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“Foggy?” Matt called from the small bathroom that trailed from his – and his roommate, Foggy Nelson's – dorm room. He splashed water on his face whilst he waited for the assuring 'yeah' before continuing, “I've got class in fifteen. I'll catch you later, yeah? Should I grab takeout for dinner while I'm out?" He dabbed a towel to his face as he craned his head around the doorframe. Foggy shot his eyes up at the brunette, combing a strand of blonde hair from his face as he glanced back down at the time on the bright laptop screen.
“Nah, that's alright. I'll be heading out for a bit anyway. I'll grab something, I'm not gunna force the blind guy to get food," he said with a humourless chuckle, looking back up at Matt. Matthew Murdock. The guy he'd admired since he'd first walked into Foggy's dorm and introduced himself. His eyes lingered on his roommate for little longer than they should have, as he formed an idea. Thankfully Matt wouldn't be able to notice.
Matt let out a small sigh at that, as he took his cane with a firm fist. Matt usually did the cooking anyway. Foggy would probably burn water. “I'm perfectly capable of–” He was cut off by the other's voice, piping in to try and retrieve his own, regretted words, “Yeah, I know. Sorry.”
Matt nodded, and took his shades. After a moment of fumbling, he put them on, and unlocked the door to their dormitory. “I'll see you later on. Don't get yourself into too much trouble,” Matt poked slyly, giving his friend a small smirk. “Will do. Have fun,” Foggy mused in return.
The door shut with a reassuring *click* behind the brunette as Foggy was left for the next approximate hour and a half to stew on his ideas. He didn't have any classes that evening, thank god. He had the time to prepare a surprise for Matt, which, as it turned out, may not be a great idea, but at the time? The best idea he'd had in a long while.
A million thoughts rushed through Foggy's brain as he opened up a new tab on his screen. He didn't know exactly what to look for, and after all, being a college student meant he was on a tight budget, but he did know he had to do something. Something for Matt. He'd never been the greatest cook, or the greatest at arts and crafts. Actually, scrap that, he was never the best at anything. He received alright grades in his classes, but when it came to anything hands-on, not so much. But he could still try, right? He rifled through different recipes and do-it-yourself websites. Pinterest offered no help. Everything on there looked way too complex for the likes of his clumsy hands.
With a sigh, he set the computer aside, jumping up from the bed. The dirty, off-white tiles of the tiny adjoined kitchen were cool on his feet, the small gust of air from the bar fridge even cooler. The door of the fridge gave way after a tug, and Foggy bent over a little to look at the contents.
Great, he thought. He looked over what was in there with a scrunched up nose. A couple of eggs, sodas, a half empty carton of almost-expired milk and a couple of questionably squishy tomatoes. With a sigh, he straightened up and had a look through the cardboard box of miscellaneous pantry ingredients that sat on top of the fridge. They had a few small cabinets in their dorm, but the college appeared to have a cockroach problem, and neither of them felt particularly inclined to deal with it. So the box it was, a small box, filled with the essentials. Essentials being ramen and canned soup. The sight felt like a punch to Foggy's stomach, but he wasn't ready to admit defeat yet. He had to make something for Matt. He desperately wanted to. After digging around the box a little more, he found a small bag of spaghetti noodles. With a fist pump and a childlike grin, he took the bag, and the tomatoes from the fridge.
***
After class, Matt wandered through the dim hallway leading back to their dorm, catching smells of his roommates meal. He picked up tomato – no, wait, 8 day old tomato – and.. ramen seasoning? He furrowed his brow with a small sigh. It was never good when Foggy decided to cook, mostly when anything other than ramen was involved. Even then, the cooking was still usually up to Matt, or they ordered in, which explained the piles of pizza boxes and old Chinese takeout containers. Matt tried to always keep his side of the room clean, but Foggy didn't care as much.
Matt opened the door gingerly with a raised eyebrow at the sight before him – not sight as such, but rather the array of smells, paired with the blonde's pounding heartbeat. “Foggy?” he greeted, confusion evident in his tone. “What's going on?” Matt couldn't quite understand the fuss. He listened in for a moment, tuning in to each aspect of his surroundings. A feint scent of burning and a light crackling – candles, Matt. You're not an idiot. They have a name. Then there was the meal, of course, which he'd identified as pasta. But there was something else. Something vaguely.. floral? Had Foggy bought flowers? By this point, Matt was more confused than ever, and since Foggy was still fumbling over what to say, he relied on the others heartbeat to tell him.
His heartbeat. An almost familiar pace and beat, which he somehow identified with this one girl, this girl from elementary school. A vague picture floated through his head from before the accident; a young girl, with blonde hair and big brown eyes. The most crucial aspect of this, however, was that she'd had a crush on Matt. Foggy's fluttering heartbeat reminded him of the girl who'd had a crush on him.
That sudden realisation sunk down on Matt, weight crushing his chest, guilt even, for not taking as much notice of this sooner. Of course, there had been brief moments where the thought crossed his mind. The way he could feel how tense Foggy would become after even the lightest touch, or the small sigh that came after. His fluttery heartbeat, whenever Matt smiled or laughed. The warmth in his voice whenever he gave Matt a compliment. The compliments. Oh, the compliments. Scenes played over and over in his head, especially from when they'd first met. Foggy fumbling over his words. The heat emanating from his face. Matt felt like an asshole for not piecing this all together sooner.
