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daredevilkink2015-08-14 07:00 pm
ddk_mod) wrote in daredevilkink2015-08-14 07:00 pm
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Prompt Post #6
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[fill] Matched Your Own Beat (5/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-09-18 08:04 pm (UTC)(link)“It's real now,” Matt says after a few minutes of silence as they settle down. The silence isn't expectant or awkward, but he wants to tell her. She's the only one who knows it ever wasn't.
“That's the way you want it?”
Matt takes a drink of water. “Yes.”
“Okay.”
Claire's lack of questions always makes him want to explain more. He's never sure if she does it on purpose or not. “He's nice. And he's smart. I like talking to him, and listening to him.”
“He's a great guy.” There's still not much tone to her voice, but her heartbeat is picking up a little. Matt waits to see if she's going to say anything else. “Can you be sure this isn't going to bite you in the ass? Whoever set this up, they're not going to like that it backfired.”
Matt frowns. “I wish I knew who it was. Vanessa Marianna was asking some questions, but I don't think she had a reason. I can't see why anyone would have a reason. It's Foggy.”
To his surprise, Claire laughs. “You're actually serious about this.”
“I told you I was.”
“I know.” She goes serious again. “It's just good to know that you aren't talking yourself into this to be nice or something like that. If it helps, I'll keep my eye out, though you'll probably hear anything before I do. He talks a lot, though. Probably he pissed someone off.”
Matt may be changing his mind quickly on everything about Foggy, but he can acknowledge that he can annoy some people. It still doesn't seem like an excuse for setting him up for a joke like the one they tried. “Please do keep an eye out. Mine don't exactly work.”
Claire snorts. “Like I said, you're going to figure it out way before I do, or it's going to go wrong before either of us does. You do realize that all they have to do to screw with him now is to say you didn't write the letter, and if he asks you to prove that you did you won't be able to quote one bit of it at him.”
“I know.” Matt fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “Maybe they'll decide they're not pissed off anymore.”
“Right.” He doesn't think it's very likely either. “The circumstances are shitty, Matt. But I'm glad you like him.”
The circumstances are almost always shitty. Matt can try to do his best with them, and if Foggy finds out and he's hurt or angry, at least Matt is used to things being temporary.
Foggy is an amazing kisser.
They're in Matt's bedroom again, with Karen in the next room and the door shut despite Ben's rules, mostly because Karen shut it for them when she made a point of saying she was going to work on her homework. Considering her phone has been buzzing steadily, she's probably texting someone, but Matt stopped paying much attention to that a while ago, because Foggy is kissing him, did it once when Karen left and then kept going when Matt put an arm around his neck.
It's been half an hour or more, Matt is pretty sure of that, and Matt is sprawled sideways on his bed, pillows putting him at a strange angle, Foggy's English binder digging into his thigh, with Foggy draped halfway on top of him, his mouth open against Matt's, both of them breathing hard. Matt is hard, he's been hard since Foggy encouraged Matt's mouth open and started brushing his thumb over the corner of Matt's jaw, and it's worse because Foggy is too—his hips are pressed into Matt's mattress, but Matt can smell him, and he's not as far gone as Matt is, but he's close.
“We should stop,” Matt whispers when one of them tilts the wrong way and their mouths come unstuck. It's true, even if he doesn't mean it. Karen is next door, after all, and he's lost track of time. Ben or Doris could be home any minute.
Foggy moves away a little and swallows, but Matt doesn't let him get far. His arm is still around Foggy's neck. “Probably. Are you okay, there?”
Matt is probably red enough from being turned on that his blush doesn't show, but he's so close to squirming Foggy must be able to sense it. “Yeah, I just. We should stop.” Now that they have stopped, he's a little more sure of it. He doesn't want to come like this, making out on his bed after school. He doesn't want romance, doesn't care much about waiting, but it still feels too soon. “Sorry.”
“Hey, no worries.” Foggy rolls away, and Matt is too hot to feel cold but it's still a shock not to have Foggy on top of him. “You're the voice of reason here, man. And also a correct voice of reason, so bonus points. I don't have a change of underpants here, and we were heading in that direction.”
