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Foggy had known, or at least suspected, that Matt had been a pretty lonely child growing up. He didn’t really talk about it, but he was a nerdy, blind kid who grew up in an orphanage. That wouldn’t really make someone popular. But he had always assumed that Matt had had at least one friend before college. Right? One kid from the orphanage that Matt could relate too? One kid from school that was kind and even friendly to Matt?
Foggy himself had only had one real friend when he was a kid, but that had been enough for him. And it wasn’t like he didn’t know anyone else from his school or his neighborhood. He just hadn’t really been super close to that many people. One close friend was enough. So now Foggy’s lying on their dorm floor, just starting to feel a comfortable buzz, regaling Matt with epic stories of his childhood adventures.
“So then we spread the noodles everywhere ! It was epic! And also a giant mess. But most just epic. No one could ever prove that we did it either. We totally got away with that one! Brett and I referred to it as the ‘Noodle Incident’ to avoid suspicion. You should feel privileged that I told you. I’ve never told anyone that story!”
Matt lets out a little huff of laughter. “That’s avoiding suspicion?” (He would latch onto that particular detail. He’ll make a brilliant lawyer some day.) “How many incidents with noodles could possible have occurred at your school?”
“Hey! Significantly more than you would think, buddy! I think my mom always suspected that I had something to do with it. You know, the teachers went so far as to send out a notice to all the parents about it! I think they were hoping that some parent would extract a confession from some unfortunate kid. That may be the only time I’ve ever gotten away with lying to my mom.”
“Yeah? What about the other trouble you got into as a teenager? You know that Candace told me stories at Thanksgiving. So many stories. All the stories, Foggy.” (And yeah, sounds like Matt’s heading into drunk territory.) “Sounds like you were quite the criminal as a teenager.”
“All lies!” Foggy proclaims with as much offense as he can muster. He’s unable to keep the laughter out of his voice though, and he knows that Matt can hear it. “Candy doesn’t know anything about my teenage years! She can’t be trusted!”
Matt quickly devolves into giggles at Foggy’s earnest (if fake) indignance against his baby sister. “Maybe I should find this Brett and ask him?” he suggests evilly.
“Noooo.... Matt, you can’t! We’re not friends anymore! We’re frenemies now. You can’t just call up my best frenemy and ask him about all the trouble I got into as an adolescent!” But Foggy is laughing so hard at this point that he’s not sure that Matt can even understand anything he’s saying. He’ll just have to be extra careful not to let Matt ever find a way to contact Brett. “Plus! Plus, Matt!” he exclaims triumphantly, as if he’s found the solution. “It wouldn’t be fair! You can’t call my child frenemy for dirt on me and not return the favor! I’m positive that according to statute eighty-three of the friendship code that’s illegal!”
Matt’s face falls slightly at that before returning to his previous smirk, though slightly less genuine now.
“’Fraid not, Fog,” he says reluctantly. “There’s not really anyone you can call.”
And, wow, that’s like a sucker punch to his gut. Foggy feels his own smile slide off his face. “I’m really sorry, man. That was really shitty of me. I shouldn’t have made assumptions.”
“No big deal. You couldn’t have known. I should have said something earlier.”
And he sounds so positively convinced that this is his fault. That this was some crucial information that he should have given Foggy when they met. “No, buddy,” Foggy replies. “That’s not on you. You’re allowed to have secrets, you know? Not everything is shareable.”
Matt shrugs with fake nonchalance that Foggy can see right through. “I’ll just have to live out all my childhood fantasies of rebellion through you. Got any more stories worth telling?”
From his awkward angle on the floor next to Matt, Foggy can just see a ghost of Matt’s previous smile return. So he quickly flips through his memories of teenage disasters, trying to recall the least incriminating ones he can. “Oh, boy. You have no idea, Matty. Okay, let’s see.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Let me tell you about the time that handsome, playboy Foggy Nelson, and his dashing sidekick Mahoney attempted to smuggle vodka into a double date at the movie theater.”
Matt chokes loudly on the sip of scotch he just took. “What?! Foggy, that’s awful!”
“Oh, believe me, I know. My parents caught us. I got so many lectures that night. We lost our dates. And, worst of all,” he says dramatically, “debonair teenage Foggy found out that he hates vodka that fateful night.” Foggy sighs in fake gravity. “Truly a tragic night. One of the worst. My mother even threatened to call the police on us.”
Matt had fallen back into mad giggling as Foggy recounted his misfortunes. Secretly Foggy counts it as a win.
“Okay, Matt. You are really drunk,” Foggy observes, pulling the bottle of scotch out of Matt’s hand, the other man protesting weakly from his spot on their hideous carpet. “One more story and then you, Matthew Michael Murdock, are going to bed!”
Matt looks sullenly in Foggy’s general direction (a little high and to the left), muttering something about Foggy not being his parent and the unfairness of the use of middle names.
Foggy chuckles at that, moving the nearly-empty bottle to his bedside table. He pulls himself up from the floor, moving to get ready for bed. “Okay, this is really the last story Murdock,” he begins. In a minute or two he’ll need to pull Matt off the floor. And probably help him to bed as well. Matt’s a lightweight if Foggy’s ever seen one, and the scotch he’s been sipping on for the past hour will catch up to him soon. But for now, he settles into his familiar night routine, enjoying watching Matt lose it on the floor as Foggy regales him with epic and not at all embarrassing stories of his delinquent escapades and minor criminal activities.