“Oh, this? Ah, just something I uh, put together, y'know. You like pasta, yeah?” Foggy stammered, scratching the back of his neck.
“Yeah, pas– pasta's great, Fog,” he said, confusion and disorientation still blaring. “Why, though?”
“Oh, there's lots of reasons why pasta's great. Personall–”
Matt smiled at that. “No, I mean, why did you cook for me? And burn candles, and– and buy flowers?”
Foggy looked down at his feet, dismissing it with an I don't know, I felt like it as he shook his head.
With a sigh, almost of guilt, Matt tilted his head down to his feet. And as he looked back up, he heard the footsteps of Foggy walking towards him. “My good man, may I take your coat?” the blonde said, taking a breath of confidence and just going for it. If I'm going to make a fool of myself, he thought, I may as well make it worthwhile. Matt chuckled, nodding and removing his coat as Foggy took it from him and tossed it over onto one of their beds, which, thankfully, caused laughter from both of them. Hearty, genuine laughter, as Foggy looped an arm through Matt's and led him to a makeshift table he'd set up. Matt leaned into him ever-so-slightly and breathed the air deeply. The floral scent came back. “Roses, hm? Romantic,” he teased, smirking. The blonde's face turned a deep crimson. “Shut up.”
The small table was constructed poorly, from spare, cheap IKEA parts they had laying around – the dorm's furniture was okay, but they were quick to buy additional items as soon as their budget would allow it – and two paper plates sat on it, heaped with pasta. Foggy wasn't sure how it would taste, as he only really had the pasta, tomatoes, ramen seasoning, and a small tray of minced meat that he'd swindled out of one of the neighbours.
Foggy scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, probably.” The key word here was probably. The blonde took a seat opposite him, and picked up his plastic spoon. They had very few items of cutlery, a few plastic knives, forks, and spoons, but the majority of forks they owned had broken prongs. He'd been generous enough to let Matt use the single undamaged one. Matt gave him an unsure smile, as he felt for and picked up the fork, holding it gingerly. Silence loomed for a little while, not quite awkward yet not quite comfortable, either. Foggy was unsure whether he did something wrong by making this dinner, but Matt on the other hand was unsure what the whole situation meant. He had some idea, but he didn't want to jump to a conclusion verbally just yet.
The food wasn't bad. Mind you, it wasn't good either. It was okay. An improvement on the endless ramen and cup o' soup to say the least. The seasoning was an interesting addition. Matt couldn't decide if he liked it or not. It was... unique. He did, however, appreciate the effort. It was a change, to have someone actually want to put in effort for him, for someone to care enough about him. Foggy was kindhearted and loving towards him, he was almost like the brother Matt never had. His mind began to ponder this again. Maybe they were less like siblings and more like lovers. The brunette set his fork down for a moment, and leaned an elbow on the table. A too-heavy elbow, and with the weight, the scrap wood and paper plates came tumbling to the ground, scattering food and slacks of wood.
“Shit, Fog, I'm so sorry,” Matt apologised, his face resting in his hands. Foggy, on the other hand, immediately got down on the ground, desperately cleaning up the mess and shaking his head. “Nah dude, it's alright. My fault for the shitty table,” he reassured, looking up at Matt with a kind smile. Matt waited a moment, before getting down himself and attempting to help, blindly feeling for what he could, and trying to gather it up. He was so intently focussed on trying to clean up, but it wasn't working, as he had hardly any clue where anything was, and Foggy couldn't help but laugh.
“You're an asshole, Fog. I mean dinner was nice, but really? Laughing at the blind guy?” He teased, giving Foggy a nudge and a growing smile. Laughing and shaking his head, the blonde touched Matt's shoulder. “You've been laughing at me all night, Matt. I mean honestly, we've both made fools of ourselves.”
Matt thought for a moment. He wanted to bring it up, the whole 'do you have a crush on me' thing, but he really didn't want to embarrass him. As much as he wanted answers, he didn't want to have to embarrass Foggy for it. “That's true,” he agreed, shaking his head and grinning. Foggy found himself looking at his smile often. It was always so genuine and bright. Matt spoke again, breaking the other out of his gentle daze, “Speaking of which, I just– I wanted to ask you something.” Matt was biting the bullet, his shoulders a little tense.
“Oh my god, are you pregnant?” Foggy teased. Matt rolled his eyes.
“No. I wanted to ask you again about this whole dinner thing. About why you really did it.”
Foggy frowned at that, looking down at his hands. Picking up on the change in his heart rate, Matt spoke up again. “Foggy, I– Shit, I'm sorry. I just– fuck.” He rubbed his forehead, sighing. “Whatever reasoning you have behind this, I want to know. Just– I want to know if my theories are true.”
Foggy hesitated. He didn't know what to say. Was he really that obvious? After nodding for a moment, forgetting that Matt wouldn't be able to pick up on it, “Yeah,” was murmured quietly. “Yeah, Matt. It's true. I'm sorry.”
Matt blinked, his head tilted towards the ground as the two of them sat on the carpet. He rested his head on Foggy's shoulder. “S'alright, Fog.”
And with that, he gently took Foggy's hand in his own. The blonde looked down at them, and then at Matt, and at the mess on the ground. He couldn't help but smile.