Chapter Text
Monday
Matt jerked awake at the sound of his phone. He was scrambling over the mattress, reaching for it, when his brain parsed the name it was saying: Karen. Karen. Karen.
Swallowing his disappointment, he answered. “Hi, Karen.”
“Matt, what the hell happened?” she whispered. “Are you okay?”
No. No, he was not remotely close to okay. “Yeah. What’s...where’s Foggy? Why are you whispering?”
“I’m in the bathroom,” she said. “I didn’t want him to hear me.”
“Is.” Matt swallowed. “How is he?”
“Do you mean when he’s staring into space with a look on his face like someone just shot his dog, or when he’s yelling at me for asking what’s wrong?”
Jesus. Matt scrubbed a hand over his face. “I...what did he say? About...” Us. Everything. “...me?”
“That you were hurt but you’d be okay, you were sleeping it off, you’ll probably be in tomorrow, now would you please leave me alone for three seconds, Karen, Christ, this isn’t twenty fucking questions!” She chuffed something like a quiet, bitter laugh. “I made him apologize for that one.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t say it.” She sighed. “Do you still have all your limbs, at least?”
“Yes.”
“Fingers and toes?”
“Yes. I just...I’m a little dinged up, but I’m. I’m fine. I just needed to catch up on some sleep.” Matt listened hard, but a phone connection wasn’t like being in the same room, and he couldn’t hear Foggy on the other end. “Listen, just...I’ll talk to him, okay? When he comes home. I’ll...I’ll fix this.” How, he had no idea, but maybe Foggy would. Matt would do whatever Foggy wanted.
“You’d better,” Karen said. “I’m so tired of this, Matt. Every time you two fight I want to ask if I’m gonna have to go live with Grandma.”
I’m so tired of this.
I can’t do this anymore.
“I’ll. No. I’ll fix it, Karen, I promise. Tell him…” He swallowed. “If he asks. Tell him I’m gonna fix it.”
“Yeah. I will.” Karen sighed again. “Get some rest, Matt.”
She hung up.
There was no chance of falling back asleep, so Matt got up. He showered carefully and changed his bandages, pulled on the softest clothing he owned and padded into the living room. He wasn’t hungry, but Foggy would want him to eat, so he ate, and a few hours later, he ate again. In between, he curled up on the couch, twisting the ring on his left hand with the fingers of his right, and thought about nothing at all.
At five, he started listening for Foggy’s footsteps on the sidewalk outside. At six, he figured Foggy must be working late.
At eight, he figured Foggy must be working very late.
At eleven, he remembered that Foggy still had his own apartment, with more than enough of his belongings there to make it through a night or three.
He could suit up, he thought. Sure, his ribs were cracked, but he’d fought with worse injuries before. And there was no one to know; no one who would be mad at him for going out injured. No one to wait up and make sure he came home in one piece.
At midnight, he drained the last of the scotch and went to bed.
*
Tuesday
If any part of Matt had hoped that he’d wake up to find Foggy back in bed with him where he belonged, that hope was dashed when his alarm going off was the only sound in the room. Everything ached and his mouth tasted like something had died in it, but he made himself get up anyway, because Foggy would be at the office. He’d make Foggy listen.
But he could only hear one heartbeat when he reached the office. Forcing on a neutral face, he took a deep breath and opened the door.
“Morning,” Karen said cheerfully. “You look like hell. Where’s Foggy?” Her tone changed. “You two made up, didn’t you?”
“He didn’t come…” Home. “...back to my place last night,” Matt said. “I figured I’d talk to him here. I didn’t want to push it.”
Now Karen’s voice was quizzical. “He said he was going to your apartment.”
Matt blinked. “He did?”
“Well, yeah, after I threw a calculator at his head and told him to stop being such a stubborn prick. If he lied to me, I swear to God I’ll...” Matt heard a rustle and then the sound of Karen’s fingers tapping out a number on her phone, then a distant ring. “He’s not answering. Foggy, it’s Karen. Where are you? Call me or Matt, please.” She put her phone down on the desk. “Maybe you should try.”
“I doubt he’ll answer,” Matt said, but he took his phone out and told it, “Call Foggy.” Four rings later, he was sent to voicemail. “Foggy, it’s Matt. Could you…could you call me back? Please?”
“Okay, no way he’s ignoring that,” Karen said. “You sounded like the saddest, smallest kitten in the world begging for a saucer of milk.”
“...Thanks?” Matt said. “Look, he probably just decided to sleep at his old place last night and is on his way in now. I’m going to get to work.” He would be useless until they heard from Foggy, but there was no point in admitting that to Karen.
An hour later there was still no word from Foggy, and Matt thought he might throw up. Was Foggy so angry he couldn't even be in the same room as Matt anymore?
Karen gave an annoyed huff from her desk and picked up her phone. "I'm calling him again, this is ridiculous, you have a court date on Thursday..."
Matt listened to the phone ringing, praying Foggy would pick up - and then tilted his head and listened harder. Was that a strange echo on the line or...
"Pick up, you bastard, pick - " Karen said and Matt stood up and held up a hand to shush her. There was definitely a ringing coming from outside.
"You've reached Foggy Nelson, idol of millions. I can't answer the phone right now, but - "
"Hang up," Matt said, coming out of his office. "Call him again, and keep calling every time you get voicemail."
"What - "
"Please, Karen!"
Karen's heartbeat was quickening, picking up on his alarm, but he heard the brush of her hair against her back as she nodded. She dialed again, and Matt listened hard for the sound that wasn't coming from Karen's phone.
Definitely outside. He yanked the door open and clattered down the stairs, not bothering with his cane. Karen followed behind, silent and curious.
The sound was louder on the street, but also swallowed up in the noises of the city. Matt had to concentrate harder to pick it out as Karen dialed a third time. There, heading back in the direction of Matt's apartment - but there was no familiar heartbeat, no familiar smell. Foggy's phone was nearby, but Foggy wasn't.
He hurried down the street, forcing himself not to run, Karen trotting after him. One block, two, and he stopped at an alley. Walked in.
