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When it was finally Matt's turn to spin the bottle, Foggy could see the diabolical urge to fuck with him across the face of every single person in the circle. He was half-tempted to let them do it, seeing as it was all Matt's fault they were spending their Friday night at a lame dorm mixer in the first place. Foggy had suggested a club, not that he typically frequented them, but eager to confirm if Matt truly was the chick magnet he believed him to be. But Matt said his ears were sensitive and couldn't stand the noise, and that no way in hell did he ever plan on dancing in public, period. Foggy decided that the resulting cellphone footage wouldn't be all that effective as blackmail against someone who couldn't see how much of an ass he'd made of himself anyway, and conceded to going to the mixer.
How 'college mixer' had dissolved into 'juvenile game of spin the bottle' however was knowledge he'd forgotten three drinks ago, and also fairly irrelevant at this point. Most of the participants were fellow law students he knew to see, and none of whom would he have minded kissing. The fact that there was only one other guy playing aside from he and Matt only sweetened the deal further.
As the silence stretched on, Matt began to reach his hand out, fingers splayed wide and searching for the bottle. "Who'd I get? I promise I don't bite," he laughed, awkward and self-deprecating and a little desperate. Foggy was about to put him out of his misery when movement within the circle caught the periphery of his vision. Marci Stahl had shifted on to her hands and knees and was steadily creeping toward Matt, despite the tip of the bottle pointing nowhere near her.
"Nothing wrong with a few teeth marks here and there, Matty," she droned, her sugar-sweet voice sending dual shivers of disgust and arousal through Foggy. Marci was the type he wouldn't put it past to fuck the blind guy just to say she could, and the sudden unbidden need to protect Matt manifested in Foggy glaring daggers at her as she slithered up beside him.
Matt's smile never faded, but his face froze in obvious discomfort as Marci leaned in close and brought her hands to rest on the sides of his glasses. They'd only been roommates for a few weeks, but Foggy figured that was long enough to have seen Matt without his glasses if he had wanted him to. He'd been pretty emphatic that his eyes were still there, but the frames were wide and dark, grazing his eyebrows and resting on the top of his cheeks, hiding everything from view. He didn't take them off until he went to bed at night, and he replaced them as soon as he woke up in the morning. He even wore them to the shower and to the gym. Foggy wasn't sure if they served a purpose, or if it was just something Matt was sensitive about, but he sure as hell knew Marci forcibly removing them in front of a bunch of people they barely knew was an asshole move, no matter how much she'd had to drink.
Marci took her time, and everyone in the circle held their collective breath, curiosity winning out politeness. Matt kept his lids closed at first, and Foggy grinned at the palpable disappointment on Marci's face. She brought her lips level to Matt's regardless, stretching the moment out as long as she deemed able to get away with, and was rewarded when Matt finally dragged his eyes open, just seconds before their lips met. Matt's eyes were a dark, honey infused brown. Glassy and unfocused, and not so much looking at Marci than in her general direction, but otherwise perfectly normal. Foggy's sigh of relief was considerably more pronounced than he had intended, but was luckily drowned out by the chorus of whoops and coo's as the kiss deepened into something altogether too intimate for a game of spin the bottle. Matt's teeth held Marci's bottom lip captive as she began to pull away, calling her earlier bluff, and she returned to her spot a blushing mess, a state Foggy wouldn't never have imagined her capable of. He placed his elbows on his crossed knees and let his head fall into his hands. Fucking Matt Murdock.
They excused themselves from the game as soon as Foggy had his turn, citing their empty drinks. Matt made no move to return after they had topped up though, instead leaning against the table with one hand in his pocket and the other around his drink, a forlorn expression etched into his features. Foggy really couldn't blame him; Marci had been a bitch to expose him like that, even though Matt's eyes were as perfectly lovely as the rest of him, leaving no reason for him to be insecure about them. But that wasn't Foggy's call, and so he settled in for a sympathy brood with his friend by the liquor table.
Silence never being his strong suit, he lasted less than a minute before he felt the need to say something. "Man, I wish you coulda seen Marci's face," he hedged, as conversationally as he could manage. "You destroyed her. Didn't think it was possible for her heart of stone to pump enough blood to make her blush that deep. It was extremely satisfying." He giggled lowly, remembering her smudged lipstick and gobsmacked face. Matt gave a polite, but humorless chuckle, taking a long swig from his drink to prevent any further need for reply. Foggy did the same, just to occupy his hands while he tried to think up more aimless topics of conversation.
"Hey Foggy?" Matt prompted after a few agonizing moments of coming up nil.
"Yeah buddy?"
"What do my eyes look like?"
Foggy laughed, the liquor, the ridiculousness of the question and a desperation for levity overtaking him. But Matt's face remained severe, leaving him to stumble over his words without the aid of humor. "Wh-what d'ya mean?"
"Just what I said. What do they look like?"
Matt's inability to see him did nothing to alleviate the uncomfortable weight of his gaze. Foggy was used to awkward, almost comfortable in it even, but Matt was his friend and this was heavy shit . He desperately didn't want to be an asshole. "Uh...brown? I dunno man, didn't you ever look in the mirror before you lost your sight?" Foggy pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to contain a sigh of self-exasperation. He was so, so bad at this.
Matt finally let his head drop, his fingers fidgeting against his glass as he let out a long breath. "Oh...well yeah, of course. It's just, no one ever told me. What they look like now. I know it freaks people out when I try and look at them without my glasses, so I always figured they weren't...normal. I mean, I did get a bunch of chemicals splashed in my eyes. That's gotta do something, right?"
"Uh, yeah, it fucking blinded you!" Matt cracked a smile at his indignant tone, but Foggy continued undeterred. "Is that why you wear those glasses like they're glued to your face?" Matt nodded. "Shit. Your eyes are fine, Matt. A little glazed over maybe, and not focused, but they don't have that, that milky look to them that you see on blind people in the movies. They're like a dark, amber-y brown. Like whiskey!" He giggled, reaching over to clink Matt's glass with his own before draining it. "I'm sorry Marci took your glasses off in front of everyone, but you honestly have nothing to worry about. Your eyes are actually very pretty. As if you weren't good looking enough already, you bastard."
Matt stayed silent for a few moments before his brows unknit, his hand coming to rest firmly on Foggy's shoulder. "Thanks, man" he replied finally, oozing that complete sincerity that made Foggy squirm with self-consciousness. Foggy shrugged. "Don't thank me, I just told ya the truth. Maybe now you'll take your glasses off around the dorm once in a while. Only douchebags wear sunglasses inside, Matt." Matt laughed in earnest then, the easy smile he had worn earlier finally returning to stay.
They decided to head back to their dorm after that, their buzz quickly elevating toward full-on drunkenness and the mood to party effectively deceased. Foggy sat down heavily on his bed, opening his laptop to double check his morning schedule while Matt got ready for bed, slipping off his jeans and sweater and, finally, his glasses. Foggy smiled to himself before returning his attention to the screen, while Matt began to grope his way to the bathroom.
By the time he returned Foggy was half asleep, still fully clothed and with his laptop open on his chest. Matt sat down on the edge of his bed, listening to the sound of his friends even breath and feeling lighter than he had in years.
"Hey Matt?" Foggy called out a few minutes later, voice slurred with sleep.
"Yeah?"
"If anyone ever tells you your eyes freak them out again, tell them I said to fuck right off." Matt laughed so loud their neighbor banged on the wall hard enough to knock one of Foggy's posters down, sending them both into an even louder fit of giggles. They pretended the subsequent screams of "Shut the fuck up!" went unheard.