Matt fumbles on the pillow next to his head until he finds his sunglasses, which went askew sometime in the first five minutes and came off a few kisses later. He feels a little steadier with them on. “Do you need a drink or anything?”
“I need to sit here and thank very hard about baseball statistics before I do anything that has the slightest chance of me running into Karen, thanks.” Foggy's breathing is steadying out, but his heartbeat is still fast, and the smell of him is still the strongest scent in Matt's nose, which isn't helping him calm down.
“You can use the bathroom,” Matt offers, and immediately regrets it, because then he would smell it for weeks, under the smell of toilet cleaner and everyone's shampoo.
Foggy laughs nervously, and his heartbeat speeds up again. “No, uh. No, thanks. Baseball statistics. I don't actually know any baseball statistics, but metaphorical baseball statistics.”
“Tell me how you did in your debate with Wesley the other day, I'm sorry I was in the other room and I missed it.”
“Beat him, of course,” says Foggy, all smugness, and that question was clearly a mistake too, because Foggy's even more attractive when he's smug and sure of himself. “I think he hates me a little, but that's probably because Fisk hates me a little too because I won against him a couple times before he graduated last year.”
Matt grins. “So did I. It might explain why you're being shunted off into speech, Fisk has pull still. He's probably that petty.”
“Why aren't you being pushed into speech too?” It's the right conversation after all, it seems, because Foggy's heartbeat finally starts slowing, and Matt is finally distracted enough that his circulation is starting to normalize. It's going to take time to get calm again, but they might manage it. “You just said you beat him. And I'm pretty sure if they ever paired you with Wesley you would make him cry.”
Matt really doubts it. He doesn't like Wesley much but he's intimidating, in his own way. Even the athletes avoid him, no hint of the casual bullying Matt hears in the halls every day. “Because they can't pretend I would be better at speech than at debate.”
“That's because you are constitutionally incapable of writing out a full argument or a full speech without quoting Thurgood Marshall at least once. I don't know how the hell you got obsessed with him, but I had to look him up one time because you kept quoting him and I refused to be outclassed.”
“You quoted Kermit the Frog once,” Matt points out, and Foggy's laugh would make it easy to keep on that subject, but they're still on his bed and he may as well admit it. “It's one of the only books my dad kept around our house, when I was a kid. He wouldn't read from it or anything, and I ignored it when I could still read print, so I don't even know why he had it, but I didn't want to get rid of it when they put me in the system. Ben got me a Braille copy last year, even though I'd used my screenreader for most of it before that.”
“Jesus.” Foggy breathes out, and he takes some time before he speaks again. “Okay, that would probably make me quote someone all the time too.”
The conversation is a good distraction from Matt's body, but he doesn't like how unhappy Foggy sounds, so he reaches out until he can touch his forearm and hold on a little. “At least he didn't keep Calvin & Hobbes around, that would be more difficult to use for debate.”
Foggy laughs. “That is very untrue, and I'm going to prove it,” he says, and starts listing evidence, reaching out for his tablet after a minute to get better quotes, giving Matt a stitch in his side from laughter while he uses it to argue for and against every topic they've covered in debate for the past two weeks and does it well.
By the time Karen knocks on the door to say that Doris is almost home and they should open the door, Matt feels almost back to normal and Foggy smells that way, though the smell of them together is ground deep into Matt's sheets and won't be easy to get out. “Glad you two had a good afternoon,” she mutters to Matt as he passes her to wash his hands while Foggy starts packing his bag up, since he has to go home for dinner.
“We really did,” says Matt, and ignores the way she laughs at him, because he's still listening to Foggy humming in the bedroom.
“Okay, freeze.” Matt freezes. “Now, going off at maybe a little less than a forty-five degree angle from there, a line curving down—not too much of a curve, just a gentle one.”
“A gentle curve,” Matt says, dubious. “This is like a trust exercise.”
Foggy laughs. “Not enough of a curve that you would be able to fit a whole circle that size on the paper from there. Just a little curl. And it's your own fault for wanting to stick it to asshole teachers who decide that an art component is a great part of a project for a blind kid to do.”
“She wouldn't have minded if I said no, I'm just annoyed that she didn't think of it herself when she made the assignment.” Matt frowns and starts drawing the curve. It probably isn't going to be much of a map, but he'll have made one, anyway. “Thank you for helping.”
