Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The office atmosphere was a little strange that week. It was not bad, precisely. Mostly, it was tense. The ease with which Matt and Foggy had always behaved around each other was lost. Their conversations were stilted and rarely ventured from the professionalism of the job. Not once did Foggy suggest the three of them go out for drinks after a successful day.

Karen supposed it was better than that time when Matt and Foggy had been avoiding each other. She did feel a bit guilty when Matt acted like he was walking on eggshells around her.

“What the hell did you do to him, Page?” Foggy did manage to ask one night after Matt had gone home and only the two of them remained. Karen was finishing up some research on an assault and battery case while Foggy seemed to be doing little more than pacing around his office.

“Nothing!” Karen protested immediately.

“Yeah, you did,” Foggy snorted at her obvious lie. “He’s got that bloodhound look on his face whenever you’re in the same room. That man is waiting for you to make a fatal error.”

“That bloodhound look?” Karen asked skeptically.

“You never saw him in mock trials. He drove more than one person to tears. Matt looks cute and harmless, but he can be ruthless.” Foggy shot her a pitying look. “You’d better fix it, or he’ll go straight for the jugular the next time you slip up.”

Though she wanted to deny it, she knew it was true. Karen had noticed that Matt, for all of his uneasy interactions with Foggy, had been treating her differently as well. He was distant. Cold. Far more so than usual.

She waited until Foggy went on his lunch break and cornered her other boss in his office that Friday afternoon.

“You’re still mad at me,” she declared point-blank.

Matt’s hands stilled over the pages of braille on his desk.

“It seems like you worked things out with Foggy,” she grimaced and added, “Sort of.”

His jaw clenched, head giving the slightest of jerks. It was almost a dare. Go ahead. Dig that hole.

Karen never had been good at backing down from a challenge.

“Are you just going to keep giving me the cold shoulder? We’re supposed to go out Sunday,” she challenged. “You going to keep this child act up in a social setting as well?”

She watched, curious as his hand came up to yank the earbud away. His chin lifted, sunglasses aiming right for the door, an approximation of a man looking directly at Karen.

“You were completely out of line,” Matt said bluntly. “I don’t appreciate being attacked in my own home.”

“If it would get your stubborn head out of your ass—”

Karen cut herself short. Papers flew, the cheap wooden desk chair clattering back, nearly toppling, and Matt was on his feet snarling at her.

“No, Karen,” he snapped. “If I want to keep something to myself, I have that right.” She opened her mouth to retort, but he bulldozed right over her. “You can ask. You can ask. But I told you to back the hell off, and you ignored me. As my employee—as my friend—you don’t get to do that.”

It stung because it was true. Karen blinked back reflexive tears. He was right, and she did not deserve to indulge in self-pity over his anger. Releasing a shaky breath, she gave a jerking nod.

“You scared me too,” she whispered. It was not the right thing to say, but he really needed to know.

“I know.” He sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, shoving the glasses up and adjusting them as he took his hand away. “I’m sorry for that. I could have handled it better. But, Karen—”

“I just—I’m sorry.”

She wanted to hug him again. Partly because he looked so much like a dog confused at why his owner had just kicked him but bracing to be hit again. Mostly, she wanted the comfort of knowing she still could. That it was even allowed. But Matt was distant at the best of times, and sudden displays of affection tended to be met with confusion or alarm. Foggy had tried to explain the blind thing, how unannounced contact was unwelcome for someone who could not see it coming, but Karen just knew there was more to it.

“I just want you to be okay,” she said miserably.

“I’m fine, Karen.” Matt reached back, hand fumbling with his chair until he returned it to its proper place. He sat and reached for the papers which were no longer on his desk. Frowning in confusion, he felt around a bit before leaning back with a defeated sigh. “Can you, um…?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah.”

Karen hurried to pick up the fallen pages. She could not read or organize them properly, but Matt seemed to have no difficulty arranging them in their proper order as she handed them over. Soon, his desk was back to the controlled chaos of before, and Karen floundered for something to say.

Matt gave a low, annoyed grunt and looked at her again.

“I’m not going to attack you, no matter what Foggy thinks,” he said flatly.

She flinched. She had not realized how obvious she was being. Matt sighed and got back up. Karen ducked her head, which was ridiculous when she thought about it. Matt was blind. He could not tell when she was not looking at him.

“Karen?”

His voice was not much closer. Matt had stepped to the side of his desk, and his hand was held out, reaching toward her, palm up. She wanted to take it, to pull in and feel his arms around her, but she couldn’t. She stared at the hand, so steady and calm when she had been the one to drag him kicking and screaming into a light he was not ready to have shed on him.

“I’m so sorry,” she said again.

“I know, Karen.” He said it in the same way he might have had she just informed him that the sky was blue, or that two and two was four. Exasperated, impatient.

