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Matt loved his brother but he always found that it was easier to love him at arm’s length. Mike was okay but he could be a lot of work. Matt had hoped that Mike might eventually grow out his pranks but they were both thirty-two and his brother hadn’t shown any signs of slowing down yet.
When Matt was optimistic or foolish enough to chide Mike on his impetuous nature, Mike was always quick to point out that Matt had his fair share of extreme behaviour as well. Namely, the fact that he was moonlighting as Hell’s Kitchen’s vigilante hero, known to the locals as Daredevil. Matt couldn’t argue with that. He knew that he had to do this but he also knew that by doing it, he was putting himself and his brother at risk. If anybody figured out that behind Daredevil was the unassuming lawyer, Matt Murdock, they’d hunt him down. And then they’d go after his only living relative, Mike Murdock.
But it was a risk he was willing to take. Daredevil achieved results. And fast.
Daredevil didn’t have to write tedious briefs or lend his wayward brother money. Daredevil had no liabilities or responsibilities and Matt liked it that way. But Daredevil wasn’t the one answering a phone call from Mike on Saturday evening.
“Hi! It’s your favourite brother!”
“I only have one brother,” Matt groaned, pulling his glasses off his face. He rubbed his face tiredly. Mike sounded too sunny, Matt didn’t trust it for one second. “Why are you calling?”
“I’m at a bar with a friend.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re about to get arrested. I can’t bail you out again.”
“No! I’m not doing anything illegal.” The emphasis bothered Matt so he probed deeper.
“And this friend, is he or she doing anything illegal?”
“Not exactly.” Mike fell silent and Matt did too. Finally, Mike burst out with, “He’s not a criminal! He’s a mercenary. Sort of. I really like him, he’s so funny, Matt. His name is Wade and…he’s a vigilante.”
“A what?” Mike had had dalliances with some real winners before. The scam artist and the hacker. The guy who left Mike holding a bag of drugs at their airport. But a vigilante? “You can’t date a vigilante! It’s dangerous.”
“Wow, it’s like you can’t even hear yourself. Are your ears blind too? How can it be okay for you to be a vigilante but it’s not okay for me to bang one?”
“Please don’t mention banging again,” Matt said wearily. “Mike, I’ve had a long day and I have no desire to discuss ethics with you. Is that why you called me? To tell me about the latest in a long line of conquests?”
“No, it’s because I have a date tonight and I need your help.”
“Wade’s taking you out?”
“I’m with him right now,” Mike moaned. “But I totally forgot I asked another guy out a week ago.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Matt threw his legs over the bed and got up. “I think you mentioned him. The Greek barista, right?”
“No, he was lame. I ghosted him. Nah, this guy was kind of sweet. But I’m going to have to bail on this dude. Wade’s taking up all my attention right now.”
“Ugh. Whatever you do, be gentle. Don’t break the poor man’s heart. You can be ruthless when you want to be.”
“It’s a family trait,” Mike said breezily. “Actually, I was thinking I wouldn’t dump him. I was thinking that you would.”
“Excuse me?”
“You could dress up as me and dump him for me. You’re so much better at talking and arguing. And comforting people. What if he cries? I can’t handle people crying. If I see somebody cry, I start blubbering too and my face gets all blotchy and—”
“I’m not doing it. You’ll have to think of some other scheme.”
“Fine,” Mike sighed. “Forget it. Bye.”
“No, wait.” Temporary concern took hold of him. “What are you going to do? Are you going to call him or…?”
“Mm, no. It would be so awkward. I think I’ll just stand him up.”
“You can’t do that!” Matt yelled.
“It’s one date. It won’t kill him. He’ll be pissed but he’ll get over it. No biggie.”
No biggie. Mike had no idea. He didn’t think deeply about things. He never gave thought to the consequences of anything.
“If I don’t go along with this stupid charade and let the guy down gently, you’ll stand him up?”
