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It’s two in the morning and they stumble out of Josie’s, drunk and giggling like old times. The rhythmic tapping of his cane against the ground filters through Matt’s mind and Foggy’s sudden laughter overtakes it for a moment. He stumbles a little bit to the left, nearly tripping over a bump in the sidewalk and Karen snorts, reaching out to steady him.
“You’re Daredevil,” she stage-whispers, pushing him over and he almost falls, brain short-circuiting as he zones out, making sure no one overheard her. “Supposed to be better than this, Matt.”
In his defense, it’s hard to focus on walking straight while focusing on tuning out the overbearing sounds of the rest of the world while also focusing on not vomiting while also trying to make sure Foggy stayed within range because the last time Foggy wandered off this drunk, Matt had to go down to the precinct to pick him up for stealing dogs.
Brett hadn’t really been all that amused.
Karen, on the other hand, thought it was hilarious.
“Foggy,” she yells, disappearing from Matt’s side. “Foggy, no, put down the cat!”
The cat in question is mewling loudly but not struggling. Matt stumbles in their general direction while Foggy whines.
“I’m calling him Mittens,” he drawls as Karen attempts to tug the poor cat from Foggy’s unfortunately tight grip. “’Cause he’s got these little- little mittens!”
“Foggy,” Matt slurs, nearly tumbling over as everything goes sideways for a minute and his stomach lurches backwards. The ground, covered in grime and dirt and what smells like two day old vomit, is unfairly cool to the skin. Despite the grossness of it, Matt’s tempted to just press his face to it and go to sleep but Karen groans audibly and tugs him up.
“Matt. Matt. Maaaaaatt,” she huffs into his ear.
Unthinkingly he pats her face then pushes her away easily because everything is warm and hot and he can’t breathe in it. She doesn’t seem to take offense to the shove, sighing deeply as she strings her arms around Foggy’s waist, leaning into his side.
“Fog.” She snorts. “Frog.”
“It’s Foggy, Karen,” Foggy says, somehow sounding sophisticated and disciplined. The tone is steamrolled by his following giggle and needy reaching for Matt. “’N that’s Matty.” His face tucks into her hair, arm dropping and pulling her closer as his voice slides to a whisper. “Matt’s Daredevil.”
“I know,” Karen laughs. “Darefrevil.”
Foggy lets out a bark of a laugh and Matt feels a little insulted, swatting at Karen with his cane. She giggles and stumbles away.
“Abuse! I should- should file a report,” she says and Foggy laughs again, swaying loosely. “My blind- blind employer keeps hitting me.” She gestures at nothing. “With his cane. I need- need protection.” She keels over giggling before lurching at Foggy and stumbling straight into. “Daredevil save me.”
“Ha!” Foggy says, slinging an arm around Karen’s waist. With his free hand, he cups his mouth and shouts, “DAREDEVIL!”
Karen giggles and does the same. “DAREDEVIL!”
“DAREDEVIL SAVE US!”
Karen pushes Foggy gently. “Save me,” she says.
Foggy snorts. “Save me,” he says. “You.” He prods her softly and she swats at his hand. “You have pep- peppeeeeer spray and- and a gun. Matt.” He waves at Matt insistently. “Karen has a gun!”
Matt knows this already, having smelled the distinct trace of it on her purse long before she touted them along to a gun range to show off her skill. But Matt doesn’t say this, pushing his glasses up his nose and prodding at Foggy’s legs with his cane as he slips into his Daredevil voice to imply seriousness.
“I think you two should get home.” His Daredevil voice is clearly not taken as seriously as it should be as Foggy and Karen curl over each other in laughter.
“Batman voice!” Karen giggles. “You were right!”
“I. I know,” Foggy says, turning around as he flags down a cab.
Matt frowns. His voice does not sound like Batman.
Karen eases into the cab, kissing them both wetly on the cheek before mumbling something about calling in sick tomorrow. Foggy laughs in agreement and steps away but before Matt can close the door, Karen tugs him down a little more by his tie.
“Foggy’s hot,” she says and there’s nothing but seriousness in her voice and truth in her heart. “And if I tap that before you-” She bops him on the nose. “-no more deviling, Murdock.”
Matt doesn’t quite understand what any of that means, half due to his inebriated stated and half due to the fact that ever since they met three months ago, Karen has smelled deeply of Claire’s overwatered coffee and namebrand shampoo.
He’s still lost when he stumbles into his apartment and crashes into a drunken sleep on silk sheets.
-
Foggy is faceplanting the floor when Matt walks into the office the next day and if it weren’t for the smell of roach spray from the building’s infestation the week before, Matt would probably do the same thing.
Karen, as usual, is perfectly fine, drinking coffee and filing through case folders. While dropping a file onto Foggy, who groans loudly, her head shifts in Matt’s direction and she nods. “Morning.”
He nods back. “Morning.” Poking at Foggy with his foot, he says, “Foggy, get off the floor.”
“Never,” Foggy whines. “The floor is my new home, Matt. I’m never leaving it.”
“It looks unprofessional,” he says, reaching out for the coffee Karen’s offering.
