daredevilkink | Prompt Post #6

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Prompt Post #6

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"In retrospect," Foggy says with a sigh, "I should have known something weird was up the second we found an actual paying client." Considering that he can hear the frantic hammering of Foggy's heart beneath the faux-relaxed tone of voice, and also that someone's holding a gun to his head, Matt can only offer a half smirk at the joke.

'Something weird', in this case, meant a casual visit to their client's workplace leading to Matt sensing far too many raised heartbeats for a supposedly innocuous paper company, which then lead to him not-so-casually eavesdropping on several suspicious conversations, which then lead to the discovery that said innocuous paper company was actually the front for a Hydra base. And of course when they'd tried to leave as unobstrusively as possible, their collective stammering and stuttering set off enough alarms to get them both dragged to the roof of the building at gunpoint, because evidently all of Foggy's and Matt's individual and rather impressive skills at lying go down the drain when they're forced to do it together. When they get out of this, Matt is signing them both up for acting classes.

At the moment, however, he's more preoccupied with figuring how to get them both out of here alive. There's only three Hydra soldiers up here with them - presumably, they didn't think they'd need any more to deal with a couple of small-name lawyers - but while Matt's gone up against far worse odds before, he's never had to do it with Foggy's life at stake before. And they're being smart about it too; Hydra Asshole #3 has Foggy all the way out to the edge of the rooftop while Assholes #1 and #2 have Matt trapped firmly between them on the opposite edge with an iron grip on each of his arms. Not that it'd be difficult breaking out of their grip (and also their bones), but he can hear the steady breathing of professionals at work here. These weren't the kind of thugs who'd start firing randomly at the first sign of trouble. By the time he takes out the two next to him and makes it across to the third, Hydra Asshole #3 might have already put a bullet into Foggy's head. Which -- no. There were some things that even the devil didn't dare risk. Better to wait for a distraction, for them to let down their guards just enough to get Foggy to safety first.

"Listen, you don't want to do anything rash here," Foggy is saying as Matt tunes back into the conversation. "We're lawyers, all right? You think people don't know where we are right now? We turn up dead, the first thing the cops are going to look into is the case we were working on, and that'll lead them straight back here where they'll bust your little hideout anyway." His voice goes wheedling as his heartbeat rachets up into the cadence of lie lie lie. "Look man, I don't even care about our client, I'm just in this for the money, and trust me when I say the amount we're getting paid is not worth dying over. You let us go, we'll make the entire case go away and keep our mouths shut about everything that's happening here, I swear," and if this were under completely different circumstances, Matt might actually be a little turned on right now by Foggy's ability to bluff with absolutely no cards in his hand.

Still, it says Nelson and Murdock on their sign for a reason, he's not about to let Foggy do all the work here. Matt clears his throat. "What my partner said. I can even sweeten the pot as - as a sign we're dealing in good faith. There's a USB drive in my suit pocket full of confidential information on this case that'll be invaluable in helping you track down any other leaks you might have. You can fish it out for yourself if you want, I won't move an inch." It's a lie, of course - there's no such drive and the most they'll find in his pocket is a handful of lint - but all he needs is for Hydra Asshole #3 to come a little closer into kicking distance, or for either of Hydra Assholes #1 and #2 to loosen their grip just enough that he can lunge across the gap between him and Foggy. He holds his breath as they think it over, muscles tense and poised to react at the slightest shift in movement.

"Hmm...I think not," Hydra Asshole #3 finally says. "I'd rather have a guarantee that neither of you will be able to ever reveal anything at all." He thrusts out his arm and there's a shocked inhale before the sound of rushing wind currents like something plummeting through the air --

-- like Foggy plummeting through the air because he's just been pushed off the roof --

-- the roof of a fifty-story tall building --

Matt can't remember what excatly happens in the next few moments, just a blur of sound and movement. The sharp crack of gunfire. The crunch of bones breaking beneath his hand. The smell of blood. And throughout it all, a horrible screaming, broken and raw, like the sound of something dying. He only comes back to himself after all three Hydra Assholes are down, rushing to the edge where Foggy had been and staring down as if his sight would miraculously come back just in time to see the cor - to see him hanging from a window ledge or danging from a fire escape, because the only other option is no option at all. He hadn't heard the meaty thud of a body impacting with the ground, so Foggy must still be alive. And since he's still alive, it's Matt's job to make sure he stays that way, even if it means scaling down all fifty stories himself. He can manage it somehow, and if Foggy is -- if he's -- he can manage it. There's no other choice. He crouches by the edge, palms gripping the corner of the roof, ready to leap --