“Looks that way, doesn’t it? So, will you do it?” Mike asked, hopefully.
“Tell me the time and the place,” Matt said.
Mike was going to owe him.
Nine thirty pm at Josie’s bar. Matt thought he must have walked past it before but he’d never been inside. Had never cared to go inside.
It was a dive bar and not one of those hipster places that have been designed to look rustic but are actually very clean and sterile. No, this place smelt like cigarettes and liquor. He didn’t particularly mind; New York is full of undesirable odours and with his senses, he’d had to force himself to get used to them. But he wasn’t sure how he’d find Frank.
Frank. Mike’s date. “I think he’s called Frank,” Mike had mused, as he dumped armfuls of clothing on Matt’s bed. “Or something like that. Frankie, maybe? I dunno. I have him listed in my phone as ‘Blond lawyer male...”
“How romantic.”
Mike had gleefully raced over Matt’s apartment on Sunday morning, armed with an outfit for him to wear. Matt had wanted to wear his own clothes but Mike said it wouldn’t look convincing if the ‘sexy and stylish Mike Murdock turned up to a date dressed like a funeral director.” Matt didn’t think he looked that bad. Women always told him he was handsome. Pale, with dark brown hair and eyes the same shade, he’d never had any trouble getting dates. Mike was his spitting image, apparently. But Matt knew Mike used a lot of product in his hair, and of course, dressed differently.
So, here Matt was. Wearing a slippery shirt that felt too tight in the arms. Matt had built up muscle by training and fighting and couldn’t comfortably wear shirts in his brother’s size. Matt was wearing skinny jeans that were also too tight but must surely be tight on Mike too. His trainers felt big and clunky on his feet but at least they’d be useful if he wanted to run anywhere. Mike had given him a pair of sunglasses to wear. Matt was grateful that Mike was such a fan of eyewear. At least he wouldn’t have to think of a strange reason for wearing glasses. Mike fussed with Matt’s hair for a while and sprayed noxious-smelling liquid on it and styled it for so long that Matt began grinding his teeth. He felt ridiculous.
At least he hadn’t had to shave. Foggy hadn’t seen Mike for a little while and Mike agreed that that was probably long enough for Matt’s stubble to grow.
But it was all to help his brother. He sighed, straightened his sunglasses and subtly checked his clothing. The shirt was the real problem. He’d tried to button it up to the collar but that was impossible. Was his chest really so wide? Were his biceps that massive? He’d had to let the top two buttons remain unfastened.
He cautiously entered the bar, keeping his walk slow and casual. He could feel so much. The blazing heat of so many bodies. The small, tinny buzz of cellphones on tables. He felt like he was stuck in a beehive.
He wouldn’t be able to recognise Frank of course — even with Mike’s description. He wasn’t sure why Mike had bothered giving him a physical description. Probably just an excuse to brag about his date.
“Cute in an attainable way. Nice hair. A bit chubby. He’s got a good ass.”
All he could do was make himself conspicuous and hope that Frank would recognise him. Mike Murdock wasn’t exactly a man who could blend in with a crowd.
Matt made his way to the bar and was served promptly by a stern-voiced woman. He asked her for a vodka and coke. Figured it would be easier than asking for a specific brand of beer. He paid with his card. There was nothing more to do than wait around and—
“Oh, hey! Mike!”
Matt strained, narrowing his field of perception from the whole bar to a single point. A man bounded up to him, brimming with enthusiasm. Everything about him seemed possessed by airy movement. The rasp of a tie brushing his shirt. The warmth in his flushed cheeks. Had he been outside? He smelt like he’d been outside. As he threw an arm around Matt’s shoulders in a loose hug, glossy hair hit him in the face It smelt amazing, like apple shampoo and was so soft, he wanted to nuzzle it. But that would have been considered odd behaviour, even for Mike, so he settled for clapping Frank on the back.
