Daredevil Prompt Post #8

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FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [4/?]

[(Anonymous)]

xxx

Matt wakes up to the sound of arguing. That…is not a good sign. People arguing always, always mean that the loser of the argument is going to take it out on the pet, take it out on him, and Matt really doesn’t feel in the condition to take another punishment so soon.

Bullshit. You’ve been in worse shape, and you know it, flashes through his mind, and as always, Matt jerks awake at the familiar, unkind voice and his brain and senses come crashing online, flooding him with a deluge of information and memory that he has to sort through as he tries to make sense of his surroundings.

Sold. Yeah, right, he had been sold yesterday and now he was in his new owner’s – Foggy, he’d wanted Matt to call him Foggy of all things – bed room, on a futon.

Only Foggy wasn’t in here with him…and huh, that was strange, Matt honestly would have expected him to kick – well, okay, maybe not kick, Foggy didn’t seem to be violent type – but at the very least prod him with a foot to wake him and maybe put him to work preparing breakfast or something.

Only…Matt sniffs, briefly – breakfast is already cooking downstairs, eggs, ham and buck wheat toast. And someone must have opened a glass of marmalade. He tries to forcibly suppress the growl of his stomach at the smell. Yeah, he hadn’t eaten for almost twenty-four hours now, but that still wasn’t the worst he’d ever been through. Worse is only ever getting slave kibble, when you could smell what everybody else was eating, three rooms and two storeys over.

He sits up, gritting his teeth against the urge to wince. His injuries do feel slightly better than they did last night; it’s been some time since he’s been properly patched up after a punishment. There’s a small spark of gratefulness he feels for that for Foggy, but tries to suppress instantly – after all, there is nothing worse than getting attached to an owner, he had learned that much.

Not like that will be difficult, when Foggy undoubtedly will administer his first disciplinary measure (whatever it is) when he comes back upstairs again, angry from the fight he’s having with his mother downstairs. Not particularly caring, but still curious, Matt tilts his head slightly as he listens in, anyway – it’s also not like he has anything else to do.

“…you insane?! Did you see his back, mom, did you? They nearly took his skin off, it’s sick!”

Ah. Matt gives a wry grimace. Of course. Complaining about his state, what else.

“Franklin, I swear I didn’t know, they didn’t tell me, and he seemed fine-“

“Mom, I can’t – I had to patch him up, yesterday, and the way he looked at me, as if he was grateful for something that shouldn’t…shouldn’t….”

Franklin (Foggy, you’re supposed to call him Foggy), is taking deep breaths now, probably trying to calm himself down – yup, heart rate elevated, Matt nods to himself. He is a bit surprised that he can already track Foggy through the building, but then again, they had spent quite a bit of time together yesterday, and none of it had been overwhelming or seriously painful for Matt, so he’d been able to catalogue everything about Foggy quite well. That was…new. Matt carefully decides not to dwell on it.

“Franklin,” his mother says, “that is a normal way to discipline slaves. You’ve seen that he acts quite docile now, doesn’t he? That is probably what made him such a well-behaved boy.”

“Bullshit,” Foggy seethes downstairs. “That’s not…I wouldn’t ever-“ He takes another deep breath. “Fine. You wanna give me a slave, fine. So, as long as he is mine,” Foggy says, and Matt concentrates hard at this point, so he can hear the air part as Foggy jabs a finger into his mother’s face, “No one is ever going to touch him like that. Is that clear?”

There’s a sigh from his mother’s end. “Yes, dear, if that’s what you want. But you should read the owner’s manual I got you, anyway. If – or when you run into difficulties with him at Columbia, you’ll probably be glad to have it.”

“Yeah, so I can light it on fire when the heating is out,” Foggy grunts, and Matt can hear him stomp out of the kitchen and toward his room again. He panics for a moment – doesn’t know whether he should pretend to still be sleeping, or whether Foggy would want him to be up and dressed, or up and undressed, so when the door flies open and Foggy crashes into his room in a thunderous mood, he is presented with one slave, too-large sweatshirt half over his head, flat on his face in the room with his feet hopelessly still tangled in the futon.

“Uh…morning, sir?” Matt manages.

xxx

“Um. Morning,” Foggy says. There’s a bit of a tremble to his voice that suggests he is trying not to laugh at the ridiculous picture his blind, clumsy slave must present right now – and hey, usually laughing owners don’t hit you, so it’s not that hard for Matt to swallow his annoyance at this new loss of dignity. God knows he’s had worse.

And hey, a long, long-forgotten voice at the back of his mind suggests. You would have found this funny, once.

“Er, I’m sorry if I startled you. Do you…need help?” Foggy swallows, sounding more earnest now as Matt suspects he just saw his bare back and remembered the wounds he dressed last night.

“No sir,” Matt manages to pull his shirt off and scramble back into a kneeling position, unsure of whether he should proceed to get changed, or whether Foggy has changed his mind to take him for a morning test ride. His heartbeat did pick up when he saw Matt half-naked on the floor, so…

“Foggy. Please. You had it last night,” Foggy reminds him gently, and Matt flushes, nodding.

“Yes. Of course. Sorry.” It doesn’t happen often that he has to be reminded of an order, but it’s such an unusual one that it’s probably not that surprising that he keeps forgetting.

“I brought you some food,” Foggy says. “It’s just a sandwich and an apple, but, uh. I read that you might have to get used to food in…small amounts at first?” he winces. “Sorry, I mean, obviously I can get you more, you’d have to be hungry, I will get more, I’m an idiot, please eat this meanwhile. Oh god.” He sits down on the bed heavily. Matt, still kneeling at his side, is a bit unsure how to proceed. But still, there was an obvious order in there – eat this – and one, for once, that Matt wouldn’t mind at all complying with. He waits for one, two heart beats – Foggy is holding the food out to him, he can tell, but it would look a bit odd if just reached out to take it as if he could see it – wondering if Foggy is going to demand anything of him for it, maybe, but honestly, Matt would be fine giving a blowjob if it meant he could eat.

“…oh! Oh, dammit. Right,” Foggy says and Matt curiously gets the impression that it’s now him who’s flushing. “Here.” Matt’s fairly proud of himself that he manages not to flinch when Foggy’s free hand closes around his wrist and guides his fingers to the apple in his owner’s other hand. “Um,” Foggy starts again. “Do you want to sit on the bed? I’d take you down to the kitchen to eat, but I figured that might be a bit much, first thing in the morning?”