"Matt, what the hell," a voice cuts through the buzzing in his head, followed by a different one drawling, "Fair warning, Murdock, I've already reached my rescue quota of the day so you're on your own if you're crazy enough to jump." Somehow through the blood rushing through his ears, the haze clears enough for him to finally notices the unique roar of a jetpack, the smell of smoke, the clink of steel feathers shifting against each other. Falcon. And overpowering even that, the thud of a heartbeat as familiar as his own above him and a body being gently set down onto the ground.

"Foggy," he manages to choke out, his throat raw and aching for some reason. He stumbles a few steps forward, gripping the other man's arms so tightly that he can feel them trembling beneath his palms- or maybe that's his own hands trembling. "You - are you all right?"

"I should be asking you that," Foggy says, a note of hysteria in his voice. "Are you all right in the head or were you seriously planning on jumping after me like - like a Shakespearian tragedy or some shit--"

"I was thinking more like Superman," Matt mumbles and feels Foggy shake with suppressed laughter. The heady cocktail of adrenaline and relief is still singing through his veins, and all of a sudden he wants - he wants - he wants to run his hands over every inch of Foggy's body to make sure he's still there, he wants to wrap himself around it like an anchor and never let go, he wants to drag Foggy into a corner and cover him with his own body so he'll be safe and protected and no one will ever touch him again--

It's only a pointed cough behind him and the reminder that they have an audience here that prevents Matt from doing something truly regrettable on that rooftop. By some miracle, he manages to unlatch his fingers from Foggy's arms and turn around. "Falcon," he says, trying to imbue his voice with the cool confidence of a man who was not about two seconds away from breaking down into tears over his best friend's shoulder. "I owe you one."

"Seriously dude," Foggy adds fervently. "You ever need someone to defend you in court, it's on the house."

"Nah, don't worry about it," Sam says easily. "Foggy Nelson, right? I've heard a lot about you from DD over here. You do good work. I don't mind swooping in to save a guy like that when I can. It's one of the perks of the job, actually."

"Deedee?" repeats Foggy with a note of glee while Matt sends his deadliest glare in Sam's general direction, because even undying gratitude can only excuse so much.

If Sam notices the glare, he ignores it cheerfully as he bends down to inspect the fallen Hydra soldiers. "Hell of a job you did on these three. They still alive?" He keep his tone light and casual, with only the sudden increase in heartbeat belying the loaded meaning behind the question. Behind him, Foggy tenses and Matt tries to quash the sudden hurt that rises up within him. It's not like he'd been paying that much attention in making sure his blows were non-lethal. Something else to add to this week's confession.

"They're still alive," he says shortly and pretends it's relief and not bitterness that's bleeding through his voice.

"Cool. Cap and Widow are already on the way." Sam rolls his shoulders back as his wings snap open, metal singing through the air. "I can give you two a ride back down, then I'll go join them clearing out the rest of the base."

"Hang on," Matt protests. "This is my city, I'm coming with you--"

"Uh, unless you're hiding your uniform under that three-piece suit there, I think people might be a little confused as to why a blind civilian lawyer is in there kicking names and taking ass with us," Sam says pointedly. "Besides, we might be in Hell's Kitchen right now, but Hydra's still our territory."

Matt grits his teeth but swallows his retort, knowing he was right. Still, it rankled, partly because the three of them had a tendency to leave a trail of corpses in their wake - and while he's not about to mourn the loss of a few dozen Nazis too much, the principle of the thing still matters. And partly because - well, because Matt is well aware he's not a perfect person and has a list of sins a mile long, and topping that list right underneath wrath is pride. As grateful as he is to Falcon for saving Foggy's life, his stomach twists and burns at the reminder that he'd been completely powerless, that he'd needed someone else to rescue his own best friend, that even now he still can't do anything to prove himself and make up for his failure. Sam must notice his grimace, because he adds "I'll tell them to leave as many alive as possible so the two of you can have someone left to sue."

