Chapter Text
He didn’t have to wait long for his answer from Marci. Not that he could afford it – Juan would be released from the hospital in a few more days, maximum, and while they could probably swing Matt sheltering him during the asylum trial, they were in murky territory, legally-speaking. But she was fairly sure she could find a full-time immigration lawyer to take the case – if he paid with real money, she reminded him.
Of course he would. He would go into debt for this.
That brought them to step two. Since Matt wouldn’t leave the hospital, Foggy had to pull aside into a waiting area for parents while Juan was resting. “Okay, so we might have a plan.”
“You found a social worker to take pity on me?”
Foggy was frowning. “No, it’s a little more complicated than that. But – just tell me you’ll hear me out on this.”
Matt didn’t like the sound of it, but he swallowed tension that and said, “Okay.”
“She looked over your application – unofficially. She said you won’t pass. They’re going to want a two-parent household. They can be shitty, overworked parents who already have three foster kids, but there have to be two of them in the home. And she might have a little bit of a point – I know, I know – about the blind thing. You need me to read your mail, Matt. I know you don’t like it, but you have ... limitations.”
Matt’s face hardened. “So. Your plan.”
“Yeah, so, two parents. Who have to be living together. If you get approved for foster care, it’s a pretty straight shot to adoption because they want him out of the system so they don’t have to give you a stipend. Foster care is only meant to be temporary – “
“I know.”
“ – so if I moved in, and we applied for guardianship together, we would have a strong case. I mean, yes, I don’t speak Spanish, but I speak five foreign languages and two of the them are Romance languages. I’ll manage for the first month with Rosetta Stone and Dora the Explorer and then I’ll have it down. You know I can do it.”
He still didn’t know why Foggy had studied Romanian in the first place. “But just because we live in the same apartment doesn’t mean we can share custody – “
“And we get married.” Foggy breathed out. “That’s the other thing. We get married, we apply as a couple. It’s a very strong application. I have tons of family who we can fall back on for support and we’re a little more stable if we combine our finances. The whole adoption process takes maybe a year, so we file the paperwork, make it happen, and then when Juan’s adopted, we have a no-fault divorce and you get full custody.” His heart wasn’t racing, but it was definitely sped-up, and he was sweating. But it didn’t mean he hadn’t thought this through. “What do you think?”
Matt ... had nothing to say. For a full ten seconds, minimum. “Foggy, do you want to marry me?”
“Um, do you hear me getting down on one knee and holding out a pawn shop ring?” But he was at least a little amused by the concept. “No, dude. We didn’t work in school and I don’t think that’s suddenly going to change. Plus I don’t think your priest will be so cool with it anyway.”
“You don’t kno – “
“I’m saying, it doesn’t matter. This is a paper marriage, because we need it to get custody and keep this kid from being shipped back to Mexico because of some shitty, racist politicians with shitty immigration policies to push on their constituents.” He sighed. “I know how much you want to do this. I know you would do anything for this kid. And, well – this is anything.”
Matt gaped. He really had no idea how to react. It was like his brain wasn’t firing. “Are you really willing to do this?”
“Matt, buddy, you have talked me into way stupider things than saving the life of an orphaned kid. Things that were not worth my time or energy. This is worth it.”
Foggy wasn’t lying. Matt knew that much. He feel like he didn’t know a whole lot else. He was so full of conviction about Juan but Foggy was the one who was able to see that he carried it out. “I – I don’t know how to thank you.”
“We’ll just stick it on the pile,” Foggy said, holding out his hand for a fist bump. “Friends? We’d better be. Because we’re about to be a lot more than friends.”
Matt pulled him into a hug instead. “So, what’s Marci going to say?”
*******************************
Marci didn’t respond immediately. She sat through Foggy’s long, scattered, frantic explanation as he paced her apartment – their apartment, really – and laid out the whole plan in front of her. It was only a slight scam, after all. If two men could get married, did it really matter if they weren’t having sex? Or committed to each other within the traditional notions of matrimony? He threw out every possible argument, and then waited through a painful silence for a response. “Well?”
Marci got up and picked a box from Amazon out of recycling, then handed it to Foggy. “Here. My wedding present.”
“What’s this for?”
“Um, your stuff? Because it sure as hell isn’t staying here.”
“Marci, don’t be – “
“What? Realistic?” She was utterly without remorse, but she was also very serious. “What did you think, you were just going to sleep on his couch and be there when social services sends someone over to inspect the apartment? It was just going to be for show?”
“ ... We’re not really getting married.”
