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Matt hadn’t stopped smiling in hours, and it was starting to hurt. The ache in his cheeks was a testament to how much he’d been grinning.
But he didn’t care. Not when Foggy was sitting beside him on the couch, their shoulders touching, the warmth of his best friend filling the space between them.
Foggy had won the medium-sized thing from the office neighbors in a very legitimate game of rock-paper-scissors. The couch was nearing the end of its life when it was conceded. But it didn't matter. That exchange led to them reconnecting in the early mornings, working through lunches, and late evenings.
Now, their arms pressed together, Matt’s face hurts. To be fair, Foggy has been humming all day long and Matt has been touching Foggy constantly. Just because, Matt could.
He could hold Foggy's hand without pretending it was casual. He could lean in, feel the warmth of Foggy’s breath on his cheek, and kiss him just because he wanted to. And oh—he wanted to.
Matt shifted closer. His hand, warm and confident, sliding down Foggy’s arm, fingers curling around his wrist like he was grounding himself.
“You know,” Matt said, voice low, lazy with affection, “I’ve been wanting to do this for years.”
Foggy raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Hold my wrist?” he teased. The old case files in front of them long forgotten.
Matt let out a breathy laugh, then tilted his head and kissed Foggy's cheek—once, then twice. “No. Well, yes. And this.” He leaned in again, pressing a slow, reverent kiss to the corner of Foggy’s mouth. “And this.”
“You're going to wear my face out,” Foggy murmured, fingers curling into Matt’s shirt like he was anchoring himself, too.
“Good,” Matt said. “I’m planning on kissing you until it becomes a habit. My favorite hobby.”
Foggy laughed, the sound light and a little flustered. “You’re already there, Murdock.”
Matt hummed, satisfied. “Then let me make it worse.”
He kissed Foggy again—this time longer, more indulgent. Like he’d been starving for it. Like he was making up for lost time. His hand moved to Foggy’s elbow, then up his bicep, fingers curling in just to feel the shape of him. It was shameless. There was no need for restraint.
“You keep doing that,” Foggy said against his mouth, “and I’m never leaving this couch again.”
“Good,” Matt whispered, pressing another kiss behind Foggy’s ear.
Foggy scoffed, cheeks already pink. “You’re a menace.”
“You’ve known that,” Matt said smoothly, his voice dipping into that teasing warmth. “You just didn’t know I was stupidly in love with you. I’m your menace, Mr. Nelson.”
Foggy’s face flushed deeper, but he smirked through it. “You don’t have to see, hear, and think about my boyfriend. He’s smart, a fantastic lawyer, a great kisser, and so sexy, and even happens to be a secret ninja.”
There goes that breathy laugh. Foggy can't help but run his thumb over Matt's smile.
“My boyfriend’s the best, I assure you. I don’t think I’ll be able to ever stop thinking about him.” Matt said, voice low and warm to send shivers down Foggy’s spine. “He’s magnificent.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Jokes on him. He told me he wanted to spend his life with me, side by side. Now, I’m legally allowed to be insufferable about it.”
Foggy leaned in and stole a kiss. “You’re such a cornball.”
Matt’s smile widened. “Nope.”
“Oh, definitely,” Foggy shot back. “You act like you’re all cool and mysterious, but you’re just full of fluff. A romantic disaster.”
“You got no proof,” Matt said solemnly, then immediately ruined it by kissing the tip of Foggy’s nose. “I deny everything.”
Foggy couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m going to revoke your boyfriend privileges.”
“Impossible,” Matt said, catching Foggy’s hand and lacing their fingers together with zero shame. “Too late. You already kissed me. It’s legally binding.”
“Oh my god,” Foggy muttered, face fully red, but he didn’t let go. If anything, he leaned in a little closer, ducking his head against Matt’s shoulder with a quiet, “You’re lucky you’re hot.”
Matt used his hand to gently press Foggy closer and pressed a barely there kiss to his jaw, smiling. “I know.”
Foggy smiled as he pressed into another kiss.