"Awesome," Foggy cheers. "I knew there was a reason why you've always been my favorite Avenger. Beyond the hotness factor, that is."

There's the frozen silence of three people trying to process whether those words really came out of someone's mouth before Foggy starts frantically backpedaling. "Uh, I-I mean, you must have mad game with all the ladies you rescue," and whoa, what the hell, Matt thought panicked reassurances of heterosexuality right after horrifically awkward assessments of a person's attractiveness was supposed to be their thing. He's so caught up in his indignation over their first meeting being used as a line that he almost misses Sam breaking out into delighted laughter.

"I do all right with the ladies, but right now I'm more interested if my game works on cute lawyer boys too," he says, his voice playful and amused, and that's when Matt's day goes from bad to worse.

Yay! I didn't know I needed Foggy/Sam so badly. And jealous Matt too? Christmas came early.

YESSSSSSSS.
I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS BEGINNING.
Especially Foggy trying to cover up his attraction to Matt and Sam in the same panicked way. "OH YEAH. LADIES. AMIRIGHT?"

Omg Foggy im crying.

This is amazing! Foggy/Sam, yes please! And oh, Foggy, using that same tactic to cover up your flirting. Love this! :D

Oh my gosh, this fic is hilarious and absolutely marvelous.

"In retrospect," Foggy says with a sigh, "I should have known something weird was up the second we found an actual paying client."
This is the best first line.

And of course when they'd tried to leave as unobstrusively as possible, their collective stammering and stuttering set off enough alarms to get them both dragged to the roof of the building at gunpoint, because evidently all of Foggy's and Matt's individual and rather impressive skills at lying go down the drain when they're forced to do it together. When they get out of this, Matt is signing them both up for acting classes.
This? This is wonderful. Good job.

My eyes literally went big and I whispered oh shit when Foggy was pushed, so, good job again!

The heady cocktail of adrenaline and relief is still singing through his veins, and all of a sudden he wants - he wants - he wants to run his hands over every inch of Foggy's body to make sure he's still there, he wants to wrap himself around it like an anchor and never let go, he wants to drag Foggy into a corner and cover him with his own body so he'll be safe and protected and no one will ever touch him again--
Hi, yes, more of this, please, thank you. :D

Matt is well aware he's not a perfect person and has a list of sins a mile long, and topping that list right underneath wrath is pride.
Yes yes yes yes yes, this x1000.

...and whoa, what the hell, Matt thought panicked reassurances of heterosexuality right after horrifically awkward assessments of a person's attractiveness was supposed to be their thing.
*cracks up*

I am LOVING the thought of Matt getting irrationally jealous because emotionally stable, heroic, hot Sam Wilson isn't afraid to flirt back with Foggy Nelson. You reap what you sow, dude. ~~but that's okay, I'm still rooting for you and I hope Foggy is, too.~~

This is gold, anon.

also, the title is a masterpiece.

OP here: I LOVE YOU

This better than I expected and yes! Go Sam! You have so much game. I'm enjoying jealous!Matt SO MUCH.

"An Avenger. I have an actual date with an actual Avenger. And not just any Avenger. The hottest Avenger."

"So you've told us. Several times," Karen says with fond exasperation as Matt grits his teeth and tries to will his migraine away. "Sixteen, by my last count."

"I'm trying to see if saying it enough times makes it feel any more real. Turns out it's not working. Seriously, Karen, an Avenger," and if Matt has to listen to one more second of this, his head might actually explode...due to the noise of the conversation. Obviously.

"You don't even like the Avengers," he cuts in and is extremely proud of himself when his voice comes across as mild instead of a petulant whine. "You said they were, and I quote, a group of self-righteous destructive jackasses who think they're above the law and give no thought to the consequences of their actions or offer any restitution to the people they've harmed, while still embracing the title of hero just because they happen to be good at killing things. We used to write up lawsuits against them when we were bored." The one on Tony Stark is large enough to occupy an entire shelf of thick binders. One of these days, he swears he's going to put it to good use.

