Archive of Our Own ^beta

On a Thursday night, Matthew Murdock kissed Foggy Nelson.

It was chaste but warm against the frigid air. Foggy might have thought it was a drunken hallucination if it weren’t for the faint tingling on his lips that lingered once Matt pulled away. There was the kiss at Foggy’s apartment door and before he had regained his composure, Matt had already left. He wondered how far his rapid heartbeat would carry to Matt’s ears. He wondered if he would be able to hear the interspersed confusion,

Because honestly, Foggy didn’t have the faintest clue where the kiss came from. The three of them, Karen, Foggy and Matt, had gone to Josie’s to celebrate a win for Nelson, Murdock and Page. It wasn’t their biggest case, but there was always something satisfying about seeing an abusive partner being put behind bars. A Thursday was hardly the night to get shitfaced drunk, which they always inevitably were by the end, but the win really did feel that good.

It had taken them a few months to reach a point where it felt like before Matt’s secret came to light. It was easy to tease each other and even Matt felt safe enough to jab at them without fearing that they’d just turn away from him. Josie was just happy to see them together again that she had said their drinks today wouldn’t be added to their new never-ending (and never-settled) tab, and they weren’t ones to pass up free drinks.

Karen, ever the responsible one, left earlier (that being midnight). Matt and Foggy had stayed for another hour. They played pool or just spouted any nonsense their inebriated minds came to. They had actually stopped drinking when Karen left and switched to water to sober themselves up. The cool glass was the only thing stopping Foggy from simply combusting each time Matt brushed past him. Maybe it was because he was still tipsy, but every time he moved to another position to make a shot, he always pressed his body against Foggy’s. It was always brief, nothing to catch anybody’s attention, but it still made him heat up.

By the time they were walking to Foggy’s apartment, they actually felt mostly sober. He had moved into a modest apartment after his breakup with Marci. It was less lavish, his paycheck was a fraction of what it was, but still cozy enough to feel like a home after a few months. Something that had sparked the breakup was that Marci was quite disappointed in him. Apparently, he had forgiven Matt far too easily (the identity theft really pissed her off). He couldn’t explain in words what it felt like to just have Matt back. Some days he was more present than others, but it was him. It was all ever Foggy needed.

The real problem was what they couldn’t deny anymore: Foggy was utterly in love with Matt.

Matt was back and Foggy was devoted to him all over again. All of his future plans included Matt again (and Karen) and he was even more willing to drop everything to be wherever or whatever Matt needed him to be. He told himself it was just to make sure that Matt hadn’t died after another night patrolling Hell’s Kitchen (which was true), but he couldn’t deny that he was happy to have any chance to see Matt. Marci deserved better, apparently Foggy did too. But there was nobody better than Matt.

Even though Matt and Karen were never going to get back together (Karen’s type being somebody named Frank Castle), Foggy was not delusional enough to think that he stood a chance with Matt. Matt: the embodiment of physical perfection and, in some twisted way, morality. Matt was the most caring and selfless person Foggy had ever known. His heart was the reason he became Daredevil after all. Foggy had never met somebody who wanted to help people more than Matt. And, well, don’t even get Foggy started on Matt’s abs and ass.

But that was what made Foggy so confused; Matt was perfect, so why did he kiss Foggy? It was no secret that Matt just had to smile at somebody and they would fall at his feet (there were men who realised they were not straight because of that grin of his). Foggy did not have a low self-esteem, he knew he was a catch, but he was just so clearly not in Matt’s league. Matt was supposed to be with somebody who turned heads just easily as he did. He deserves somebody who wouldn’t have been so distrustful when they learnt of his secret.

Foggy knew he was justified in his anger that night – the night he found out about Matt’s secret. His best friend, his life partner in some sense of the word, had been lying to him since the day they met. Matt had been doing nighttime gymnastics in black pyjamas and Foggy was none the wiser. The most terrifying part of it all, the part that he didn’t think Matt would ever understand, was the inherent fear that one day Matt wouldn’t have returned and Foggy would have no idea what happened. Well, until his face was splashed in the papers, probably bloody and barely resembling the effortless beauty that had always been there.

