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FILL 6a/7: Matt/OMC, Sexual Harassment, Protective Foggy

[(Anonymous)]

Surprise! It was a 5 + 1 fic the whole time!

1.

On Saturday, it was all Foggy could do to put thoughts of imminent expulsion from his mind, despite Matt’s best efforts to wear a brave face and pull Foggy out of his head. Not even a trip to Josie’s could cure Foggy of his depression. Eventually, he began forcing himself to smile and laugh, so that Matt might start to look less upset. If anything, it was like Matt could hear how false his laughter rang, which only made him more concerned. By the end of the day, he was utterly exhausted.

On Sunday, melancholy replaced his dread. He flirted with acceptance, imagining what he might be able to do if he were expelled. It would not be the end of the world. There were law programs elsewhere. He would have other options. Matt would wait for him.

By Wednesday, acceptance had given way to hope. Maybe Zack had been bluffing, after all: he had chosen wisely. Nothing would come of Zack’s promises.

On Friday, the last day of their internships, Foggy wakes much earlier than usual, bewitched by the prospect of finally being free. While the first pot of coffee is brewing, he has the brilliant idea to include Matt in his celebratory early-morning vigil. Without pausing to consider the notion, he starts tiptoeing towards Matt’s room. Soundlessly, he opens the door and creeps through the low, grey light admitted by Matt’s tenement-view window. He has just discerned the shape of the bed when a hand finds his shoulder.

“Boo,” Matt says, and Foggy shouts and jumps away. Matt laughs as Foggy hits his knee against the bedframe, but promptly offers his hand to help Foggy up. “Sorry, Foggy. Are you okay?”

“No. I am most definitely not okay. I think I tore my meniscus, you asshole.”

“I…really don’t think you did,” Matt says. “You sure you’re not imagining things?”

“Shut up, I’m still in pain.” Foggy looks over to Matt’s desk, where he can make out the shapes of a few books. “I was coming to wake you up, but I guess you’ve been up for a while already.”

“Yeah, a little bit,” Matt says. He sounds exhausted. He walks over towards the door and feels around for the light switch. The old lamp that came with the apartment flickers noticeably when it turns on. Matt is already dressed, complete with glasses. It is difficult to get a read of his expression with the glasses on, but his posture is a good bit less erect than usual.

“Are you doing okay, buddy? You look like you didn’t sleep too well.”

“I’m fine, Foggy. It was just a bit noisy, is all.”

Foggy blinked. He had heard nothing unusual last night—maybe a siren or two, but nothing that should have surprised someone who had lived in the city as long as Matt. “Really? Huh. I didn’t notice anything.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. What I want to know is why you’re up so early. Normally I can’t get you to move before 8:30.”

“How could I not get up early for our last day as the lackeys of the scum on the boot of corporate America? It’s like Christmas morning! I couldn’t sleep in any longer. Are you sure that wasn’t what was keeping you up?”

Matt smiled thinly. “Yes, I’m sure it was just my excitement over a day full of mandatory elbow-rubbing with ‘the scum of corporate America’ that kept me awake. After all, what’s not to look forward to about that?”

“Spoil sport,” Foggy scoffed. “But just think about after that: nine more hours and we’ll be free of Zack and his stupid little mind games forever.”

Matt’s smile widened. “Well, there is that. It’ll also be our last chance to pick up free bagels.”

“Oh, right! Thanks for reminding me! I need to bring a box with me for my stash. The bagels I get today are going to have to last us until we graduate, pass the bar, get our own offices, and establish a wealthy clientele.”

Matt laughed. “Get a big box. And don’t leave it where I can smell it.”

They took their time getting ready, as they had very little reason or desire to rush into work. Matt asked if they might walk instead of taking the subway, but Foggy looked up at the dark clouds hanging in the sky and decided that, for the sake of their suits, it would probably be safer to take the underground route. Matt sighed—he hated the subway, and Foggy knew it—but he trusted Foggy’s judgment.

Two stations away from their destination, several passengers debarked, and Foggy was startled to feel Matt jump beside him. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Matt answered, too quickly. His cheeks were emblazoned with red. “It was nothing.” He turned around, subtly orienting himself so that his back was facing away from most of the people on the train.