Foggy waves a hand. "The original group who fucked off to all points nowhere after wrecking Hell's Kitchen, sure. But the new one's pretty cool. Plus," he adds dryly, "this was years ago. I've had some time and experience to reconsider my stance on vigilantes acting outside of the law since then."

There's a brief awkward silence as Matt wallows in the usual mire of guilt (crap, I dragged Foggy's moral stance on the law down with me) and warmth (yay, Foggy's willing to readjust his moral stance on the law for me) that comes up whenever his Outside Activities are mentioned. Karen clears her throat and pats Foggy companionably on the arm. "Don't be so nervous," she says kindly. "Avenger or not, he's still just a regular guy, right? I mean, it's not like Matt's any less dorky just because we know he's Daredevil."

"Hey," says Matt, slightly offended, just as Foggy says, "Yeah, but I've seen Matt so drunk that he had to literally roll his way back home because he couldn't stand up straight." Karen makes an undignified snorting giggle as Foggy continues his story. "I'm serious! We're about a hundred feet away from our dorm and Matt just faceplants onto the grass and refuses to get back up. I had to direct him with his own cane to get him to move at all. It's pretty much impossible being intimidated by someone when you've rolled them Katamari style back home. Video game where you roll things into a ball," he explains when Matt makes a confused noise. "It's weirdly addictive."

As Karen and Foggy segue into a discussion over which tie looked better ("You have a duck pattern and a Tweety pattern, I think they're both lost causes, Foggy." "But they're birds! He has to like birds, right?"), Matt drifts off into reminiscence. Despite evidence to the contrary, he hadn't been that drunk that night; enough to get the spins, yeah, but he knew when to stop before walking became an actual problem. But Foggy had been in his system like a drug, like a high, pushing him to do ridiculous things that he would have never considered beforehand just so he could hear the other man crack up all over agin. Matt had never been good at getting people to laugh. Flirty giggles or affected chuckles, yes, but not the kind that burst out of someone because they simply couldn't help themselves. Whereas Foggy made people laugh like that all the time. He hadn't even known he could laugh that hard and that genuinely until he'd met Foggy, and when he realized that through some miracle Foggy found him funny enough that he could do it back...well. It'd been addicting.

What Foggy hadn't mentioned in his retelling - what he doesn't know and will never find out - is how close Matt had come to kissing him that night. Giddy with laughter, dizzy with affection, the urge had swelled in his chest without the usual accompaniment of denial to push it back down. He'd pressed his nose against the side of Foggy's neck under the pretense of a drunken embrace, felt that pulse trip and speed up, thought yes now please yes - and then Foggy had snorted and pushed him away gently.

"You are way too drunk right now, buddy," he'd said, all amusement in his voice, because of course he'd blame the sudden touchy-feeliness on the alcohol when Matt had never given him a reason to think otherwise. "Come on, let's get you to bed before you pass out in the hallway." And Matt had gone obediently and vowed to try again in the morning when they were both sober. He'd meant to keep that vow too, right up to the point when morning actually dawned, bringing with it a killer hangover and a reminder of the hundreds of reasons why kissing his best friend would be the worst move he's ever made in a life already full of terrible mistakes.

There'd always been reasons. Elektra, Marci, Karen, Claire. The stress of working at Landman and Zachs, the weight of all of the lies on his shoulders, the need to rebuild a fractured friendship first. All good reasons, solid enough to quash down the thread of want that rose every now and again and let him pretend they were nothing more than idle daydreams or a passing curiosity. He needs to remember those reasons right now, because he's not - he's not jealous, okay. He can't be jealous. He doesn't have the right to be jealous, because Foggy deserves to be happy, and Sam could probably make him happy, and Matt - Matt would like to believe that he's not the kind of asshole who'd get possessive and entitled over someone who doesn't even know he's interested. Which he's not, because he is a good friend - or at least he's trying to be, the debate is still open on his actual rate of success on that front - and good friends are supportive and encouraging and definitely don't have fantasies about locking their best friend away in a room where no other ridiculously attractive and charming superheroes will ever be able to flirt with him again. He is going to be the most supportive son of a bitch this world has ever seen, the kind of best friend that Foggy deserves, and then he's going to go see Claire about possible internal bleeding because that's the only explanation for why the pit of his stomach aches so badly.