Picked up Foggy's phone from where it was lying on the ground, scuffed on one corner like it had been dropped.
"Is that Foggy's phone?" Karen asked. "What does that, what does that mean, why would he..."
Matt stood up. If Foggy had just dropped his phone, he would have looked for it. He would have stopped by so Karen wouldn't worry, no matter how angry he was at Matt. And why would he have dropped his phone in an alley, anyway?
"Someone took him," Matt said. Took, because there was no scent of blood, no body. Took, because no other alternative was acceptable.
"Who? Why?" Karen asked. She smelled like fear, sour and hot.
Or maybe that was Matt, maybe that was the stench crawling under his skin. They'd taken Foggy, hours ago, and Matt hadn’t known, Matt hadn’t known because he wasn’t with Foggy. He should have been with him, they’d never had gotten to Foggy if Matt was there, they wouldn’t have dared, Matt would have -
“Matt?” Karen said. Her hand brushed his shoulder and he flinched hard, he nearly threw the phone against the wall but it was their only lead, there was nothing to throw, there was nothing to break and Matt wanted to scream -
“Matt!” Karen snapped. “Matt, dammit, listen to me!”
“I need to find him,” Matt said, marching towards the mouth of the alley, and Karen grabbed his arm and hauled on it because Karen wasn’t afraid of wild animals.
“You need to stop,” she said. “Stop and think. Who took him, Matt? And why? Is this a Daredevil thing or a Nelson and Murdock thing?”
“What does it matter?” he snapped, trying to shake her off without hurting her.
“Because if it’s a Nelson and Murdock thing we can call the police!” she said. “You don’t have to do this alone, Matt.”
“I...it…” Every second he argued with her was another second Foggy wasn’t safe. “It hasn’t been twenty-four hours. We can’t file a missing persons report until then.”
“Then call Brett!” she said. “He’s Foggy’s friend and we know he’s clean. He’ll help.” Matt pulled towards the street again and she held him in place. “What are you gonna do, Matt? Run around Hell’s Kitchen in your good suit hitting people with your cane until Foggy falls out? We need to figure this out, not run off in a blind rage because - shit. Shit, I’m sorry.”
Matt forced himself to exhale. “No,” he said. “No, you’re right. We need to...you’re right. We’ll call Brett.”
He took a deep breath, but too many hours had passed, too many people walking by. There was no trace of Foggy in the air, or whoever had taken him.
But as soon as the sun went down, the devil would be on their trail.
*
There wasn’t much Brett could do. Karen said Foggy had left the office at about seven p.m. the night before, which meant that, as Matt had suspected, they couldn’t file a missing persons report for hours; Brett put the word out on the police band to keep an eye out for Foggy, but in a city of eight million people one stray lawyer could go unspotted for...well, too long.
Just in case things were less dire than he feared, Matt called Marci and, careful not to alarm them, Foggy’s parents and sisters, but no one had heard from him. Karen checked Josie’s; no luck. Matt went to Foggy’s apartment, but the air was stale, the smells old; Foggy hadn’t been back here in at least a week.
He was definitely gone.
Matt went back to the office and proceeded to prowl like a caged tiger, claws barely sheathed. He’d exhausted all of Matt Murdock’s options, and it was hours yet until Daredevil could utilize his.
They could be doing anything to Foggy right now. Beating him. Torturing him. God, what if they’d taken him because they’d figured out the connection to Daredevil? Foggy would never give him up, Matt knew that; no matter what they did, no matter how angry Foggy was at Matt, he’d never give him up.
He’d let them kill him first.
“When did you get rings?” Karen asked softly, and Matt jumped. He hadn’t realized he was twisting the gold band around his finger. He hadn’t realized Karen was in the room.
“Sunday,” he said, dully. It seemed like a lifetime ago. “Foggy got them. For when we went to see his family. He knew they’d ask, so we needed them. For the act.”
It hadn’t felt like an act, when Foggy put the ring on Matt’s finger. It hadn’t felt like an act in a long time.
Karen took his hand so she could get a closer look. “It’s nice,” she said. “Must have been expensive. That’s a lot of money for a fake marriage.”
“I don’t...Foggy got them,” Matt repeated. “I don’t know how much they cost.” He hadn’t asked. He hadn’t offered to pay Foggy back. God, he’d been so selfish.
“Matt,” Karen said, like she was calling him back to himself. “You’ll find him. Foggy’s smart, and he’s tough - tougher than you think. He’ll hold out, and you’ll find him.”
“What if I don’t?” Matt whispered.
“You will,” she insisted. “I believe in you, Matt, and more importantly, Foggy believes in you.”
Matt snorted. “Foggy can barely stand Daredevil.” If he’d never been Daredevil, Foggy wouldn’t have gotten angry, Foggy wouldn’t have left...
“I was talking about Matt Murdock,” she said softly. “Wherever he is, Foggy knows you’re coming for him.”
Matt shook his head. “No. I’m the reason Foggy’s even in trouble.”
“You don’t know that - ”
“It was my fault!” Matt snapped. “We fought, and it was my fault, and Foggy left, and if he hadn’t been alone, they would never have taken him, they would never have dared. I would have killed them first. I would have died first, I would have, I would - ” and then he was sobbing, ugly sounds that hurt his throat, and Karen pulled him in and held him and let him cry.
“I can’t lose him,” he said when he could breathe again, hoarse and weak.
Her hand smoothed over his hair, and he should have felt embarrassed but he just felt empty. “I know,” she said. “Make sure you tell him that when you find him, okay?”
*
Before the sun had finished sinking over New Jersey, Daredevil was on the roofs.
He’d tried, during the day, to find Foggy this way; walking through the streets as nonchalantly as he could, listening for a familiar heartbeat. Praying Foggy was still in Hell’s Kitchen. He’d found nothing, but Daredevil could go further and faster than Matt Murdock could; he could listen at odd angles and skulk in strange shadows.
