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daredevilkink2015-04-15 05:15 pm
ddk_mod) wrote in daredevilkink2015-04-15 05:15 pm
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Prompt Post #1
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HEAD OVER TO PROMPT POST #2 TO DO THAT THING.
But please keep filling prompts on this post! Make sure to link any new fic on the complete or work in progress fills posts so it doesn't get missed.
Please read the current rules before commenting on this post.
Rules:
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ETA2: we have a
Fill: tell me how all this will ruin us 2/2
(Anonymous) 2015-05-12 09:22 pm (UTC)(link)“Oh Matt,” he gasps. “Oh Christ, Matt.”
Matt feels something broken at ugly at the bottom of his heart, feeling like something’s been dragging right out of him, some weakness bared kicking and yowling in the light. He tries to calm him, rocking his partner gently, shushing him, murmuring meaningless words. And Foggy is still not calming down, his agony taken root, trembling and keening like this pain is the only thing he knows.
“What’s wrong?” Matt begs, and his own voice is unsteady, damp and newly christened with grief. Foggy is heavy in his arms. “Please, tell me. Let me help you.”
Foggy tries. He does. But his anguish is almost hysterical in its intensity, and he is getting to the point where he can barely breathe with the force of it. His fingers clutch frantically, trying to anchor himself, and he buries his face in Matt’s shirt to muffle his sobs. Matt wraps his arms tighter around, feeling useless and lost, reduced to holding onto the wreckage of a man he had thought almost unconquerable as Foggy chokes on his own agony, making broken hiccup noises. Struggling to breath and inconsolable.
His heartbeat is jack-hammer frantic over the groan of the outside wind.
“Talk to me, Fog, please.” Matt’s own voice is wet now. There’s one last tender place at the heart of him that’s survived everything this city has tried to bury it with, and now even that is not untouched as he watches Foggy break.
He wonders how long this has been building up, goes over recent memories with a desperate ferocity to find something, anything that can explain this. He comes up blank and angry at his helplessness.
Foggy’s grief is overwhelming, raw. Matt never wants to hear this sound again.
It takes a long time for his friend to exhaust himself with crying. They remain half-sat on the kitchen floor surrounded by crushed coffee-granules. Matt’s leg has gone numb, and Foggy’s quietened to gasping sobs. Matt is still clasping him in his arms, feeling the rasp of the ragged Columbia t-shirt Foggy sleeps in, one arm around his back, the other stroking his hair.
“I just – I just don’t want to die,” Foggy chokes out of nowhere, and starts crying again, like he’s broken apart his fragile composure by saying it aloud.
“What do you mean?” Matt whispers. The world’s suddenly a little bit colder, a little darker, and he’s trying so damn hard to hold it together for Foggy. “I don’t understand. You-You’ve got to tell me. Please Fog.”
He does not say you’re scaring me sweetheart. The quiver in his voice does that for him.
“I’ve got cancer,” Foggy whispers against Matt’s collarbone. The world slows, stops. The wind falls silent. “It’s called Ewing’s sarcoma, and… it’s bad, really bad. I’ve known for a few weeks, and I didn’t mean to hide it, I just didn’t, didn’t know how to tell you. Because everything’s been going so well, y’know, with the practice and with us…” Foggy reaches out for Matt’s hand, and Matt squeezes it too hard back. “…A-and then I went to the doctor’s yesterday, and he said it was spreading… and the chemo is just so much money, even with my health insurance, and there’s no way I can afford it, and even then…” His voice is getting reedier, more distraught, on the verge of tears again. “… the c-chances of remission are so fucking awful Matt… a-and I can’t, I can’t….”
“Shhh,” Matt threads his fingers through Foggy’s hair. He is trying not to let his voice shake. He is trying not to panic. Foggy needs him to be calm, and yet his throat is clamming up, tears gathering at the bottom of his lashes. He presses one, two kisses to Foggy’s crown. “It’ll be alright. We’ll sort this, ok? We’ll find the money, and get you well again, because I know you’re going to kick cancer in the ass, ok?”
Foggy makes a damp approximation of a laugh, more a scrape at the sides of his throat.
“We’ll sort this,” Matt promises. “Together. You and me against the world, you remember?”
I love you, he thinks but does not say. This need, this weakness at the centre of him for one human being, it’s intensity scares him. He hopes this is love because he wouldn’t know what to do with this otherwise.
“You and me, Fog.” he says instead, pressing another kiss to his head. He can’t go through with saying those words just yet.
He listens with a sickening clarity to the gnawing scrap of something that should not be there under Foggy’s skin. Knows he can’t promise this, does anyway.
“Come on,” he murmurs, making a thing of shattered words and ill-fitting reassurances and calling it calm. He feels splintered. Adrift. He didn’t think he could feel this way about anything. “Let’s get you up, huh?”