This time, Matt almost can’t stop himself from giving a blatant, wry smirk. ‘Sit on the bed’. As if the guy couldn’t be more obvious.

“Thank you,” he says demurely, raising himself and taking the apple and the bread roll to sit down on the soft bed. Any minute now, he suspects, there is going to be a hand on his thigh, maybe already fingers curling underneath the band of his pajama pants, another hand pressing his shoulder down until he is on his back, a knee nudging between his legs –

It is a bit anticlimactic when Foggy then simply stands up and says “Right! You eat that, I’ll get you some clothes!”

Xxx

“Um,” Foggy says, looking at him some fifteen minutes later. Matt is standing in the middle of his room, now wearing a baggy pair of Foggy’s jeans and an oversized hoodie, feeling self-conscious. “Yeah, no.”

Matt is also getting the impression he is somehow failing to please here.

“I can…take it off, if you want-“ he suggests, but Foggy only shakes his head.

“Yeah, no,” he repeats. “I don’t think anything I have is going to fit you any better, sadly.”

Matt almost regrets this. If Foggy doesn’t like how the clothes fit on his body, he likely won’t get to wear them again. They’re the softest clothes he’s been allowed to wear in years.

“Oh well,” Foggy says, sounding as resigned as Matt feels, right before the second half of the sentence leaves Foggy’s mouth - “Guess we’ll have to go shopping.”

Wait, what?

Xxx

Before they apparently really go shopping, though, Foggy gives him a tour of the house. He carefully guides Matt down stairs and around chairs, warning him of low telephone tables standing in hallways and tells him where each door leads to.

“And these are my mom and dad,” he also introduces Matt to the two adults he can sense sitting on the couch in the living room. They have their heads turned toward him, and Matt feels awkward under their gaze – this isn’t how he usually meets people, if he does at all, he would be kneeling at his owner’s feet – “Mom, dad, please call him Matt. I’m going to take him shopping to the mall later. He can’t keep wearing my clothes, he looks ridiculous. And, um-“ he swallows, “I’ve read up on it and I know Matt has to obey every order any free person gives him, so, well. I don’t want you to give him any.”

Matt could hear one of the parents – the mother – sighing. “Franklin…”

“Also, we’re going to the mall right now, actually. Bye!” Foggy’s hand closes around his arm and it’s one of the few times Matt is actually grateful to be dragged away from somewhere.

Xxx

“Um,” Matt starts, when they’re waiting at the bus stop to go the mall, feeling uncertain because it’s been a while since he’s spoken when not being spoken to.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“You know…I am your slave. Your family and you can order me about, I can – I can follow orders. Even if I’m,” Matt swallows, “defective.”

“Defect - holy shit, they said that to you?!” Foggy gasps, voice somewhere between disbelief and anger.

“It’s the truth,” Matt lies. Foggy shakes his head emphatically.

“Like hell it is. Assholes. If anything, their worldview is defective. No, no way am I gonna order you about, buddy. I just…well, I mean, I didn’t ever want a slave, I’m completely against that system, and I can care for myself, thank you, but mom insisted, so I had hoped I could just get… just like…somebody I could hang out with? Uh.”

The heat radiating from Foggy’s face abruptly spikes so that Matt thinks he must be flushing bright red now, but at that point the bus thankfully arrives and they both board, Foggy’s words still echoing in his head.

xxx

Re: FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [4/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Poor Matt, its a rollercoaster for sure. Great update!

Re: FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [4/?]

[(Anonymous)]

oh, it is. Just hopefully with more ups than downs!^^°

Re: FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [4/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Love how you've expanded this, from Matt waking up and expecting whoever loses the argument he can hear to take it out on him, to the gratitude he tries to repress - and that Foggy agrees he shouldn't be feeling.

The new bits were really nice too, with Matt suppressing his annoyance at Foggy's laughter, even remembering that once upon a time he'd have found the situation funny, and then the understated heartbreak of Matt constantly expecting Foggy to rape him. And the idea that Foggy would take him shopping for some decent clothes when the ones available didn't fit him seemed to be such a shock to Matt.

Then there was more pain, with Matt's quiet, almost desperate insistence that he can follow orders, even though he's 'defective' - and I know he tells himself he's lying when he reassures Foggy that it's the truth, but how much of that is Matt lying to himself? How much has he internalised the idea that he has to be useful, to earn even the most basic of his needs?

Re: FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [4/?]

[(Anonymous)]

aw, thanks for the lovely comment! :D I always think anger, fury and pride are such important parts of Matt that you have to have them, and it's interesting to work out ways how to work them into a slavery AU where he'd technically not be allowed these emotions. And yeah, Matt is still a loooooong way from trusting Foggy, so that'll take time. In this AU Matt is likely wavering between a furious 'they have NO RIGHT to treat me this way, I am a human being and deserve the same rights as anyone else!' as well as a resigned viewpoint that he likely deserves this on some level anyway, and it'll only take time until even Foggy will see him as worthless as he is and begin to treat him like it. Lots to unlearn in any case...

Re: FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [4/?]

[(Anonymous)]

I followed you here from the sequel and intend to follow both fills for a while to come. Great work :)

Re: FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [4/?]

[(Anonymous)]

yay! :D Sequel mostly starts to branch off of this prompt when they start their internship, but we're not there yet. Glad you're enjoying both :p

Re: FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [4/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Looking forward to more!!!

Re: FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [4/?]

[(Anonymous)]

here you go! :D

FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [5/?]

[(Anonymous)]

YES! Comments! they do make me ever so happy :D

xxx

The shopping goes…not great.

Employees either coo over Matt or disdainfully inform Foggy that pets in a store need to be kept on a leash or else they will be denied entry. (“He is not a pet,” Foggy scathes, “He is a fully functional human adult, and he sure as hell would behave better than those teenagers running amok in your store back there!” The shopping assistant’s eyes boggle at Foggy’s outburst, but before the guy can turn around and see the kids goofing around that Foggy had indicated, Foggy has already nudged Matt, gently pressing his elbow to his side. “C’mon, Matt. We’ll take our business somewhere else.”)