Now, two hours later, he had no leads, though he’d terrorized a few low-level mob goons and broken a few fingers. He’d gone straight for the families; an abduction like this required at least a few people working together, and somewhere to hide their vic-- to hide Foggy. But no one knew anything - or at least, they swore they didn’t, and Matt didn’t hear a lie.
He could feel it, just under his skin, like ants crawling over him, like little flashes of heat. The fear. That he wouldn’t find Foggy in time, that he wouldn’t find him ever, that he’d never know -
He clenched his fists and forced himself to breathe.
And paused, because that was a familiar voice. Not the one he was listening for, but - he’d heard it before, somewhere. Something to do with Foggy. He tilted his head and tried to place it.
“...this lawyer, man, so I was like, I know that shit’s gonna pay good.”
Get your hands where I can see them!
The mugger. The mugger who’d pulled a gun on Foggy, weeks ago, ages ago. Matt had practically forgotten it, figured it was just a random crime of opportunity, but what if it wasn’t?
He should take him, now; jump down to the street, send the friend running, and beat the shithead until he couldn’t walk, until he was begging to tell Matt everything he knew...but he thought of Foggy and held back. Maybe there was an easier way.
He followed over the roofs, until the friend split off, leaving the mugger - Sal, his friend called him Sal - alone. Matt’s smile sliced the night in two. Yes, this was easier.
He let Sal hear him, then - just a scrape of sound above him. Sal’s heart rate hitched up as he craned his neck, but Matt was well-hidden. Sal shook his head and kept walking.
Half a block and Matt made another sound. Two blocks, and Matt let his shadow fall across Sal before slipping out of sight again. By the time they were past 11th Avenue, nearly at the river, Sal was practically jumping out of his skin, his fear sharp in Matt’s nose, his hand brushing the piece tucked into the back of his pants.
When Matt jumped down to land in front of him, Sal’s fear spiked so hard Matt was mildly surprised not to smell urine in the air. Matt smiled again, and let it be as dangerous as he felt. “Where is he, Sal?”
Sal fumbled for the gun so slowly it was like he was narrating all his actions to Matt. Matt kicked it out of his hand. “Where is he, Sal?”
“Fuck off! How do you know my name?” Sal asked, backing away. Shaking.
“Where is he, Sal?” Matt took a step forward and Sal tried to bolt. Matt was on him in an instant, knocking him to the ground, hard. He hauled him up, wrenched an arm behind his back, and slammed him into the nearest wall. “You’ve made me ask three times, Sal. I don’t like that.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” Sal said. Oh, lie, lie, lie.
Matt tightened his grip and Sal cried out in pain. “I don’t like being lied to, either. Where is he?”
“Ah, shit, shit!” Sal hissed. “I can’t, I can’t…”
“You know, I’ve had my shoulder dislocated before,” Matt said, his voice very low. “Hurts like hell, but they can usually pop in back in and it’s as good as new.” He twisted his grip. “I know how to make it so they can’t pop it back in. Want to find out?”
“No, no, I can’t, they’ll kill me…” Sal begged, scrabbling at the wall with his free hand.
“Who?”
“The...the…” Matt tightened his grip again. “Shit! Shit, the Calabreses, okay, the Calabreses have him, I swear, oh fuck, I swear to God!”
Truth, but it made no sense. Why would the Calabreses want Foggy? “Why’d they take him?” Matt asked, releasing his grip slightly. If he twisted any more, Sal wouldn’t be able to use that arm for months. That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world as far as Matt was concerned, but if he was in too much pain to talk Matt would be back to square one.
“I don’t know.” Matt slammed him forward again so that his face scraped the brick. “Fuck! I don’t - I’m just, I’m nothing, okay? They don’t tell me shit!” His heartbeat, already going a mile a minute, faltered - not a lie, but not the whole truth, either.
“Why do you think?” Matt asked. Sal knew something, he was sure of it. And he was going to tell Matt, or he wasn’t walking out of here.
“I...fuck, I heard something,” Sal said. “Something about killing two birds with one stone. They said we go after Nelson and Murdock, we get Gomez out of the building so we can tear it down.”
Matt was glad Sal couldn’t see his expression, because he was pretty sure he looked more like a stunned goldfish than a devil. The Gomez case? A stupid health code violation? That’s what this was about?
“What’s the other bird?” he asked. Sal didn’t say anything and he pushed warningly on his shoulder, hearing the slight creak of bone.
“Shit! Shit, it’s you, okay? It’s you!” Sal said. “No one wants to go down like Fisk and everyone knows you helped Nelson and Murdock on that. That’s why they sent me after Nelson the other time. Go after the fat one and the Devil will come running - ahhh! Ah, shit, fuck!”
Matt hurled Sal to the ground where he lay cradling his arm and sobbing. Then he stepped over him and hauled him up by his collar. “It’ll heal,” he said unsympathetically, and let Sal see his teeth. “Now here’s the million dollar question, Sal, and I want you to think very carefully about your answer: Where. Is. Nelson?”
*
The sub-basement was several levels down, actually dug into the riverbed. Matt would never have known it was there, but now that he was inside he could hear the heartbeats, eight of them. One very familiar. Weak and tired, but praise God, still beating.
“Aren’t you tired?” a voice said as Matt worked his way down, keeping to the shadows. They were deep underground but he could hear the sizzle of electricity and smell burning filaments. He’d have to take out the lights. “Don’t you want the pain to end? Give us a name and it’ll all be over.”
They’d hurt Foggy. They’d hurt Foggy. Matt forced back the bile in his throat and made himself wait.
“How about Assface?” Foggy’s voice. Foggy’s voice. Matt wanted to drown in it. “That seems like a good name for you.”
“The Devil’s name, Mr. Nelson.”
“Hmm, well, I punked out of Sunday school pretty early on, but...Lucifer, right?” Foggy sounded weak, and hoarse, and tired. He’d been here more than twenty-four hours; had he eaten? Had he slept? “The Morning Star? Asmodeus? Beelzebub, I always liked that one, sounds like a cartoon bug or someth--urk!”
