I've tried twice to write more for this AU and failed miserably, but thanks to this comment, I'm just going to write forward from this scene because it's what's important. I've uploaded the torture scene to AO3, and will be writing more (so that means an appearance by Claire, probably), so feel free to follow there http://archiveofourown.org/works/4763756/chapters/10892972 That said, have this little bit I wrote when trying to get started on this AU --
Foggy likes Hell's Kitchen. He likes it quite a lot. He's not exactly sure why all other people do, but it suits him just perfectly. He thinks the others should worry about how people just up and go missing without blood or hair to show for it.
He likes it though. It's the closest thing to home that he's got, a place where the shadows smash against fire and blood and the sirens scream in the night with bright klaxon flashing.
It hadn't always been that way. Or it had, because the history had soaked into board and stone, in the dark places where light has long forgotten how to reach. Things had gotten better, and then Harlem had gotten broken, and some time later, the sky. At that point, all the dark things hiding in the shadows came crawling out.
And Hell's Kitchen is the worst neighborhood in the place, with the darkest shadows and the brights fires and the loudest sirens and Foggy feels right at home.
--
So of course he's going to stay. That's just a given, isn't it? His mom praises him for the decision to go to college, looking slightly relieved, and his dad nods thoughtfully and says 'if you're sure.'
Foggy's sure and so off he goes. It shouldn't be too hard, right? He's not very good at making friends - at least, not any that aren't also related to him. There's no particular reason why - people like him well enough, but somehow it just never quite graduates into anything more involved. He introduces himself as 'Franklin Nelson' and if he happens to like the way someone's hand fits in his, he may add 'But you can call me Foggy.'
It takes a week and an alarm overslept that ends with them out on the sidewalk before Matthew Murdock stops with a stumble and a somewhat desperate glance back towards the dorms. Foggy almost doesn't stop, but he does, and glances back at Matt standing stiff and pale with his knuckles tight around his hastily grabbed bag.
"Um," Matt says, and his head keeps turning like he wants to go back, but they're already late and - "Could you - um." One hand stretches out and grasps toward Foggy. "Guide me?"
Oh, Foggy thinks, finally registering that there's no cane in Matt's hand. And: huh. "Uh, sure," he says, back tracking a bit. He holds out his arm and moves it under Matt's grasping hand, which catches on easily, then adjust and curls around the crook of his elbow.
"Thanks," Matt says, and he smiles a bit. "You're a life saver, Nelson."
"Call me Foggy," his mouth says, which surprises him, because he usually makes that judgement upon the first meeting and Matthew Murdock hadn't struck him as a 'Call me Foggy' person.
They're shuffling along as fast as they can with respect to how close they're having to walk and the fact that one of them is blind, but Foggy still sees Matt's head cock back a bit. "Foggy," he says, surprised - catches it between lip and tooth and presses and pins it to the roof of his mouth and then lets it go with a wide, shameless grin.
Foggy braces himself for the usual 'Foggy - like the Hudson?' or 'Foggy - like mornings?' But the only thing that comes out of Matt's mouth is a slightly incredulous: "Where did you get a nickname like that?"
"Shut up," he says, but he's grinning right back; maybe Matt doesn't know what fog even looks like. "Don't ask, it's embarrassing. My family gave it to me when I was a teenager, I haven't been able to shake it off since."
"You introduce yourself that way," Matt points out with a slightly hysterical giggle, which is mostly due to the lack of sleep going on in the dorm because this is the first week of classes and no one is adjusting well.
"Sometimes," he stresses, which is only true.
It's true, so of course he hasn't been able to shrug off the name. He hasn't really been trying. It is embarrassing, but it also means him, it best labels the truth of what he is. He's not sure why he's sharing this with Matt, only that he feels like he should, that it would be good.
And that's that. He somehow makes a friend in Matt, and he's never had one outside his own family before, so that must on some level make Matt family, right? He's pretty certain it does, so that's how he treats Matt and he doesn't pat Matt on his fluffy dark head every time Matt looks bewildered by the whole thing because Foggy's pretty sure people don't like that nearly as much as the dark things do.