In the end, they manage to get a collection of halfway decent shirts and jeans, and two pairs of shoes from the sale rack for the rest of the money Foggy had in his bank account for the holidays. It’s late in the day, and the shopping assistants are too tired to bother them for the most part - although if they do, they keep talking to Foggy the entire time, and one of them even almost yanks the curtain of the dressing room open, telling Foggy “I’m sorry sir, the changing rooms are for clients, not their pets.” (“What the – hey! Stop it!” Foggy interrupts them just in time, moving to block the woman from opening the curtain. “That’s my friend changing in there, what do you think you’re doing?!”

“Sir, we have a strict policy that the dressing rooms may only be used by people-“

“Matt is people!” Foggy snaps. “Matt is probably more people than you are!” he adds, somewhat nonsensically, but he is angry now.

“Um, Foggy? It’s okay, I’m done,” Matt’s voice says, quietly, as he draws the curtain aside himself, stepping out. “We can leave, if you want.”

“Yeah. We will,” Foggy says, still glaring daggers at the sales assistant, who has started to look uncomfortable with the situation. “Did you like the shirt you just tried on, Matt?”

“I…yeah. It was soft. Nice,” Matt clarifies. “It felt like it fit well, too.”

“Great,” Foggy says. “I’ll have a look at the brand and the size, and then, we will buy it off the internet,” Foggy grates at the assistant’s face, and they make another accelerated store exit.)

xxx

“I…Foggy, thank you,” Matt says, later, when they’re sitting on a bench in front of the mall, bags by their feet, and both working on a sort of wrap from a fast food place. “I realize you didn’t have to do any of those things.”

Foggy snorts. “What, feed you and clothe you? Those are some pretty basic things that everybody has the right to, I think.”

“Slaves don’t. At least, not like this,” Matt says quietly. “My last owner…” he starts, then makes a grimace, when everything inside him screams at him not to say anything, not to open up, not to trust, but in the end goes ahead with it anyway. “My last owner wouldn’t have let me sit on the bench like this with him. I’d have been kneeling at his feet. Being hand-fed.”

Matt has turned his head slightly away from him, so Foggy can’t see his face, but he can see Matt’s hands. They’re clutching the wrap hard enough to almost smush it.

“Well, he shouldn’t have,” is all Foggy can offer in return. Even he feels it’s a weak answer. But Matt is sharing something with him, starting to offer something of himself, and Foggy can’t help but hope that this is a kind of step forward. Next to him, Matt takes a breath.

“At the last shop, you…said I was your friend.”

“Oh. Yeah. I’d like to be yours,” Foggy says. “If you want me to.”

At this, Matt honestly seems to be surprised. “Really? Why?”

Foggy shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t I? I like having friends. And you, I mean, you’re smart – your grades are better than mine, honestly - you’re funny, you’re easy to talk to and…you even laugh at my dumb jokes, and I at least think you’re being honest when you do.” Foggy rubs the back of his neck, suddenly sounding a bit self-conscious. “Um. Are you?”

Matt stares in his direction for a moment, seeming slightly floored by the compliments. “I…yes. I like them,” he admits, and fidgets with the fabric of his pants. “But you can get all of that just by being my owner. You don’t have to…be anything else.”

“Really,” Foggy says dryly. “And just how often did you make that asshole who didn’t want you to sit beside him laugh? Or laugh at one of his jokes?”

At that, Matt at least gives him a hint of a wry smile. “I…didn’t, actually. I don’t think he had a very well-developed sense of humour.”

“And there you go,” Foggy nods. “Friends laugh at other friends’ jokes,” and then adds, before he can stop himself, “And I, um. Would really like to have a friend again, actually.”

“…oh,” Matt says, sounding slightly taken aback and Foggy already feels as awkward as possible. Who would even say that. And say it to someone who is completely dependent on you, great going, Nelson. Foggy groans quietly. He doesn’t know quite what it is, but there’s something about Matt that apparently makes him feel like he can just talk about anything.

“Oh god, no, forget I said that. Please. Anyway, what I meant was that it would be cool if we could be buddies. Right?” he asks desperately. “Like, buddies that can help each other come up with revenge plans for rude shopping assistants.”

“Hm.” Matt tilts his head, thankfully looking like he’s taking the cue of a topic change. But it doesn’t seem entirely like an act to please his owner when he asks, “We could…release live bees from the pet store in the shop?”

“Ooh, yes. And then yell ‘how many pets are now in your friggin dressing rooms? Huh? Huh?!’ That’ll teach her,” Foggy says vindictively, and he thinks he actually managed a genuine, almost startled giggle out of Matt this time, like he’s surprised his owner is trying to make him laugh. Wants him to laugh. Foggy can’t help but grin back.

“Alright. Let’s get home and see how we can ruin the local retail trade via amazon.”

xxx

“The shopping trip upset you,” Matt remarks, much later at night when they’ve quieted down for a while, and Foggy doesn’t bother denying it. Matt was good at reading people, Foggy had understood that quite quickly, and only sometimes wondered whether that was a Matt thing, or simply a skill most slaves had to learn to survive.

“Well…yeah.” Foggy sighs. “I already knew I didn’t like the slavery system, but I don’t think I realized until now how incredibly dickish people can be about it. There’s a bit of metal around your neck, and suddenly they don’t view you as human any more, what the hell.”

“…tell me about it,” comes Matt’s flat voice from the futon in the darkness, and Foggy once again wants to reach out and squeeze Matt’s hand, but he doesn’t want to intrude upon his space when he’s on his bed. The slave owner’s manual says that it’s psychologically useful if a slave has a ‘safe space’ that they can think of as a sanctuary, like a cage, or a kennel or, if nothing else is there, a mattress. The slave owner’s manual then also went on how deprivation of that space can be a valuable discipline measure, but what Foggy has taken away from that passage is that a) he isn’t gonna be touching Matt or make demands of him while the guy is lying on his bed, and b) the author of that goddamn book really needs to be lined up against a wall and shot.

(Later on, that rule was probably the first that went out the window. Foggy has probably lost count of the number of times he was prodded with a cane for snoring during their college days - and then threw a cushion at Matt in retaliation – and the number of times they’ve stumbled back into their dorm, completely shit-faced, and just fell into the first of their beds they happened to bump into, neither of them willing to get up after that.)