“But you are really adopting a kid together,” she said. “Which is really serious. It wasn’t just CPS being arbitrarily cold-hearted when they said Matt’s application wasn’t strong enough. Sure, single parents can raise kids, but it’s tough on them and the kids even if they aren’t blind and have significant mobility issues. That’s why the social worker wanted a two-parent household – because she wants both of you there. All that shit you’re putting on your application about how you’re going to be a super dad who’s going to help him pick out his clothes in the morning and do his homework and go to his soccer practice? And how your extended family’s going to help and your parents are eager to be grandparents? This is a human being we’re talking about, and if anything you’ve said about him is true, he is one traumatized little boy who’s going to need all the help and emotional support he can get. So you better not have filled out that application with lies, Foggy-bear. Because if you did, and you’re going to leave him with crazy depressed Matt, then I don’t want to be dating you anyway.” She added, “Booty calls are still acceptable. But I’m not staying exclusive or anything. So don’t expect that.”
“I ... I don’t know what to say.”
“Then I call the crock pot,” she replied. “And don’t just stand there. Don’t you have to go be a responsible husband and parent now?”
“You’re incredible,” he said, not sure whether he loved or hated her for it.
*******************************
Father Lantom was more than willing to come to the hospital. He had clerical rounds there, and he counseled people other than patients. He offered to visit Juan.
Matt shook his head. “He’s had bad experiences with priests. He might need some time to get over it.”
Of course, Lantom understood. He was patient through Matt’s entire explanation of the situation, including the bit about Black Sky, and what Matt had done to Juan. This wasn’t Matt’s official Confession – he was all business – and Lantom didn’t judge. He barely said anything until Matt posed the marriage plan to him in a more questioning way.
“And?”
“Marriage is a sacrament.”
“I’m aware of that, Matthew.” Lantom didn’t even sigh. This was hardly the strangest proposal Matt had ever made to him. “Are you actually intending to be married to this man beyond what’s on paper? Will you consider yourself married, the same way you would if you committed yourself to someone you loved and wanted to spend the rest of your life with in holy matrimony?”
“No. Of course not,” Matt said. “And we would need to divorce.” It came out like it was a dirty word.
Lantom threw up his hands. “Technically speaking, you won’t be married in the eyes of the church. There are churches here in the city that would marry you, if that was what you wanted, but you know what I mean.”
“I know.”
“So. There is no marriage. There is no divorce. There is no sin of divorce.” He shrugged. “I’m not going to officially endorse this but I also don’t think you want me to. But in terms of what you need to do for this child, if you’re ready for that responsibility, you should use every legal option available to you.” He asked, because it was probably his job, “Are you ready for that responsibility?”
Matt wasn’t sure if he was, but he knew there wasn’t another option.
*******************************
“You talked to your priest?” Foggy asked. “What am I saying? Of course you did.”
“He wasn’t against it.”
“But it wasn’t going to be a church wedding.”
“We’re not really getting married,” Matt pointed out, awkwardly. Everything felt awkward about it, even that he was in his good suit – because it felt weird to not be – as they approached the steps of City Hall. It didn’t open for twenty minutes, but it was a Friday and there was already a line.
He’d been to City Hall before, to report to and be dismissed from jury duty, and for work, but not to get fake married to his law partner so they could adopt an illegal immigrant – who was getting out of the hospital tomorrow, which gave them very little time to hesitate about this arrangement. Foggy’s parents were coming by in the afternoon to turn over the apartment with supplies left over from raising five children, though Foggy had not invited them to the ceremony and Matt hadn’t suggested it. Claire was their legal witness. She arrived dressed in scrubs for work and with no doubt with a bemused look on her face. “Do I at least get cake out of this?”
“I’ll bring you a fancy cupcake later,” Matt said. “Thanks for doing this. And please don’t tell, um, anyone.”
“The marriage part or the scam part?”
“It’s not technically a scam,” Foggy said. “We are getting married. It’s not the government’s business as to why we’re getting married. But I’m starting to think Matt’s a little embarrassed.”
“Juan’s been through enough,” Matt said pointedly. “I don’t want to also put him through a divorce.”
“Oh.” Foggy sounded a little disappointed at Matt’s logic. “That makes sense. Plus, you know, not-gay gay dads. Is this legal in Mexico?”
“Stop looking at me,” Claire said. “My family’s Puerto Rican.”
They didn’t have to put on the pretense of being an eager, happy couple for long. The ceremony itself was straightforward and short and perhaps it helped that they were both blushing and nervous, and Foggy stammered out some awkward lines about rings being stuck in the shop (like wedding rings were cars or something) and Matt kept his mouth shut and signed the document he couldn’t read legally binding himself to Foggy as his husband, ‘til death (or divorce) do they part. They did hug, and that was real, and Matt was very glad that his glasses were hiding his eyes and he didn’t have to wipe them. “Thank you. For this. For everything.”
“Can’t imagine a better guy to get fake married to,” Foggy said. His heart was beating fast but it wasn’t because he was lying.
