinner again.

*

OP here

And OH MAN this is what I get for not checking often enough on my prompts HOW GOOD IS THIS. I got to the end and was legit shocked that you said this is your first smut, because damn, that is some good smut! You hit a whole bunch of my D/s kinks totally by accident, so seriously, all the applause on this one.

i love this fic so much, especially doris's mom radar, and the tension between matt and fisk, and claire worrying about matt's emotional masochism. and i cannot wait for the debate with vanessa and wesley!

(OP here)

Aw, I love Matt and Claire in this. She so gets him, and the offer to beat up Foggy made me laugh because he wouldn't stand a chance against her.

Oh snap, Fisk! It's funny how easily his and Matt's dynamic translates to this setting. Fisk is already plenty creepy at this age, I can imagine him growing up to be a crime boss.

“That's because you're a shitty—well. I guess not.” Matt winces. He is shitty at the little lies, the ones about homework and passing messages. He's got at the big ones. Foggy has reason to know.

It hurts because it's so true. Matt's terrible at little lies, but living a lie comes naturally to him. It's been his main coping mechanism ever since the accident.

Poor Foggy's trying so hard to get hurt again, if only Matt had such a basic level of self-preservation. Though if he did, he wouldn't be Matt.

SA

*trying so hard not to get hurt again

I really hate to ask because I know authors go at their own pace and I don't mean to rush you or anything like that, I'm just wondering whether you're still about author!anon, and whether you're planning to continue this? I love it so so much and I really hope there's more to come, but if not I want to thank you for what you've given us here. It's really damn amazing, and so hot it's a bit unreal. whether it continues or not, I'll probably have it permanently open in my tabs for a very long time....

NA

Ahaha, I was going to post almost this exact message on Friday. You beat me to it. :)

Author!anon, I heartily agree with everything above!anon said. This fic is wonderful.

I'm still loving this fic. Really excited to see how the debate with Vanessa and Wesley goes.

(Sorry, this has taken an inexcusably long time, but I'm here with the second to last update, and the last one shouldn't take too long to write!)

“There's a meet next month,” says Owlsley while they're preparing for the debate. Everyone always watches each other's practice speeches—they aren't much good to the team if they can't even perform for a small group of people they know—but there seems to be buzz about this. Even Marci is here, skipping Student Council and completely ignoring Matt in order to talk to some freshman whose name he doesn't know, who's excited to watch the debate. Matt isn't ashamed to admit that he's smug that he and Foggy are the favorites to win. “You two plan to be ready for it?”

“Of course,” says Matt, and then winces and turns in Foggy's direction. Foggy is nervous, smell unpleasantly acrid, and he's been quiet ever since they turned up to practice. “Right?”

“Obviously,” says Foggy, like it really is obvious.

Owlsley scoffs a little, but that's just him, and Matt doesn't let it make him nervous. He tries out a smile instead. “Well then. We'll be ready. We're ready now, if Vanessa and Wes—James are.”

“We're ready,” Vanessa calls from across the room. She and Wesley have been talking quietly with Fisk, who's been advising them on strategy. Matt would say it isn't fair, but he's very sure he and Foggy can win either way, and his and Foggy's methods are much more similar to Fisk's than Vanessa or Wesley's. His advice wouldn't do much good.

“We're going to cream them, right?” Foggy asks under his breath. “It's going to be pretty embarrassing if we don't cream them.”

Matt pretends to search for Foggy with his hand, even though he knows exactly where he is, and squeezes his arm, just for a second before he pulls away. He doesn't want to push his luck. “Obviously,” he says, just as quietly.

Owlsley clears his throat and starts explaining the rules to everyone, how it's going to be judged (and Matt knows the judges aren't impartial, here, especially with Fisk among them, but he thinks they can win regardless). Foggy calms down once that ritual starts, and stops rustling his papers around in the table in front of him. Vanessa and Wesley are ignoring Owlsley, whispering with each other.

“Ready to begin?” Fisk asks when Owlsley finishes with the rules.

“Ready,” says Wesley.

“Ready,” says Foggy, and he isn't nervous anymore, settling into the calm that Matt recognizes from listening to him debate in the past. Matt focuses on that calm and takes a deep breath, thinks through all their arguments again and lets Foggy do their opening.

They win—of course they win. Matt didn't entertain any thought that they wouldn't, against Vanessa and Wesley, especially given they have something to prove. They might win a little too much, really. Neither of them is inclined to be kind to Vanessa and Wesley in particular, and in general, they work well as a team, and apparently it's even better when there's an audience, not just the two of them hashing their way through arguments.

Owlsley is the one to call the winners, even though everyone had to know five minutes in that Matt and Foggy would win. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, while there's scattered applause from the rest of the team. “No need to show off, nobody likes a sore winner.”