“Can you even sleep comfortably in that thing?” Foggy wonders, aloud. On his futon, Matt huffs. Foggy wonders whether it’s the darkness in the room that makes Matt slightly more…open again, like he had been at the end of their shopping trip. When they had gotten back, Matt had mostly retreated to his former, outwardly servile and submissive self while in the company of Foggy’s parents, even trying to kneel first at Foggy’s side when it was time to sit down to dinner. It had taken a firm command from Foggy and a warning glance at his parents not to say anything to get Matt to sit down at the table properly and eat the share of food Foggy put on his plate (which, thankfully, was pizza. Foggy only realized afterwards that he had no idea what he would have done if it had been something that wasn’t finger food – what kind of instructions did someone who was blind and had maybe never eaten with cutlery even need? He’d have to ask Matt when his parents weren’t there) Afterwards, Matt had looked almost pathetically grateful when Foggy had asked him to help him clean the table and showed him how to work the dishwasher. (Foggy tried not to think too hard about what it might have meant for a slave to not be able to be useful.) Now, after Foggy has changed his bandages and gotten them ready for the night, though, Matt seems to be a bit more talkative again.

“Not really. But you get used to it,” he says, and Foggy swallows as he hears the low clink of the metal collar against one of the buttons on the pillow case.

“I’m sorry,” he winces. “I’ll try to think of something, I promise.”

“I’m fine. But…thank you,” Matt says, and even though it doesn’t seem like he believes what Foggy said, Foggy thinks it did not sound entirely like a lie.

Xxx

Re: FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [5/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Awesome update. Poor Matt. Why doesn't Foggy have any friends?

Re: FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [5/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Thanks! What did you like in particular about it? :) Foggy might have been a little lonely, yeah - maybe also because of not quite seeing eye to eye on some social and political issues with some of his peers. Hope you like the update!

Re: FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [5/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Ahhhhh I love how FURIOUS Foggy is at how Matt's treated. And how baffled Matt is by said fury.

Re: FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [5/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Oh, there is going to be a lot more fury (and bafflement XD) on both sides before this is over, no worries :p Hope you like!

Re: FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [5/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Foggy seems to be not as confident like in canon. He showed some insecurities here when asking Matt to be his friend.

Re: FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [5/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Yup, he does. Though that is also because he really, really wants Matt to be his friend, but doesn't know how he can ask that without actually forcing Matt to be his friend (because of course, most slaves would say whatever you wanted to hear, regardless of their feelings on the issue) and really, he can't be sure whether Matt is lying or not. Thus, massive insecurities. They'll have to work on that...

FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [6a/?]

[(Anonymous)]

The collar, it turns out, also brings with it some more problems than just making other people behave like dicks.

“Okay. So these are my underpants, and these are your underpants…” a week has passed and Foggy is trying to sort both of their (meagre) belongings as he’s packing them for college, and Matt is in his room (as always) and not able to be much help.

“Can you get me the shampoo sitting on the table?” Foggy asks, more because he wants Matt to feel useful than because he is too lazy to do it himself. “It’s sitting at the front, in the middle.”

“On it,” Matt says, raising himself from where he has been sitting on the bed, and walking over to grab it from the desk. As he moves, something that Foggy has been noticing for a while catches his eye again.

“Is something wrong with your neck?”

“Hm? No, I’m fine,” Matt replies, because that seems to be an automatic reaction from him, and Foggy gives him an unimpressed look, that (sadly) is of course totally wasted on him.

“Uh-huh. That’s why you’re keeping your neck straight as a board and avoid turning your head when you move your body. Let me see,” he says, already moving over. Matt has frozen, looking like a deer in the headlights as Foggy nears him, but he doesn’t resist when Foggy puts a hand on his shoulder, leaning in to have a closer look at Matt’s bare throat and neck.

And then almost rears backwards.

“…Matt! You’re bleeding.”

“Yes.”

“’Yes’? ‘Yes’?! ‘Yes’ isn’t the answer to that question, Matt,” Foggy wants to wail, because why is any of this happening to him, and Matt is just looking into his general direction, his expression a slight frown.

“What you said…wasn’t a question,” he points out, a bit consternated, and Foggy only groans, because of course he would say that.

“Matt. Take that collar off, now.”

“I can’t,” Matt replies, swallowing. “It’s locked. The key is with my ownership papers.”

Which prompts a wild hunt through all of the documents Foggy had painstakingly assembled for transport to college, until he has found the damn contract his mother had given him last week, and which had been crumpled all the way underneath everything else. But it does have a metal key taped to it, looking just as scratched and busted as the old collar around Matt’s neck, which Foggy carefully extracts.

“Okay,” he says, voice, for his credit, almost calm again now. “Lift your head and let me take that…thing off you.”

Again, Matt obeys, and Foggy tries to be as careful as possible as he inserts the key, twists it, and then gingerly removes the collar. Underneath Matt’s skin is angry, red and irritated, exhibiting a rash-like look and small open, oozing sores at irregular intervals. Foggy winces and hopes none of them are infected yet.

“Fuck,” he says, quietly.

“Not looking great?” Matt ventures (and at least that’s progress, a slightly hysterical voice in Foggy’s head reminds him, that Matt doesn’t straight jump to the conclusion that he’s somehow defective, when Foggy voices how badly cut-up he is).

“No. No, Matt, it doesn’t. Why didn’t you say anything?” Foggy moans. “I swear, I have aged twenty years during the last seven days,” he sighs, as he gets out – again – the first aid kit, the salves and the bandages. “Sit down, hold your head up, and hold still. What kind of sicko even made you wear that thing?”

“It’s a standard government collar,” Matt says, once again eerily not flinching even when Foggy does his best to disinfect and clean the irritated ring of red skin around Matt’s throat. “They’re made to be durable, not comfortable.”

“Yeah, well, I’m now drawing on three months experience from when I was trying to flirt with this girl into anarchist bands back in tenth grade, and I’m saying ‘Fuck the government’,” Foggy says with conviction. “You’re not wearing that thing again.”

Matt huffs out a small laugh of amusement. “I’m legally required to, Foggy. You can’t take me out of the house without a collar.”

“Says who,” Foggy argues back. “I mean, what if you simply went out without one, who would even know you’re a slave?”

Matt begins to shrug, but Foggy slaps his shoulders back down. “Uh-uh. Hold still.”

Matt freezes for a moment, and Foggy realizes with a slight jolt that this is technically the first time he’s ‘hit’ Matt because he’s done something wrong. Fortunately, Matt seems to realize that Foggy meant it as a friendly reminder, not as a punishment, and he relaxes again. “Sorry,” he says, clearing his throat, sounding slightly awkward.