There’s a shift of clothing and Foggy says, “So do you.”
Karen snorts and Matt frowns. “What?”
Foggy’s face curls back into the floor. “Your socks are mismatched and you’re wearing your St. Paddy’s 'Kiss me, I'm Catholic' tie, buddy.”
“And you tucked your jacket into your pants,” Karen says slowly, taking on a long and deliberate sip of her coffee.
Matt winces, the noise piercing. “Those. Those were all done. Deliberately,” he insists, marching over to his office.
If, when he emerges for lunch, he’s wearing a different tie, his jacket flowing over his pants and his socks rolled down to his ankles, well those things just happen in an office setting when you’re sitting and trying to make yourself comfortable.
“Sure,” Karen says, disbelievingly as she prods Foggy who hasn’t moved since Matt arrived. “Foggy, go for a coffee run.”
He lifts his head up. “Why me?”
“Because you have not done any work,” Matt says, taking his lunch from Karen’s hand.
“Yes, I have,” he mutters. “I found out where the ants are coming from.”
“And while that is wonderful,” Karen amends, “I need coffee.”
Foggy sighs deeply but gets up anyway. Matt hears him fiddling with the petty cash box before disappearing out the door. In the second after the door clicks shut, Karen throws her chopsticks at his face. He blinks as he catches them.
“I assume you’re not testing my reflexes?”
Karen ignores that and says, “You know you look like one of those dogs tied to a lamppost whenever Foggy leaves a room right?”
“What?”
“Yes, it’s a very mopey, ‘when will my owner come back from war’ look. Not dignified and makes me want to feed you treats,” Karen continues, dropping a thing of sushi into her mouth.
“I do not look like that,” Matt insists.
She swallows audibly. “Yes, you do and it’s sickeningly sweet and is also the reason Mr. Groban decided not to acquire your services for his break-in accusation.” Karen rips off the top of her soy sauce packet and squeezes it all over one piece of sushi. “He thought you’d be too busy salivating over Foggy’s beautiful ass, rather than focusing on his case.”
“I don’t salivate,” Matt says. He prods at a lettuce leaf with his fork, hearing Foggy enter the building and gives up on trying to deter her from her insistence that Matt likes Foggy. “I admire.”
She snorts. “Either way, if you don’t get a hold of your feelings or get a hold of that booty, I’m getting on that.”
Matt lets go of everything he knows about privacy and snaps, “Aren’t you dating Claire?”
“We’re not sure about that yet,” she says easily and Matt’s miffed. “It’s mostly just kissing on her couch and complaining about you.”
He doesn’t get a chance to retort as Foggy takes that exact moment to burst in, holding their coffees and already into a story about what happened on the way back.
-
That night, when they all leave the office, Karen pinches Matt’s side as she leans over him to kiss Foggy’s cheek. “Be safe,” she says pleasantly, swirling around and heading off. “And watch out for Matt! This sidewalk is very uneven.”
Foggy chuckles, sounding a little lost but otherwise amused. “Yeah, okay, Karen. Night!”
Matt’s about to wish her the same when he hears her very clearly whisper, “Get on that, Murdock.”
Matt huffs, a little annoyed. “Good night, Karen!”
He ignores her little bubble of laughter and begins walking off. Foggy follows easily, his arm barely brushing Matt’s outstretched one. Foggy’s chattering about something but Matt’s mostly distracted by Karen’s insistent whispered innuendos and ends up almost walking right into a lamppost. He’s a little bit pleased that the street is sparse tonight because he really doesn’t need anyone to see him faceplant into a lamppost.
“Matt!” Foggy’s trying very hard not to laugh if his breathing is anything to go by. “What happened?” His voice drops, laughter ripped out of it. “Someone need help?”
“No, no, I-” He breathes in deep and is a little lost in Foggy’s smell of Cheetos and vanilla coffee and cheap lavender laundry detergent.
Alright, so Karen wants him to try and smooch Foggy? He’ll do it. It probably won’t work since Foggy’s heart stopped racing for him halfway through the spring semester of their second year of undergrad but, fine, he’ll give it a go.
“No, it’s just- Karen was right. This sidewalk’s really uneven,” he says slowly and he can hear Foggy’s breath hitch as he starts to say something. Quickly he interjects, “It might be easier if I just hold onto your arm.”
“You sure, buddy? There’s no one arou-“
“Yes. I’m sure,” Matt says quickly, grabbing Foggy’s elbow eagerly.
“Alright,” Foggy says and his heart beats slow and easy. They head off again and Foggy rolls right back into his story about his niece. “As I was saying before you faced right into that post, something of which I am totally telling Karen about by the way, Suzie was on the monkey bars and she was going on and on about being the queen, which, of course, made Daryl distre-”
“You know, what? It’ll probably be easier if we go arm in arm,” Matt cuts in, locking his elbow around Foggy’s. “Won’t bump into anyone this way.”
“What? Matt, there’s no one-”
“You’re right,” Matt says, dropping his arm to grip Foggy’s hand tight and sidle up closer to him. There’s a distinct uptick in his heartbeat and Matt grins loosely as Foggy’s breath hitches. “This is better,” he murmurs straight into Foggy’s ear.