There aren't any words about sore losers, even though Vanessa and Wesley and Fisk are all tense and silent—Fisk should make some effort at being impartial, but he never does, especially not where Matt is concerned. “Hey, you should be glad,” says Foggy, sounding exactly as smug as Matt feels. “We're the ones actually planning to do the event in competition. Nice job, you two.”

“Thank you,” says Vanessa, who is better at being gracious than the other two.

That makes Fisk pull himself together, and he waves them back to their seats (Foggy taps Matt on the arm, since he doesn't know Matt can tell when people are making that kind of gesture) before he starts talking about what both teams could have done better and how it generally works in competition.

Matt doesn't pay much attention, and he suspects Foggy isn't either. They're sitting together, only a few places away from Vanessa and Wesley, and most of the room across from Marci, and Foggy seems to be vibrating with energy, not sitting relaxed in his chair like he usually is. Matt is too satisfied to be really keyed up, and he mostly lets himself drift until Owlsley starts talking to some of the speech kids about individual events and everyone else breaks off into practicing.

“We rocked,” Foggy whispers. “You should see Wesley, he looks like he bit down on a lemon.”

It's hard to control his grin. “We did. And I wish I could see, though I can imagine.”

“I would fistbump you, but I feel that would take some choreography.”

He would be able to tell where Foggy's fist was, but Matt just puts his up instead, keeps it in one place. “Here, I won't move, do it.”

Foggy does, tapping their fists gently together and then making a quiet explosion noise. “There. I feel like we've actually celebrated and shit now, and I'm going to go gloat in Marci's direction. You good over here?”

Matt wants to tell Foggy to stay, come up with some excuse like talking to the underclassmen or getting ahead talking about their first competition debate, but he and Foggy are good, today. They'll hopefully keep being friends. He's not going to push. “I'm great. Tell Marci hello.”

“I didn't think you—no, you know what, not asking. Sometimes it is best not to ask.”

Foggy is humming, pleased, when he gets up and walks away, and Matt lets the conversation in the room wash over him for a while. He isn't really necessary for anything else this afternoon, but Vanessa and Wesley are quietly dissecting their defeat and Foggy is talking to Marci about winning but not about Matt, so he stays. Karen is after school for the paper, anyway, and she'll be around for another hour at least.

Debate breaks up for the afternoon before she gets out, and Foggy is still talking to Marci, so Matt goes out into the hall to wait for her, getting a few congratulations on the debate on his way out the door, and sits down leaned against the lockers halfway down the hall from where she's meeting. The school is emptying out person by person as afternoon practices and clubs get out, and Matt keeps one ear on Karen bossing around the senior who edits the paper and one ear on the rest of the school.

On Foggy, almost as far away in the building as he could be, saying “—that we're even, I'm really curious about why the note. I beat a lot of people in debates. Most of them don't try to mess with me.”

“We thought it would be funny.” Vanessa. Matt struggles to his feet. “Why else do you think?”

“I guess I thought maybe people weren't that much of assholes.” Matt starts walking in Foggy's direction. It's after practice, and if Vanessa is around, and probably Wesley too, it's because they're with— “And I always kind of wondered if you knew too, actually.”

“I didn't see the harm in a few teenage pranks.” Fisk. Matt doesn't know why Foggy is confronting them, and he doesn't know why he would do it with Fisk there, but he needs to get there before anything goes wrong. He drops his backpack and starts running.

“Yeah. Bullies never do.”

“I wouldn't call me names if I were you.” Calm, Fisk is always so calm until he isn't, Matt heard him lose his temper once last year and he's kept an ear on him ever since because he knows that kind of temper, he has that kind of temper.

“It took him long enough to figure out Murdock was humoring him, after all.” Wesley. It's all three of them, of course, and Foggy's heartbeat spikes at that—still hurt, of course he is, and they're making it worse, pressing at bruises.

“Funnily enough, my not thinking the worst of people has nothing to do with you being bullies.” Matt is only a hallway away from them now, and he'll have to slow down, use his cane. Not that he knows exactly what he can do or say anyway. “Okay, though. Question answered. You just felt like being assholes and I was a convenient target because I beat you a lot.”

“I'd watch your language,” says Fisk, and Matt slows to a purposeful walk, gets his cane ready. “If you call coaches names, you can get suspended from the team. Even bullying other team members can lead to a suspension, if not more.”

Foggy scoffs, but Matt can hear his heartbeat speed up. That scares him. Foggy loves debate, said once it's his way of practicing for law school, and that if Owlsley were less of an asshole he would be his ticket to amazing recommendations for college. He must know as well as Matt does that administration will take Fisk's word over theirs, if Fisk says they were picking on Vanessa and Wesley instead of the opposite. “Really? You're playing that card?”

“What card? I think I hear disrespect, you and Murdock have always been borderline on that front. No one would be—”

“You leave Matt out of this.” Foggy snaps it out, and that's not good, Matt can hear Fisk's heart tick up a notch now that he's provoked Foggy, now that there isn't the pretense of friendliness. Vanessa and Wesley are quiet now, but Fisk has the power here. They don't need to step forward. Fisk doesn't even need to. He can just kick Foggy off the team. “I'm the one they were fucking with in the first place. He doesn't need to be involved.”