Foggy gritted his teeth, but said nothing. This was hardly the first time that he had seen Matt get groped on the subway. However, since the business with Zack got started, Foggy had been growing more and more annoyed by it. He wondered if this sort of thing had anything to do with why Matt hated the subway so much.

Matt must have noticed the shift in his mood, and so he began to talk about how he was having trouble tracking down braille editions of some course materials for their last year of law school. Foggy let out some of his frustration by helping Matt create detailed plans to charge every professor who had ever wronged them with discrimination. By the time they left the subway, twenty minutes later, they had both forgotten their discomfort.

Once they had arrived at the office, they set about the business of closing up shop. A fair few people stopped by to wish them well, mainly paralegals, with the occasional pining secretary or two. They still had a few copies to make and a few errands to run, but for the most part their day was spent tying up loose ends.

At around three o’clock, another paralegal stops by while Matt is out running an errand.

“Hey, Foggy. Packing up?” says the woman, a petite blonde Foggy cannot remember having seen before.

“Yep. It’s our last day.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” she says perfunctorily. “The bosses want to see you upstairs.”

Foggy dumps the dinosaurs he had been gathering into their jar. “Okay. Should I wait for Matt, so that we can go together?”

“No, I don’t think it matters.”

Foggy casts a measuring glance at her expression—utterly disinterested—before agreeing. “Okay, I’ll be right there.” That he and Matt did not need to go up together meant that meeting separately could be exactly what Zack wants: Foggy is glad that at least they found him first, so that he can run reconnaissance. If it looks suspicious at all, then he can make certain that Matt knows to be wary. He follows the paralegal to the elevators, then rides up to the next floor alone.

Upon his arrival in Landman’s office, he can barely recognize the space. Every other time he had been here, sunlight had been streaming through the windows, granting the room a sticky, warm glow. Now, though, with the ponderous clouds still hanging low in the sky, the room was practically funereal, its confines nearly as dark as those of its partner next door.

Landman greets him warmly, while Zack is more reticent. What follows is an utterly innocuous exchange that leaves Foggy bored rather than worried.

“We’re very sad to see you go—I must admit, it has been a real pleasure working with you, son. And Mr. Murdock, as well, of course.”

“It will be truly a shame to see you leave.”

“You’re sure there’s no way we can convince you to take the jobs? We’d certainly much rather have you working with us than against us.”

“Who knows? Someday the two of you might run us out of business.”

It was all very nice, and very safe. Foggy nods, laughs, and looks reluctant to leave in all the right places. He shakes both of their hands in turn, gently but definitively restates his refusal of their generous offer, and goes on his merry way. He finds Matt cleaning in the office when he returns.

“Hey, Matt, the bosses want to see you upstairs.”

Matt freezes, the lid of a box still in his hands. “Just me?”

“Yeah. They just finished talking to me. They want you next.”

“…Is it safe?”

“I think so? I mean, at least as far as anything we do here is. They’re in Landman’s office, and he’ll be there the whole time, so I really don’t think that Zack will try anything.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“And you’re sure we can trust Landman?”

Foggy paused to consider that for a moment. Every time he had spoken to Landman, he had gotten the same impression that he had whenever he saw his father deal with clients: trustworthy, professional, friendly. “I think that we can trust him,” Foggy concludes. “He seems like good people, or at least as good as corrupt corporate lawyers can be. I think he’s safe.” Matt still does not move. “You can probably get away with not going, though, if you’re worried.”

Matt seems to consider his options for a moment. Finally, he sets down the lid of the box. “Okay. I’ll just go get it over with,” he says, retrieving his cane from its corner. As he opens the door, he stops to smile back towards Foggy. “Send in the rescue teams if I’m not back in fifteen minutes.”

Foggy smiles back. “Will do,” he says with a salute Matt cannot see.

Re: FILL 6a/7: Matt/OMC, Sexual Harassment, Protective Foggy

[(Anonymous)]

As it turns out, Foggy is not there to see Matt come back—he gets pulled away from the office for nearly an hour by one of the attorneys he had been assisting, who wants to review all of the materials Foggy had been collecting. Of course, they had to end the exchange with the obligatory series of insincere goodbyes. Yes, I am going back to school. No, I don’t plan to come back. Yes, it really is too bad.

Foggy was getting sick of it. He could only imagine how Matt must be feeling, since he had been dreading it before it even started. He was itching to get out of that office. His impatience mounted as he waited to finally be released from the senior attorney’s custody. He was just beginning to plan his escape when the attorney released him of his own accord.