“Tell us where to find him, Mr. Nelson. Now.”
Matt crept closer, until his senses could paint him a clear picture of what was happening in the room. Two at the door, rifles out. One sitting on a table, one in a chair, two standing in the corner smoking. All armed.
Foggy tied to a chair. A seventh man - a Calabrese? hired muscle? - grabbing his face.
The smell of blood.
“He’s...he’s not here,” Foggy gasped out. Pain. The man was hurting him. Matt counted the seconds it would take him to cross the room, to snap the Calabrese’s neck before he even knew Matt was there. “He went...he went…”
“Where, Mr. Nelson?”
Foggy dragged in a ragged, rattling breath. “Down to Georgia.”
The Calabrese sighed. Straightened up.
Hit Foggy in the stomach, hard.
Foggy cried out. And Matt set the devil free.
He burst into the room, yanked the rifle out of the hands of the guard by the door. Shot out the light even as his foot snapped the other guard’s head back on his neck. And then they were in his world, his darkness, and the devil didn’t play well with others.
He tore through the basement, bouncing off walls, off furniture, making sure he made enough noise to keep the guns trained in his direction and not Foggy’s. But he was always one step ahead of the bullets, dropping one man with a wet thud, another, a third. Bones snapping, screaming, the devil taking his due.
Someone got in a lucky punch and Matt only knew he was bleeding from the taste filling his mouth, because it didn’t hurt at all. He spat blood, kicked out, how many left? How many more had to pay?
Crack! A shot rang out, hot pain lanced across his shoulder, and Foggy shouted and lurched forward, still tied to a chair, charging into the last of them, knocking him to the ground and the gun out of his hands. The Calabrese lunged for Foggy but Matt got there first, slammed the Calabrese to the ground and he didn’t get up again.
And then it was over and he was pulling Foggy’s chair back up, pulling him upright, and Foggy’s heartbeat was still there, Foggy’s beautiful heartbeat was still there. “Foggy,” he said, voice cracking, and he could feel the heat through his gloves, the swelling, Foggy’s lip was split and his eye was blackened but his heartbeat was strong and he was warm and solid and alive. “Foggy, Foggy,” because there were no other words that mattered.
“I knew you’d come,” Foggy said. “I knew you’d find me, I didn’t give them anything, they’d have to kill me first but I knew you’d save me,” and Matt gave a strangled sob and kissed Foggy’s beautiful, bruised face, every inch of it, everywhere he could reach.
“You didn’t kill them, did you?” Foggy asked, leaning into Matt’s touch.
“No,” Matt said. He hated to let go of Foggy but he could sense a knife tucked into the sock of the nearest mook, and he had to get those ropes off. “I knew you wouldn’t want me to.”
There was salt in the air, suddenly. Foggy hadn’t cried until now. “Thank you,” he whispered, and Matt pressed his lips to the curve of Foggy’s shoulder as knelt behind him to cut him free.
When he’d sliced through the last of the ropes, he helped Foggy to his feet and then just - held him for a minute, feeling Foggy’s heartbeat against his chest. Foggy pushed his face into Matt’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” Matt murmured into his hair. It wasn’t enough.
“Take me home,” was all Foggy said, and Matt nodded and helped him towards the door.
*
He didn’t take Foggy home, after all, but to the corner, where he used the burner to call 911. He hated to leave Foggy, but it wouldn’t do Foggy any good for Daredevil to get into an altercation with the cops, so he slipped away when the sirens drew near, and followed Foggy’s heartbeat inside the ambulance all the way to the hospital. Then Daredevil slipped into the darkness; half an hour later, a frantic Matt Murdock was led into the waiting room by his secretary, a hastily bandaged bullet wound hidden under his clothes courtesy of Claire.
Besides the black eye and split lip, Foggy had rope burns on his wrists, a wrenched shoulder, a mild concussion, and a whole cocktail of scrapes and bruises, not to mention a moderate case of dehydration - but that was all. Nothing broken, nothing that wouldn’t heal. Matt tightened his grip on Karen’s arm when the doctor told them the diagnosis, and locked his knees so they wouldn’t buckle with relief. Foggy hadn’t seemed too badly hurt when Matt had found him, but there could have been something internal, something Matt couldn’t sense...
He was dozing when Matt let himself into the room, but Matt heard his heartbeat speed up to a lazy waking state when he heard the click of Matt’s cane against the linoleum. “Hey. I guess this whole being married thing paid off quicker than we thought, huh? You get to visit your husband at his sickbed and everything.”
Matt tried to smile but he was pretty sure it came out funny. “Foggy, this is all my…”
“No,” Foggy said, cutting him off.
“What?”
“I’m tired, Matt,” Foggy said. I’m so tired of this. “I’m tired and I hurt in all sorts of places I’ve never hurt before, and I know we have to talk about this eventually, but right now I just want you to sit in that chair and hold my hand and politely not say anything about it if I drool on the pillow when I fall asleep. Can you do that?”
Matt leaned his cane against the nightstand, drew up the chair by the bed, and picked up Foggy’s hand. It was warm and dry, Foggy’s pulse threading steadily through it. “Can I make fun of you if you snore?”
He heard Foggy’s soft exhale, the relief in it. “I’ll allow it, counselor.”
Foggy settled down into the bed again, and Matt sank down lower in his chair so that he could rest his head against the back of it. Foggy was right; they would have to talk about this eventually.
But not now.
*
Saturday
They didn’t talk about it the two days that Foggy was in the hospital for observation, or after he came back home to Matt’s apartment. They didn’t talk about it while they secured the dismissal of the Gomez case, since it was clear the the Calabrese family had trumped up the health code violations to clear the last tenant out of the building they wanted to demolish, or while Foggy filed charges of kidnapping and assault against the men who’d taken him. They didn’t talk about it for over a week, as Matt’s ribs knit back together; as Foggy stopped letting out little gasps of pain when he sat or stretched, as he stopped waking up in a cold sweat with a tremble that shook the mattress until Matt soothed him back to sleep. They slept in the same bed and walked to work together and teased each other and Matt tried to memorize every minute of it, every single second before he had to give it all up.