Matt should pause before he comes around the corner, figure out what to say, how to defuse this, how to get away, but he doesn't. It's coming to a head, and he barely remembers to put the end of his cane on the floor before he comes around the corner where they'll be able to see him. “It sounds like I'm involved, though.” Foggy makes a quiet noise, nothing Matt knows how to interpret. Fisk's heartbeat is steady, but he takes a step forward. Vanessa and Wesley are quiet and still—they're good at that—but Matt isn't going to discount them. “Foggy. Are you okay?”

“Fine, man. Just talking a little about the debate, respect for authority figures, that kind of thing.”

“It's very important to respect authority figures who are worthy of respect,” Matt agrees, taking a few steps closer to Foggy. He can't go right to his side, not without raising some questions, but he can get closer. “Is this about the note?”

“Matt,” Foggy hisses, but Matt is waiting to see which one of them answers.

Vanessa is the one to field the question, in that deceptively mild tone of hers. “Maybe it's good that you're here, Matthew. I have to admit I'm curious why you went along with it. Maybe you felt sorry for him? It was a rather pitiful showing.”

Matt doesn't even realize he's moving until Foggy throws his arm across Matt's chest and stops him short. The few steps he took must have been too sure, and his fists are clenched, and Matt forces himself to take deep breaths. Foggy doesn't move his arm, like he thinks he's the only thing keeping Matt from lunging. He might be. “That's enough,” says Foggy, to all of them. “You three, his sister is on the school paper, she listens to him, and also he kind of looks like he wants to kill you, so I'd quit it if I were you. Matt, you come with me.”

Matt shakes his head. “You don't—”

“Yes I do.” That's Foggy as sharp as he ever gets, when he's leaning in to make the argument that will win him a debate. “You are all really lucky I decided I didn't want him to get suspended for assaulting a student or a coach. Matt, come on.”

Foggy starts walking, putting his fingertips on Matt's arm, not quite leading him, just letting him know what direction he's going in. “Running away?” Wesley asks their backs, when Matt starts following Foggy because he can't do anything else.

Matt is ready to turn around, but Foggy stops first, and breathes in. “If I were you, I might reconsider my definition of pitiful,” he says on his exhale. “I'm not the one who was such a sore loser I decided to pull an asshole prank on someone.” When he starts walking again, he grips Matt's arm a little tighter, and Matt goes with him, listens to him breath until they've turned a corner and he lowers his voice and starts talking again. “Where the hell did you come from? Where's your backpack?”

“I left it near Karen's classroom.” Matt winces, because Foggy will know where that is. He already knows Matt's hearing is more sensitive than most people's. “I heard you start arguing—why would you provoke them?”

“Honestly, I was trying to call a truce so this doesn't become a feedback loop of us kicking their asses and them plotting revenge, but that was probably stupid, and what do you mean you heard us start arguing from outside the school paper? Let's go get your bag.”

Matt pulls gently away from Foggy's hand, because Foggy might not want to hold on much longer. “My hearing is sensitive. You know that.”

“Okay, there's sensitive and there's 'possibly a character in a kung fu movie,' and you are treading that line pretty hard all of a sudden.”

“Please, can we not talk about this right here?”

Foggy sighs, and he's a few steps ahead of Matt, his adrenaline high and his gait quick with it. Matt is lagging. “Fine. But can we talk? About things? This seems to be my afternoon for overdue but unwise conversations. Is Karen expecting you or something?”

“If you text her that we're together, she won't worry, and she'll pass my excuses to Ben and Doris if the conversation goes on for a while. I would do it myself, but sometimes speech-to-text takes a while.” Matt speeds up, because Foggy isn't slowing down. He doesn't seem angry, but he doesn't seem happy either. “We can talk.” He swallows. “Are you angry?”

“Stop looking like a kicked puppy. No. Mostly I'm pissed off at Wesley and Vanessa and Fisk, and a little bit I'm freaked out that you heard that all the way across the school.”

Matt will take that. He speeds up a little catch up with Foggy and doesn't bother using his cane much as they walk to the hallway where he left his bag. Foggy has his phone out, probably texting Karen, or maybe Marci. “Do you want to talk anywhere in particular?”

“Sure, I know somewhere. There. Karen knows you haven't been kidnapped and murdered, and also that we won our practice debate, which she is already threatening to put in the paper.”

“Tell her to save it for when we win in competition,” says Matt, and tries not to sigh in relief when Foggy laughs.