No, Foggy’s rage that night was fine. When he yelled at Matt because his ex girlfriend decided to come and fuck up the most important case of their lives? He was justified there too. And then Matt never even visited him in the hospital. He had gotten shot, there was still a bullet scar there, and his best friend hadn’t visited him. Foggy was naive, he had waited in anticipation for Matt to burst through the door. He imagined him clutching the cane tightly, his knuckles maybe even turning white, and he would barely be able to look him in the eyes. But he would be there. And he would sit down eventually because Foggy asked him to and he would hold his hand because Foggy asked him to. He would be there because Foggy needed him to be there. But Matt never showed up.

Sure, Matt told him recently that he had been on the hospital roof that night. That he had listened to Foggy’s heartbeat, a definite sound amidst the rest of the chaos in the building. But at the time, Foggy had had to resign himself to just being unimportant to Matt. He never expected Matt to love him back in the way he did, but that night he decided to just not expect anything from Matt. Maybe the tentative friendship they had been rebuilding was just a pretence. So yes, he was at least a little justified in leaving Matt and the firm after all that.

It wasn’t like it was easy anyway. Every word he spoke was pushed past a sob. His hands were trembling and his knees threatened to buckle under the heavy weight in his chest. The feeling of the end, something he had never planned for in all of his years of knowing Matt. His mind was screaming at Matt, begging, pleading for him to just say something. Did it have to be so hard for Matt to just tell him to stay? For all of his creepy heartbeat psychic powers, could he not tell that leaving was the last thing Foggy wanted? All he had to do was utter one word and Foggy would cave. But Matt let him go and Foggy is pretty sure that he left a large part of himself with him. Something was wrenched out of him leaving a hollow sense of uncertainty.

But Foggy should have checked up on him sooner. Unfortunately, he was the emotionally intelligent one of the both of them, and he should have spoken to Matt. He may have never liked Elektra but it was evident that Matt was mourning the love of his life. The last time Elektra had left him, Foggy had bought tubs of ice cream and alcohol and movies and pretty much any other typical post-breakup item there was. The least he could have offered this time was a hug, but he didn’t.

So yes, Matt did deserve somebody better.

But ever since he had come back, as Matt Murdock and Daredevil, he hadn’t even looked at somebody with the intention of going out on a date. He came to the office everyday, and mostly on time. The dark circles under his eyes weren’t that pronounced anymore and his face had some colour again. He was coming back to life. Matt would even be the one to ask Foggy to go out sometimes. He never drank that much and he would always leave early enough to have time for his patrols, but he was making more of an effort than he had ever since Daredevil was born.

Foggy chalked it up to lingering grief for Elektra. And he was not going to pass up opportunities to spend time with Matt. They had even reached a point where Foggy could touch him sometimes without pulling away like he had been burned. It didn’t hurt anymore, well only in the unrequited-love kind of way, the betrayal didn’t sting the same way anymore. There were fist-bumps and high-fives and arms slung around shoulders. There was Matt’s hand wrapped around Foggy’s elbow as Matt insisted that he enjoyed being led around by him. There was a stray hug here and there when Matt came back from a particularly gruelling night.

There was also honesty. Matt told him when he was going out and told him when he got back. Foggy’s sleeping pattern was suffering but he was more relieved than ever. It was also surprisingly easy to go back to sleep at 3am after finding out that Matt was back in his apartment with only a bruised stomach.

They were good, they were doing so well. Foggy had accepted, once again, that Matt’s brilliant friendship was all he was ever going to get and it would be enough.

So again, why the fuck did Matt kiss him?

When Foggy woke up the next morning, his face was pressed against the suede fabric of his couch and drool coated the edge of his mouth and cheek. The first thing he noticed was the sledgehammer beating against his skull. Hangover headaches truly were the worst. He faithlessly pledged to never drink alcohol again and went to the bathroom to get rid of his disgusting breath. It was only when he was making his coffee and thinking of picking one up to take to Matt did he remember what happened.

Matt kissed him.

Fuck. Foggy had to go speak to him, didn’t he? Foggy dug deep into his blurry memory to try and remember the build up to the kiss. They were laughing about something but all that he could focus on was Matt’s dulcet laughter, unrestrained and bright. There was a quality about it that always seemed to make Foggy feel as though he was walking on air. He remembered his cheeks hurting from smiling.

And then Matt moved his hand from Foggy’s elbow to properly grasp his upper arm and Matt gently pulled him closer. Matt’s cheeks were beautifully rosy and he was slightly out of breath but his eyebrows were furrowed in determination. Foggy could not see Matt’s eyes but he swears he could feel his eyes peering into his soul.