“You’re still mad.”

“Yes.” Those dark eyebrows went up, as if to ask, what did you expect? “But I’ll get over it. And in the interim, I promise not to throw things at you when you get close.”

Incredulous laughter bubbled out of her at the ridiculous remark. He was such a dork. Both Matt and Foggy were. It was no wonder they got along so well. There was little choice but to give in and take the hand he had yet to retract. The man was too damned patient.

Matt smiled wearily and squeezed her fingers. For a moment, Karen thought he would pull her into a hug. Admittedly, she was disappointed when he cleared his throat and retracted the hand, but she understood. It would take time.

“I think I hear Foggy in the hallway,” he said abruptly. “He might need some help carrying lunch in.”

He was right, of course. Karen would never know how he did that.

Sunday started out warm and humid. Karen slipped into a breezy skirt and tank top and the most comfortable pair of sandals she owned before heading out to meet Foggy and Matt. They agreed to meet at the coffee shop on Hudson. The crowds were lighter there, most of the people clustering at the beginning and middle of the parade route rather than hovering at the end.

It was still hectic getting there.

Karen found her boys camped out on the curb outside the shop in question. Foggy waved her over, looking weary but cheerful. He looked odd in slacks and a polo. It was something just a shade more casual than what he would wear in the office, and she had to wonder if he even owned anything that was not business appropriate. With how much their office made (or failed to make), she supposed he might not. Either way, he looked like he needed that iced mocha in his hands. The heat of the afternoon was not going to be pleasant for him.

Matt, on the other hand, looked completely content drinking from a steaming cup of whatever fancy blend he chose that morning. He had opted for jeans and a tee shirt. It was a good look on him, but then, most things were.

Except the sweatpants. Not even Matt’s ass looked good in sweatpants.

“Here!” Foggy thrust a bag and a cup into her hand as she sat beside him on the curb. “I got you a scone. Matt picked it out, so if you hate it, blame him.”

A quick peak in the bag revealed it to be an orange scone. The coffee was an iced mocha, like Foggy’s. He must have ordered the coffee while Matt picked out the snacks. It was a good choice.

“Thank you.”

The crowd was getting a bit heavier around them. Some people had brought blankets to sit on. A few even brought camping chairs. It looked far more comfortable than the concrete beneath them. Of course, those people probably had cars. Still, a blanket might have been nice.

“When does the parade start?”

“Technically, they call it a march,” Foggy corrected. “Actually, it doesn’t start for another two hours.”

“It starts at noon?” Why the hell were they here so early? And why were they taking Matt to a parade anyway? It was not like he could see any of it.

“And considering how we’re at the end of the route, I would put it closer to three,” Foggy added cheerfully.

“What the hell are we going to do for three hours?” Karen demanded.

“Actually, I thought we could wander the festival,” Foggy declared.

Judging from the look on Matt’s face, this was news to him as well. Foggy seemed not to notice the bafflement on his friends’ faces.

“They’ll just be setting up booths now, but we can wander around and get the layout of the land,” he said. “And we can take turns telling Matt about all the wild rainbow-colored outfits we see.”

“Oh, I already saw someone wearing a pink and purple tutu and what I’m pretty sure was a blue swimsuit,” Karen said. Foggy blinked. Matt turned his head toward her, eyebrows rising behind his sunglasses. The man could almost pass as sighted on a bright day like this. After all, more than half the people out that day were wearing sunglasses. “And purple jelly shoes. She’s going to have blisters by the day’s end.”

Foggy gave a sympathetic wince.

“Jelly shoes?” Matt asked blankly.

“Glittery purple,” Karen rolled her eyes, but it was Foggy’s response that shocked her.

“Oh, uh… seriously?” Foggy looked back at Matt incredulously. “I thought you’d have seen before—they’re these weird plastic-like shoes girls wore all the time in the eighties. I guess they’re back in style?”

“Not really.” She should not have been surprised. After all, as a man, why should Matt know what Jelly shoes were? “Oh! I picked these up on the way over.”

It was always entertaining the way Matt’s head tilted at certain sounds. The motion was reminiscent of a canine. But unlike a dog, his ears could not move independently of another. He compensated. His head would angle beyond the natural turn, moving in a constant, twitching shift to adjust to the best angle to listen to a specific noise. He did it again as she pulled two beaded chains from the stack around her neck. Foggy grinned and grabbed one.

“Hey, thanks!”

“Hold still, Matt,” Karen ordered.

“What are you doing?” Matt protested when she tried to maneuver the strand over his head. “What is that?”

“They’re Mardi Gras beads, Matt,” Foggy explained. “Rainbow beads. Come on. Get in the swing of things.”

