Archive of Our Own ^beta

He was overreacting. Nothing was wrong. The man he had just neatly gift-wrapped for the police, had just been trying to get into his head.

["They call you the Devil. The Man without Fear. . . .and it might look like they're right.

You charge into danger. You take on people with guns and knives using your fists, and you never back down. Even when you take a beating, the pain doesn't deter you. . . Danger, death, pain. They mean nothing to you, so you seem fearless.

But you wear a mask . . .seems like a simple thing. A mere costume choice. . .but it's soooo much more than that, isn't it?]

The man was just trying to provoke him.

[The Man Without Fear, the Devil that sends criminals running, is afraid of someone seeing his face. Why? . . . . Uh uh uh. I don't actually want you to answer . . . . . I'll tell you why.]

Meaningless words and pseudo-psychobabble. That was all that guy had had to say.

[See, fear happens when we have something to lose. Something we value.

Clearly, you don't value your own life. Not with how recklessly you throw yourself into the fray. No, this isn't about you. . . .so why would a man who doesn't care if he lives or dies be afraid of showing his face?]

He didn't know Matt. He couldn't possibly know what he was talking about.

[Simple. Because he's afraid if someone knows who he is, they can connect him to other people. People he loves. Family. Friends. People he's afraid to lose.]

He was just throwing around words, hoping some of them would strike home.

[But don't worry. I'll find them anyway. Your family. I'll find whoever it is you're so afraid to lose that you hide your face, and I will make them pay for your sins . . .because that's what you fear most of all. Isn't it? . . . . And we'll see how fearless you are with their blood on your hands.]

To actually assign any value to his words was crazy. . . . Right?

Despite all his mental arguments, it didn't stop him from focusing his senses. He concentrated so hard he almost felt faint, straining to hear the one heartbeat he knew as well as his own. (Better than his own. He'd never placed much value on the drumming in his chest beyond its utility in keeping him alive to fight another day; unlike another beat, that had become the rhythm he'd built his life around from the moment he first heard it.)

Foggy's fine, he told himself resolutely; even as his feet carried him toward Foggy's apartment without his consent. He's fine. He's . . .

The world stopped for a moment as the sound of Foggy's heart finally reached his ears . . .far too fast and trembling with fear.

He broke into a sprint, vaulting across rooftops.

Foggy was scared. That asshole had threatened to come after his family, and now Foggy . . . .it was coincidence. It had to be. There was no way that asshole managed to send someone after Foggy so quickly, was there?

A fresh burst of adrenaline had Matt surging forward even faster, his heart pounding so hard and loud it almost blocked out Foggy's.

He reach Foggy's apartment building and clambered down the fire escape to the window outside of Foggy's bedroom. He wanted to fling open the window and vault inside at top speed, but he forced himself to stop and listen for a moment. Charging into the situation unprepared was unwise, and it could easily end in Foggy being hurt.

Inside, he could hear Foggy, who still sounded distressed, in the living room. As far as Matt could hear, there were no other heartbeats in the apartment, which seemed strange. If no one else was in the apartment, what was scaring his best friend?

He gently opened the window, and eased through it silently. Then he creeped across the floor, his footfalls nearly silent, on his way to the main room. He eased open the bedroom door and . . .

Foggy gasped, the air forced out of his lungs and leaving them frozen. His heart temporarily stopped, and then thrashed hard against his rib cage, flailing and skipping at nearly three times its normal speed. A fresh burst of the sour smell of adrenaline filled the air, and a hand clapped against Foggy's sternum, the impact resonating through his chest.

"Matt," he choked out around the deep breathes he was shakily forcing himself to take. "As happy as I am to see you, that whole lurking-silently-in-the-shadows thing is really unnerving. What are you doing here? Do you need something? . . . Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

His voice quavered slightly, but it was as cheerful and sunny as it always was, (until his last questions, where he had sounded worried and nervous, and Matt hated it. Foggy sounded worried far too often lately, and he knew it was his fault). There was no blood, no intruder, nothing at all amiss. Foggy was sitting safe and whole on his couch like it was any other night.