*******************************
Edward and Anna Nelson were a little confused when they showed up at the apartment, despite Foggy’s explanation, and needed some reassuring from Matt.
“It’s very noble, what you’re doing for Juan,” Mrs. Nelson said. “And it wouldn’t be a big deal if you said you and Foggy were – “
“We’re not together.” He did not discuss law school with them. That was none of their business. “And please don’t tell him we’re married. This is going to be confusing enough for him.” Culture shock was really the least of it. He didn’t go into that, either. He trusted that whatever Foggy told them would be sufficient. He needed their help, and over the course of the afternoon and evening, Matt realized how woefully unprepared he had been to house a child. They brought a temporary cot (Foggy’s bed had to be professionally moved, until then he was on the couch) that was child-sized, along with a trunk of old toys that were careful disinfected. They had posters, old clothing, lamps, silverware and dishes, placements, child shampoo, area rugs, age-appropriate books, and locks for the cabinets with the cleaning supplies. They stocked the fridge with sugary cereal and juice and the freezer with pre-made meals of food Foggy liked, and they generally decorated the place in what they informed Matt were various bright colors, which was not generally a thing he gave much thought to. By nightfall, Matt was using his own cane in the apartment to find his way around without stubbing his toes. Only his bedroom was left mostly untouched. They went out for dinner on the Nelsons, who were excited to meet their quasi-grandkid, and then Matt returned home to unfamiliar smells in a cramped, messy apartment.
“This is okay, right?” Foggy must have sensed his hesitation. How did he do that? He wasn’t the one with heightened senses. “We haven’t lived together in years and ... it’s a lot.”
“Yeah, I know.” He was too tired to say otherwise. “But it’s – it’s good. It’s going to be good.” He wasn’t the only one who needed a pep talk. “I want to do this, Foggy. I would have said something if I didn’t. I just – I can’t leave him. Not when he needs someone.”
“You’re not Stick,” Foggy said because he knew Matt just that well, which was scary when he thought about it. “You’re never going to be Stick. You couldn’t be him if you tried. You’re going to be a great dad.”
“And you’re going to be a great ... uncle. Dad. Thing.”
“Yeah, I’m going to be a great ‘thing.’ Thanks, Matt.”
“You know what I meant.”
“I always know what you mean, buddy. You’re lucky to have me.”
“Yeah.” Matt certainly couldn’t contradict that. “I am.”
*******************************
The next day was a whirlwind of paperwork, legal discussions, and lectures from the hospital staff, but by the end of it they managed to get Juan Diaz discharged into their temporary custody. His asylum case was just beginning and the ink wasn’t dry on their foster care application, but someone had to take this undocumented, highly traumatized immigrant, and the state wasn’t rushing in to do the job, so the hospital signed off on it, and left them with instructions of when Juan had to return to have his stitches pulled and a pile of documents for how to apply for therapy, social services available to trafficking victims and refugees, and a prosthetic arm. Foggy figured he could wrestle one out of Tony, but Matt pointed out that it would undoubtedly make things explode, intentionally or unintentionally, and Juan was too young to be a cyborg.
As for Juan, very little was explained to him except by the hospital translator and Matt, but as long as he was holding Matt’s arm, he seemed okay. Scared, but okay. In comparison to how he entered the hospital, he was fantastic. Matt didn’t leave his side, and he didn’t leave Matt’s. Foggy tried to explain that Juan would have to learn to guide Matt, but his Spanish was still too broken and wandered into Italian, so he wisely gave up. He did have fun pushing Juan out in the wheelchair faster than the hospital was interested in having happen, but it got Juan to laugh and stop being scared and confused, so Matt was happy.
Juan didn’t totally understand what was going on, or the legal ramifications of it, but he knew he could stay with Matt, and he was fine with that.
“Aquí es,” (This is us) Matt explained as they entered the apartment. He had even less of an idea of what it looked like than usual. The extra spaces were littered with Foggy’s hastily-moved things, most of them still smelling of Marci’s apartment or storage.
“¿Vives aquí con el señor Foggy?” (You live here with Señor Foggy?”
“Hey, I know that was me!”
“Si, ambos vivimos aquí porque los dos nos vamos a encargar de cuidarte,” (Yes, we both live here because we’re both going to take care of you) he said. “Puedes confiar en él. Es un buen hombre.” (You can trust him. He’s a good man)
“I’ll figure out your crazy Spanish talk!” Foggy shook his finger at them. “Está bien, ¿quién quiere pizza? Juan, ¿pizza?” (Okay, who wants pizza? Juan, pizza?)