Humming distractedly, Matt ducked his head and let Karen drop the beads around his neck. He fussed with them curiously, even setting aside his coffee so that he could run his hands along the beads before letting them fall against his chest. They were a bright patch of color against the monochromatic theme of his grey shirt and blue jeans. And grey hoodie. The insane man was sitting on a sweatshirt, which he pulled on as the three of them stood to leave.

She supposed she should not be surprised. When the rest of them were sweating it out, Matt always seemed to be perfectly comfortable in a full suit. Not only that, but he would be the one person not wearing a hat in the dead of winter. The man was just not affected by extreme temperatures in the way that most normal people were.

Karen sipped her coffee and ate her scone as they made their way toward the vendor’s booths. Most of them were either bare or hidden behind heavy canvas, not to be ready for another hour. A few were open to be seen but in the process of being set up.

Foggy found an information stand almost immediately. Karen and Matt hovered beside him as he flipped through the brochure, Karen attempting to read over his shoulder while Matt simply stood and listened to them banter.

“It’s got a schedule,” he explained. “What’s happening when at the mainstage, and when the parade starts—like I hadn’t already found all this on the website—hey! A map!”

Armed with a vague outline of the location of booths and vendors, Foggy led them down a street already blocked off from vehicle traffic. Matt clung to his left arm, his cane folded up against his chest, apparently trusting that they would inform him if there were any major obstacles in his path. Karen obliged by announcing whenever they reached a curb, and Foggy made certain not to lead him into any posts.

Karen was not sure why Matt was not using his cane. The crowds were not bad yet. And it would have given him an excuse to avoid the guy trucking around a dolly stacked high with bibles.

“Excuse me? Excuse me!” He ambushed them from the side. Karen had not even seen him approach. “I just want you to know, God will forgive you your trespasses if you repent and turn to Christ for salvation. You do not have to live your life in sin.”

“In sin?”

Foggy snorted as Matt tilted his head at the man curiously. Karen opened her mouth to tell the guy off, but Foggy waved a dismissive hand. His smirk and half nod in Matt’s direction had her frowning but closing her mouth. Because Matt looked genuinely confused as the bible-thumper (okay, so Karen was already stereotyping him; she couldn’t help it) launched into the horrors of homosexuality and premarital sex.

“Ah… I see,” Matt murmured. “Thank you, but I already had this discussion with my priest.”

The man’s face went comically blank.

“What?”

“Are you Catholic?” Matt asked curiously.

“Ah… Lutheran.”

“Oh… Which is like Catholic, except the pastors can get married and have children,” Matt mused. To Karen and Foggy, he added, “It’s like Catholic light.”

Karen giggled.

“I always thought Lutherans were really liberal,” Matt turned his attention back to the man with the bibles. “Misconceptions. Thanks anyway, but I’m not interested in converting.”

“Converting…?” The poor man was baffled.

“From Catholicism,” Matt said reasonably. Back to Foggy and Karen he said, “Father Lantom said he’d be out here. Apparently there’s a Catholic booth. Foggy, is that on the map?”

“You’re—”

“Oh, keep the bible,” Matt offered the man a rueful smile and held up his collapsed cane, clearly white with red. “I have a hard time with standard print. I imagine you’re not lugging around the braille volumes. Those are bulky and heavy, not exactly pocket sized.”

“No, sorry, I…”

“It was nice to meet you,” Matt tugged at Foggy’s arm lightly. Foggy grinned and shrugged at the befuddled man, once again taking them down the sidewalk. Karen followed suit, and the three of them made it another twenty feet before she and Foggy broke into hysterical giggling.

“That was amazing,” Karen decided.

“People are entitled to their opinions,” Matt said mildly. “Now, I smell a lot of sugar.”

“There’s a mini donuts stand!” Foggy crowed.

“Ugh. Foggy.”

“Do not deny me life’s small pleasures.” Foggy aimed straight for the food stand in question. “Delectable sugar.”

“And grease,” Matt grumbled. “So much grease.”

“Don’t give me that. I’ve seen you eat an entire Lucci’s pizza by yourself—”

“When I was twenty-t—”

“—and the Pad Thai last week. Don’t tell me how much MSG you were inhaling there, buddy—”

“Which was not recipe for a mouthful of cavities—”

“Hush and let me enjoy myself.”

“Live a little, Matt,” Karen finally jumped in as they both seemed to be running out of steam in this odd argument. “One mini donut won’t kill you.”

“I’m not eating that,” Matt recoiled when Foggy shook the bag out toward Karen. It was nowhere near him, which made it all the more entertaining. She was tempted to shove one in his face, just to see his reaction. The awareness that she was still skating on thin ice with Matt was all that kept her from continuing the torment.