And then, one lazy morning when they were picking at pistachio croissants Foggy had bought at Amy’s Bread, last sips of coffee growing cool in their cups, Matt cleared his throat. “I, uh, I got something.”
“Please tell me it’s not more food, because I’m stuffed,” Foggy said. “...Well, actually, do we have any more of that sticky bun? Because that would be worth the pain.”
“Uh, no, sorry. Or, you’re welcome, maybe. Hang on.” Matt got up and went over to where his briefcase was leaning against the wall by the door, next to his cane. Now, he had to do it now, before he could talk himself out of it.
He took the papers out of the briefcase, brought them back to the table, and laid them in front of Foggy. “You’ll have to fill them out, I’m afraid. They don’t have have a Braille version.”
Foggy was silent for a very long time, as Matt returned to his seat, picked up his coffee cup, and put it down without drinking anything from it. “These are divorce papers.”
“Yes.”
“Matt.” He heard Foggy swallow. “Matt, why are these divorce papers?”
“You know why.”
“No, I really don’t.” Foggy didn’t sound relieved, or angry, or...or anything, really. “Enlighten me. Please.”
Matt dug his nails into his palm. Foggy had to know all the reasons as well as Matt did; why was he making Matt go through them? “It was a stupid idea in the first place. We only did it to protect you from having to testify against me.”
“Are you giving up being Daredevil?” Foggy asked.
“What?” Matt said, shocked. “No!”
“Then I might still have to testify against you,” Foggy pointed out.
Matt shook his head. He wished he had his glasses on, but they were on the kitchen counter, out of reach. He never wore them when he and Foggy were home alone. “It’s not worth the risk on that off-chance, Foggy. You were kidnapped.”
“Because of a case, Matt,” Foggy said. “Not because Foggy Nelson is married to Matt Murdock.”
“They were torturing you for information on me!” Matt couldn’t just sit there anymore; he got up and paced. How was Foggy not getting this? “Even that two-bit mafia hood who tried to mug you knew it! Touch you, and Daredevil comes running.”
“Well, you didn’t exactly prove them wrong, did you?”
Matt didn’t gasp, but it was a close thing. “What, did you not want me to come get you? They would have killed you, Foggy, they - ”
“I know,” Foggy said, cutting him off. “I know, and yes, obviously I wanted you to save me from the criminals who were torturing me. I’m not a complete lunatic. I didn’t…” There was a shadow in his voice and it tore at Matt’s heart. Foggy always covered up any talk of what he’d been through with a joke, but Matt was there for the nightmares. He knew. “I didn’t like any of it, and I don’t want it to happen again. Sign me up for one of those pepper spray keychains, right?” He shrugged. “That doesn’t change the fact that I’m your Achilles heel, and if anyone looking to take out Daredevil didn’t know that already, they do now.” Matt opened his mouth to speak, but Foggy pushed ahead. “But that has nothing to do with us being married.”
Why wasn’t Foggy getting this? “What if someone finds out that...that I’m…”
“What difference would it make?” Foggy asked. “Do you think they still wouldn’t come after me first? I’m your emergency contact. You’re in my will, Matt! Do you think some criminal mastermind is gonna go, ‘Oh, well, they’re business partners and best friends, but they got divorced after only a month and a half so there’s probably no love lost there’?” His voice got a little softer. “You know that doesn’t make sense, Matt. What’s this really about?”
“I don’t, I don’t…” Matt couldn’t understand why Foggy’s heart was so calm. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“So you’re kicking me out of your apartment.”
“No! I…” Matt raked a hand through his hair. “We fought, before. After we...after your parents threw us the party. And I don’t…” Foggy’s heartbeat was still so steady. “I think this is too complicated. It’s better if we’re just...friends. Simpler.”
“You might be right,” Foggy said, as calmly as if Matt had suggested it was raining outside. “But you’re overlooking the part where I’m in love with you.”
The floor beneath Matt’s feet lurched.
“Whoa! Okay, hang on.” Foggy. Foggy was there, warm and solid, leading him to the couch. “Easy, buddy. Deep breaths.”
“I.” This didn’t make any sense. Matt pressed his palms flat against the couch and tried to ground himself. “No. You’re not.”
“Yikes.” Foggy hissed in a playful breath. “I thought my finally saying it out loud would be a bit of a shock, but I didn’t think you’d be this opposed to it.”
“No! I mean, I’m not.” Oh God, was he not. “But you’re...Foggy, I can hear your heart. You’re not…” He swallowed. “You’re not in love with me.”
“And you would know that better than I would.” Foggy actually sounded amused.
“I know, I know you had a crush on me, back in college. When we first met,” Matt said. “Your heart would race when I talked to you, you got all sweaty…”
“Oh, that’s fantastic,” Foggy muttered. “Hang on, my eighteen-year-old self has to go die of humiliation now.”
“...but it went away.” Matt pushed doggedly on. “It went away, you were just...normal, around me. I figured, you know, you got to know me and you just, you didn’t…”
“What, you thought I liked you until I got to know you better?” Foggy asked incredulously. Matt shrugged miserably. “No, seriously? You thought I was hot for you, but then I found out you weren’t just gorgeous but also funny and smart and stupidly noble, so I was like, ‘Never mind, forget it, that totally kills my boner’? And then I went on to live with you for three more years, and quit my job because you asked me to, and open a law practice with you, and marry you, and let you put my dick in your mouth, just...because?”
“I…” Foggy was twisting it, somehow; it had made sense before.
“God, Murdock.” Foggy pushed Matt’s hair off his forehead and he couldn’t help leaning into the touch, just a little. “For such a vain little peacock you really do have the worst self-esteem of anyone I’ve ever met.”
“But...your heart…” Matt protested.