“It’s fine,” Foggy replies, trying to let his voice sound calm and non-chalant. “So you were saying, about going out without a collar…?”

“Ah. Yeah, no, people wouldn’t be able to see right away, that’s true. But the moment anyone asked to see my ID for something, and I wouldn’t have either a citizen ID card, or a collar with an ID chip, I’d be taken in by the police. And uncollared pets are pretty much taken in and…auctioned off.”

“Oh. Right,” Foggy says, lips thinning as he works. He is now wrapping the bandage around Matt’s throat, giving him a soft, white collar instead of the grey, cruel metal one. The metal one still holds the ID chip Matt has spoken of, a small thumbnail thing that would display his registration number, name of his owner, and county of holding if held in front of a police chip reader. “Can we get you a different collar? One that doesn’t hurt?”

“Sure. I think pretty much anything that isn’t metal or too tight will be fine,” Matt says. “Most of them will have a holding space for the chip, too. That’s the one thing that separates them from dog collars,” he adds wryly, and Foggy nods.

“Do you have a preference for anything? Favourite colour or something?”

Matt, however, doesn’t actually smile or snort at that like Foggy had hoped. Instead, he only replies quietly “It’s a collar, Foggy. I’m pretty much bound to hate it whatever it looks or feels like,” and Foggy, uncomfortable, drops the topic in favour of returning to packing for college.

Xxx

It was probably somewhere around the third or fourth night in the house that Matt has started slipping out of bed when Foggy’s asleep.

It’s not that he’s trying to escape – he’s not, he’s tried in the past, and he’s been recaptured each time, because escaping without a valid citizen ID is near impossible – but rather that he feels like he needs time to…think. Thinking around Foggy during the day is kind of hard, he’s found, since the man not only won’t shut up, but also expects Matt to contribute, earnestly asking for his opinion on half a dozen topics before breakfast, and still cracking the awful jokes that still make Matt laugh each time.

(The first time he made one back, Foggy was so pleased he smacked Matt on his back, which immediately of course resulted in a wince and a horrified avalanche of apologies from Foggy - which, to be honest, kind of made Matt laugh harder.)

No, concentrating around Foggy is hard. Especially since everything about his stay here is still so puzzling – Matt is kind of suspecting now that Foggy probably won’t start making use of him as a bed warmer until they’re at Columbia, which is either due to the fact that he wants to wait until Matt is fully healed, or that he’d feel weird having sex with his parents next door, or likely some combination of both. But while he isn’t looking forward to being fucked again, it’s become at least a less terrifying scenario in his head for the past few days – Foggy handles him gently, and Foggy likes hearing him laugh of all things; in bed, Matt thinks, Foggy might actually also take care that it wouldn’t be too painful, maybe even go slow and careful enough that Matt could still pretend to like it, if Foggy liked seeing him smile.

Now, during the second week he sneaks down the stairway soundlessly, less because he’s genuinely afraid to wake anyone up and more because he wants to see if he still can – and yup, seems like his muscles remember Stick’s training just fine – and relaxes when he’s in the familiar territory of the kitchen, the noise of the refrigerator and dishwasher, as well as the smells of three dozen foodstuffs painting a brightly burning picture of his surroundings for him. This is another weird feeling, too – the fact that he is close to food, real food, but has little to zero desire to eat anything, simply because he’s still feeling far too full from dinner. He can’t recall ever having met a slave who wouldn’t jump at the chance to stuff themselves if they were able to roam the house at night freely like he is.

But staying at the Nelsons hardly feels like being a slave at all. Oh, the collar around his neck (even if temporarily replaced by a bandage for now) won’t let him forget it, to be sure, but – no one in this place beats him, or even works him very hard; Mrs Nelson has him carry things occasionally, or makes him help her in the kitchen, or puts him to work folding clothes, but even that only when Foggy isn’t around. Matt hasn’t told Foggy about it, mostly because he knows that it hardly ever pays for a slave to go behind the back of one family member who owns you to go crying to another, but also because he honestly doesn’t mind – he likes being useful, it gives him something to do other than to feel completely at sea, and it’s not like the work is hard or uncomfortable. It’s usually when Foggy has gone to work himself, putting in the last few hours at the butchery he helps out in, before they’ll be heading to Columbia. Matt thinks he’s probably barely earning his keep here, especially because they feed him actual food instead of slave kibble. But despite that, neither of Foggy’s parents seem to treat him with hostility, like some working free people do when they come face to face with slaves who are basically pets, kept around without actually being very productive.

Matt had never wanted to be a pet, but somehow, being Foggy’s is so far less bad than expected.

xxx

Re: FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [6a/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Great chapter. Love it. I love how Matt answers about the collar.

FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [6b/?]

[(Anonymous)]

p>xxx

“Matt? Buddy?” Matt’s head goes up as Foggy enters the room, back from a trip to the mall he took on his own this time, and there’s still remnants of that familiar snap-to-attention reflex whenever Foggy says his name, as if he was always bracing himself for an order or a blow.

Matt has been mostly staying in Foggy’s room, despite Foggy telling him he was free to go wherever he wanted, only leaving when Foggy dragged him to meal times or on a walk around the neighbourhood after it was dark, the day Matt’s cane was delivered. The one walk they took during daylight the day after their trip to the mall had…only gone equally as well as their day at the mall.

“Hello, Foggy. Welcome back,” Matt says, but it’s said with a mild, hesitant smile, as if Matt actually was a bit happy that Foggy’s returned, and didn’t just say it because he’s been trained to.

Yeah, right, the cynical voice in Foggy’s head says, as if a slave would ever be happy that the person who can order them around is back.

“Haven’t gotten bored, have ya?” Foggy asks instead, carefully putting the bag he’s been carrying on the bed. Matt is sitting pretty much where Foggy left him this morning, on the floor next to the bed, leaning against the covers. Foggy had pressed the remote control for both the radio and the TV into his hands before he left, explained what the buttons did, and then excused himself to run ‘errands’.

(“I’d ask if you wanted to come with, but…” he’d said, but Matt had given him the usual tightly-wound smile, ducking his head in the already familiar way.

“But you can’t take me out without a collar, and you don’t want me to wear it until my neck’s healed again,” he had finished Foggy’s sentence, white bandage around his throat constricting as he swallowed. “I understand.”