Foggy kept up his mild banter as they wandered through the streets, pausing at the occasional open booth to see what they were setting. A lot of them were businesses—banks, grocery stores, window installation companies. From what Karen could see beneath canvass and paper labels, many of the booths were thematic merchandise—shirts, bandanas, jewelry, and the like. Even more were going to be run by nonprofit organizations, informational booths about every walk of life. There were a surprising number of booths run by religious organizations, including, as Matt had suggested, one operated by a local Catholic church.

Matt’s priest was not present. At least, he was not there yet. Karen was not sure if Matt was relieved or disappointed. He did not give much of a reaction either way.

“He’ll probably be here later,” Matt remarked mildly. “Sunday services run until eleven thirty.”

“Skipping mass, buddy?” Foggy chided.

“I went last night.”

“Of course you did.”

It felt almost normal, this light back-and-forth. Karen could almost pretend they were just out for the day, wandering through a street fair. Instead of a hundred different handcrafted jewelry and sculpture pieces, there were vendors hawking information. Of course, there were some businesses. Xfinity had a booth. If you spun a wheel at the grocery’s booth, you could win a host of such exciting prizes as pens, chapstick, or a coupon for ten percent off your purchase at any location. Endless opportunities.

They stopped at a few of the semi-open vendors. There was one selling rainbow themed everything. Karen contemplated the various string bracelets.

“I used to make things like this when I was a kid,” she announced, holding one up for Foggy to see.

“Friendship bracelets?”

Matt ran his fingers over the threads when Karen held it out to him.

“Nothing this detailed,” she admitted. “I wasn’t that good at it. But it was a thing. Everyone made these.”

“I never made them,” Foggy pointed out. “Matt?”

“Not out of string,” Matt said absently.

Karen looked at him in surprise, but Foggy had already caught Matt’s attention by the sunglasses.

“Let’s take a look, buddy,” Foggy ordered. “Off.”

“I like my glasses,” Matt protested even as he did as Foggy asked. The red-tinted glasses came off, revealing sightless brown eyes. “They’re comfortable.”

“You look like Harry Potter got sunglasses, buddy,” Foggy retorted before promptly shoving another set of dark-lensed frames on Matt’s face. The frames themselves were as far from Matt’s own pair as a set could get. They were thick and plastic and, yes, brightly tinted to the colors of the rainbow. The frames were more squared, shaded red, orange, yellow, and green, while the bows were purple and blue. They were also far too large for Matt’s face. “Karen, what do you think?”

Matt tilted his head in her direction, offering an almost perky smirk.

“Oh, very attractive,” Karen snorted. She grabbed another set, smaller and more streamlined. Their only concession to the rainbow was in the way the mirrored lenses seemed to change color with each angle. “Try these.”

They had their fun, making Matt try on various shades while Karen and Foggy tried on more and more outrageous shaped sunglasses as well. Karen ended up purchasing a simple pink and blue-framed pair for herself while Matt staunchly refused to be parted with his own.

“They have UV protection, Foggy.” Karen could hear him laughing as Foggy argued right back.

“How do you know? Can you see the difference?”

“You were with me when I got them!”

“And you trusted what I told you? I just liked the red shades, man!”

“You—you weren’t lying! God! You’re a dick!”

“Takes one to know one, pal.”

The crowds grew thicker as the hour ticked on and more booths opened their flaps to the public. Karen was flattered when a petite woman with cropped brown hair, wearing board shorts and a sports bra winked at her in passing. Foggy nudged her with an elbow and rolled his eyes.

“Was there any doubt, Miss Page? You are extremely attractive,” he announced. “Matt found you after all. He’s got, like… hot chick spider senses.”

Karen flushed and laughed delightedly while Matt spluttered and tried to spit out excuses.

They found a stage where there would be singing and lip-syncing performances later. Already there were several people dressed in outrageously colored outfits and dresses and wild wigs and makeup, milling about and chatting with each other by large speakers. Nearby, more food stands were firing up their grills and preparing to sell whatever greasy fare they offered.

Just as the fair was officially starting, Foggy crowed out triumphantly.

“Found it!”

Confused, Karen poked her head out of the stall—selling various rainbow-themed animal accessories that she did not need but could not help but coo over—to see Foggy suddenly grab Matt’s hand and start off down the path. She quickly followed. She did not want to miss what had caught Foggy’s attention.

When she saw it, she felt a bit like she had been punched in the chest. Her breath caught in her throat, guilt rising as realization struck hard and fast. This was why Foggy had insisted they go to Pride.

It was a small booth, tucked between two much larger and brighter venders such that it was almost lost. Unlike many of the sponsored tables, which had rainbows and brightly colored banners and signs everywhere and half a dozen people excitedly greeting the crowds, this one was plain by comparison. The banner was white and purple and gray and black. The table had brochures and a bowl of candy, business cards and some magnets. There were three chairs but only two people currently manning the booth.

Stunned, Karen could only trail along until they reached the booth, where she promptly picked up a brochure.