Foggy didn’t need to be told twice.

By the time he finally made it back to the office, the promised hour had come, and Matt had already finished packing up the last of their meagre possessions.

“You beautiful, beautiful man!” Foggy says as he enters. “You didn’t have to clean up my side of the room.”

Matt looked up from the floor, startled by Foggy’s arrival. “It was no problem,” he said in a small voice. “You were busy.”

“Well, thank you anyways,” Foggy says, picking up the few stray dinosaurs and empty coffee cups that Matt had missed. “This means that we get to leave that much sooner! If we hurry, we might be able to beat the rain and save our suits.”

“Okay,” Matt said. He stood up slowly from his seat and picked up his box with his left hand while holding his cane in his right.

He still looks tired. Foggy is going to have to have a chat with their neighbors if this keeps up. “Here, let me get that,” he says, taking Matt’s box and placing it on top of his own before picking them both up at once.

“Foggy, you don’t have to do that.”

“No, it’s fine. You packed them, I carry them. It’s not like we have anything heavy in here, anyway. Like, I’m pretty sure my box is mostly bagels.”

“I should carry something, though, at least,” Matt said, an indignant look on his face. Foggy was always surprised at what he chose to get angry about.

“Okay, then. Here, take these,” Foggy says, setting the boxes down and handing Matt the coffee cups. “You can throw them in the trash while we walk out the door of this place for the last time ever. Now come on, let’s go! I can barely wait to be out of here,” he proclaims, picking up the boxes again.

Matt’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “Well, when you put it that way.”

Foggy does not think to ask about meeting the bosses until they have already left behind the not-so-hallowed halls of the venerable firm L&Z. “It was fine,” Matt said, focused on keeping himself from tripping on the uneven sidewalks. “Just the usual. Like you said.”

“Great,” Foggy replies. “Glad to hear it.”

The sky looks even more ominous than it did when they left in the morning. Foggy resents the universe for taking that much glory away from their first afternoon as free men. If this turns out to be more than just a quick summer storm, it could put a damper on his plans for the night. Walking all the way to Josie’s in a downpour is not Foggy’s idea of an appropriate celebration.

He is so distracted by the state of the weather that he is already halfway into the subway entrance by the time he notices that Matt had not followed him down the stairs.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks, turning back up towards where Matt stands poised, framed against the dark sky, the wind pulling at his jacket like a pair of searching hands.

“Foggy,” Matt began tentatively. “Would it be okay if we walked? I have a bit of a headache.”

Foggy huffs out a short laugh. “Hey, so, I know you can’t see them, but there are these huge black storm clouds that have been hanging over the city all day? You can probably tell from the wind that they’re almost ready to blow, right?” Foggy argues. “I mean, I’d normally be happy to walk, but I sort of need this suit, you know?”

Matt swallowed, the hand holding his cane coming up to his chest. “What about a taxi? Can we take a taxi?”

“Did you bring money for a taxi?”

“I’ll pay you back.”

“What? That’s not—“ Foggy sighs, and adjusts the boxes in his arms. “Come on, Matt, this is silly. It’s not too late to catch the 5:30 train,” He goes back up the stairs to offer Matt his shoulder. Up close, he can see that Matt’s face is pale and drawn, the muscles of his jaw tense. He holds his cane like a lifeline, subtly curling his body around it. “Matt? Are you doing okay?”

Matt jumped at the sound of his voice. “What? Yes, I’m fine,” he said. He squared his shoulders and took Foggy’s arm. “Let’s go. 5:30 train, right?”

“Yeah,” Foggy says, unable to take his eyes away from his friend’s strained smile. “Here are the stairs.”

As they descended underground, Matt’s forced enthusiasm quickly bled away. His reaction was much more pronounced than the usual disorientation his claustrophobia produced. They enter the subway car, taking places in the middle of the car near the doors. Matt’s expression becomes as dark and obscure as the clouds outside. Foggy feels his mouth go dry.

“Hey,” Foggy says as he bumps Matt’s shoulder with his own, as gently as he can. Matt jumped anyway. “Are you sure you’re doing okay, buddy?”

Matt forced the corners of his mouth to turn upwards from their frown. “I’m fine, Foggy.”