Matt added, “I think kissing you might be my full-time job now… I’m never retiring.”
Foggy groaned. “Matt.”
“What?” Matt grinned, delighted with himself. “I’m unionizing.”
“I swear, if you make one more pun about kissing—”
Matt seized the moment, pressing his lips to Foggy’s again.
“Sorry,” he whispered against Foggy’s mouth, “I’m contractually obligated.”
Foggy could’ve sworn his eyes turned into hearts as he stared at his best friend, his partner — in more ways than business. “Let’s go, home, hot stuff,” with none of the sarcasm intended and so much adoration.
They took the long way back to Foggy’s place. Matt kept slowing down just to make the walk last longer, brushing his hand along Foggy’s side like it was the most natural thing in the world. Foggy had started to lean into it without thinking, smiling in that shy-but-proud way that made Matt’s heart clench.
The sun was setting when they got to Foggy’s building—soft orange spilling across the sidewalk, casting golden shadows that Matt couldn’t see but felt like he could feel in the warmth radiating off Foggy's skin.
They climbed the stairs, Matt still holding onto Foggy’s arm loosely, lazily, like he didn’t ever plan to let go.
Foggy fumbled for his keys, made all the more difficult by intertwining his fingers with Matt’s. Matt was too busy smiling as Foggy muttered about keys, door hinges, other domestic nuisances. Then the door opened.
Something was different.
Matt paused on the threshold, his brows pulling together, head tilting slightly as he stepped in.
“Wait,” Matt said, voice softer now. “This… this isn’t how your place usually smells.”
Foggy blinked. “Uh… maybe I did some cleaning?”
Matt walked forward, fingertips trailing lightly along the wall, the edge of the couch—everything familiar, but somehow new. And Matt inhaled sharply.
“You got rid of that loud old air conditioner. And the shaggy rug. And you moved the lamp away from the window. And... did you re-wash everything in—.”
“In an unscented detergent this time. Yes, I did.”
Matt turned.
“Foggy.”
Foggy’s heart was stuttering. Matt set his glasses next to Foggy's keys to meet Foggy’s eyes. Foggy must be blushing by the heat in his cheeks, and something else like a brand new overwhelmed way of breathing.
“What?”
“You rearranged your apartment.” Matt stepped closer, reverent now. “You rearranged your living space for me.”
“I mean, not all of it—just the stuff that made it harder for you to get around. Or stuff that was annoying when you stayed over, like the AC noise, or the way that lamp always blew out your sense of direction in the dark—”
He would have teleported if he could. Matt beelined to the love of his life and kissed him.
The kiss was a tidal wave, crashing over them, pulling them closer. Foggy’s eyes fluttered shut as Matt’s hands found his waist, holding him steady.
Matt’s heart pounded fiercely. This was what he’d been waiting for all along.
When they finally parted, Foggy blinked fast, cheeks flushed and breath ragged. “So I’m guessing you like it,” he whispered
Matt’s hands framed Foggy’s face tenderly. “You changed your home for me.”
Foggy shrugged, utterly in love. “Well… yeah? You’re kind of important.”
Matt’s expression crumpled. Like the rug was pulled from beneath him. Like he'd been hit with an uppercut. He was pinned to the mat, fighting back tears. But in a way that was new, and wild, and welcome and not painful at all.
He had to kiss Foggy again. Foggy was right there.
This kiss was slower. Matt’s thumbs brushed Foggy’s jaw, and he was practically beaming into it, mumbling between kisses.
“I’m so in love with you.”
Kiss.
“I don’t deserve you.”
Kiss.
“You’re—Foggy, you’re killing me.”
“Good,” Foggy breathed, a little dazed, finally catching his breath. “You’re annoying when you’re cool and confident.”
Matt laughed and pulled Foggy in again, arms wrapped around his waist, like maybe he’d just live in that hug for the rest of the night.
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Matt said into his neck.
“I love you too, Matty.” Foggy wrapped him in his arms, like he’d never let him go.
He wouldn’t.