Matt whispered his name, barely audible and under his breath. The cadence of his voice caught Foggy off guard. Matt had just said his name but the wind was completely knocked out of Foggy. The small space between them felt electric. It was the most intimate moment they had shared.

And then Matt leaned in and kissed him.

Fuck. Foggy had to speak to him, didn’t he? The ball was in his court because apparently there was a ball now…and a court, something that was out of the realm of possibility just two days ago. Did this mean Matt would say yes if Foggy asked him out? Foggy would still probably leave out his declaration of love because Matt didn’t need to know that those words had been on the tip of his tongue since about a month after they’d met.

Foggy put himself together haphazardly as he contemplated the words he’d say to Matt once he got to his apartment. He made the walk to Matt’s purely by instinct and muscle memory, and he was only slightly surprised when he arrived. He exhaled deeply and looked up at the looming building above him.

He should not have had to have been so filled with trepidation, but his friendship with Matt was still fragile, albeit somehow truer than it ever was before – a contradiction Foggy was still trying to decipher. Messing this up with Matt would probably ruin Foggy. He didn’t think he could handle awkward conversations and deliberate distance between them again. He didn’t want to have to go back to not knowing how warm Matt’s hands were or the way the corners of Matt’s eyes crinkled when he genuinely smiled. Again, in any normal world, Foggy would probably be seen as dramatic. But this was Matt. Everything was so much more precarious and uncertain. Foggy knew that Matt was not above jumping out of a window if it would allow him to avoid an emotional conversation. He was that emotionally constipated.

So Foggy took another deep breath to brace himself and used his spare key to enter the apartment building. He took the stairs slowly, studying each one and taking note of each crack and creak. It was futile stalling and he received a glare from a resident when he loitered suspiciously on the floor two below Matt’s because suddenly he was too close too soon.

As he was climbing the last few stairs before Matt’s apartment, he noticed that Matt’s door was open. And Claire was in the doorway. Her back was towards Foggy and her hands rested on the door frame. He was close enough to hear her speaking and it made Foggy stop dead in his tracks and his heart turned cold.

“You know Matt, I’m glad we’re doing this again. I know our relationship was short-lived the last time and I deeply regret that. I love being part of your life and especially like this,” Claire says earnestly and Foggy’s brain kind of short circuits.

“I’m pretty pleased that we found our way back to each other as well. Your touch is honestly quite refreshing.” And that was Matt’s smooth voice. Foggy couldn’t see him, but he was near the entrance of his apartment.

Your touch. Your touch. Your touch.

Foggy bolted.

Stupid. Fucking stupid. Foggy kept repeating that to himself as he fled back to his own place. Well, that and the intimate conversation between Matt and Claire. Beautiful, drop-dead gorgeous Claire. Claire who was a fucking nurse and, therefore, infinitely smarter and kinder than Foggy. Perfect Claire.

The idea that Matthew Murdock could even be slightly romantically interested in someone like Foggy was risible and he should have been able to spot that earlier. Before he made a fool of himself by naively showing up at Matt’s apartment. Undoubtedly Matt knew that Foggy had come, and perhaps the fact that he hadn’t followed Foggy was a sign in and of itself. Matt would never care for Foggy in that way, love Foggy in that way.

Foggy made it into his apartment, locked the door and locked the windows (just in case Matt did show up even though it was unlikely). He left a hurried message for Karen saying that he wouldn’t be able to come to the office today and to let Matt know. There was no explanation, but he hoped that Karen would give him grace just this once. Only then, fifteen minutes since he’d arrived and half an hour since he’d overheard the conversation, did he finally fall back onto his couch and weep.

Foggy’s weekend was filled with ice cream, coffee, alcohol, chocolates and shitty romantic comedies. There was nothing more uplifting and yet disheartening than watching two people fight their love for each other for ninety minutes. He tried to keep the thought of going back to work tomorrow as deep in his mind as possible.

He considered calling Karen again to tell her he wanted the whole week off, but it would undoubtedly trigger her investigative sixth sense and he was not ready for an interrogation. He just wished he had more time to train his heartbeat like some of those freaky ninjas Matt fights sometimes. That way Matt wouldn’t hear the cacophony of his heart every time he so much as glanced at him.