"Foggy," he says, interrupting what seems to be a truly fascinating conversation over whether a vast knowledge of bird puns would impress Sam or make him run screaming out the door. "Stop freaking out, you have nothing to worry about. Sam's a good guy and he's clearly interested, the two of you will get along just fine." And the kicker of it all is that it's the truth. If it'd been any other Avenger, Matt would have his doubts, but there was something remarkably genuine about Sam Wilson. He's only worked together with the Falcon a couple of times, but it'd been enough for him to see how this man would have been able to win Captain America's trust and intimate friendship in a matter of days. "And if he doesn't, then he's a much bigger idiot than I thought and it's his loss."

Foggy's standing close enough that he can feel his cheeks heating up at the reassurance. "Thanks, buddy," and Matt takes a moment to congratulate himself on his phenomenal ability at staying cool under pressure without anyone being the wiser. "Hey, are you all right, by the way? You've got that furrow between your brows that usually means you're dealing with a killer migraine."

Damn. "It's the pain of betrayal," he says dryly, immensely thankful that he's the only one who can hear heartbeats in this room. "After all the hours and hard work we've put into the Avengers Burn Book, I can't believe you're this excited to be dating one of them."

"Hey, I'm not a fan of Taylor Swift's music either. Doesn't mean I wouldn't pee myself in excitement over the chance at dating her."

Karen snorts. "You love Taylor Swift's music. I know for a fact you own every single one of her albums."

"God help me, I do," Foggy sighs. "Anyway, I'm off. Wish me luck!" There's the sound of the door opening and shutting as he leaves the room, his bouncing footsteps the perfect accompaniment to the pitter-patter of joy in his chest.

"Good luck," Matt says softly to the closed door, and wishes that he could mean it.

(thanks for all the amazing comments, you guys! out of curiosity, would people prefer matt/foggy or foggy/sam to be endgame for this fic? i was planning on the first, but i might try to change it if more people want the latter.)

Ahhhh this is awesome.

I personally would like matt/foggy. But either way is fine.
So long as we have jealous matt, im good haha xD

I am not the OP- but I am a sucker for Matt/Foggy. I think Sam would be a gentleman and step aside if he found out Matt was pining.

THIS SECOND PART IS ALSO AMAZING HOMG.

Foggy, don't go with the bird ties nooooo

He's so adorable when he's enthusiastic. I think he would be over the moon to be dating anyone <3.

I love how Matt when he's jealous and guilty about feeling jealous. I HAVE BEEN THERE, BRO. I HAVE BEEN THERE.

I couldn't help but think of the raccoon rolling when you mentioned Matt rolling while drunk:

http://media.giphy.com/media/aQbsSvYK7Jyfe/giphy.gif

<3 <3 <3 <3
(And also signing for Matt/Foggy)

Oh my gosh, Matt/Foggy please. :D

ohmygodpoorMatt

(Also: ohmygodyouidiotMatt)

and OHMYGODANONILOVEYOU <333

(My vote is 1000% in for Matt/Foggy!)

Everything about this is amazing. I'm so happy right now.

(Matt/Foggy endgame, please!)

(OKAY looks like we are riding the matt/foggy train all the way to crazy town! which is great, because it gives me a chance to also awkwardly slide in my all-time mcu otp while i'm at it)

Over the next few weeks, Matt learns more about Sam Wilson than he ever wanted to know.

Sam goes down to the VA to counsel vets with PTSD whenever he's not tied up with Avengers work. Sam has a dry sense of humor that matches Foggy's sharp wit perfectly. Sam's parents were murdered when he was a kid, but instead of channeling his emotions through punching people, he went into social work instead. Sam still keeps in touch with all the people he's ever saved as a pararescue and gets Christmas cards from them every year. Sam goes to church every Sunday and always brings home-made pancakes and cookies with him for the other parishoners. Sam has a pet hawk who he literally rescued as a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest, because apparently the Second Coming has already happened and yea, the Messiah walks among mere mortals once more with a pair of steel wings strapped to his back.