“En realidad no es estúpido,” Matt told Juan. (He’s actually not an idiot)
Dinner started out with some stilted conversation with Foggy’s broken Spanish and one overwhelmed kid, but the universal language of food and fizzy soda smoothed things over until it was time for Juan’s evening dose of antibiotics and pain medication. Foggy helped him shower for the first time outside of the hospital, keeping his arm dry and avoiding the stitches in his side. Matt could sense each time Juan flinched, but Foggy had some experience bathing children with cuts and bruises and he could be sensitive in any language, and wash hair with the no-tears shampoo and get him clean with minimal fuss and ready for bed in newly-purchased Spongebob pajamas, like Juan was a regular kid and this was a regular night with his two dads. Everything else could wait for tomorrow.
Matt waited for Juan’s breathing to slow down to indicate he was safely asleep before leaving his side and sharing a beer with Foggy – the last of their liquor, as child serves was coming by in the morning and they wanted to make the best possible impression.
“We’re gonna blow ‘em away,” Foggy said as they clinked their bottles together. “Upwardly mobile, overeducated, cosmopolitan gay guys looking to adopt? We should be on their promotional material.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It can be.” Foggy was optimistic as usual. “Just remember to wear your non-reflective glasses to the photoshoot.”
Buoyed by Foggy’s optimism, Matt retreated to his bedroom. It was hard to fall asleep. He was nervous and not used to so many people in what had previously been his personal living space. Foggy’s heartbeat was familiar and he still snored, but he was at least willing to wear one of those breath strips to keep it to a minimum. They would have to put up walls like other New Yorkers who were apartment-sharing to keep bills down so the space could be livable without them killing each other. He wasn’t sure where that would leave Juan.
He’d barely gotten to sleep when he was startled by movement. Juan was standing by his bed. “What?” It took him a second to switch into Spanish. “¿Qué pasa?” (What is it?)
Juan was shivering. Matt instinctively pulled him into a hug. “Oye, está bien.” (Hey. It’s okay)He tried to feel his face, but Juan buried his face in Matt’s elbow and hid from his fingers. “¿Qué pasa?” (What is it?)
“Quiero ir a casa,” (I want to go home) Juan said. His voice was high. He was trying very hard not to cry. “Extraño a mamá y a papá, y a mi hermano y hermanas, y a mi perro y...” (I miss my Mama and Papa and my brother and sisters and my dog and –)
“Lo sé, lo sé.” (I know, I know) He didn’t want to say the obvious. He knew it, Juan knew it, Natasha’s research had confirmed it. The only family he had to go home to was an uncle in Mexico City who he’d never met before. “Esto va a ser difícil. Mi papá también murió cuando era un niño. Él era la única familia que tenía. Estaba solo. Asustado. Pensaba que nunca sería major.” (I know this is hard. My dad died when I was a kid, too. He was the only family I had. I was alone. I was scared. I thought it would never get better) He finally managed to find Juan’s face and wiped away his tears. “Pero será mejor, ¿está bien? Te lo prometo. Toma timepo, pero sucede.” (But it does, okay? I promise you. It takes time, but it happens) He wiped his hand on his sleeve. “Cuando seas mayor, vamos a ir a México, y los vamos a visitar. Vamos a honrar sus memorias. Tienes que quedarte aquí y sanar.” (When you’re older, we’ll go to Mexico, and we’ll visit them. We’ll honor their memories. But right now, it wouldn’t be good for you. You have to stay here and heal)He knew without touching it directly that Juan’s stitches itched, and that his right arm was still burned and sensitive. He also knew he was trying not to show it. “Eres muy valiente. Creo que eres el niño más valiente que he conocido. Puedes superar esto. Vas a hacer que tu familia se sienta orgullosa.” (You’ve very brave. I think you’re the bravest kid I’ve ever met. You can get through this. You’ll make your family proud)
Juan hesitated, his fingers lightly plying at Matt’s shirt. “¿Puedo...?” (Can I ...?”)
Matt smiled. “Solo esta vez, ¿está bien?” (Just this once, okay?) He pushed Juan’s tiny hand against his chest and took a deep breath. Black Sky sprung to the surface, willing and eager, like it was trying to meet Juan’s palm with its own through a barrier of skin, only it didn’t have hands because it wasn’t a person. It felt ... confusing to Matt, like the own edges of his person were being mixed up in something else, but he could handle it because it made his Black Sky feel better, and that made Juan feel better, and that was his world now, and he was more than okay with that.
Even Juan knew not to hold the connection too long. He needed to back off a step, to reestablish himself as a separate entity, even if those were words he wouldn’t be able to understand, as Matt could barely understand them himself. But he wasn’t shivering and he wasn’t scared. “Me voy a quedar contigo, ¿verdad? ¿No vas a dejar que me manden a otro lugar?” (I’m going to stay with you, right? You’re not going to let them send me somewhere else?)
“No.” He took his hand and squeezed it. “Ahora esta es tu casa. ¿Está bien?” (This is home now. Okay?)
Juan was smiling. “Está bien.” (Okay)
And it was.