*

*

Foggy's place to talk, it turns out, is a dingy bar Matt is fairly sure they shouldn't be allowed in, where they get served sodas almost immediately by a low-voiced woman who smells like cigarettes and scotch and who Foggy tells Matt he's going to marry someday. “Nobody cares what people talk about in here,” says Foggy. “So I thought it might be a good place to … you know. Discuss you hearing conversations across schools. And also you stepping in to defend me earlier. And other stuff, I don't know. I've been thinking maybe we should talk.”

“Right.” Matt takes a deep breath. “Where do you want to start, then? Ask me questions.” Foggy knows how to do that, and it's easier than trying to confess everything in some kind of incomprehensible heap.

After a few seconds and a sip of soda, Foggy does. It starts with asking about how far he can hear conversations, and it ranges over Matt's hearing, his smell, his late nights in the gym where his father used to box and how he's getting better at it, how he likes it better than the martial arts he learned—well, the martial arts he learned. There are some things Matt isn't going to volunteer, and that Foggy doesn't ask. Stick isn't a story for today.

“So you have superpowers,” Foggy summarizes when Matt runs dry on new things to tell him. He wasn't pleased about all of it (he doesn't like Matt hearing his heart, but Matt really can't help that, not when they're sitting so close), but he's still listening. He isn't cutting off contact again. “Tell me you don't go out at night and save damsels.”

Matt shakes his head. “I don't.” That's honesty, even if it's not the whole story, and when Foggy just hums thoughtfully, he forces the rest of it out. “Sometimes I want to. I don't—I would have punched Fisk, if you hadn't stopped me. I would have done more than punch him, probably. Maybe Wesley. Maybe even Vanessa.”

“That's—chivalrous, I guess. For the record, please don't. I don't want you getting arrested for me. Or, you know, anyone.”

Sometimes, Matt will hear someone crying in the bathroom, or Karen talking quietly to Ben about how she ended up in the system, or a siren will pass his window at night, and he'll itch, wanting to do something about it, knowing that if he practices he'll be able to do something about it. “I won't get arrested,” he says, which is the closest he can get to telling the truth.

Foggy sighs like he knows it. “That's really not comforting, but we'll leave it there for now, and I am going to ask you why you came rushing in to defend my honor earlier.”

It's Matt's turn to stall with a sip of his soda. It tastes like too much sugar, and carbonation is sometimes too much of a sensory distraction, but he could use the distraction today. “You know why,” he finally says, and Foggy makes a displeased noise. “You do. It's what I would have done if someone were hassling Karen or Claire too, if that makes you feel any better about it.”

“I just … stroke my ego here, Matt. As they so delicately pointed out, the whole you-pretending-to-like-me thing was kind of pitiful. Indulge me. I was doing okay. They were empty threats. Why go in there fists swinging?”

“Because empty or not, you shouldn't have had to hear that. You shouldn't have had to deal with them being spiteful, and threatening you.” He fidgets with his straw wrapper. “Because it's my fault they had that much ammunition on you.”

Foggy shakes his head, hair on his shoulders. “They would have found ammunition no matter what, if you turned me down that first day it would have been about how I never should have believed the note. I'm pissed off about the pity dating, but not because of them using it against me. I'm just pissed it happened.”

Matt ducks his head. “I'm still sorry about that.”

“I can't believe I'm … you said it got to be genuine.” Matt's heart jumps to his throat, and Foggy continues before he can try to speak past it. “I want you to be so sure that it isn't guilt, or whatever.”

“It's not.” Too fast, too loud. Matt sits back in his chair and tries to modulate his voice. “It isn't, Foggy. I promise. What … what changed your mind? If you're changing you're mind.” He could just want information, but his heart is a little faster than usual but steady, and he's tapping his fingers against the table. He usually only fidgets when he's finalizing his arguments for debate.

Foggy sighs, but it isn't exasperated, from what Matt can tell. He's still thinking. “It's kind of hard to keep telling myself you were making it all up when you're clearly pining.”

“I wasn't making it up.” Convincing Foggy because he's being obvious about missing him isn't ideal, but it might make Foggy feel like the playing field is a little more level.

“Yeah, I kind of—I mean, you were going to stupidly punch people to, I don't know, defend my honor or something. I get the message that this isn't a pity thing. And if it isn't a guilt thing ...” Matt shakes his head. “It seems kind of stupid if we both have feelings for each other and we're not together, even if you were a massive dick about things the first time around.”

“No false pretenses this time,” Matt promises, and dares to put his hand on the table, to see if Foggy's going to take it.

“Okay.” Foggy shifts in his seat and puts his hand next to Matt's, fingers barely brushing. “Okay.” And then he's half out of his side of the booth, scraping against the table in a way that has to hurt, and his glass rocks but doesn't tip as he leans over the table to kiss Matt, clumsier even than their first kiss. Matt doesn't care. He kisses back, doesn't worry about the angle or how their mouths are only half touching. Foggy is kissing him again. They can worry about finesse again later. There's going to be a later.

“No,” says the woman who delivered their sodas, loud and closer than she should have managed to get before Matt heard her. Foggy is distracting. “Nelson, you want to feel up your boyfriend, you pay for your soda and scat.”