“No way, man, this is the most fun I've had all—okay, stop there.” Matt stops. “We're almost there, believe it or not, we've just got to connect coastlines. There's a little bit of zigging and zagging in there, but I am not a miracle worker.”
Matt frowns at his paper. “How much zigging and zagging?”
Foggy snorts. “Hearing you say the words 'zigging and zagging' is kind of amazing, you've normally got too much dignity for that. And enough that it would take us twenty minutes to do it all when we've only got five minutes left in the period. So. You made a big dot for the start point that you can feel, right?” Matt nods. “Make another dot where you're at right now, and then we'll figure out what to do from there.”
Matt makes the dot, even though he can feel the lines dug into the paper, and runs his fingers over the space in between them. “Is it about straight, or does it curve out or in?”
“Out a little. There's a decent-sized notch about a quarter of the way from the left, but other than that there's only the usual coastline zigs and zags. You ready to try it?”
Matt nods and starts making the line, coming from the left and making the notch when Foggy makes a noise that turns approving the second he does it. It's easy enough to connect the lines, and when he finishes, Foggy cheers quietly and then looks around quickly, hair moving, like he's making sure the librarian doesn't scold them for being too loud. “There,” says Matt, and puts his pencil down. “It's probably not much of a map, but I wasn't really an artist before the accident either.”
“Are you kidding? Matt Murdock original, right here. You've got to sign that sucker so they'll know it's not a fake when they put it in a museum someday. People like blind artists, it makes them feel like they've been reading uplifting Buzzfeed articles, you could make a mint.”
Matt laughs. “I think there has to be some talent for that to happen.” Even so, he finds the corner of the paper and writes his signature. He worked hard with his occupational therapist after the accident for that, for a neat and legible signature, and she ended up telling him his handwriting was better after the accident than before it, practically copperplate cursive. He finishes with a flourish. “There. When she passes it back with her guilty A+, I'll let you have it for your bedroom wall.”
“You … huh.” Foggy's heartbeat speeds up, and Matt tilts his head, curious, but Foggy doesn't explain what he's curious about—or upset about, because when he speaks again, he sounds like someone is crushing his windpipe. “No, keep it for your portfolio. Art school on the way, right?”
Matt frowns. “Are you okay?”
“No, yeah, I'm fine, I just forgot something in my locker that I need to grab before class.” Lie. Something is wrong, and Foggy is lying, and Matt isn't sure what to do about that. “You don't mind if I head out, right?”
“Not at all. If you're sure you're okay. I'll see you after school, I guess?”
“Yeah, definitely.” Lie again. Foggy is scooping his papers into his backpack, and he likes being neat with them, he says if he doesn't start out neat he'll never get organized again, but Matt can hear the loose papers crumpling in his bag. “See you then, or I'll call, I might have to talk to someone after school.”
Lie, lie, lie, but Foggy is picking up his bag and going before Matt can pull himself together enough to find some shred of evidence to pull at that doesn't have anything to do with heartbeats and breathing. He doesn't even say goodbye, which he always, always does if he's walking away from Matt, like he doesn't want to leave Matt talking to thin air.
Foggy is lying, and Foggy is upset, and it started the second Matt signed his drawing.
Matt isn't completely certain what that adds up to, but he knows it's nothing good.
(We have reached, my friends, The Part Where It All Goes To Shit. Hold on to your hats!)
Re: [fill] Matched Your Own Beat (5/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-09-18 09:06 pm (UTC)(link)Re: [fill] Matched Your Own Beat (5/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-09-18 10:35 pm (UTC)(link)Matt can try to do his best with them, and if Foggy finds out and he's hurt or angry, at least Matt is used to things being temporary.
Oh, my heart. D:
The Thurgood Marshall conversation was super sweet, as was Foggy helping Matt stick it to his teacher. I never stop smiling for long with this fic because the dialogue is always so funny and the characters are so cute. But I literally went, "No, don't!" when Matt started to sign his name. Ahhh, this is gonna hurt. xD I am holding onto my hat for dear life.
Re: [fill] Matched Your Own Beat (5/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-09-18 10:54 pm (UTC)(link)