Asexuality.

“Hi.”

Karen looked up in surprise at the greeting. She should not have been alarmed. Everyone manning all the booths had been friendly and open, welcoming anyone and everyone to join their discussion. The woman who had greeted her was welcoming but less friendly. If anything, she seemed a bit wary, eyeing Matt and Foggy with barely veiled suspicion.

“Hi,” Foggy offered an easy smile. The woman behind the table relaxed. “So we’re here because I’ve got a hundred questions, and this idiot needs to know he’s not a freak.”

“Foggy, what—” Matt was suddenly hunched in on himself, hands away from his friend and fiddling with his folded cane. Foggy caught his elbow, refusing to let him leave. “Foggy—”

“Okay, less of a freak show than he thinks,” Foggy bulldozed right over Matt’s protests. “Because he’s still very, very strange. And a complete nerd. But maybe someone here can tell me all about this, because I only know what I read on the internet, and I’m pretty sure Matt only knows what the nuns taught him in grade school.”

He completely ignored Matt’s indignant, “Foggy!”

Now both the woman and the man behind the table were looking at them with interest. Foggy blustered on, as was his wont. Karen knew he was the best lawyer around for this very reason. He had a great ability to speak until people accepted what he said as truth and acted upon it.

“So I was thinking, until you guys get busier, we could dominate a bit of your time,” Foggy said. “Miss…?”

“Bree,” the woman held out her hand, which Foggy shook. The man did the same, offering, “Kevin,” as his name.

“Bree and Kevin,” Foggy repeated, then added, “I’m Foggy. This is Matt and Karen. Bree, I wondered if I could bother you for your chair. If I give you—what’s the going rate for soda out here—ten dollars, could you take Matt and get us a few drinks while I talk to Kevin for a while?”

“Foggy, what are you doing?” Matt protested when Bree grinned and promptly did as requested. He floundered when Foggy released his arm to claim Bree’s chair.

“You’ll just stand there all silent and stoic if we stick together, and part of the point here is for you to get your questions answered,” Foggy said easily. “And frankly I don’t want you eavesdropping on me either. We can converge later, once we’re all fully informed, and have our feelings talk.”

“Feelings talk,” Matt grumbled. “That is just cruel and unusual.”

“We can’t all repress like champions.”

“You’re a dick.” Matt said for the second time (that Karen had heard) that day.

“Care to join me, Matt?” Bree held up the ten-dollar bill and smiled at Matt lightly.

Matt sighed and unfolded his cane. Bree looked a bit startled, confirming Karen’s earlier thought that the bright sun made Matt look like any other guy out there. The woman had not guessed Matt to be blind. There was a bit of negotiation before Bree held out her arm to Matt, who took it and followed her away down the path.

“No eavesdropping!” Foggy called out, though Matt was getting far away enough that there was no way he was hearing anything said in a normal speaking volume.

Matt released Bree’s arm long enough to flip Foggy off.

“He’ll be okay with her?” Karen asked, torn between laughter and concern.

“You think that five-foot-four, hundred-pound woman is going to overpower Matt and whisk him off into human trafficking rings?” Foggy snorted. “I already told you. Matt can take care of himself. Now,” to Kevin he said, “Just to be clear, you’re actually asexual, right? Not just… some academic who sort of knows about it?”

It was an appalling question, certainly one Karen would never have had the nerve to ask a complete stranger. Kevin seemed rather stunned himself. A moment later, he just laughed and shook his head incredulously.

“Yeah,” Kevin said bemusedly. “You?”

“Bisexual,” Foggy replied like this was something guys chatted about regularly. “Generally, all about the sex. But, uh… Matt…” Foggy leaned back in his chair, finally showing some discomfort. “I fucked up with him a little while ago, and I need to not do that again, so here we are. I just… what can you tell me?”

Kevin looked at Foggy, searching him openly before shrugging and leaning back as well, crossing his arms and legs unexpectedly. Karen realized, as his eyes found hers, that he was closing off because she was standing there listening.

“And you?”

“I don’t want to know about their personal life, but I would like to know about this,” Karen held up the brochure she had picked up earlier. “I… didn’t really know this was a thing.”

Kevin gave her the same search he had given Foggy. Then, he nodded and looked back to Foggy.

“I’m assuming you tried to pressure him into something he didn’t want,” Kevin said cautiously.

“No!” Foggy protested. “No, of course not! Well—” Karen winced sympathetically as Foggy frantically backpedaled, and Kevin looked skeptical. “Well, I kissed him. In my defense, we were both completely drunk,” Foggy added, as though that made anything better. “And I totally backed off when he started freaking out. Karen was there. She can tell you—”

“You both are utter disasters,” Karen said wryly. “You deserve each other.”

Foggy shot her a dirty look. Kevin snorted and shook his head.