Foggy laughs, and Matt is still close enough that he can feel the heat from his cheeks. “Josie, light of my life, this is kind of a celebratory occasion. Promise we'll keep it PG?”

She snorts. “That's worse. Out, Nelson. Come back when you aren't acting like a cartoon character.”

It sounds like a well-worn interaction, if not quite an affectionate one, so Matt lets Foggy take the lead and pay for their sodas. He can always pay for their next date, and he likes hearing Foggy quietly argue with Josie at the counter, something about a discount and an extra tip. Foggy is busy the whole time, bouncing on the balls of his feet, heart fast and whole body warm. Matt is making him happy again, Matt and winning the debate, even if that was spoiled a little by the conversation in the hall.

“Okay,” says Foggy when he's done, grabbing Matt's hand and towing him out of the building. “That didn't act like quite as much of a refuge as I wanted, but I should probably get home anyway. I didn't tell Mom I would be missing dinner or bringing company. And you didn't tell Karen or the Urichs that either.”

“No, I didn't.” But Foggy can finally come to dinner now. Doris and Ben will be pleased. “But I'll see you tomorrow at school, anyway.”

Foggy squeezes his hand. “Probably smart to stick together, right? Present a united front for our nemeses.”

“Right.” Matt isn't sure of the wisdom of that at all, but a united front sounds good. He squeezes back. “Thank you for trying again.”

“Yeah, well. I guess my willpower isn't great when I'm confronted with hot guys with superpowers who are pining according to my friends.” They walk a few steps. “Fair warning, if you're an asshole this time Marci may actually ruin your life.”

“She talked about Brett punching me, too.”

“She—no, you know what, I'm not even going to ask right now, I'm going to enjoy this walk with my—boyfriend, I guess.”

“Boyfriend definitely.” They only have about a block before Matt will have to split off in a different direction, but that's fine. He can kiss Foggy goodbye again, and find him at his locker before school.

Foggy laughs. “Okay, all my fears are being alleviated, I wish you could see your face right now.”

“Good.”

The rest of the walk is good—Matt does kiss Foggy goodbye, until someone brushing by them on the sidewalk swears and mutters something about taking up space, and he lingers on the rest of his walk.

Karen and Doris and Ben are all home when he gets there, sitting around the dinner table, and all of them relax when he comes into view, Doris and Ben taking each other's hands under the table and Karen's grin showing coming through her voice when she says “It went okay, then?”

Matt must be blushing, because she's biting back laughter now, and Doris isn't bothering to contain her chuckle. “Yeah.”

“Well, then,” says Ben. “Dinner's still warm. Sit down and tell us all about it.”

*

Oooh! I am really enjoying this! Thank you so much for writing! I love the Josie cameo and now they're back together! :D Too cute!

*melts into a puddle of happiness*

(also i love the bit about matt understanding the danger of fisk's temper because he has the same kind of temper himself. that's a nice parallel, as is the way fisk was presumably participating in the 'get foggy' scheme because he felt people he cared about had been hurt... but foggy stopped matt from hitting anyone (and matt listened), whereas vanessa and wesley actively worked to hurt foggy over something incredibly petty and did nothing to stop fisk from abusing his authority or escalating the conflict.)

“Foggy is having lunch with us,” Matt blurts all in one breath when he sits down at the table across from Claire the next day. Foggy is across the cafeteria talking to Marci and Karen is late, so he can snatch a moment of privacy with Claire.

There's a brief pause while she either straightens out his tangle of syllables or processes the news. “I take it the debate went well,” she finally says, dry.

“Yes, and then things went poorly in the hall after that, but everything is okay now.” Matt has felt like vibrating out of his skin all morning, and he hasn't been able to stop himself checking in on Foggy once or twice a period all day, even if Foggy isn't used to his senses and probably wouldn't completely approve. He can apologize later.

Claire laughs. “Yes, I can see that.”

Foggy is coming over now—Marci told him not to get his heart broken this time, and Matt takes his hand the second he sits down, because Foggy probably knows he heard that. It's hard getting used to him knowing, especially when he knows more than even Claire does at this point. “Hey, Claire,” says Foggy, sounding sheepish.

“Welcome back.” That's warmer, less teasing. Matt will be in for a conversation with her later, and probably a warning that if he fucks it up this time it's not her job to clean up after his mistakes, but she seems happy too, genuinely so. She likes Foggy, and she must see how happy Matt is. “I hear you two won your debate. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Foggy disentangles his hand from Matt's and starts sorting through his lunch bag. “Probably not fair on Vanessa and Wesley. It isn't their event, and also we are a hell of a lot better than they are.”

“Great, you're both gloaters, that's going to make the lunch table fun. You should bring a friend or two of yours over sometimes, Karen and I are going to need backup.”

“Oh God, I'm pretty sure I shouldn't introduce Marci or Brett to you.”