“Yeah.” Foggy took Matt’s hand and placed it on his chest. It wasn’t necessary - Matt could’ve heard his heartbeat from the street - but now he could feel it, steady and firm. “Matt, do you really expect me to be going into cardiac arrest whenever I’m around you? I’m around you all the time. Trust me when I say that means that loving you is my resting state.”
His heartbeat remained steady.
Truth.
“I thought you knew,” Foggy said, and his voice was serious now, the gentle teasing tone gone. “I thought you had to suspect, everyone else did...and when I found out you knew when I was lying, I thought then, then, you had to have known all this time and you were just...too polite to say anything about it.”
Matt shook his head, remembering the betrayal in Foggy’s voice at that revelation, the sad contempt that he was now realizing had been directed at Foggy, not Matt. “You thought I knew that you…” He couldn’t say it, not yet. “...and I asked you to marry me anyway? And you said yes?” God, how cruel had Foggy thought he was?
Foggy shrugged. “Well, yeah. You asked me to.”
But Matt was still shaking his head, reframing everything in this strange new reality where Foggy loved him. “And then when we, we slept together…”
“I admit I could have reacted better, but waking up with you gone wasn’t my happiest moment, no,” Foggy said.
He must have thought that Matt was just using him, that Matt didn’t care. “Oh, Foggy, no,” Matt breathed.
But Foggy just shrugged again, easily. “I was in that basement for...what, about twenty-eight hours? Give or take? And, you know, they didn’t start hitting me right away. They wanted me hungry and thirsty, first. Scared.”
“Foggy,” Matt said, aching for him, but Foggy shook his head, cutting him off.
“It gave me a lot of time to think, you know?” he said. “About you, and us, and how really incredibly bad you are at normal human interactions. About why you do the things you do.” He took a breath. “So I’ll go over to that table and I’ll fill out those divorce papers. I’ll do it right now, Matt. All you have to do is tell me you don’t love me too.”
Matt lunged across the couch and kissed him.
Foggy let out a squeak of surprise, and then his arms were around Matt and he was kissing him back, warm and happy and finally, finally his heart was starting to race. Matt pulled back just far enough to pant against his mouth. “Throw out the divorce papers,” he said. “Burn them.”
“I’ll do it later,” Foggy promised. “After.” His hands slid under Matt’s shirt, smoothing up his back, and oh. After sounded pretty good to Matt.
“Foggy,” Matt breathed between kisses. “Foggy, I want...I need…”
“Yes,” Foggy told him. He kissed Matt’s mouth, his cheekbones, his eyelids. “Yes. Yes.”
“Bed,” Matt suggested, and Foggy nodded vehemently.
“Definitely yes. A world of yes.” He paused. “You have to get off me first, Matt.”
Matt laughed and climbed off the couch, drew Foggy to his feet and then stole another kiss, and then two more, and then he lost count. It took them a while to make it to the bedroom like that, but they made it eventually, considerably more naked than when they’d started.
Matt let himself drop back onto the bed, sprawled against the sheets. From the hitch in Foggy’s breathing, it was as effective as he’d hoped. “Jesus, Matt,” Foggy said. “Do you have any idea how hot you are?
Matt shook his head. “I’m blind, remember?” he said. “You’ll just have to tell me.”
Foggy snorted, and Matt felt the mattress give as Foggy knelt on it, edged forward to straddle Matt’s thighs. “Subtle.”
“Weren’t you just saying I have low self-esteem?” Matt said. He was trying for plaintive, but he couldn’t stop smiling. “Help me, Foggy. Guide me towards self-actualization.”
“You’re full of shit, Murdock,” Foggy said, but he cupped Matt’s face and kissed him anyway. “Fuck. All right, fine.” His fingers carded through Matt’s hair, sweeping it off his forehead. “Your hair’s a mess half the time, so let’s skip that part. I mean, it’s a nice color and all, but seriously, buy a comb already.”
“I have a comb.”
“Shhh, I’m waxing rhapsodic here,” Foggy said, putting a finger on Matt’s lips. Matt kissed it. “Bone structure is straight-up ridiculous. Did you beat up a model and take his cheekbones? Did you win a bet with a Greek god? There’s something sketchy going on here, no one just wakes up looking like you do.”
“Clean living,” Matt said, grinning as Foggy’s fingers trailed over his cheekbones, his jaw, the bridge of his nose.
“Bullshit.” Foggy’s fingers traced his lips again. “Your mouth is so red, Matt, you have no idea,” he said, and his voice had dropped from teasing to something darker. “It’s so fucking distracting. You’ll be talking and I’m trying to listen, but instead I’m just thinking about all the things I want to do to your mouth. All the ways I could make it even redder.” His voice hitched as Matt pushed up enough to take the tip of his finger in his mouth, and again when Matt let his bottom teeth scrape against the pad of it. “God, Matt,” and then Foggy’s finger was gone and his lips were there instead and Matt pulled Foggy down to him and did his level best to kiss him breathless.
“Keep going?” Foggy murmured after a long moment. His hand skated up Matt’s side and Matt arched into the touch.
“No. Yes,” he said, pushing up. “I mean, you can, you can if you want, just don’t stop touching me, Foggy.”
“Yeah, I remember,” Foggy said. “You’re big into touch, aren’t you?” His hands smoothed down Matt’s chest, his stomach, over his arms. Matt tried not to push up into the warmth of it too much, tried to keep his face neutral. “No, no, I want to see you,” Foggy said, dragging a thumb over Matt’s nipple, and Matt couldn’t help his shudder. “Gorgeous,” Foggy breathed, and followed the path of his hands with his mouth, warm and wet, like cleansing fire on Matt’s skin. He kissed Matt everywhere; kissed his hard, angry mouth and his raw, swollen knuckles and his scars; he kissed all the terrible parts of Matt like they were beautiful.
“Foggy,” Matt breathed and reached for him, but Foggy ducked out of the circle of his arms with a chuckle.
“Sorry, Murdock,” he said, and planted a kiss on the worst scar, raised and sensitive, the one that had been a gaping wound when he’d found Matt on the floor. “I’ve got places to be.”