Foggy’s heart sinks low in his stomach. “Okay,” he says. He will let it go without argument for now: the subway was hardly the appropriate place to ask the questions that had begun to claw at the walls of his mind. He turned towards the window of the car and watched the walls of the tunnel give way to the dingy platform and impassive faces of the next stop.

I told him he would be safe, Foggy thought as the other passengers brushed past him to get off the train. Why did I think that it would be—

Suddenly, a cracking sound and a shouted profanity interrupt his thoughts. He whirls around to find Matt standing ashen-faced and frozen above the body of a young man whose hands were cradling his broken nose.

“The fuck!?” said the man on the floor.

“I’m—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Matt said, backing away.

“Don’t apologize. He deserved it,” said a blue-haired young woman sitting behind them.

“I’m sorry,” Matt repeated, but this time he fled, running out onto the platform—the wrong one.

“Matt! Wait! Stop!” Foggy called as he ran out after him. He just managed to get out onto the platform before the doors closed on him. Matt disappeared from sight into the tunnel leading towards the street. Foggy followed. It was difficult for him to move very quickly with the boxes, and so he ended up falling behind Matt. How did he move so fast without running into something? Foggy wondered. He finally found him outside the station, standing against the guardrail, head in his hands and chest heaving.

Foggy walked tentatively over to him. “Matt?” he said. “Matty?” His voice cracked as though he was about to cry. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

Thunder rumbled overhead. “Please, Foggy. Please, can we just go home?”

“Okay,” Foggy said. Carefully, so as not to startle him again, he moved closer so that Matt could take hold of his shoulder as a guide. “Okay,” he said, swallowing. “Let’s go.” Foggy hoped that Matt could not feel him shaking.

Matt set the pace as they walked the remaining few blocks, and Foggy struggled to keep up. It was as almost as though Matt were the one leading him.

The air pressure continued to fall as Foggy’s thoughts darkened.

Why the hell didn’t I go up there with him? What’s wrong with me?

They finally arrived home as the first raindrops began to fall. Matt was up the stairs and out of sight before Foggy could even begin to look for the right words to say. He heaved a sigh at the foot of the stairs, then began to climb up slowly after him.

When he found himself outside Matt’s door, the boxes having been deposited haphazardly in the living room, he was no more prepared for the conversation than he had been on the subway.

He made himself knock, anyway.

“Matt? Are you in there? Can I come in?” Foggy called plaintively. “Please? I need to talk to you.”

Foggy waited nearly two minutes for Matt to open the door on his own. He tried the doorknob, and found it unlocked. “Matt?” he said. “I’m coming in.”

With the clouds blocking the rays of the evening sun, Matt’s room was even darker than it had been that morning. Foggy could barely make out Matt’s silhouette slumped on the edge of his bed.

“Matt?” Foggy said, approaching him. He was careful to keep talking as he walked, so that Matt could keep track of where he was. “Matt, how are you feeling? Is your headache any better?” He stepped up next to Matt where he was sitting on the bed. “Is it okay if I sit next to you?” he asked. Matt gave no sign that he had heard him. Foggy chose not to make assumptions, and stayed standing.

“Matt? I need you to talk to me, buddy. What happened to you today?”

Matt shifted slightly away from Foggy. Raindrops pelted the windowpane. “Nothing happened, Foggy. I just—there were just too many people. I needed to get away,” he said. “I overreacted.”

“Matt,” Foggy said as his heart rate rose. “Matt, I want to believe that you’re telling me the truth. Believe me, I really do. If you can tell me again that nothing happened, I’ll believe you. Okay? I’ll stop asking, and I’ll leave you alone. But Matt,” Foggy said, lowering himself to his knees and getting closer to Matt’s eye level, “if you’re lying, and something did happen, I need to know about it. You need to tell me about it. Please, Matt,” he said, taking Matt’s hand. “I’m here for you. You can tell me anything.”

As Foggy’s eyes adjusted to the light in the room, he was able to watch the muscles of Matt’s jaw as he struggled to find the words to say. It was several minutes before he was able to speak again. Foggy waited. He would not force Matt to talk. Not today. “It was—“ he began. “I—“ His mouth snapped shut, and his hand tightened around Foggy’s. His glasses reflected the light from the window, lending it a ghastly red tinge. In the darkness of the room, they drew Foggy’s eyes like flames. Finally, Matt spoke. “Landman knew,” he choked out. “He knew all along.”