“That, and I don’t think you had much fun last time we went shopping,” Foggy admits with a grimace. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize what a-holes people could be.”

Matt shrugs. “It happens. Once you’ve been out a few times with a collar you get used to it.”)

“No,” Matt shakes his head. “I like having a bit of downtime.”

“Right. Well, I bought something for you.”

“Again?” Matt tilts his head at Foggy. It’s not that easy to tell with the dark glasses but he seems a bit confused.

“Um. Yeah,” Foggy says and now he actually feels a bit embarrassed. “It’s ah…uh, here. It’s a new collar.”

“…ah. Of course. The skin underneath the bandage should be healed now. Thank you,” Matt replies, but it’s a stiff tone again, and he tilts his head toward the ground. For a moment he looks more like a regular slave, slumped at Foggy’s feet, and Foggy instinctively grits his teeth.

“It’s…here. Have a feel.” He takes the item out of the bag and presses it against the back of Matt’s hand. A brief frown passes across his slave’s face, but he does take the proffered collar obediently. As his fingers wrap around it, the frown deepens.

“It’s very thin,” Matt says. “And very long.”

“Yup,” Foggy says. “It’s also made from genuine leather and it’s red. Uh, sorry about the garish colour. I, er, also got from the female slaves’ section, because the male models were all really sturdy, but I figured, what you really needed was a collar wide enough and thin enough that you could wear it under your shirt so no one would be able to see it. You know. So you wouldn’t actually be breaking the law, but also people won’t be treating you like you’re not a person,” Foggy says, and he can hear himself babbling a little now, because Matt is staring off into space even more than usual, feeling the collar between his fingers and not showing any emotion at all on his face. “Do you, uh, like it? I mean, duh, dumb question, of course you probably won’t really like that stupid thing they’re making you wear, but-“

“You…” Matt interrupts him, then, voice hoarse and he seems a little out of it, because he doesn’t even apologize for it like he usually does. “You…got me a collar specifically so I would be able to pretend…to be a free man?”

“Well, yeah,” Foggy shrugs helplessly. “After that disaster of a shopping trip it seemed like the thing to do.”

And then he almost flinches backwards, because all at once, Matt has pitched himself forward onto his knees and grabbed Foggy’s legs.

“Thank you,” he says and it’s raw, and helpless, and Foggy SO doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Woah, woah, that’s okay, dude. Here, come on up, please.” Foggy reaches down to grab Matt by his upper arms, pulling him to his feet because he is so uncomfortable with him clinging to his legs, pressing his face into his thigh like a damn illustration from the colonies.

A slave may nuzzle you in an attempt to thank you, or offer sexual favours. It is up to you to either reward or curb that behaviour as you see fit.

“You don’t…seriously, I’m glad you like it, but if you want to thank me, a hug will do just fine!” Foggy tries, carefully not adding Just please don’t act like a dog. “I like hugging. Big hugger here. Let’s hug it all out, okay?”

His voice is pitched just slightly higher than usual, and he’s unsure of how to hold Matt without aggravating the injuries on his back. He settles for keeping his hands on the other man’s shoulders, holding him in a light grip that he hopes doesn’t come off either as threatening or possessive.

“You want me to…hug you? As thanks?” Matt asks, voice somewhere between thick with near-crying, and genuine, simple disbelief.

“If you want to,” Foggy says, shrugging, thinking maybe the motion will transmit through his hands on Matt’s shoulders, even if he can’t see it. “Like, seriously, you don’t have to do anything. But if you want to do something…well, friends generally hug, yeah. Or bake muffins? One or the other. I don’t know whether you can bake, but-“

Matt hugs him, hard.

The next morning, it turns out he also (hesitantly, nervously as she tells Foggy later) asked Foggy’s mother for permission to use the kitchen to bake muffins, and the way they taste Foggy fears if he’s going to take Matt with him to Columbia, he’s going to put on the freshman fifteen again, and this time they’ll have brought friends.

Xxx

Re: FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [6b/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Aww, that's so sweet. LOve that Foggy is being so good to him and that Matt is feeling better. :) LOveing this little series.

Re: FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [6b/?]

[(Anonymous)]

eyup. Firmly on the fluff side here during the festive season. XD Hope you like the new part, too!

Re: FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [6b/?]

[(Anonymous)]

I'm not one for Slave fics usually, but I'm loving this.
“I like hugging. Big hugger here. Let’s hug it all out, okay?” Is it bad that that's my favourite line of the chapter?

Re: FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [6b/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Ohh Matt.

I loved seeing him sneaking around the house in the dark, just to prove to himself that he could. And his thoughts on not being tempted by the food in the kitchen were very revealing.

But he can't even conceptualise Foggy not fucking him at some point can he? Let alone the idea that it might be good for him, the best he's hoping for is gentle enough that he can smile through it and hide his pain to please Foggy - that's all sorts of heartbreaking.

His musings on being a pet were nice too - because Foggy hasn't given him much idea of what he wants from him?

I loved the reposted bits about the collar, and the image of Matt kneeling, face pressed to Foggy's thigh is beautiful.

FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [7/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Have a festive update! :D

xxx

Xxx

Their second shopping trip…goes much better.

It turns out, as soon as Matt isn’t wearing a visible collar any more, people are basically falling over themselves to help them, going from ‘The changing rooms are over here, sir, would you like some help?’ to ‘This shirt is a very nice, light grey, which means it should go with almost anything!’

Foggy thinks he could almost feel insulted by how this time it’s him being ignored in favour of his handsome, wounded-duck companion, but Matt is genuinely smiling at the end of the day, so Foggy thinks he can probably live with that.

The last stop Foggy takes them to is not a clothing store.

“Oh…Foggy, no, it’s fine, I don’t need a new pair – it’s not like I use them to see through, anyway,” Matt tries, as soon as he understands where they are, but Foggy has already gently ushered them into the shop.

“Hello. My friend is looking for a new pair of sunglasses,” Foggy flags an assistant down. “Also, he clearly needs them because he is so blind he won’t notice his old ones are falling apart,” he adds, and then immediately feels terrible, because what the hell, you can’t just say that, Nelson, now he’s gonna think you think he is defective all over again and - ! He is about to apologize when Matt turns his head to the young sales rep heading over to them and nods.