In short, Sam Wilson might just be the only person in the entire world who's good enough for Foggy Nelson.

Which is great, of course. Matt is incredibly happy that his best friend's found the perfect romance that most people go searching their entire lives for, and that they're probably going to go off and start a charity helping little old ladies cross the street or something. It's honestly a completely coincidence that he snaps one of Karen's pens in half the first time Foggy comes into the office wearing the scent of sky and steel and smoke like a cologne. And if he happens to spill coffee all over Foggy's shirt that day, so what? He's blind, accidents happen.

He wonders how many rosaries Father Lathom would make him pray for getting the urge to trip the probable Second Coming with his cane just to see if the guy would do something as uncool as falling down. He's guessing the answer's somewhere around 'all of them'.

...okay, so maybe he isn't taking this sudden change in status quo as well as he could be. It's fine, Matt has a Plan. He's going to nod politely and make encouraging noises whenever Foggy gushes about his love life, and then he's going to completely ignore Sam Wilson's general existence and go beat up as many criminals as he can until he's managed to wrestle whatever this is he's feeling into submission. Sure, it might mean making increasingly evasive excuses every time Foggy invites him out to drinks with the two of them, but the nice thing about being a secret vigilante is that 'Can't, too busy punching people' never goes out of style.

It's the perfect plan, right up to the point that a rogue Hydra scientist decided that the best place to test his robosuit is smack-dab in the middle of Hell's Kitchen. Matt scowls as the jetpack he's been hearing for the last fifteen minutes cuts to a stop and the Falcon lands gracefully next to him. "I really don't need your help on this one, I can take care of it on my own."

"Oh, I'm not here to help you, DD." Sam's voice has a trace of awe in it. "I'm here because when someone tells me there's a dude calling himself Stilt-Man who's rampaging through Hell's Kitchen, you bet your ridiculously well-toned ass that I'm gonna go see that shit go down for myself."

"...does it look as stupid as it sounds?"

"His robosuit has a giant popped collar built into it," Sam says with glee.

Matt groans. "Let's just go kick this idiot's ass as fast as possible before I get too embarassed to live here anymore and have to move."

It takes the two of them about ten minutes to bring Stilt-Man - fucking seriously, what is his life - down, which is about ten minutes too long as far as Matt's concerned. When it's over, Sam claps him on the shoulder cheerfully. "Just got off the phone with Stark. He wants to buy the suit for research - or to put up as a trophy for everyone to laugh at, I'm not really sure which - so you can use that money to pay for any property damage that the guy might have caused," because of course Sam fucking Wilson would be considerate enough to think of that.

"Tell Iron Man thanks, and also that he better toss that suit into the scrap heap instead of making it into his next killer robot because I never want to fight something that stupid ever again. Stilt-Man," he says with disgust. "Next thing you know we'll be dealing with someone calling himself Lamp-Man. Or Bug-Man."

Sam's shoulders shift and Matt raises his eyebrows when he hears the other man's heartbeat suddenly jump up. "Yeah, uh, that definitely sounds like a power that's fake, and also stupid, and totally someone I could beat up easily if he were real."

"Uh-huh," Matt says, drawing the syllables out slowly as he smirks. "Something you want to tell the class, Falcon?"

"Oh look, a change of subject!" Sam coughs. "Listen, while I have you here - I'm grabbing dinner with Cap and Fog--"

"Secret identity," Matt hisses before he can finish that sentence.

"...we're on a roof."

"It doesn't matter, voices can carry!"

Matt's never been a hundred percent certain whether he can actually hear someone rolling their eyes, but he gets the feeling that Sam's doing it at him right now. "Fine, I'm grabbing dinner at Gazala's Place with Cap and an unnamed third party who you don't know and have never met. We're meeting up at said unnamed third party's apartment, you should come with. I'll text you the address, since you've never been there before in your life and also have the ability to read texts on your non-ADA compliant phone."

Matt's hands twist on his batons uncomfortably. Damn. He'd been distracted enough by the fight and banter that he'd almost forgotten why he isn't that eager to hang around Sam too much right now. "I wouldn't want to be a bother."