“Anyway,” Foggy quickly moved forward, “we talked.” At Karen’s raised eyebrows, he added under his breath, “Or had a series of misunderstandings which led to a shouting match, which ultimately ended up with me realizing that I needed to dump his ass in front of this booth because he clearly thought there was something wrong with him, and while there are a lot of things wrong with Matt, I’m pretty sure this isn’t one of them. There isn’t, is there?” Foggy looked at Kevin urgently. “This isn’t one of those things where I should be sending him to a doctor… right? Because I’m pretty sure it would take an act of God to get him to actually talk to anyone.”

“Hold up. Deep breath, okay?” Kevin ordered.

Foggy grimaced but fell back against his chair. He had been leaning forward, pushing progressively further into Kevin’s space in his sudden display of anxiety. Karen understood. She had suffered through similar thoughts the previous weekend. Still did, if she were being honest with herself.

“First off, you’re right,” Kevin said bluntly. “There’s nothing wrong with your friend. Most people who identify as asexual don’t have any specific reason for it. It’s like any other sexual preference—you don’t become gay because you’re afraid of the opposite gender. It just is. Unless he told you he’s got some reason to be averse to sex…”

“Uh… no,” Foggy was starting to look panicked again. “But Matt doesn’t really say much—”

“He wasn’t hurt like that, Foggy,” Karen assured him.

“How the hell do you know that?” Foggy demanded.

“Why do you think he kicked me out last weekend?” Karen offered a tight smile. “I bullied the answers out of him.”

“I knew there was a reason he was a breath away from tearing your throat out!” Foggy cried triumphantly.

“We talked,” Karen sighed. “I apologized for haranguing him.”

“I can’t believe you got him to admit to anything,” Foggy groaned. “That man faces down vicious criminals and snarling detectives, but our secretary—”

“Office manager,” Karen corrected archly.

Kevin coughed.

“Right!” Foggy came back to the topic at hand. He looked vastly relieved. “So no weird experiences with the priests. But what I don’t get is all the girls. I mean, he had this revolving door on his relationships.”

“Yeah, that can happen when you’re figuring yourself out,” Kevin waved off Foggy’s concern. “Especially when you’re ace.”

“Ace?”

“Asexual. And without talking to your friend, I can’t tell you much about him in particular, but here’s what I can say: You want a relationship with him, right?” Kevin looked at Foggy, who nodded urgently. “Then you’re on the right track with what you told him earlier. You have to talk. You’ve got to set boundaries. Let him set the boundaries he needs and don’t question them. If he wants to explain something, let him. Whatever you do, don’t belittle or try to tell him he’s wrong. Because he’s not. Just because someone doesn’t have the same urges as you doesn’t mean he cares any less or is any less invested in a relationship than anyone else. Got it?”

“Set and respect boundaries,” Foggy said succinctly. “Got it.”

“Okay,” Kevin seemed startled at Foggy’s comprehension. Karen was not surprised. She knew Foggy, and while he seemed to think less of himself in a lot of ways, she knew he was brilliant. Plus, he was a people person. Foggy saw people. While Matt had a jaded sort of outlook on life, Foggy was genuine and kind in a way Karen loved. Matt had made Karen feel safe and secure from the bullies of the world. Foggy made Karen feel safe from herself. It was a quality few men possessed.

Matt would be an idiot to reject what Foggy was trying to do.

It was possible. Karen had seen him do it before. She could only hope that the lesson had been learned, though she really doubted it.

After his lecture, Kevin opened the floor to Foggy for questions. He seemed genuinely intrigued as Foggy peppered him with question after question. Karen read through the pamphlet she had picked up earlier, keeping half an ear on the answers Kevin gave and another eye out for when Matt returned.

The information was interesting. When she got to the section about the sliding scale of sexuality, everything started making sense. It took her through asexuality at its base—complete lack of a desire for sex—to demisexuality and aromanticism and how they were different.

Because Matt was a romantic. She could see it in everything he did. He had a passion for his work and life unlike anyone else she had ever known. Foggy had the morals and the desire to help, but Matt was the driving force in Nelson & Murdock. Karen knew that without Matt, everything they were as a company, as friends, would not exist. If left to Foggy’s beliefs, she would probably be in jail. Or dead.

She did not blame Foggy for this. There was no way he could have known she was innocent of that murder. But Matt. Somehow, he believed her, and he had pushed his partner to help her. She had never really thanked him for that. Nothing beyond a bad pan of lasagna. Karen was not even sure how she would.

Another woman showed up, smiling and greeting Karen as she looked curiously at Kevin and Foggy before taking up the third chair.

“I’m Kelly,” the woman, whose short hair was dyed a bold purple, told her. “Do you have any questions?”

“I think between this,” Karen held up the brochure, “and listening to Kevin and Foggy have answered the most of them. I think the rest will be up to my other friend to explain.”