And then he was nuzzling up the inside of Matt’s thigh, and Matt sighed and let his legs fall open, let his hands fall into Foggy’s hair. “Foggy,” he warned, even though he wanted this, he wanted Foggy’s mouth on him so badly. “I won’t...I won’t last, if you…”
“That’s all right, buddy,” Foggy said, and kissed the crease of Matt’s thigh, and Matt couldn’t stop shaking. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”
He dragged his tongue up Matt’s length then, a lazy exploration, and Matt turned his head and muffled his shout in the pillow. “Gorgeous,” Foggy said again, lips still touching him, and then he was wrapping his lips around Matt, and everything was hot and wet and sucking, and Matt was begging, so soon and so helplessly.
“Foggy,” he sobbed, hands tangled in Foggy’s hair, his soft hair. His mouth was perfect, even better than Matt’s guilty fantasies had imagined, and his hands were everywhere, sweeping up his thighs, brushing over his balls, one thumb pushing further back still. Matt whined and spread his legs and fought not to push his hips up, up into that welcoming heat.
“So good, so fucking good,” he managed, “Foggy, please, I can’t,” and Foggy sucked harder and Matt writhed and swore, “I’m gonna, please, Foggy,” and spilled down Foggy’s throat, sobbing out his name like a prayer. Foggy took all of him, running a gentling hand up his thigh, and pressed a tender kiss to his hipbone after he pulled off.
When Matt could make sense of the world again, Foggy was stretched out next to him, head propped up on his hand. His heartbeat was going like a hummingbird’s and the scent of his arousal was heavy and intoxicating, but his free hand, trailing lightly up Matt’s torso, was gentle. “Well, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said conversationally.
Matt gave a tired laugh. “Yeah, I kind of liked it too,” he said, and grinned wider when Foggy chuckled. “C’mere.”
Foggy leaned in and kissed him, long and slow. He tasted like Matt, and Matt decided to make it his personal mission to make Foggy taste like him as often as possible. “You feeling up to returning the favor, or you need a few minutes?” Foggy asked.
“Uh. Well. Actually.” Matt bit his lip. He could already feel a flush rising in his cheeks, but he could also feel Foggy, hard and hot against his hip, and that decided him. “How would you feel about. Uh. Fucking me?”
He felt Foggy’s involuntary thrust against his hip and couldn’t help grinning. “Oh, wipe that smirk off your face, Murdock,” Foggy said. “I mean...you sure?”
Matt wiggled against the mattress, getting comfy - and not incidentally grinding against Foggy’s hard-on. “Lube’s in the nightstand,” he said, then raised an eyebrow. “Unless you’d rather not…?”
Foggy got to his knees, and yeah, every sign his body was giving off was saying he was one hundred percent in favor of this, but he still hesitated. Matt adored him for it. “But you already…”
“I can go again,” Matt assured him, and tilted his head so that he was looking at least close to Foggy’s direction. “Please, Foggy.”
He heard the hiccup in Foggy’s breath and tried not to look too smug about it. “Well, okay,” Foggy said. “But only because you said please.”
He reached over Matt, and Matt heard the nightstand drawer scrape open. “Do you seriously keep a bible in here next to your lube, Matt? That’s gotta be a mortal sin right there.”
Matt laughed. “Venial at best. If my immortal soul is damned, it’s not because of my apartment’s lack of storage options.”
“Well, sure,” Foggy said, settling between Matt’s legs. Matt drew up his knees, planting his feet on the mattress on either side of Foggy’s hips. “There’s all the sodomy.”
“Not unless you hurry up, there’s not,” Matt said, poking Foggy in the side with his toes.
Foggy laughed, and Matt heard the click of the lube opening. “Nag, nag, nag.” Then his finger was stroking over Matt’s entrance, cool and slick, and Matt’s breath caught in his throat. “Okay?” Foggy asked.
Matt tried not to nod too frantically. “Yes. Very okay. Full speed ahead, Fog.”
“Well, maybe not full speed,” Foggy said.
“No, I like - ” Matt’s voice cut off in a gasp as Foggy pressed his finger in. “Hh. I like it fast.”
Desire rolled off Foggy like a wave, so thick Matt could practically drink it. “Well. There’s a fun fact to add to the list.” He pushed in deeper, up to the last knuckle. Matt pushed back on his finger, eager and wanting. “But you’re still recovering from broken ribs, so we’ll have to save that for a later date.”
“They’re just cracked, Foggy - ”
“Matthew.”
Matt’s dick twitched and he swallowed hard. “Luh. Later date. Yeah.” He nodded. “That works.”
Foggy bent and kissed Matt’s knee, then crooked his finger. Matt let out a little sigh. “Besides, you’re, like, ridiculously tight.” He pulled out and pushed in again, wringing another sigh out of Matt. “Fuck, you’re gonna feel so good.”
“Foggy…” Matt breathed, hips arching into Foggy’s touch. Foggy was maddeningly gentle, moving with long slow strokes until Matt was relaxed around him. Matt was half-hard again by the time he added a second finger, and aching by the third.
“Boy, you weren’t kidding,” Foggy murmured, lips grazing Matt’s knee again.
Matt shook his head, then cried out as Foggy’s fingers brushed against his prostate. “Ah! Foggy...Fog, please.”
“God, you’re gorgeous,” Foggy said, twisting his fingers. “I can’t believe I didn’t get below the neck in my earlier appraisal. I could write a sonnet about your abs. Or your ass. Or your dick.” He pushed in again and Matt’s eyes practically rolled back in his head. “You even have nice toes, did you know that?”
Matt hooked a leg around Foggy’s waist; Foggy let out a startled sound as Matt pulled him closer. “Hh...you...you can tell me all about my toes in great detail, Shakespeare, and I will be happy to hear it. But later.”
Foggy snickered. “My mistress’s toes are nothing like the sun…” he started, and Matt gave him a gentle kick with his heel, just hard enough enough to show his impatience. “Okay, okay. Sheesh, everyone’s a critic. Lemme go, hang on.”