"I'm fine . . . You were scared," Matt replied, slightly uncertain, and unable to find words beyond those to explain his presence.

He removed his cowl, just to have something to do with his hands, and then brushed his hand nervously through his hair. He hadn't expected everything to be quiet and normal, (not that he wasn't grateful, he was just unprepared).

He must have looked as stunned and confused as he felt, because Foggy made a soft sound, and then spoke to him gently.

"Yeah, you scared me, but it's alright. You just surprised me. It's fine. You can't help your ninja ways."

"No. Before. Before I got here. I heard your heart racing . . ."

"Matthew," Foggy interrupted, his tone suddenly hard and cold. "Remember when we talked about how listening to other people's hearts is creepy and a violation of privacy?

Besides, how did you know I wasn't exercising, or having sex, or something . . ."

Matt shook his head certainly.

"It doesn't sound the same. Exercising is a sort of solid, rapid thumping, and when you have sex your heart sounds sort of like thunder, and it speeds up and slows down more."

"'When I have sex'?!? Matt, have you listened to my heart while I've had sex?!?"

"Well our dorm room was the size of a shoebox, and freshman year . . ."

Foggy groaned.

"If I would have known you had super senses . . ."

"I also knew when Marci was over even before I felt the sock on the door . . ."

"Matt!"

"That's beside the point. My point is, I know the difference.

When you're scared, your heart is light, and fast, and it almost sounds like it's trembling. That's what I heard. That's why I came. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"So not only do you think it's okay to listen to the private, inner workings of my body whenever you want, but you also think that you're justified in breaking into my home based on your interpretation of those sounds.

Am I understanding you correctly here? Because that seems pretty far past the line, Matthew."

Foggy had stood and started pacing during his rant. His feet as quick and angry as his words, and both accompanied by an intense war beat rumbling in his chest, (Stop listening to his heart! He doesn't want you doing that! Matt chastised himself internally; even as he knew he would never be able to stop).

"I-" (needed to know you were safe and alive) "I-" (rely on the steady rhythm of your heart to ground me and keep me sane) "I-" (love you, and as long as I can hear your heartbeat, I know that no matter how bad things seem, everything can be okay again).

Matt swallowed down all the words he couldn't say, and hung his head. He had no way to defend himself against Foggy's anger. All he could ever do was just take it, or snap back, and either way, it didn't remove the sting.

A heavy, gusty sigh filled the room, and Matt heard the calloused skin of one of Foggy's hands trail over the soft skin of his face.

"It's really not fair when you do that. You look like a dog who's afraid I'm going to beat him, and it makes me want to stop being mad and hug you.

I have every right to be mad at you, Matt. You broke into my apartment! You scared me half to death just because you thought I was scared!?! That makes no sense! Even if I wasn't scared before, I was once I heard someone sneaking around my bedroom in the middle of the night!

Why, Matt? What could possibly justify this?"

"I- . . . There was this guy.

I've been working on taking down this drug ring, and tonight I found one of the their lieutenants . . .and, um, while I was taking down his guards, he, uh, kept talking about how I, um, wore the mask to hide . . .because, because I didn't want people to know who I was. Not because I was afraid of what they'd do to me, but because I was afraid of what they would do to the people I care about . . ." Matt's halting response dropped to a whisper ". . . he was right. . . " then slowly returned to full volume " . . .and then, he said he was going to find my family and make them pay for what I'd done . . .and I panicked.

I knew he was probably just trying to get to me, but I needed to be sure, so I listened for your heartbeat, and it sounded so fast, and, and, frightened that I was worried he'd made good on his threat, and somehow one of his men had found you, and I just couldn't let them hurt you. I couldn't.