Frank spoke, asked him if he’d already ordered and the voice was so familiar but it took Matt a moment to recognise him. But he did.
“Foggy?”
“Oh, did you hear Josie call me that earlier? Yeah, that’s pretty much my nickname. Everybody calls me it. Can’t say I like it but I suppose it’s better than Franklin. How are you? You look nice.”
Nice? He doubted that word was the right one to use. Mike didn’t dress like a ‘nice’ man. He dressed to get attention.
Matt was caught off-guard. Mike’s cute-but-attainable date was Matt’s old classmate from college. Foggy. They’d never hung out one on one except for one time. But he’d always been great in class discussions and they’d worked on homework together in a study group and— Wow. Foggy Nelson.
He couldn’t believe he hadn’t made the connection.
“Thanks,” Matt said, remembering that he should probably do that. But Mike would never shrug off a compliment. Inwardly sighing, he dropped his lips into a cocky smirk. “I know, babe. It takes work to look this good.”
“I bet it does,” Foggy chuckled. He led him back to his table and Matt stayed close. The tables and chair legs were treacherous, he didn’t want to trip. Mike was a touchy-feely guy, and people responded well to that. For some reason. So, Matt shyly tucked his hand in Foggy’s arm, trying to make it seem casual. Foggy patted the hand and they stayed connected as they walked to the back of the bar.
“Here we go. Home sweet home. I left my drink here.” Foggy sat down and pushed out the opposite chair for Matt, with his foot.
He was glad this was taking place at a grimy bar and not a restaurant. This would make it easier.
“You shouldn’t leave your drink unattended.” Fuck, that didn’t sound like a Mike thing to say. But it was true. Mattt had rescued plenty of drunk or drugged women. He knew what people were capable of. From what he recalled, Foggy was the trusting type. Not a great quality for a lawyer but Foggy was also highly intelligent and had a great mouth for arguing. Possibly a great mouth for other things but Matt was never going to get the chance to confirm that.
“Yeah, you’re right. But I spotted you at the bar and didn’t want to leave you on your own. Thought somebody might try their luck and buy you a drink.” Foggy could have smiled after he said that but Matt wouldn’t know. But he wished he could pull that shit he used in college on any classmate he wanted to bed. Can I touch your face? They always said yes. Eagerly. And Foggy would too. He’d sit there, probably smiling awkwardly, and Matt would start with the forehead. Brush his fingers delicately across the flat plains of skin.. Maybe smooth them down with the pad of his thumb. Drift fingers down his nose like snow falling down a mountain. Stroke both his cheeks with his thumbs. Cup them in his palms. And the mouth. He’d take his time. Pretend he was taking this so seriously. And maybe he would be. Yeah, he’d prolong this. Outline each thick lip with his fingers to figure out the shape. Rub the fatt lower lip. Maybe Foggy would grow bolder. Let his lips fall open so Matt could slip his finger inside, just to see if Foggy was any good at sucking stuff….
Foggy was speaking, and Matt guiltily zoned back in. “I’m really sorry, I think I missed that. What did you say?”
“It…It doesn’t matter. Look, Mike. I think we should both be honest here.” Foggy rested both forearms on the table and was presumably looking Matt full in the face. Matt tried to mirror his stance but the shirt protested. The sleeves bunched around his folded arms and the buttons tugged at their holes. “You bugged me and bugged me for a date and when I finally agreed, you completely lost interest. I get the impression that you like the thrill of the chase, not the capture. And that’s fine. But it’s not for me.”
He was supposed to be breaking up with him. He remembered this now. The little job Mike had given him. Let him down gently. But now, Foggy was doing it for him. And he didn’t want him to, he realised with dread. Matt didn’t want him to think badly of him. And… He didn’t want Foggy to dislike him. To not wish to see him. But Foggy didn’t know he was Matt. He thought he was talking to Mike.
