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Josie’s was buzzing with the usual Friday night chaos. The air smelled like cheap alcohol and grease, the jukebox was playing the same Springsteen song for the third time, and the neon lights over the bar hummed like they were one bad fuse away from dying.
Matt could feel the warmth of the room pressed close around him, the familiarity of it comforting despite the dozens of heartbeats surrounding him and the low roar of conversations tangled in the air. It was the kind of chaos he had long ago learned to love and tune out so it wouldn’t overwhelm his senses, choosing instead to focus on specific little things to keep himself grounded, like the soft thud the darts made each time one struck the dartboard across the room and the steady sound of Foggy’s - and later Karen’s - heartbeat thrumming steadily beside him.
They were on their own tonight, sitting across from each other at their usual spot in the corner and already on their third, or maybe fourth, round of drinks. Karen had given some excuse about being too tired to join them, though Matt knew she was probably going to see the new guy she’d started dating. She hadn’t told either of them anything yet, but Matt had picked up on the unfamiliar men’s cologne clinging to her clothes and the way her heartbeat skipped whenever Foggy asked about her plans for the night. He hadn’t told Foggy, though. Karen could tell both of them when she was ready.
Nelson, Murdock & Page was doing well. Better than Matt could ever have imagined. The clients were steady and the majority of them could afford to pay with actual money, although they still accepted the occasional charity case where the only reward was knowing they were helping bring justice for someone who deserved it,and maybe, if they got lucky, a tray of freshly baked muffins or enough casserole to keep all three of them fed for a week.
Life was good.
And not just because the firm was doing well.
Sure, that was part of it, but the real source of Matt’s contentment was right across from him, flushed from the whiskey and the warmth of the bar, tie hanging loose around his neck, and laughing at something Matt had said that wasn’t even all that funny, the sound warm and unrestrained and settling deep in Matt’s chest.
God, he loved that sound.
He loved Foggy.
His best friend. His partner. The man who somehow loved both halves of him - the man and the Devil - despite everything they had been through, everything Matt had put him through.
It had taken them a long time to get here, longer than it should have, if Matt was being honest with himself. They had been dancing around each other and pushing their feelings aside for nearly a decade, hiding behind the illusion that they could keep things simple if they just didn’t name what was between them. But life had a way of tearing down all the walls they’d built for themselves-- one secret, one broken bone, one confession at a time.
And somehow, against all odds, through all the lies, distance and years of pretending, they’d ended up here. Together. Not perfect, not without scars, but together nonetheless, in every way that mattered.
“You’re doing it again,” Foggy said suddenly, his words slightly slurred by the alcohol.
Matt was brought back to reality by his voice, tilting his head slightly and smiling. “What?”
“Brooding.” Foggy accused, but it was lighthearted, his heartbeat steady. He was fiddling with a napkin between his fingers, Matt suddenly noticed, the soft rustle of paper crackling in his hands in uneven rhythms.
“I’m not brooding.” Matt said, still smiling.
“You are,” Foggy insisted, pointing at him with the hand still holding the napkin. “You go all quiet and get that wounded duck look on your face-- all handsome and mysterious.”
Matt chuckled, shaking his head. He lifted his glass to his lips to take a sip of his drink, enjoying the pleasant burn of the whiskey sliding down his throat. “I was just thinking.”
Foggy hummed in acknowledgement, the sound low and thoughtful. “Dangerous habit, thinking.”
Matt smiled into his glass, taking another sip before setting it down. “Is that so?”
“Oh, definitely,” Foggy said, still absently worrying the napkin between his fingers. His heartbeat picked up a little, doing that little flutter that always gave him away when he was tipsy and trying to act nonchalant. “I’ve actually been doing some thinking myself.”
“Have you?” Matt raised his eyebrows, amused. “Now, that is dangerous.”
“Hey!” Foggy exclaimed in mock indignation. “I’m perfectly capable of deep, meaningful thoughts.”
“Never said you weren’t,” Matt hummed, leaning back in the booth. “I just question the accuracy of those thoughts after three glasses of whiskey.”
“Four,” Foggy corrected proudly with a grin and his heartbeat stuttered again. “But seriously. I’ve been thinking.”
“About what?”
“About us.”