“Very true, sadly. On the bright side, I save on not needing prescription glasses,” which startles the young woman into a laugh, and the conversation turns to the various available models.

“How do you like these?” The assistant asks Matt after handing him another pair. “The lenses are very dark, but they also have a reddish tinge to them. I think they’d go great with your hair.”

“Hmm. Yes, I like them. They feel nice,” Matt says after running his fingers along the round frames and then putting them on. “What do you think?” he asks, turning to Foggy with a shy smile.

“Yes. Very. Very nice,” Foggy says, sounding slightly strangled, because for some reason his vocabulary seems to have abruptly fled to Canada at the sight of happy!Matt with shiny new glasses. “We’ll uh, we’ll take them.”

“They’ll go great with my other red accessories, too,” Matt adds glibly, and Foggy is so surprised at the inside joke that he actually has to suppress a very unattractive chortle.

“I’m, er, sorry about the blind quip, by the way. That was probably out of line,” he says when they leave the store, on their way home with bags dangling from their arms. Next to him, Matt shakes his head.

“No, I thought it was funny. Back when I was…” he abruptly stops himself, then clears his throat and starts the sentence again. “When I was younger, people used to dance around me like I was made of glass. I hated that.”

Huh. Maybe not always a slave, then. Foggy wonders whether he should dig a little deeper here, but ultimately refrains. If Matt wants to, he’ll tell him.

“Well, good to hear you developing a sense of humour over the atrocious collar I bought you, at least.” He replies instead, trying to go for a wry tone. “Contrary to that thing, the glasses actually do suit you, though.”

“What? I wasn’t joking,” Matt defends himself, “I actually have a serious thing for red leather, I swear.”

“Great. My mom bought me a kinkster, that will be something to thank her for on mother’s day,” Foggy mutters, and then it takes them all of five seconds to helplessly burst out laughing.

Afterwards, when they sit outside the mall, on the same bench they sat on as they left the last time, Foggy describes the people passing by as they wait for the bus back, describes the sunset and what he has read about Columbia, and Matt smiles at him as he does.

And maybe, just maybe, Foggy starts hoping that he may have gotten a roommate to be friends with after all.

xxx

“What are you going to tell people about me?”

Matt is sitting on his new bed in their new college dorm room, and listening to Foggy unpack his things. Foggy only briefly glances over his shoulder at the question.

“I don’t think I’ll need to tell them anything, buddy. Pretty sure the co-eds’ll soon be forming a line to ask you stuff themselves.”

“No, I mean…what I’m doing in your dorm. I know you’re trying to help me pass as a free man,” Matt says, briefly rolling his thin collar between two fingers, “But I’m here to be your study aid and house slave. I’ll be attending lectures, but I won’t be attending seminars or taking exams, so it’ll be obvious I’m not here as a student. What are you going to tell people I’m doing in your room?”

“Oh. Uh.” Foggy blinks at this Very Obvious Question. Then his eyes abruptly narrow.

“Wait. I think I may have a brilliant idea.”

Xxx

“You want to enrol your slave for a…law degree?” the woman behind the desk at the dean’s office gives Foggy a fairly sceptical look.

(It’s not a surprise. Slaves are enrolled for studying in quite a few subjects, but mostly to become engineers, to work in science laboratories or to go into finance. Jobs that generate their owners money. Enrolling someone enslaved in law, or history, or philosophy or literature classes, is generally discouraged, because the last thing the system wants is to give slaves the intellectual tools to work against their bondage.)

“Yes.” Foggy nods determinedly. “He is my study aid, and I want him to take the same classes I do. He also has a Bachelor’s degree and everything. Please?”

(It’s not a completely wild shot. The system should actually work in their favour, here – slave holder lobby work has guaranteed that universities are legally required to always offer a number of spots for slaves for any given degree, and the fact that no one would be crazy enough to enrol his pet in law of all things should mean Matt can still get in, even this late.)

The woman’s eyes draw together as she looks at Matt’s documents, obviously trying to find a flaw in them. Matt is standing next to Foggy at the desk, outwardly calm and exceptionally well-behaved, even if ten minutes ago Foggy could still see him nervously fidgeting with his cane. He’s also wearing his old collar again, a last-minute adjustment after Matt pointed out that if Foggy wants to apply for anything official regarding Matt as his slave, it would be strange if he didn’t look the part.

“He’s blind.”

“Yes. And I still want a study aid, and you’re legally required not to discriminate against students with disabilities,” Foggy replies cheerfully. The woman gives him a look that indicates what exactly she seems to think of first year law students that want to go legal with her, but then only pushes a clipboard of papers toward them with a scowl.

“Fine. But I seriously question why you would bring a blind slave as a study aid with you. Though looking at him I can guess.” The worker presses her lips together, and gives both of them a wry glance. Next to him, Foggy can feel Matt stiffen and himself blush, but he really can’t afford to annoy the woman that could make or break Matt’s stay here.

(“Matt,” he’d asked half an hour ago, “would you like to be enrolled in the classes I take and become a lawyer?” and Matt had looked at him, had really looked like he was looking at him, and with a hoarse voice had replied “More than anything in the world.”)

Foggy isn’t going to screw this up.

“Very well. Pro forma, I’ll need a last name to enter on his application documents. There aren’t many slaves enrolled in this department, so we don’t have a separate form. Shall I enter yours? The first name you’ve given him is Matt, is it?”

“Matthew,” Matt says, quietly. Foggy takes a little breath – if Matt’s actual name is Matthew, that means he has been trusting Foggy with that part of his identity from the very beginning.

Trusted him not to take it away from him after he offered it.

“Matt…” he begins, and Matt flinches a little, bending his head. It seems to Foggy as if the metal collar around his neck also made him go right back to the behaviour he’d exhibited in the very beginning, tense and submissive.

“I’m sorry,” Matt mutters. “I just thought…for official documents, maybe the full version would be better?”

“You’re right. It is. His first name’s Matthew,” Foggy says, demonstratively confident and cheerful, and next to him, Matt lifts his head a little and seems to study him, somewhat surprised.

“Great. And the last name…?” the woman types on her keyboard, seemingly not impressed.

“Uh,” Foggy pauses, turning to Matt. “The last name…would you mind going by Nelson? Or maybe something really common, like Smith?”

Matt cocks his head, seeming to think. “I…wouldn’t mind going by Nelson, no,” he says, slowly, with a mild smile. “But if you don’t want people to wonder whether we’re brothers the entire time…” He swallows.