“You’re an ally then?” Kelly asked.

“I guess,” Karen smiled uncertainly. “I never really thought about putting a label on it.”

Kelly grinned.

“It helps for some people,” she pointed at the pamphlet in Karen’s hand. “Sometimes knowing there’s a word for it, knowing there are others like you. It helps.”

Karen thought back to that quiet morning, with Matt leaning over her, murmuring desperately. Is just a prudish thing. A Catholic thing… you start to wonder what’s wrong with you. She wondered if she could get one of these brochures printed in braille.

“I hope it does,” she murmured.

Matt’s familiar laugh drifted in as Kelly turned to dig into her bag and produce a bottle of water. Karen could not hear the words of their conversation, but she would know that voice anywhere. She looked up and smiled at the sight of Matt and Bree coming down the path, arms linked while their hands were busy trying to juggle five bottles and Matt’s cane. Matt was doing fairly well, though he stumbled a bit when the path dipped unexpectedly.

They reached the booth safely, and Matt unerringly set a bottle of Pepsi on the table in front of Foggy. Karen would seriously never know how he always seemed to know where Foggy was. The man had a sixth sense.

“Special delivery for Foggy Nelson,” Matt said grandly.

“Man, you got me a Root Beer?” Foggy immediately complained. Matt’s face went blank with confusion. “You know I hate Barq’s!”

Karen snorted, which promptly ruined the gag. Matt shuffled back, features twisting oddly as he seemed to volley between annoyance and amusement. Finally, he seemed to settle on humor.

“It’s customary to tip the delivery boy,” he mocked.

“It’s bad form to ask for tips,” Foggy shot back. “And I paid for your cab fare and that lemonade you’re drinking, buddy.”

“Details,” Matt dismissed. “There’s a band playing a couple blocks over that sounds like fun. Rumor has it, Foggy has some serious moves.”

“It’s tragic,” Foggy sighed. “You never dance with me, buddy.”

“No one wants to see that,” Matt snorted. He tilted his head, though Karen was not sure who he was aiming for until he spoke, “Thank you for the conversation, Bree.”

“Anytime, Matt,” Bree replied, and Matt corrected, chin jerking slightly to the right until his face was aimed in her direction. Karen did not have to wonder why he bothered for long. He held his hand out to her. Bree rolled her eyes, took his hand, and yanked the startled man into a hug. Comically bewildered, Matt stood awkwardly for a moment in the petite woman’s embrace before cautiously wrapping an arm around her shoulders and squeezing gently in return.

Foggy received two hugs—one from Kevin, and one from Bree. Karen was not offended when no one hugged her. She was too busy floating on cloud nine when Matt found her arm and held out a bottle of lemonade.

“I’m sorry I harassed you last week,” Karen said softly while Foggy was busy getting hugs and phone numbers. “I guess I just didn’t understand that…” she winced and corrected, “Well, I didn’t understand.”

Matt looked uncomfortable about the whole thing, but he managed a smile.

“That makes two of us,” he admitted.

“Still mad at me?”

He gave a halfhearted shrug and shook his head, that minute movement that was just so Matt. It was not much of a response. Her answer really came when his fingers gripped her arm a bit too tight on Foggy’s approach, his shifting blatant and uncomfortable. He was using her as a shield, and while that was not something Karen wanted, a small part of her was relieved that he at least considered her a safe point in this mess.

“Okay!” Foggy blustered into their space, all smiles and relief. The cheer dimmed a bit when he laid eyes on Matt, whose bravado had evaporated, leaving behind the twitchy, anxious man hovering at Karen’s elbow. Foggy managed to force the smile again, turning on his heel and offering his own elbow to Karen. “A little bird told me there’s a concert we cannot miss. Shall we?”

Karen glanced at Matt. He fiddled relentlessly with his cane, shifted his weight again—the world’s most obvious battle against the fight or flight instinct—and gave a sharp nod. Grinning broadly, Karen turned back to Foggy.

“Definitely.”

Foggy’s smile became a bit more genuine.

“Matt? Where is the concert?”

Another twitch. Matt chewed on his lip before pointing down a path adjacent to the one he and Bree had used to find soda. Karen was not sure if he knew a path was there or if that was just the place where he recalled having heard the music earlier. It hardly mattered. Foggy certainly did not question it. He simply aimed himself down the path, and the three of them were off.

They never made it to the concert. The crowd started to build, and Matt became an unexpected drag on Karen’s arm the farther they went. As Karen had her hand on Foggy’s arm, this meant all three of them slowed down.

One glance over at them, and Foggy redirected them to the edges of the fair. Matt gave no protest, and Karen did not care where they went as long as she was with her boys, so they found their way to a small restaurant off the beaten path.