"You know, Steve said the exact same thing?" Definitely rolling his eyes. "I don't know why the two of you seem to think that it's some kind of hardship having fun with people we like, but I promise that it is not the sacrifice you're making it out to be."

Matt, who can hear Captain America's heartbeat speed up every time the Falcon so much as brushes up against him and thus has a few ideas of his own why he might also be reluctant to join in, wisely keeps his mouth shut on that front. "I'll think about it," he lies, because he honestly can think of few things less appealing than spending an entire evening huddled in awkward misery with Steve Rogers while their best friends snuggle in a cloud of rainbows and chirping bluebirds. He'd rather get his ass kicked by Nobu again. He'd rather get his ass kicked by Stilt-Man - no, maybe not that far.

"Uh-huh." Now it's Sam's turn to draw the sound out as dubiously as possible. "Look man, I don't want to pry or anything, but - are we cool?"

Oh hell, are they actually going to talk about this. "Uh, sure. Why wouldn't we be cool?" Maybe if he prays hard enough, God will grant him a pair of wings and jetpack too so he can fly away from this conversation.

"I don't know, you tell me." Sam's shoulder rises up and down in a shrug. "All I know is that you've turned down every invite we've offered so far, and Mr. Unnamed Third Party is getting kinda bothered about it. And clearly you like him just fine, so if there's some kind of issue here on my end, then get it off your chest and I'll do my best to fix it. Unless it's about my race, in which case you can go ahead and fuck yourself right off this building."

Guilt flushes through his entire body, hot and sudden. "I don't even know what race you are," he says hurriedly, which is true; unless it's specifically mentioned, everyone's pretty much defaulted to 'fiery blob' in his head for the past decade or so. But the shame that wells up in him at the realization that Sam might have been thinking that he had a problem with that - when the real problem here is that Matt is a selfish and immature asshole - is heavy enough to force some actual honesty from him. "It's nothing to do with you, I just. I'm not really into the idea of being the third wheel, that's all."

"Dude, I'm not inviting you out of pity," Sam says. "From what He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named tells me, and he talks about you a lot, you seem like a pretty cool guy. I'd offer even if I wasn't currently dating your best friend." He sighs and rubs the back of his head. "Look, I'm not trying to push you into doing something you're uncomfortable with. If you don't want to join us, that's totally fine, I won't say a word about it. I'm just letting you know that the door's open if you want it to be, and that we'd be more than happy for your company. I'll even crack a ton of really offensive blind jokes so you don't have to worry about being the most awkward person there."

Damn damn damn. And there's the problem with resenting someone from a distance - once they get up close, you remember that they're friendly and thoughtful and definitely don't deserve any of the terrible things running through your head, and you're left with hating no one but yourself.

He hears the sound of steel wings snapping open and takes a deep breath. "Falcon, wait." As Sam turns to him curiously, Matt walks slowly forward, using all his experience at terrifying criminals to loom as initimidatingly as he can. "Break Foggy's heart, and I'll break you," he says in tones of low menace, and doesn't even care if it's a cliche because he means every word of it. Then he takes a step back. "And I like the chicken kebabs at Gazala's. Since you're paying, you can get me a double."

Sam laughs. "Foggy did say you were kind of a dick," he says and takes off, leaving Matt on the rooftop alone. He sits there for a while, breathing in the city smog and feeling the air cool as the sun begins to set - then snarls and drives his fist so hard into the ground that he feels the skin on his knuckles break.

What is wrong with him? He's never felt this way about anyone Foggy's dated before. Sure, he hadn't exactly been friends with any of them, but at most there'd only been a mild irritation that none of them had been good enough for Foggy. Which obviously isn't the problem here because as far as ideal partners go, Sam's honestly better than anyone Matt could have hoped for: funny and smart and kind, noble and brave, and most importantly clearly appreciative of what a great catch he's landed. Foggy deserves to be with someone who won't lie to him, who won't make him stay up at night worrying for his safety. Who isn't a barely held together mess of guilt complexes and anger issues, and Sam's level of emotional stability is so solid that it should seriously qualify as a superpower. He should be feeling relieved that his best friend's found someone who Matt can get along with well, who knows his secret and even fights alongside him at times. Not this awful sickness that claws at his heart and burns fire along his veins, choking him from the inside out until he wants to scream.