Karen chooses that moment to arrive, sitting down next to Claire, a little out of breath. “Sorry, guys, forgot my lunch in my locker and that one couple was making out against it—Foggy, hey! Nice to have you back at the table.” She sounds like she's grinning, again or still. She dragged Matt into her room after dinner last night and made him tell her the story, hissing in anger over Fisk and Vanessa and Wesley and clapping when he talked about sitting in the bar talking things over with Foggy.

“Nice to be back.” There's a long enough silence that Matt suspects they're making faces at each other, communicating things they don't want him to hear, and when Matt sighs, Foggy laughs. “Yeah, yeah, we're telling secrets, sorry. Any word from Vanessa or Wesley this morning?”

“Not a thing.” He doesn't think they're done with whatever their objective is, but nothing has happened this morning, and at least he and Foggy are presenting a united front now. They can deal with bullies later on. “I'd rather not talk about them, though.”

“You're going to have to talk about them eventually,” says Claire. “I would like an explanation. But I don't really want to waste my lunch break talking about them either. There's a new volunteer at the hospital—I think he's there doing community service, but he seems nice, anyway, so I'm not going to ask about it.”

Claire always knows what to say, so he can focus on getting to sit next to Foggy again and maybe hold his hand when they're finished eating. He smiles across the table at her and asks about the new volunteer, lets her talk about him and then about the doctor who always treats her like an incompetent, drawing Karen into the conversation and leaving Matt and Foggy to listen until Foggy has to excuse himself a few minutes before lunch is over because he needs to stop in the library to get something he ordered.

“I'll walk with you,” Matt offers.

Foggy shakes his head. “No, no, I'll see you after school, I've actually got to concentrate and I know that look on your face.” He does kiss Matt before he goes, quick and a little embarrassed, when they're in public, and Matt lingers as long as Foggy lets him.

“See you later, Foggy,” says Claire, Karen chiming in, and when he's gone, she reaches across the table to pat Matt's arm. “Good for you,” she says, the closest thing Claire is going to get to a blessing, and he smiles and offers to walk her to class, which is the closest thing she'll allow to thanks.

“I'll come along,” says Karen, an acknowledgment of all of it, and is the first to stand up to pick up her bag and wait for them.

*

The audiences are never big, at debate meets. Today, though, Matt has what seems like a crowd in the stands—Ben, Doris, and Karen all came, and they're sitting with the Nelsons, who Matt has met a few times now and who seem to have brought half the extended family, which he's coming to realize is normal for them. There are representatives from the debate team too, though Fisk and Vanessa and Wesley are conspicuous in their absence. Matt's a little sorry about that. He'd like them to see he and Foggy win again, even though everything has been quiet from them since the day of the practice debate.

“Nervous?” Foggy asks from next to him, shuffling a few papers around. He sounds a little nervous himself, and Matt is still getting used to the way his hair sounds after the haircut he got two days ago.

“I think we'll win. Fisk and Owlsley wouldn't coach us into losing just from spite. And even if they would we've done plenty of independent research.” There are too many people watching for displays of affection, but he catches Foggy's hand under the table. It's close enough to what he wants to do, anyway. “We're going to be fine.”

Their opponents are close, talking quietly about strategies—one has heard about Matt, and is whispering to her partner about “the blind kid, apparently he's really good at Lincoln-Douglas, keep an eye on him,” and he would be offended if he weren't feeling a little smug about Foggy taking them by surprise.

Foggy lowers his voice. “You've got that eavesdropping expression on your face. You aren't cheating and listening to our opponents, right?”

“Not listening to their arguments, anyway,” Matt offers. Foggy is good about his senses, most of the time, but Matt always feels chastened when he brings them up in that disapproving tone. “They're saying I'm good in solo events and to watch out for me—and now they're saying you don't look like very tough competition.” He frowns.

Foggy just nudges his shoulder. “Good thing we're about to prove them wrong. What do you say, want to annihilate them?”

The judge is just standing up, clearing her throat, ready to read the rules, and Matt can't help grinning. “I don't think we should have too much trouble with that.”

Foggy finds his hand under the table one more time and squeezes it tight. “Then let's do it.”

THE END

(Repost should go up on the AO3 sometime within the next 24 hours! The link will go up in the completed fills post.)

*shrieks shrilly* I loved this story so much. :D This was an awesome ride!