Matt unwound his leg, and Foggy pulled his fingers out - still gentle, still careful. Matt smelled the lube again, heard the slick sounds of Foggy prepping himself...and then the mattress shifted under him again, and Foggy was kneeling closer, hitching Matt’s thighs up around his hips, and Matt bit his lip, eager and restless.
“You ready?”
“Foggy, I swear to God…”
“Okay, okay…” And then he felt Foggy’s broad palm curve against his hip, holding him in place, and Foggy was pushing in, slowly, thick and hot, and nothing in Matt’s life had ever been more worth waiting for.
His world narrowed to Foggy: his ragged breathing, his hands, the way his head dropped to Matt’s shoulder when he was finally seated. The taste of his sweat on the back of Matt’s tongue; his pulse beating inside Matt. “Fuck, Matty,” he panted, wet against Matt’s shoulder. “You okay?”
Matt nodded and turned to press a kiss over Foggy’s ear. “Yeah. It’s good, it’s...you feel so good, Foggy.” The words were laughably pathetic, but Matt didn’t have anything better. “I’m okay. You can...you can move. Please?”
Foggy rolled his hips a little, just a gentle push into Matt, and Matt gasped and clutched him tighter. “Yeah,” he gasped. “Yeah, like that, Foggy, please, just like that.”
“Matty,” Foggy rumbled, kissing his jaw, pulling out further this time before pushing in. His heartbeat was a symphony. “Oh God, Matty, beautiful, so fucking good.”
“Foggy,” Matt said, voice breaking on the word, and Foggy gathered him up and kissed him hard and gave him what he wanted. It wasn’t fast and it wasn’t hard, but it was deep and steady and Matt had been right about the noise, Foggy moaned and swore and showered him with praise on every thrust, and every word out of his mouth was beautiful.
“Don’t stop,” Matt begged, was begging again for the second time that night, heels digging into Foggy’s back. “Foggy, Foggy, please…”
“I won’t, Matty, I won’t,” Foggy said, kissing him, always kissing him. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Matt, I love you so damn much, you’re so…” He shuddered, hands tightening on Matt’s hips. “So good, Matt, I can’t...Matty, are you close, buddy? I need…I need…”
“Yeah,” Matt said, arching up, pulling Foggy down, trying to get closer, deeper. “Yeah, fuck...I just…touch me, Foggy, please, I can…”
Foggy groaned and slipped a hand between them and oh, that was it, Matt’s brain lighting up like distant memories of fireworks, and he clenched and shuddered around Foggy and came with a hoarse cry.
“Fuck, fuck, Matt,” Foggy moaned, still rocking into him, each thrust an aftershock rippling through Matt’s nerves.
“Please,” Matt begged one last time, “please,” and Foggy gasped and followed him over the edge.
Long, long moments later, when Matt was able to sort out any sounds other than his own pulse echoing in his head, he untangled his arms from around Foggy and huffed a tired laugh. “What?” Foggy asked, nuzzling his cheek.
Matt turned into the touch, smiling. “I was just thinking...we definitely can’t get an annulment now.” Foggy snorted and Matt’s grin widened. “And I think I might just be too Catholic for divorce after all.”
“Is that so?” Foggy asked. He shifted, easing out gently, and reached for a tissue. “Sounds like I’d better not renew my lease, then.”
“Think of how much money we’ll save on rent,” Matt pointed out.
“We can finally buy that tire swing.” Foggy wiped them clean - well, clean-ish, but Matt was too worn-out and happy to split hairs - and flopped back down onto the mattress. Matt curled into him, fingers tapping out Foggy’s heartbeat in the center of his chest. “So are you gonna say it, or what?”
“Say…? Oh.” Matt grinned. “Come on. I conned you into marrying me, didn’t I?”
“You’re an asshole.”
“All the ‘oh, Foggy, please, Foggy, more, Foggy’ didn’t tip you off?”
“Such an asshole,” Foggy said fondly. “A Grade A asshole with an amazing ass and stupid little red horns.”
“I love you,” Matt said, and leaned up to kiss Foggy properly. “I do.”
He felt Foggy’s smile against his lips. “I know,” Foggy said, and the sheer smug happiness in his voice made Matt want to laugh and cry all at once. He’d made Foggy that happy. If he’d done nothing else good in the world, he’d done this. “I love you too.”
“Little red horns and all?”
Foggy paused. “Well, actually…”
Matt stiffened. That was stupid, he knew Foggy didn’t like that he was Daredevil, why had he brought it up? “Yeah?”
“The horns are stupid,” Foggy said. “But the rest of the look? Might. Uh. Really work for me.”
It took Matt several dazed eyeblinks to process that. “You...what?”
“I mean, it helps that Daredevil saved my life. Twice,” Foggy said. “But, uh, even before that, the, um. The red? And the mask, it. I.” He squirmed a little under Matt. “Look, it’s very tight, Matt, okay?”
Matt felt a slow grin spreading over his face as he remembered the sound of Foggy’s heartbeat when Matt had stopped him from being mugged, and even Foggy’s reaction the night after the party, when Matt had pinned him up against the counter. “Oh, really.”
“Shut up.”
“No, I’m sorry, I feel like we should discuss this at length,” Matt said, trying not to laugh. “You’re hot for Daredevil.”
“Only because I know who he is,” Foggy protested, which just delighted Matt further.
“So if I went and put the costume on…” Matt raised his eyebrows suggestively.
“Oh my God, you’re insatiable.”
“Well, now that I know you’ve been harboring a secret passion for our local vigilante…”
“Divorce.”
“No deal,” Matt said, then pursed his lips. “Although if you wanted to renew our vows, I do kind of think we should have a church wedding.”
“I’ll take it under advisement, counselor.” Foggy let out a sigh and Matt could feel him relax further into the mattress. “Nap first. You can dream of telling Karen she’s double best maid of honor. And then…”
“Yeah?”
Foggy cleared his throat. “Then maybe put the costume on.”
Matt beamed and kissed his shoulder. This marriage might just work out after all. “Deal.”