Foggy could find a way past this. He was asked out once in high school as a joke, this girl asked him out and then proceeded to never speak to him ever again. He could handle many things and rejection was part of that. Maybe the kiss was just something Matt needed to get out of his system? Practice for when Claire came over. Maybe he was more drunk than they both thought. Either way, Foggy would roll with the punches like a champ.

He just needed a bit more time.

Time that Matt apparently would not be giving him.

Foggy risked a brief look at the window where the knock came from and saw a vague impression of somebody outside. He resolutely ignored it and turned back to his television, increasing the volume ever so slightly to ensure that Matt could hear how Li Shang would make a man out of him. Unfortunately, Matt was more persistent than Foggy was petty.

“Foggy, I will break this window. You know I can,” Matt calls from outside.

Foggy contemplates this for a moment longer than he should. Matt would. And it would be a major inconvenience to clean and explain. Foggy grumbles and groans as he trudges his way to the window. He harshly unlatches it and Matt is immediately crowding into his apartment. Foggy can’t help the way he scans the parts of Matt’s body that are left uncovered by his thin (and frankly one-size-too-small) black tee and grey sweatpants. He notes bruised knuckles, but nothing else seems to be damaged.

“Matthew.”

“Franklin.”

Wonderful.

“Considering you were the one demanding to be let in at 10pm, I think it’s only fair that you start talking,” Foggy says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You came over on Friday, but you left. In a panicked hurry. And then Karen had to tell me that you weren’t going to go into the office. And then you refused to answer my messages and calls,” Matt says matter-of-factly.

“I wasn’t sure if you knew I was there.” Foggy shrugs. The question of why Matt didn’t follow him, why he’s never followed him, remains unspoken. Matt knew that he was in distress, but still left him to walk home alone.

“You could never escape me,” Matt says wryly, “I know your heartbeat far too well. It’s the easiest thing to isolate in this ridiculously loud city.” Matt cocked his head slightly indicating that he had heard the resulting flutter of Foggy’s heartbeat.

“Well, I realised I made a mistake.” Foggy tries to remain vague and keep his voice as level as possible. There’s no doubt that Matt can hear the slight hitch in his voice, but he would still like to maintain some semblance of dignity.

“What do you mean?” Matt sounds perplexed and Foggy can’t help himself from feeling at least a little smug about it.

“You know, Matt, I always knew you were many things, but I never pegged you as cruel. Malicious. I don’t know what kind of experiment you did on Thursday night before you ran home to your girlfriend, but—”

“Foggy, what do you mean?” Matt somehow sounded like he was the one close to tears. He also looked like he was considering clawing his hair out of his head.

“Jesus, Matt. I’d accepted the fact that you would always mean more to me than I did to you,” Matt begins to make a noise of protest but Foggy’s glare makes him smack his lips shut, “and it was something that I could live with. Because you were in my life. And that has always been enough for me. The light and warmth you bring into my life is enough to sustain me forever. I have never asked for more. Not even when I was in the hospital, not when I wanted you to need me for once, and not when you returned from the dead and tried to disappear again. So yeah, the only way I can describe this is cruel.” Foggy feels the fight drain from his body immediately.

It has always been exhausting to be frustrated with Matt. It was as though his body physically and mentally rejected it because of his disconcerting it was.

Foggy watches Matt’s face pale in horror. In a swift movement, he grips Foggy’s wrists on the side of too tight. Matt drops his head to Foggy’s shoulder and takes a deep, shaky breath. Foggy regrets everything instantly.

“Please, please, don’t leave me Fogs. I need you. Please.” The pure desperation in his voice breaks Foggy’s heart in unimaginable ways. Matt presses his face closer, practically inhaling him.

“Fucking hell, Matt. I’m not leaving you. I don’t think I physically can. I just…I just need time to deal with the girlfriend,” Foggy reassures him. Matt seems to hum in momentary glee before he stills.

Slowly, he lifts his head. It’s not perfect eye contact but it’s the best that Matt can manage. His grip fastens slightly, as though he is afraid of Foggy leaving, despite his making it clear five seconds ago that that was never happening.

“Girlfriend?” Matt croaks out questioningly. Foggy rolls his eyes.

“Yes, Matt.”

“But I kissed you,” Matt says, puzzled once again. “I…how do I have a girlfriend?”

“Claire, you dick. I saw and heard her on Friday. I mean really, kissing me knowing how I feel about you and knowing that you could never return my feelings, all while having a girlfriend?”