“I don’t know what to say,” Matt whispered. “You’re… You’re right.” He cleared his throat. Foggy was right. He hadn’t seen through the disguise but he’d seen through Mike. Mike wasn’t a bad person. He was wonderfully funny and warm. Able to strike up a conversation with anybody, make friends with strangers on the train. But he breezed thorough life, easily forming and breaking bonds without a backwards glance. Matt wasn’t like that and he suspected that Foggy wasn’t like that either. The best thing for Foggy to do would be to cut his losses. Matt just wished he’d had a real chance with him.
Foggy was a nice guy. That’s what everybody said about him in college. He was hardworking but always willing to help. He’d typed up his messy notes and sent the document to Matt when he missed a class. Sometimes, he’d be walking through the hallway and hear the voices of his classmates. And he’d listen out for Foggy’s voice. Talking, laughing. He’d wanted to be his friend but he hadn’t been able to make himself take the first step.
But a true friend would be honest with him. And he wanted to be somebody who did the right thing.
“You can go. Or I can go. I don’t blame you, Foggy, you’re right about me—”
“Don’t be honourable, Mike, it doesn’t suit you,” Foggy muttered but seconds later, he laughed and Matt revelled in it, wanting to hear that sound forever. Wanted to be the catalyst that caused that sound to bloom. “I know what you want. And I think I want it too. So how about we skip the small talk and get right to the sex?”
Even honed reflexes couldn’t prepare him to react appropriately. He sat, open-mouthed as Foggy sat back and calmly finished his drink. When his brain caught up to speed, it overloaded him with helpful notions of what sex with Foggy would be like. But he barely managed to nod and Foggy’s speeding heart informed Matt that Foggy had seen the nod.
“Good. Come with me.”
He was almost as interested in exploring Foggy’s home as he was in exploring his body. Just like the brain slumbers in the skull, Foggy’s body resides in the apartment. When he stepped through the door, he knew he wanted to stay here. It smelt like Foggy. Felt warm. He tripped on some bundle of clothing on the floor but that was okay because when he tripped, Foggy caught him.
“Damn, how much did you drink? Maybe we shouldn’t do this—”
“I’m not drunk. I tripped because your apartment is messy. Now kiss me.”
Foggy was happy to comply, wrapping his arms around Matt’s shoulders and planting a kiss on his mouth. Matt kissed back, and finally held Foggy’s face like he’d longed to. Such a soft face for a man. Clean-shaved, with long hair falling down. He grabbed fistfuls of hair, it felt like silk between his fingers. Tugged on, to make Foggy gasp on his lips. Foggy opened up his mouth and Matt licked a path through his lips, soaking up the bitter tang of cheap beer. Foggy was touching him, shy touches over Matt’s clothes. His shoulders, his chest. But when Foggy mumbled a name, (the wrong name) muffled against Matt’s mouth, he knew they had to stop.
He pushed on Foggy’s chest, gently but firmly enough to make him step back. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
“Okay, that’s fine but… Is it me? Did I do something wrong? ‘Cause if I did. I’m sorry.”
Why did it have to be Foggy Nelson? Why couldn’t it have been anybody else? He’d wanted him since college. Sure, he’d forgotten about him. But now that Foggy was here and panting from his kisses, Matt wished he could grab him and drown his worries in those beautiful lips.
This was a difficult choice but it was the right one. He couldn’t betray Foggy’s confidence like this. He was tricking him. Wearing another man’s face. “I haven’t been honest with you. You’re amazing but I’m not what you need. I’d like to leave now. And…you need to lose my number.”
“Oh.” Foggy nodded. His heart was fast. Didn’t need superpowers to know that he was confused and hurt. “Um. Thanks for being honest. I hate it when people try to sugarcoat stuff.”
Matt left, leaving Foggy’s warm, nicely-scented apartment. Stepped out into the cold. His lips burnt from Foggy’s kisses. He walked home, wishing he had had some way of fixing this. But this was Mike’s mistake, not his.