Re: Fake Fill: its not a first date if someone else is cutting your skin
http://archiveofourown.org/works/4763756/chapters/10892972
That said, have this little bit I wrote when trying to get started on this AU
--
Foggy likes Hell's Kitchen. He likes it quite a lot. He's not exactly sure why all other people do, but it suits him just perfectly. He thinks the others should worry about how people just up and go missing without blood or hair to show for it.
He likes it though. It's the closest thing to home that he's got, a place where the shadows smash against fire and blood and the sirens scream in the night with bright klaxon flashing.
It hadn't always been that way. Or it had, because the history had soaked into board and stone, in the dark places where light has long forgotten how to reach. Things had gotten better, and then Harlem had gotten broken, and some time later, the sky. At that point, all the dark things hiding in the shadows came crawling out.
And Hell's Kitchen is the worst neighborhood in the place, with the darkest shadows and the brights fires and the loudest sirens and Foggy feels right at home.
--
So of course he's going to stay. That's just a given, isn't it? His mom praises him for the decision to go to college, looking slightly relieved, and his dad nods thoughtfully and says 'if you're sure.'
Foggy's sure and so off he goes. It shouldn't be too hard, right? He's not very good at making friends - at least, not any that aren't also related to him. There's no particular reason why - people like him well enough, but somehow it just never quite graduates into anything more involved. He introduces himself as 'Franklin Nelson' and if he happens to like the way someone's hand fits in his, he may add 'But you can call me Foggy.'
It takes a week and an alarm overslept that ends with them out on the sidewalk before Matthew Murdock stops with a stumble and a somewhat desperate glance back towards the dorms. Foggy almost doesn't stop, but he does, and glances back at Matt standing stiff and pale with his knuckles tight around his hastily grabbed bag.
"Um," Matt says, and his head keeps turning like he wants to go back, but they're already late and - "Could you - um." One hand stretches out and grasps toward Foggy. "Guide me?"
Oh, Foggy thinks, finally registering that there's no cane in Matt's hand. And: huh. "Uh, sure," he says, back tracking a bit. He holds out his arm and moves it under Matt's grasping hand, which catches on easily, then adjust and curls around the crook of his elbow.
"Thanks," Matt says, and he smiles a bit. "You're a life saver, Nelson."
"Call me Foggy," his mouth says, which surprises him, because he usually makes that judgement upon the first meeting and Matthew Murdock hadn't struck him as a 'Call me Foggy' person.
They're shuffling along as fast as they can with respect to how close they're having to walk and the fact that one of them is blind, but Foggy still sees Matt's head cock back a bit. "Foggy," he says, surprised - catches it between lip and tooth and presses and pins it to the roof of his mouth and then lets it go with a wide, shameless grin.
Foggy braces himself for the usual 'Foggy - like the Hudson?' or 'Foggy - like mornings?' But the only thing that comes out of Matt's mouth is a slightly incredulous: "Where did you get a nickname like that?"
"Shut up," he says, but he's grinning right back; maybe Matt doesn't know what fog even looks like. "Don't ask, it's embarrassing. My family gave it to me when I was a teenager, I haven't been able to shake it off since."
"You introduce yourself that way," Matt points out with a slightly hysterical giggle, which is mostly due to the lack of sleep going on in the dorm because this is the first week of classes and no one is adjusting well.
"Sometimes," he stresses, which is only true.
It's true, so of course he hasn't been able to shrug off the name. He hasn't really been trying. It is embarrassing, but it also means him, it best labels the truth of what he is. He's not sure why he's sharing this with Matt, only that he feels like he should, that it would be good.
And that's that. He somehow makes a friend in Matt, and he's never had one outside his own family before, so that must on some level make Matt family, right? He's pretty certain it does, so that's how he treats Matt and he doesn't pat Matt on his fluffy dark head every time Matt looks bewildered by the whole thing because Foggy's pretty sure people don't like that nearly as much as the dark things do.