Work Text:
Foggy was well aware the world was rarely kind to women. Especially women who don't exactly fit the picture for 'mating material' that an unfortunate amount of men had decided to base which women they respected in any measure and which they didn't off of. Foggy was well aware, because as a heavier set woman, she had dealt with the effects of patriarchal beauty standards on how the world perceived her for almost as long as she could remember. Her body had always retained weight. It was just how she metabolized things. It was what it was, and most of the time she didn't care what other people thought about her based on her appearance. But there were days where it was hard not to.
It felt so fucking dumb too, that's the ridiculous thing. It was just a dress, at the end of everything, but the dress size was the size she was in other stores. It looked like it would fit. It should fit, and even if it didn't, it was just a dress, so who cares? Except that the zipper on the back just wouldn't zip all the way, and sometimes Foggy thought she really hated just having a body. It wasn't that she hated her body, it's more that she hated the way the world perceived her body. Sometimes it felt like the world remembered people her size existed mostly as an after thought.
Mary Murdock wasn't without her faults. Many many faults. But she was gorgeous by anyone's standards. It was such a little thing, compared to what Mary must experience as a blind woman. Knowing she was also struggling with the perceptions of society, unsurprisingly didn't make her feel better. Logically speaking, Mary actually probably understood this struggle as well, because women's sizes are never universal, but they are universally stupid. This did actually make her feel a bit better, but it didn't make Mary miss Foggy's distress when she walked into the room.
"I don't think I've heard you sound so upset since the bangs incident. What's going on?"
Foggy was no longer crying. Which was her saving grace in this moment. She clung, a little desperately, to that lack of tears. When she spoke though, she did sound a little…for want of any better term at all, wet.
"It feels so stupid. It feels so fucking stupid Mars."
"Come on, baby, sweetheart, light of my life, I promise I won't judge. I dress up in a red Devil costume on a nightly basis. I literally have no ground to stand on."
"It's just…that stupid dress I got, it won't zip. And saying it out loud it sounds just so stupid. But it just sucks to be reminded of a beauty standard that I just don't meet."
Mary hummed softly, and reached a hand out to rest in Foggy's honestly a little messy hair. She pursed red lips, and Foggy couldn't help but stare as she did so.
"You know my feet are so big that I have to order shoes from a site for drag queens? And most dresses are mini dresses on me."
Foggy found herself letting out an ugly snort of laughter. Mary adopted a self satisfied grin.
"Besides who cares about dresses, you could wear a trash bag and still have inhumanly soft skin and the best, fluffiest hair on the planet."
Foggy was used to Mary petting her hair. Something about the layers of the shaggy wolf cut and the texture her shampoo and conditioner gave it set off Mary's happy touch sensors.
"Mars," Foggy laughed; "I couldn't wear a trash bag. It would set off your super ears!"
"Ah, how very thoughtful of you Fogs. I'm sorry my super ears are getting in the way of your trash bag apparel dreams."
It was easy to lean against Mary and laugh. It was always so easy to lean on Mary, who had never actually cared about what she or anyone else looked like. Actually before Foggy, Mary's type had almost exclusively been hot and deadly. Elektra Nachios being the prime example of Mary's taste in women and Frank fucking Castle being her taste in men.
Her taste was so genuinely bad that Foggy did believe her when she said she didn't care about looks, because no matter how undeniably hot both of them were, no amount of looks could make up for how indescribably bad an idea they both were to date. Well…what Mary had done with Castle was actually hate fucking if anything. She had also briefly had a thing with Deadpool and as much as Foggy wanted to condemn that, she actually liked Wade a lot. She did kind of get it. Still, point proven. Hot and deadly was Mary's forte. If it was a bad idea, Mary was hornier for it than the rose bushes in Sleeping Beauty.
"Seriously though, Fogs, my dear, my darling, my absolute angel. You know I think your absolutely, magnificently, gorgeous, right?"
Foggy leaned up to peck Mary, softly, on the lips. She pulled away, lips a bit stained from Mary's lipstick. Mary held her like she was precious, in a way she was fairly sure she'd never held Elektra or Frank. This, what they had, sappy as it may be, Foggy had always thought was something spectacular. She knew Mary thought so too, in moments where Mary held her like this, and kissed her back soft and sweet. She knew it when Mary called her an angel, only half joking. She also knew it in the way Mary let herself relax around her. The way the lines of her body were loose as she pressed Foggy against her, all of it whispered "I trust you", "I love you, "I love you."
"I know Mars. You know I think you're a living goddess even if you have huge feet?"
"Hey! Fuck you Fogs, I was just making a point about how awful women's sizes are."
"They are really dumb."
Mary's arms were a nice weight around her. A companionable silence stretched between them. It was a long moment before either of them broke it.
"I love you. So much. No dress fitting or not fitting could even imagine putting a dent in that."
"I love you too you fucking sap."