It was perfectly on time again, but she’d forgotten it was coming for once. The previous night she’d fallen asleep just relaxed and ridiculously happy. Because while it wasn’t like she hadn’t really enjoyed sex in the past, at least when the guy had been decent, sex with the man she was in love with, who turned out to be just as good as the stories had claimed…well, that was something else. Plus the summer had only just begun, and she was still dwelling much on the luxury of sleeping in, especially when they’d managed to get themselves a proper apartment together. Then that morning, she woke up with the first pinch of cramps, and she could tell she was already bleeding.
All over Matt’s silk sheets.
“Oh,” she cried, waking him up if he hadn’t been already, as she scrambled up and into a sitting position before pulling the covers back to assess the damage. There was now a dark red stain in the silk, one that was not going to be easy to get out. “Oh, Matt, I’m so sorry, I’ve gotten blood on your sheets…”
“Painkillers?” he asked, pulling himself up. A pause, while he presumably took assessment. He could probably get a rough idea of both the size and location of the blood, but he dropped his head closer to her abdomen, and then confirmed. “Painkillers. Want me to get them for you? Or I could get you a heat pack; I’ve got one…”
He wasn’t going to complain about the blood. Even though she didn’t know how much it would take to keep his sensitive nose from continually smelling it, even post removal. So she started, “Stained it pretty badly…”
“You want me to change the sheets?” Oh God, he’d misunderstood. “I’m going to wash them right away anyway. I, uh, Elektra did buy me a second set. As a parting gift; she…she’d noticed how much better I slept in them-though…though she didn’t know anything else, of course.”
“Only if you want to,” said Foggy, and got up to stumble to the bathroom. She took in the condition of her legs and said, “I need to shower anyway.”
A second set…and it said everything that hearing about that made her heart clench with jealousy once again. She understood perfectly why Matt had both accepted the expensive gifts and then kept them, at least once he explained how since the accident he had always struggled to get enough sleep, until the first night he had turned down in them and discovered how much of a relief it had been to have sheets that didn’t feel like sandpaper against his skin, was how he described his old cotton ones. That was the kind of temptation even he hadn’t been able to resist. She certainly wasn’t going to ask him to give that up, especially given how broke they both were. And yet she wished so badly he wasn’t using such sheets given to him by another woman, an ambassador’s daughter who was richer than her as well as hotter, and so superior to Foggy she ought to thank her lucky stars that for whatever reason that relationship hadn’t worked out.
This wasn’t ideal, what had happened the previous night. Of course now that they were moved in together, they probably would’ve started having sex anyway. But she was never going to proud of the fact that their first time had basically happened because he’d confessed where his sheets had come from and she’d gotten so jealous she’d basically demanded they fuck on them. It had been ridiculously petty. She even kind of wished he’d called her on it. But he hadn’t even shown any reluctance, just given her what she wanted; seemed pretty happy to, actually.
Even though she was pretty sure he’d been able to tell her period was coming the previous night, and she herself had been aware it was due, even if in the heat of jealousy and desperate want, she’d forgotten, and she was a little worried that subconsciously, she’d gone and gotten blood on those sheets on purpose.
He brought her crackers in the bathroom. “Remember what the doctor said-you really shouldn’t be taking those without food in the stomach.” Post-shower he was waiting, sitting on the bed with the heat pack, the sheets changed, and he said, “I don’t think we need to get up yet. Why don’t you lie back down and I’ll give you a backrub, at least until the painkillers kick in.”
“I’m not even in that much pain,” said Foggy. And she wasn’t; lately her period had been starting more slowly, with a short time period of lighter flow and less pain, before the brunt of it hit. Made things a lot easier; no longer did she have that terrible hour while she waited for her medication to start working. Indeed, it seemed a lot of things in her life had improved since she and Matt had had that reckoning, and from there started building a stronger and more honest relationship which she thought was probably making them both happier than either of them had ever been, him especially.
But he coaxed her back under the sheets anyway, even when she also added as she shifted onto the relief of the heat pack, “I’m probably going to get blood on these too, in this position.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he told her. “I got a huge lecture from Serena once about even with overnights no woman can completely keep her sheets clean.” Serena had been the next girlfriend he’d had after Elektra. “I’m not going to expect you to.” His hands were already on her back, and she knew those senses of his allowed him to know exactly where her things were tight, exactly where she most needed relief. She’d joked more than once that he should’ve held off on the massages, because she’d started to think they were better than the sex would be. Although the sex had ultimately turned out to be better still, so she supposed she might have to retire that one.
“So she bled on them too?” she asked. That would make her feel better, maybe if she wasn’t the first.
But he only said, after another moment, “Uh, no, she never spent the night like that. You know we didn’t date very long.”
His thumbs were grinding into exactly the right pair of places above the small of her back, forcing a groan from Foggy’s mouth-and also more blood out of her cunt, although she was pretty sure the pad caught it all-this time. “Yeah, I know,” she said. “Although at least she was like you were at the time with the amount of guys she went through. I guess you can get away with that better when you’re hot.”
After that last sentence escaped her mouth, she hoped Matt would take it simply as a reflection on both himself and Serena, rather than of her as opposed to anybody else. She was pretty sure her heartbeat wasn’t articulate enough to tell him otherwise, after all. Or maybe it was, given how it spiked when she realized the full implications of saying that to him.
But he said, “Foggy…you’re not going to be scared of any conventionally attractive women talking to me, are you?”
“I’m not going to be ridiculously clingy like that,” she hastily reply.
“I’m not talking about that,” he said, and now he sounded truly dismayed. “I’m talking about you being unhappy. You really should not be afraid, you know. You know perfectly well you’ve been the most important woman there’s ever been in my life. Also the most important person at least after my father died.”
Oh God, she loved this man. And how could she possibly avoid the fact that she wasn’t supposed to be able to attract a boyfriend this wonderful? “Still,” she said, “I haven’t been the woman you’ve been fucking before. And even if you can’t see them, haven’t I made it pretty clear they’ve all of them been a lot hotter than me? I don’t know what it is about your supersenses that causes that, but, well, in any case, you now know exactly how fat I am.”
“Foggy,” he protested, “Do…do you realize how much I…I-I loved finally getting my hands on you last night? Surely…surely you noticed?”
“Well,” she said, “you were obviously enjoying it, um, but…it’s sex. Men usually do enjoy it, I find. And I do believe, you know, that you have, well, feelings for me here. I’m sure you’ve been happy to overlook a few things.” Now they were both turning red, of course, but his hands remained steady as they moved up and down her back. She was grateful for that. “You don’t have the flatter me, Murdock. Okay, maybe you liked the rack, especially since you don’t have to see how ridiculous it can make me look unless I’m very smart in what I wear-”
“I’m not flattering you,” he insisted. And then his hands did move, one to her breast, naturally, but the other down forward, resting itself over her belly button, and there was an intimacy in the way he stroked that made her shiver, even making her forget the pain for a split second or so. “I like your body. I love how soft it feels, how much of it there is, how warm you are.”
To make his point further, he started kissing his way down her spine, and even after only a single night together it seemed he’d already memorized where on her back to put his mouth as well. Although the arousal was mild, mostly she felt just warmth and a gentle pleasure that melted her down in his embrace, before he whispered, “I’d be loving this, too, except I don’t like that you’re in pain,” and Foggy was left to melt even further, even before he moved his hands back to her back and resumed the massage.
But by the time they were turning in on the bed at the end of the day, it having been a surprisingly exhausting one, too much so for any further sex, Foggy tried not to look at or rest on the spots where blood had indeed settled, and though she and Matt had worked together getting them out she could somehow see it all anyway, and she knew Matt could still smell it. Both his sets of sheets in one day; she’d been efficient. She thought she might just stay aware of where she’d stained them even after it finally faded from his senses.