Foggy stills, his heart in a race, breath locked in his throat and Matt waits.
And then everything flatlines out, steadying.
“Okay,” Foggy says and he squeezes Matt’s hand. “So where was I? Oh, right! Daryl. Okay, so Daryl’s distressed about Suzie being queen because he wants to be queen and so-”
Matt does not understand what just happened.
Not in the least.
-
Over the week and the following week, Matt tries harder and Foggy doesn’t get a clue and Karen flirts heavily and Foggy flushes and his heart races and Matt doesn’t feel jealous, what does he have to be jealous for?
“Because your lifelong crush of three years doesn’t return your love,” Claire says, cutting the string. She doesn’t sound the least of all saddened by his predicament, though this is probably because she’s spent a good year and a half sewing him up from near death and that kind of thing seems to have made her immune to Matt’s charms.
It’s probably the hitman’s fault, he thinks vaguely. She did seem a bit distressed at the fact that he fell over the edge of her building.
“You should be annoyed too,” Matt says, rolling his newly stitched-up shoulder. “Karen is your girlfriend, right?”
“Maybe,” she says disinterested.
“Well, her flirting with Foggy should upset you.”
“It doesn’t,” Claire says easily. “Because her flirting with Foggy will go nowhere so I have nothing to worry about.” She snaps her first aid kit shut and pushes it back under her table. “Now try not to get stabbed anytime soon. I do like sleeping through the night.”
Matt pauses at the window. “Karen help you with that?”
Claire pushes him out the window and he laughs as he hits the railing of the fire escape. When he flips off the fire escape and hits the ground, he hears Claire say, “Just tell him you like him already or I’m gonna talk Karen into kissing him. Lips and tongue and everything, Matt.”
She shuts the window before he can say anything back and, frowning, he hustles off home.
-
“So, Foggy, how about you and me go to dinner tonight?” Karen says.
Their doors are wide open, the windows pushed open to beat the summer heat turning them all into crisps and Matt can clearly hear Karen hop onto Foggy’s desk. His heartbeat stammers and shifts. Matt stands up, not really sure of what he’s going to do but with the deep intent that it will be something.
“Uh, sure. Guess we could talk Matt into taking off-”
“No,” Karen says sharply and her fingers glide over Foggy’s tie. Her perfume parades throughout the office, bittersweet and clogging Foggy’s vanilla aroma. “I meant just us,” she murmurs.
Foggy swallows audibly and Matt kicks his chair back. “Like- like a date?”
“Yeah, we can have dinner and then maybe go back to my place and-” She tucks a piece of hair behind Foggy’s ear, her face way too close to his. “-I’ll let you touch my face.”
In a metaphorical sense, Matt sees red.
In a literal sense, he feels, tastes, smells and hears red, every little bit of it marking into his skin and boiling over in his chest, and storms right over to Foggy’s office and heaves Foggy into a very persistent kiss.
In his defense, it did seem like a very logical thing to do.
Karen whoops and Foggy laughs against Matt’s mouth as he pulls back. He’s warm in the way that either means attraction or the burning of the summer sun and his heart beat is too steady to confirm the first. Matt stiffens.
“Thank you, Karen. Expect a ten cent raise effective Monday,” Foggy says, squeezing Matt’s hand.
“Twenty cents and a day off,” Karen corrects, sidling out of his office. “I’ll call Claire.”
Matt doesn’t understand what’s happening.
“What?”
Foggy squeezes Matt’s hand. “So maybe Claire and I made a little bet that you’d never confess that you like me a little bit more than just friendly without a heavy bit of prompting and jealously.” Matt stiffens. “And maybe I talked Karen into helping me on the agreement that she get to tell this story to my parents.”
“And a raise!” she yells from outside the door.
“And that she get a raise.”
“You-” Matt swallows. “You knew?”
“A little. Because, see, Matt, when you’re losing pints of blood, have a major head wound and are almost dying, you tend to get a bit chatty,” Foggy says and Matt can practically feel the grin brimming off his words, even if he can’t exactly see it.
“Oh.”
“Mmmm,” Foggy hums.
“I didn’t- you-” He fiddles with his fingers. “You didn’t say anything.”
“Well, I was mad at you. And you weren’t really… hmm, consciously? Saying it.”
“Huh.” Matt sways a little. “What- what did I say? Exactly?”
“Oh, you know, the standard ‘I love you, don’t leave me, I’m sorry’ stuff. And some things about wanting to make my pulse beg for you.”
Matt flushes and his voice is strangled as he lets out a little, “Oh.”
There’s a smirk evident in Foggy’s voice as he continues on, “And I don’t know about you but I’m kinda wanting to call a half-day and see how exactly you’d go about doing that.”
If Matt throws himself at Foggy in that moment, then only Karen and Foggy (and probably Claire) will ever know and if he spends the rest of the day breathing in Foggy’s smell and listening to his pulse race and beg, then so be it.
But Foggy’s parents are never hearing that particular ending.