Matt huffs out a laugh in disbelief. He pulls Foggy impossibly closer and Foggy goes willingly because Matt.

“Foggy, I’m not dating Claire. She was just patching me up.” There’s a hint of a smile on his face. Matt is always satisfied when he is in control of a situation again. It’s insufferable.

“Well, you’re certainly working on it then. And I know that she’s so much more beautiful than I could ever be, and smarter and kinder. So you definitely deserve each other. There was just no reason to bring me into it.” Matt frowns again.

“Foggy, you’re the best person I know. I’m in love with you. I always have been.” This time Foggy lets out a humourless laugh that makes Matt grimace.

“Lying does not become you, Matthew,” Foggy replies bitterly. He tries to wriggle away from Matt but Matt’s strength easily surpasses his. Matt groans in frustration.

“Don’t tell me I’m lying. I would never lie about that.” Matt is irritated but also desperate. His breaths come out as heavy pants.

“You expect me to believe that you love me? That you were possibly in love with me when you went out with Karen, despite knowing that I was in love with you too? Just take it back, Matt,” Foggy snaps.

Say that you never loved me.

“Don’t ask me to do that. Please Fog.” Matt seems to consider something for a moment before he leans forward and presses his forehead against Foggy’s. He gathers Foggy’s hands in his.

“Then why?” Foggy’s voice is wet and plaintive and his eyes are pressed shut. Two words that scratched his throat like glass to get out.

“You always deserved better. It used to be because I was lying to you about my senses and then about Daredevil. Then I didn’t want to ruin our new, tenuous friendship. Having you as my friend was more important, not unlike what you said. So I distracted myself but it was never enough. They were never you so it could never last. One might be able to love two people at once, but there will always be the one who edges the other out. That’s you. Now…I just thought that we might have a chance. No more lies. Our friendship is stronger than ever. And I…I know that I will never feel this way about somebody else,” Matt says in a rush of breath. This was potentially the most words he had ever said at once.

Foggy dithered before placing his index and middle fingers gently over Matt’s pulse point on his neck. It’s a delicate, barely-there touch, but there’s an unmistakable burn in Foggy’s stomach. Steady heartbeat implies truth. He needed proof.

“Say it again.” Foggy knew he was probably pushing. Matt had been so open and vulnerable and it felt sadistic to keep begging for more, but he needed this.

“I love you.”

Foggy pressed his lips to Matt’s. Matt practically sobbed. He placed one hand on Foggy’s hip and the other on his jaw, caressing lightly, as he deepened the kiss. Foggy groaned when Matt pushed his knee between his legs searching for friction. Foggy trailed his hands over Matt’s side until they found purchase on his biceps. The kiss became bruising and frantic as more soft moans escaped. The rest of the world faded away until Foggy was just consumed by Matt.

Matt rubbing circles on his hips. Matt’s hand underneath his shirt tracing his shoulder blades and spine. Matt’s tongue licking his own. Matt’s arousal pressed against his thigh. Matt’s soft hair tangled in his hands. Matt’s cut-from-stone torso with raised skin of healed scars. Matt’s breathless gasp as he pulls away from the kiss before immediately attacking his neck and sucking on his sweet spot until he was rewarded with an animalistic growl.

Matt. Matt. Matt.

“I’m ninety percent sure my legs are going to crumble into dust if you continue kissing me like that,” Foggy whispers when Matt begins nibbling on his ear.

“Are you asking me to take you to bed?” Matt smirked.

“Please.” Foggy’s broken croak elicits another moan from Matt. Matt tucks his arms behind the bend of Foggy’s knees and lifts him into his arms. It is, to be frank, cruelly hot and Foggy can do nothing but pepper kisses along the column of Matt’s throat.

He is carefully placed on the bed and Matt quickly straddles him. Leaning forward, pressing their chests together, Matt rests one hand over Foggy’s heartbeat, the other on his wrist and his lips on Foggy’s neck. It does not take longer than a second for Foggy to realise what Matt’s intention is.

“I am in love with you, Matty,” He whispers.

Teeth sink into his neck in an act of claiming and Foggy hisses in pleasure and pain. Matt licks over the sensitive skin before meeting Foggy’s lips again.

“I don’t think I can ever let you go now,” Matt says earnestly.

“I would never want you to.”

It’s a promise.