Ah, this was such a fun story! Thanks for writing it.

So I just found this, and I don't know if you're planning on ending here (it is a good stopping point), but now I'm helplessly imagining more and more stories in this universe. Foggy slowly working through Matt's complexes with him, earning trust, helping him interact well with others (his parents, Karen, etc.), working with Matt to rebuild his sense of self-respect... And then, like the original prompt said, he discovers Matt's big secret and is either absolutely shattered that Matt could do something like that... or maybe just really, weirdly, PROUD that his friend had enough strength to go out and stand up for what was right (in the most dramatic, Murdock-y way possible) after everything he survived.

But really, this story is so, so super angsty! I think the most telling moment, for me, was that moment when Foggy asked Matt what he wanted for his treatment, and Matt tensed up. It was as if Matt thought maybe he really could decide for himself, like he WANTED to take that chance... and then he gives in, because he can't quite believe that his body's his own again or the other shoe won't eventually drop. I don't know, it sort of summed up the whole premise and the characters in one little line.

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Page 177 of 184

Prompt Post #6

Re: Matt/Foggy: Matt keeps making excuses not to ask Foggy out

Re: Matt/Foggy, Foggy introduces Matt to gay sex, friends with benefits turns to real relationship

Re: Fill: Long Past Due 2/2

Re: Another bit of a something, Mini-fill...5, now?

Re: Fill: Long Past Due 2/2

Re: [fill] Matched Your Own Beat (9/?)

Prescription Strength (2/8)

Prescription Strength (3/8)

[fill] Matched Your Own Beat (10/?)

Re: Open for Business

Re: [fill] Matched Your Own Beat (10/?)

Re: [fill] Matched Your Own Beat (10/?)

Re: [fill] Matched Your Own Beat (10/?)

Re: [FILL] 1c/6, told me i was holy (got me down on both knees)

Re: [FILL] 1c/6, told me i was holy (got me down on both knees)

Re: [fill] Matched Your Own Beat (10/?)

[fill] Matched Your Own Beat (11a/12)

[fill] Matched Your Own Beat (11b/12)

Re: [fill] Matched Your Own Beat (11b/12)

Re: [fill] Matched Your Own Beat (11b/12)

[fill] Matched Your Own Beat (12/12)

Re: [fill] Matched Your Own Beat (12/12)

Prescription Strength (4/8)

Re: [fill] Matched Your Own Beat (12/12)

Re: Another bit of a something, Mini-fill...6, now?