For a moment, they just remain. Breathing. Foggy catching his breath. Matt sitting very still, consoling himself with the other man’s heartbeat. Then Foggy shifts uncomfortably, and Matt helps him up. Once they are standing, Matt wipes away Foggy’s tears crusted onto his eyelashes with his sleeve. There must be an expression on his face that reflects this crumpled shell-shocked thing at the centre of him, because Foggy cups a hand to his cheek and says “Hey baby, don’t make that face huh? One of us here has to be the pretty one.” Matt clenches his eyes shut for a moment and swallows.
“Anything you say,” he finally replies. Matt takes hold of Foggy’s hand, and leads him across and down the hallway into his bedroom. He lays him down like some holy relic, pulls the covers up over him. Strokes his hair from his forehead, lays little kisses on his face. He will not say that he is suddenly terrified Foggy will not be here.
“Are you trying to get me all riled up, Mr Murdock?” Foggy asks, his gestures sluggish as he threads his fingers through Matt’s. This is the way he deals with things. Laughs and makes jokes and lies to himself. That hurts to watch, but everyone needs their crutch to lean on. Matt just needs to make sure Foggy will not do this alone.
“Rest,” Matt says, uncoupling their fingers. He rubs his thumb over Foggy’s knuckles.
Foggy’s tone turns unsure. “But what about…?”
“When you wake up,” Matt promises. “We’ll sort it then. You and Me.”
He cards his hands through Foggy’s lank hair. They exchange a few more words, and Matt stays until heavy breathing lets him know the other man is sleeping.
He goes into the kitchen. Does his best to clear up the coffee granules from the floor. His fists clench, he feels itchy under his skin. He feels like breaking something.
He wants to start a war but there is no-one to fight.
Later, he thinks. We will sort this later.
He calls Karen, keeping his voice low so as not to wake him. Tells her Foggy’s not feeling well, that she might as well shut up for the day. It’s not good for business, but his mind is on other things.
He sets out a tin of soup on the counter and rifles through the cupboards to find some bread ready for when Foggy wakes up. He wipes his hand across his face to dispel tears. This happens more than once.
Around him, the world has dimmed to torchlight. He sits in the corner of the sofa, the cushion moulded to his back, and stares at the point here the floor meets the wall. He prays under his breath, clenching the cross around his neck against his palm, blocking out the sound of the wind outside. He does this for a long time.
Afterwards, he puts his head in his hands, and listens to the gentle rasp of Foggy’s breathing. His heartbeat unwavering.
These things have to be enough for now.
Re: Fill: tell me how all this will ruin us 2/2
(Anonymous) 2015-05-12 09:36 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: tell me how all this will ruin us 2/2
(Anonymous) 2015-05-12 10:22 pm (UTC)(link)oh god i was not ready either and neither was my heart (i guess i asked for it though lol)
poor foggy. poor foggy trying to cope with this all on his own. also poor matt trying to hold it together for foggy. i loved the way you wrote this too, how understated their were with their words despite all the emotions. it felt very true to the characters. aaah.
i'm sorry i'm trying to give better feedback but there are tears running down my face lol
thank you for writing this, i'm so happy and sad! my firstborn will be delivered shortly <3
Re: Fill: tell me how all this will ruin us 2/2
(Anonymous) 2015-05-12 10:37 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: tell me how all this will ruin us 2/2
(Anonymous) 2015-05-12 11:04 pm (UTC)(link)Your tears are enough feedback. *evil laugh*.
Re: Fill: tell me how all this will ruin us 2/2
(Anonymous) 2015-05-12 10:24 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: tell me how all this will ruin us 2/2
(Anonymous) 2015-05-13 01:49 am (UTC)(link)this was probably hands down one of the most painful things i ever had to read and this is coming from someone who has read foggy getting kidnapped and beaten within an inch of his life, PROBABLY because at least then i knew matt would save him, but this? this is something else entirely. daredevil can't punch fucking cancer. matt's comfort is all he can offer but what matt wants to do is take action and this is the one thing he's powerless to help.
i really enjoyed foggy's characterization here too, the line "you trying to rile me up, mr. murdock?" as well as his halfhearted jokes really struck me because foggy's absolutely been proven to joke even when in pain -- the part where he got struck by shrapnel from one of the explosions specifically.
generally really good work and GOOD JOB BREAKING MY DAMN HEART.
Re: Fill: tell me how all this will ruin us 2/2
(Anonymous) 2015-05-14 05:28 am (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: tell me how all this will ruin us 2/2
(Anonymous) 2015-08-02 01:34 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: tell me how all this will ruin us 2/2
(Anonymous) 2016-07-28 11:54 am (UTC)(link)i loved this particular turn of phrase: "damp and newly-christened with grief."