“Would you mind giving me the name Murdock?”

“Murdock?” Foggy repeats. “Matt Murdock?” he takes in a sharp breath. “Wait, are you actually from Hell’s Kitchen?”

The woman at the front desk clears her throat audibly. “The full name, please? There are other students waiting outside.”

“Oh. Right.” Foggy flounders for a moment. “Er, yeah. I’d like him to be registered under Matthew Murdock. Any middle names you want to have while we’re at it?”

“Michael,” Matt almost whispers, and Foggy tells her to write that down, too.

Xxx

FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [6c/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Hey y'all, here's a little bonus scene I've written up and wanted to throw to you in between. It takes place during the first week Foggy has Matt, when they're still at his family's house and he has just bought him the new collar. I thought we could do with a Matt POV scene of him dealing with the thing when he puts it on for the first time the next morning. Have fun :p

Xxx

After breakfast, Matt steps out of the shower (the warm shower, that he has all to himself, he still has trouble processing that) and, naked, steps over to his pile of clothes for the day. Underwear on top, crisp, new jeans from amazon and a shirt from underneath, black and light blue respectively, according to what Foggy had said. They don’t fit exactly – the drawback of online shopping, which is why they’re heading to the mall today, again – but better than the clothes of Foggy did. Matt still feels almost alien to be dressed, for what seems like forever, in new clothes, that had been bought for him.

It feels almost like being a person again.

Except for…

Matt exhales, deeply, and then reaches out for the last item on the tumble dryer he had stacked his clothes on before taking his morning shower. His hand closes around the new, red leather collar.

(“Okay, let’s take the bandage off for tonight,” Foggy had said, yesterday evening after he had given Matt his new collar, “Then your neck has one night to completely heal and get some fresh air and then you should be able to start wearing this one tomorrow, and we can leave the house. Sound good?” he’d asked, even if amending it with what sounded like a small grimace. “I mean, not good, but…bearable?”

“Yes, Foggy,” Matt had said, still feeling a bit dazed. He had fallen asleep that night, neck bare for the first time in years, and still run his fingers over the new collar in the darkness, the thing that would likely make him truly Foggy’s.

He had almost wished Foggy would put it on him already just to get it over with.)

To Matt’s surprise, Foggy hadn’t put it on him.

Instead, he’d been handed it in the morning again, together with the new clothes that had arrived in the mail.

“Here,” Foggy had said, “Just, uh. Y’know. Try it on, see whether it fits under your shirt and is comfortable and all. Of course, you don’t have to wear it in the house if you don’t want to. Just. Whatever is easier for you, okay?”

“Oh. Yes, Foggy,” Matt had replied, slightly dumbfounded as he took it and the clothes, before being directed to the bathroom again.

He had never met an owner who didn’t enjoy putting a collar on their pets. (And they do, often tightening them extra fast for the first few days, just to drive it home. You are owned by me now.)

Matt’s lips thin.

Collars are degrading. Dehumanizing. Humiliating. Matt has also never forgotten the day the first one had been locked around his neck and he can’t even remember if he ever went more than the minute it took for them to exchange one collar for another without one, except for last night. Hands, touching his throat, his neck, and twisting keys, turning them in locks, making it tight enough to choke him…Matt takes another deep breath, fist closed tightly around the new collar, crushing the leather against his skin.

But it’s softly yielding leather, and even though it’s a collar, it’s…different.

He had never been able to take a collar off by himself, for instance. Collars are locked by nature, whether they’re heavy padlocks or dainty little electronic chip-locks. This one is the latter, it thickens both at the front where he knows Foggy has put his ID chip into the holding space, the thing not much bigger than a micro SIM card, and at the back, where there’s a small metal bit that likely will only open when Foggy puts the electronic chip key he’s probably been given near the chip at the front. Matt still couldn’t open this collar if he wanted to.

But it’s so wide that Matt doesn’t even need to. He lifts it, once again thinking that he could probably double it up into a figure eight and still pull it over his head, and then takes a breath and lets it fall around his neck, touching the back over his shirt collar and coming to lay over his front, low enough to easily hang a hand’s width below his collarbones.

He’s now officially collared as Foggy’s and he doesn’t feel like he’s choking. Now there’s a first.

On impulse, Matt grabs the leather band and proceeds to stuff it quickly inside his shirt, settling it between the fabric and his bare skin. He can’t see his image in the mirror, so he resorts to patting, and realizes that yes, Foggy’s idea should work, the ridges the collar makes underneath the shirt are so fine and irregular he’s pretty sure they shouldn’t stand out.

And it also..doesn’t even feel that bad. Collars are supposed to be humiliating, and to make you feel your place. This one…it isn’t physically uncomfortable, and while Matt still doesn’t like the fact that he has to wear it, it takes a lot of the shame away if nobody can see it. He could almost live with this.

(Though he still has no idea why, or what the motives are behind this. Yesterday, at the idea of even being able to spend a single hour outside without that visible brand around his neck, had sounded so overwhelming, pitching himself onto his knees in front of Foggy had been pretty much all he could do. Now, in the light of day, he was almost a bit embarrassed to have acted like this, giving in to his conditioning so easily, but, still. The idea of going out pretending to be a free man makes his stomach churn with both exhilaration and nerves. He prays Foggy still means it.)

When Matt steps out in his new clothes and Foggy’s heart skips a beat for a moment, before he stammers, “Uh, oh…wow. Looking good there. Are you wearing the collar right now? Because if you are, I can’t tell, so that’s good,” Matt almost can’t help but smile as he says

“Yes, Foggy, I am. I…it’s much more comfortable than my old one. Thank you,” and he knows he sounds like the most pathetic, brainwashed pet ever, but he can’t help but mean it.

(He also doesn’t take it off when they get home, still dazed by how the day had gone, how people had talked to him, how Foggy had joked with him, how…he had almost felt human again, the hidden collar briefly just a thin cord of leather around his neck, as meaningless as a piece of jewellery.

Nothing he wants to claw off his skin as soon as they’re back home and he is no longer legally required to wear it, anyway.

And he tells himself it is easier that way, that way he can’t lose or forget it, and he can almost manage to convince himself that it doesn’t mean he doesn’t particularly mind wearing Foggy’s collar when it’s just the two of them.)

xxx