The whole situation felt surreal. Matt balked at the booths, instead requesting a table. The seating arrangements put Foggy and Matt across from each other, but neither man seemed to think this was odd. Karen held her tongue on the matter. It really was none of her business after all.

So they kept to safe topics. Karen and Foggy described any extraordinary outfits or hairstyles and colors on people who walked by or in to the restaurant. Foggy made friends with a young transgender woman while waiting on the restaurant’s single restroom. Matt fiddled with his Mardi Gras beads and pretended like they could not all tell he was anxious as hell. Foggy was harder to read, but he talked louder and with fewer breaks than usual. Karen suspected he was equally nervous.

She let them fake their way through the rest of lunch and made no protest when they ditched her after. Oh, they were nice about it. They even walked her to her apartment. But they ditched her.

Karen kissed Foggy’s cheek and gave Matt’s hand a light squeeze before sending them off with a threat.

“No staying out late partying, you two. You’ve got a meeting with Mr. Garcia tomorrow at nine.”

“Ugh,” Matt grumbled. “Isn’t one of the perks of our own practice getting to set our own hours?”

“One of the perks of being flexible is maintaining happy, paying clients,” Foggy retorted. “So we can keep the lights on.”

“Now we need lights? You two are so high maintenance.”

Karen laughed and waved good-bye and hoped to any god who might be listening that Matt’s white-knuckling of his cane was simple nerves and not a sign of impending implosion. With these two, it could go either way. She would find out the next morning if they were still talking to each other.

Nothing changed. Not really. Despite the complaints, Foggy and Matt came into the office by eight the following morning.

They arrived together, which Karen would have liked to have taken as some kind of sign, but she knew better. Foggy frequently met Matt and walked with him to the office. This was a habit he had picked up as soon as the weather turned that spring. More often than not, the two walked together to the office. The only thing this continued habit indicated was that their friendship was still in good standing.

Garcia showed up ten minutes early, and their week became a rush of clients. Some paid in cash. Most came with baked goods. If nothing else, they would not starve.

“Blueberry crumble!” Foggy cheered when he saw what Mrs. Luella dropped off Friday morning. “I know what my dessert is tonight.”

“I suppose it’s in poor taste to request something other than desserts as a form of payment,” Matt sighed.

They were done for the day. The office door was closed, though not locked. Neither Matt nor Foggy liked to turn away someone in need if they were present to help. It was just another one of the reasons Karen adored these two men so much.

She laughed at Matt’s disgruntled face. It was wonderful to feel like she was back on an even keel with him.

“I’ll start putting it in the billing,” she told him. “For family disputes, desserts. Assault charges, we’re upping the cost to a main dish. Are casseroles acceptable, Mr. Murdock?”

“Murder one requires both a protein source and a vegetable,” Matt threw back. “At least.”

“You two are ridiculous,” Foggy informed them. “Pack up. I’m thinking this needs a drink.”

Karen smiled brightly, only to feel it fade when Matt grimaced and shifted on his feet. Foggy noticed it as well and scowled.

“Matt—”

“I need to run a couple errands,” Matt stated. He quickly added, “I can join you after?”

It was better than his usual offer. Foggy sighed and rolled his eyes.

“You’d better.”

“I’ll be there by ten,” Matt promised.

A bit of back and forth had Karen agreeing to meet Foggy at nine. They would head over to Josie’s together and secure their seats. If they were lucky, they would get their turn with the pool table. Matt had already proven adept at darts, able to hit the board almost every time once he got a feel for the distance between himself and it. They had hustled a couple frat boys out of a hundred dollars some weeks ago that way. Karen had to wonder if he could be taught to do something similar with other bar games.

She paused on her way out the door.

The boys were in Matt’s office, speaking in voices too low to be understood. Matt nodded in response to something Foggy said. He finished tucking away his laptop and leaned back in his chair, angling his face toward the other man and offering a faint smile. Foggy had his back to the door. Karen could see nothing of his face. Still, there was no mistaking the tenderness as his hand reached forward to ruffle at a fluff of hair before bracing and holding Matt in place, so he could lean forward and kiss the man’s forehead. Matt caught Foggy’s hand and returned the gesture, mouth light against Foggy’s knuckles.

Karen called out to them, her smile stretching to a grin when Foggy jumped and looked over his shoulder at her bright, “See you later, guys!”

“Karen! You’re still here?!”

Matt laughed at Foggy’s horrified stammering, though his own face was flushed as well. For once, Karen decided she would let their embarrassment pass.

“Not much longer,” she pointed out. “See you at nine?”

“Later, Karen,” Matt offered, when Foggy failed to respond.

Nodding, feeling warmer than she had in a long time, Karen left the office.

She did not know what would happen between those two. Nor was she certain what to do about this fluttering in her chest that happened every time Matt got close.

But for the moment?

She felt good.