Foggy’s hands clenched.

Tears began to fall from beneath Matt’s glasses, shining in the ghostly light of the window. “He—he left me alone with him. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he did it anyway. He—Zack, he—he said that he was going to get you expelled if I didn’t—if I didn’t—“ Matt was shuddering violently, but Foggy had no idea if he was supposed to keep his distance or pull him close and never let go. “I couldn’t let that happen, Foggy. I couldn’t let that happen to you.” He sobbed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Foggy remembered what Landman had said to him, in that same office, just weeks ago: ‘You two are so close that it’s impossible to be selfish, because you might as well be the same person.’

Foggy was a fool. He had trusted the wrong person, and it was Matt who paid the price.

“No, Matt. I’m sorry. I should have known better. I should’ve been more careful.” His lip trembled, and bile rose at the back of his throat. “I should never have let this happen.” He could no longer tell whether he was clutching Matt’s hand or Matt his. “Matt, I—is it okay for me to hug you?”

Matt’s grip tightened. He nodded, and when Foggy climbed up to sit next to him on the bed, he immediately buried his face in Foggy’s jacket. Foggy threw the arm that wasn’t already holding Matt around his friend’s sobbing chest, rubbing soothing patterns on his back as he cried.

As Matt slowly calmed himself down, pressing his ear to Foggy’s heart, Foggy wished that he could just let things end there. He wished that he could let Matt cry it out and move on. But there was still one more thing they had to talk about—tonight, before Matt decided that they would never talk about it again.

“Matt. Matty,” he said, coaxing and apologetic. “I need you to listen to me, buddy.”

Matt just pressed his head closer to Foggy’s chest. “Don’t want to talk anymore, Foggy. I’m tired.”

“I know, buddy, but we have to talk about this now.” Matt fails to reply, so Foggy decides to keep talking. “Matt, I need you to promise me that you’re going to report it.”

Matt’s entire body tenses. “No,” he says. “No. It’s over now. We don’t ever have to go back there again. We’re done.”

“I know, Matt. I know that’s what you want. But you need to listen to me, okay?” Matt sat up and pulled off his battered and dirtied glasses to rub at his eyes. “Do you know what he did, when he did that to you? He put all the power in your hands. You know you can get him fired, or even disbarred? You could put a stop to him for good, Matt. You have the ability to do that, now.”

Matt wearily shook his head. “It wouldn’t work. Even if I did report it, Landman would back him up. He would pay off the investigators. He would do something, I don’t know, and none of it would matter. I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Matt, I can’t force you to do it. I wouldn’t do that to you, not now. But if you do nothing, then there’s nothing to stop him from doing this to someone else.” Matt closed his eyes, and more tears fell down his cheeks. “You don’t just have the ability to do this, Matt. You have the responsibility. And you know I’ll be there with you every step of the way. You won’t have to do it alone,” Foggy said, running his thumb over Matt’s knuckles. “I’ll testify, too. They won’t be able to get away with doing nothing, not if we both report it.”

Matt swallowed. Foggy could see more tears starting to well up in his eyes. “You really think we could get him?”

“Yeah, Matt. I do.” Foggy pressed Matt’s hand. “I have to.”

What little sunlight had been passing through the clouds was long gone. Foggy could no longer see his friend’s face. “Okay,” Matt said. “I’ll do it.”

Foggy reached out blindly for his shoulder to pull him into another hug. “Thank you, Matt,” he said. “And I’m sorry. I promise, I’ll never let this happen again.”

A few minutes later, after Matt fell into a doze, Foggy let himself out of the room. He made his way to the kitchen. With the percussive rhythm of the rain his only company, he pulled out the remains of their bottle of whiskey.

It was going to be a long night.

Re: FILL 6a/7: Matt/OMC, Sexual Harassment, Protective Foggy

[(Anonymous)]

that FUCK, THAT FUCKING FUCK THAT FUCKITY FUCKING FUCK!!!!! HE BETTER BE ONE OF DAREDEVILS FIRST VISITS THAT LITTLE FUCKER!!!

Re: FILL 6a/7: Matt/OMC, Sexual Harassment, Protective Foggy

[(Anonymous)]

Oh my god, Matt! D:

I'm still loving this fic.