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Foggy had never really thought of it as a power, or anything like that. He couldn’t jump from rooftop to rooftop or survive burning buildings or, like, crush people with his fists. Nah, he was just...a good hugger. Well, okay, he was sort of the best hugger, according to a lot of people, but that hardly warranted a superhero-esque alias.
Not that it was any good trying to tell that to Matt 'Stubborn Ass' Murdock.
“Cuddles.”
“What?” Foggy hoped his tone of voice was disgusted enough to convey his facial expression. “You get Daredevil and I get Cuddles?”
“You think Daredevil is a stupid name,” Matt pointed out.
“Yes, I do,” Foggy agreed. “But, one name being phenomenally ridiculous doesn’t counterbalance the ridiculousness of other names. Not to mention that ‘Cuddles’ is the most unimaginative name for a super-hugger ever.”
“I reckon it’s gonna stick,” Matt said, thoughtfully. “It suits you too well.”
Foggy frowned, feeling a familiar tingle in his chest. “Wait, do you need a--oh, no, hang on. It’s me,” he said with a huff, and wrapped his arms tightly around himself. “Look what you’ve done.”
“Aww,” Matt said, but beyond that made no effort to apologise to Foggy for making him self-hug.
“I hate you,” he grumbled.
Matt smiled and started getting back to work, fingers flying over his computer keyboard in a way that Foggy interpreted as far too chirpy. “Liar,” he said.
***
Foggy had always been a hugger and had assumed for a long time that the world was split into those who were and those who weren't. However, becoming a seasoned master in the art had taught him differently; there was, in fact, a spectrum upon which people fell, from ultimate cuddle buddies to keep-the-fuck-away-from-me buddies (everyone was a buddy, hugger or no).
Foggy was of the ultimate kind (if not the one and only ultimate). Karen wasn't too far behind and Marci was of the 'for five minutes after sex if you really have to, I can stand it' persuasion. Matt, though, was an odd one - Foggy had the urge to hug that guy at least twice a day but he’d always look vaguely askance if Foggy ever actually tried it, which made him what Foggy called a ‘reluctant hugger’. Always wanted it, but wished he didn’t. Tragic, really. Foggy had never understood an unwillingness to embrace the need to embrace. Embracing was the fucking best.
Which was why he usually offered, despite the askanceness. Sometimes, he even damn well insisted, because Matt was his best friend and Foggy couldn’t just ignore the warmth and fuzziness in his chest that meant someone was about to fall apart if they didn’t get a pair of arms wrapped around them, pronto.
“For fuck’s sake, Matt,” he wheezed as he stepped onto the roof, having started the journey from his own apartment at a run, which pretty quickly dissolved into a sort of trot, and then finally a well-intentioned walk. “Next time could you please wallow in your apartment? The stairs up here are a total bitch.”
Matt didn’t answer. He was standing at the edge of the roof and apparently doing that thing where he tried to listen to all the city’s problems at once. Whatever he was hearing was enough to make Foggy’s chest ache with heat.
“Matt?” Foggy walked over, feeling the sweat on his skin cool in the night air. Matt’s head was tilted to one side and he twitched every so often, following a sound or a smell for a second before it disappeared and was replaced by another. Apart from that he was completely rigid and still, right down to his feet. “Um...I’m gonna hug you now, before, like, I explode,” Foggy informed him.
“Mm,” Matt hummed, without moving. “I can feel how hot you are from here.”
“Uh, that might just be because I ran - basically - all the way here. And because I’m gorgeous, obviously. Although, yeah, my chest is really...yeah, right now, sorry you just really gotta have one--”
Foggy didn’t wait for Matt to say anything else - he didn’t look up for much more talking anyway - and instead went ahead in enveloping the surprisingly cuddly Devil of Hell’s Kitchen in a hug. Matt only remained still for another second, before relaxing, head falling onto Foggy’s shoulder and hands reaching around his middle.
“Nice,” he said, his appreciation muffled in the crook of Foggy’s neck. Foggy gave him an extra squeeze.
“I’m sort of a pro, if you hadn’t noticed. ‘Nice’ doesn’t cover it.”
“Sorry. I mean, um, ‘great’. Or ‘really good’?”
Foggy rolled his eyes. “Alright, don’t strain yourself.”
Matt laughed and started running his hand up and down Foggy’s back. They stood there until Foggy’s chest was back to normal and Matt was about as relaxed as he could ever be.
Foggy grinned. Cuddles: one. Daredevil: nil.