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daredevilkink2015-08-14 07:00 pm
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Prompt Post #6
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[fill] Matched Your Own Beat (11a/12)
(Anonymous) 2015-10-07 03:09 am (UTC)(link)“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.
[fill] Matched Your Own Beat (11b/12)
(Anonymous) 2015-10-07 03:10 am (UTC)(link)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.”
Re: [fill] Matched Your Own Beat (11b/12)
(Anonymous) 2015-10-07 03:57 am (UTC)(link)Re: [fill] Matched Your Own Beat (11b/12)
(Anonymous) 2015-10-07 04:36 am (UTC)(link)(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.)