No one gets to hurt you. Not while I'm around. Not when you're under my protection. And especially not because they're trying to get to me. They have to go through me first, and they'll be sorry they tried."

"As sweet, and quite frankly, slightly condescending, as that is . . . Why me? Why listen for my heartbeat and not Claire's, or Karen's?

Or am I just your first stop in the string of B&E's you plan to commit tonight?"

"You really don't know?"

"Would I be asking if I did?"

"I would never want anything bad to happen to Claire or Karen, but when I first put on the mask, there was only one person in my life I was protecting . . .the most important one, and the one I will always worry about first."

"Me?"

"Who else?"

"I don't know. This is news to me."

"It shouldn't be. I've loved you for years."

Wait . . .that wasn't what he'd meant to say.

"Love? You love me? . . . Best friend love me? . . .or . . . .uh . . . you-"

"I'm in love with you. Like, want to date you, and kiss you, and marry you and become Mr. Murdock-Nelson, in love with you."

"Okay."

"Foggy, if that makes you uncomfortable, we can just-"

"No, it doesn't make me uncomfortable . . . I'm just surprised. And a little disappointed that I've spent so many years pining, when apparently you were mine for the taking the whole time."

"I was," Matt confirmed, and then he added more tentatively, "I still am, if you want."

There was a rush of air as Foggy quickly crossed the room, and then he was kissing him, and it was perfect. The brush of their lips, the urgency, it was all just perfect.

"Of course I want. I love you," Foggy said when he pulled back from the kiss. " . . .but don't think any of this means I'm not still mad about your heart attack inducing break-in."

"I told you why I did it!" Matt replied in exasperation. "And come to think of it, you still haven't told me what was wrong before I got here."

Foggy fell quiet, but a high-pitched scream from the TV filled the silence. (Matt hadn't even realized the TV was on, with how intense his focus had been on Foggy). Then dramatic music swelled and another scream pierced the air.

"A horror movie?" Matt commented in disbelief. "I sprinted across the neighborhood, because you were watching a horror movie?"

"Hey, I never asked you to police my vital signs. You're the one who made that choice."

"But why would you watch something like that? You can never sleep afterward."

He heard the rustle of the ends of Foggy's hair brushing against his shoulders.

"I just shrugged, by the way . . . I had a free Redbox rental, and there was nothing better to rent.

I didn't know you'd come by to try and kick the movie's ass for scaring me."

"I will always kick anyone or anything's ass for scaring you."

"You're ridiculous."

"So should I put the movie in its place? Show it that no one scares my Foggy?"

"'Your' Foggy?"

"Umm . . ."

"It's alright. I don't mind being your Foggy. . .but maybe you could hold off on your I'm sure very impressive display of masculinity, and hold me instead? I think I might need that more, because no matter how stupid or improbably this movie is, I'm still a little freaked out."

"I could do that," Matt said with a smile spreading across his face.

"Safety in numbers, right?"

(Matt's smile became softer as the phrase tugged at his memory, recalling a dozen nights in college and law school that he had spent with Foggy in his arms. Treasured memories, every one, all starting the same way; when Foggy climbed into his bed after watching a horror movie using the excuse, 'safety in numbers; they always die when they split up.'

He'd never been a fan of horror movies, or the way they seemed to get to Foggy, but he'd always secretly loved those nights. He was more than willing to suffer through a horrible movie to get a chance to hold Foggy close. He'd even purposefully picked one or two when it was his turn to choose, infrequently and always with the excuse he'd "heard it was good," with the shameless hope he might get to hold him again.)

"Right."

"Good, because I may never sleep again if I have to try to do it alone."

"Me either."

Foggy had been joking, but Matt wasn't. He could feel Foggy staring at him as the implications of his words sunk in, but he didn't let the moment linger.

He wrapped Foggy in his arms, and gently led him to his bed. Then, with his world held safely in his arms, he fell asleep without fear.