It's not even like he's been pining or anything. Matt's had plenty of experience with pining, and what he feels for Foggy is nothing like the fiery obsession with Elektra where she occupied his every waking thought, or the bittersweet ache of missed chances with Claire, or even the fluttering whispers of what if what if possibility with Karen. It's more like - like a fact of life. Like the sound of his own heartbeat, a constant and steadbeat presence, not exactly forgotten but rather tuned out because the only other option would be to go insane. An unnoticed hum in the background, right up to the point where he gets stabbed in the chest by a knife and it suddenly becomes the most important sound in the world.

God, is he really such a selfish piece of shit that he'd think that Foggy would stay single forever? That no one else would ever see what an amazing person he was? That he'd be content with only friendship in his life and nothing more?

Why hadn't Matt realized how much he'd wanted something more until it was too late?

He needs - he needs time and distance to figure things out. He needs to stay the hell away from Foggy, because he's pretty sure that one look at his face right now would be enough to tell all the awful, selfish, bitter thoughts swimming under the surface. He can make his excuses later for missing dinner, pretend he'd been on his way before hearing someone being attacked. Foggy might even buy it.

...except Sam had said Foggy had been bothered by him constantly turning down their invites, hadn't he?

Matt shoves the palms of his hands into his eyes and groans, then takes off towards his apartment to change. He might be a terrible person, but for Foggy's sake, he can at least pretend to be a decent friend long enough to get through dinner.

I am loving this story! Poor Matt, if only Sam were more dislikable ;-)

Fine, I'm grabbing dinner at Gazala's Place with Cap and an unnamed third party who you don't know and have never met. We're meeting up at said unnamed third party's apartment, you should come with. I'll text you the address, since you've never been there before in your life and also have the ability to read texts on your non-ADA compliant phone."

Dying from laughter

Oh my god, Stilt-Man. xD I liked the Ant-Man reference too.

Aw, poor Matt. His pain is so fun to read about.

I bet Ant-Man would be Matt's favorite superhero if Matt foun out he kicked Sam's butt.

Oh god haha. I can only imagine the despair on Steve's end as he learns that Daredevil's dorky best friend slowly reveals himself to be kind of amazing.

Like, oh no, he's incredibly intelligent- he's a graduate from Columbia Law School. And he graduated WITH HONORS..

And instead of taking a high-paying corporate or government job he started a law firm with his best friend that regularly takes pro-bono cases and helps the community.

The night Hell's Kitchen got blown up he was at a little old lady's house trying to help her case against a powerful company .

And he's seen all the movies and knows all the music that Sam likes and gets all of his references.

And he doesn't come with the same baggage that Steve does, doesn't demand anything of Sam, does't drag him halfway around the world chasing leads on a dangerous assassin who almost killed both of them...

And here I am, loving all of this.

Re: i got those jetpack blues 3/7

(Anonymous) - 2015-09-18 22:32 (UTC) - Expand

Re: i got those jetpack blues 3/7

(Anonymous) - 2015-09-19 09:43 (UTC) - Expand

author!anon

(Anonymous) - 2015-09-19 15:15 (UTC) - Expand

Re: author!anon

(Anonymous) - 2015-09-19 16:56 (UTC) - Expand

Re: author!anon

(Anonymous) - 2015-09-19 17:48 (UTC) - Expand

This continues to be fantastic. :D :D :D

Is your MCU OTP Sam/Stilt-Man? DON'T LIE.

OP here again. I'm loving every single word you write and- because I'm a horrible person - enjoying watching Matt suffer.

To answer a previous part, I preffer Matt/Foggy. ALSO MANAGED TO FIT SAM/STEVE, A PAIRING I LOVE LIKE LIKE THE BURNING OF A THOUSAND SUNS (and thanks to the anon comment above I'm also enjoying Steve pinning. Again, terrible person

this fic continues to be brilliant and i want to roll around in it squeaking with glee. oh matt.

Oh, gosh, I really hope you continue this, author!anon. It's one of my favorites on the meme. <3 It's funny and heart wrenching and ugh. Love it.

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