That made Matt pause. He shifted slightly in his seat and sat up straighter, the faintest furrow forming between his brows. “Us?” He repeated, cautious but soft.
“Yup,” Foggy said, popping the p at the end. He leaned forward a little, resting his elbows on the table. “I think we’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Matt’s own heart stumbled over a beat. Foggy had always been a sentimental drunk-- not that he wasn’t sentimental sober. If anything since they got together he’d only gotten worse about it. But hearing him say things like this, so simple and certain, still never failed to undo Matt a little.
He smiled and ducked his head, hoping the dim light of the bar hid the flush creeping up the back of his neck. "Always such a poet when you’re drunk,” He murmured, his voice soft but fond.
“I’m serious,” Foggy said, lifting a finger. He had stopped fidgeting with the napkin but was still holding it, the paper now bent and twisted into something Matt recognised as vaguely circular. “You-- You’re it for me, Matty.”
“Fog--” Matt’s breath caught in the back of his throat.
“You’ve always been it.” Foggy continued. “Since… Hell, since the first week at Columbia. And I was an idiot for not doing anything about it sooner.”
“We both were.” Matt said quietly, and Foggy grinned, leaning even further forward against the table.
“Give me your hand.”
“Why?”
“Just do it, Murdock.”
Matt chuckled, shaking his head, but he held his hand out across the table anyway. Foggy’s hand was warm and slightly clammy with sweat when it found his, his grip clumsy but careful, like he was handling something precious. His touch lingered for a moment, heartbeat fluttering in Matt’s ears, and before Matt could say anything else, something soft and weightless was being slid onto his finger.
“There,” Foggy said proudly, still grinning and a little breathless.
Matt’s brows drew together in faint confusion. He flexed his fingers once, lightly, feeling the texture of what Foggy had placed there-- thin, papery, and just slightly damp from sweat and condensation.
“Foggy, what--”
“Shh, I’m not finished,” Foggy said quickly, the word coming out with a little hiccup of laughter.
“Matthew Michael Murdock, you are the love of my life. My best friend. My partner in law and in crime-- and most definitely the reason I’m going grey prematurely.” His voice wobbled a little, but his heartbeat was loud and steady. “And we’re already basically married. We spend every day together, we’re almost living together with how often you sleep at my place, and we’re tied together by endless amounts of debt we’ll probably be paying off till we’re eighty. So I figured, why not make it official?”
Matt’s mouth fell open, but the words tangled in his throat, trapped between disbelief and something that felt dangerously like tears.
“Fogs,” He swallowed. “You’re drunk.”
“I am,” Foggy agreed, his voice turning a little more serious. “But I mean it, Matt. I’ve been thinking about this since the first time you kissed me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And, you know, napkins are kind of our thing when it comes to life-changing decisions.”
He took Matt’s hand in his own and laced their fingers together, “So what do you say,” His thumb grazed over the makeshift ring on Matt’s finger.
“Will you marry me?”
For a moment, Matt didn’t say anything. The rest of the world faded, the sounds, smells, and shapes of people surrounding them blurring into a distant haze in his senses. His focus narrowed to the sound of Foggy’s heartbeat, the warmth of his touch, and the faint rustle of the napkin ring between them. It was ridiculous-- a napkin ring. But at the same time, it was so them.
Matt couldn’t help but laugh, a soft, breathless sound that broke through the lump in his throat. “You’re proposing to me with a napkin.”
“A custom-made napkin ring. One of a kind. Limited edition.” Foggy grinned, giving Matt’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Obviously, I’ll get you a real ring. When I’m, you know-- sober. We can even pick it out together.”
“You’re unbelievable.” Matt shook his head, still laughing under his breath.
“Yeah, but you love me anyway.”
“I do.”
Foggy’s heartbeat skipped, stuttered once, and then evened out again. “Say that again.”
“I love you,” Matt said, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. “I really do.”
Then before Foggy could add anything else, he reached forward, catching him by the end of his tie and tugging him across the table so he could kiss him. Foggy made a startled little sound but instantly leaned into it, his hand coming up to cup the side of Matt’s neck, thumb brushing just below his jaw. The kiss was warm and a little clumsy, the edge of a glass bumping Matt’s wrist, Foggy’s knee hitting the underside of the table, and both of them laughing into it like idiots. But God, it was perfect.
“So, is that a yes?” Foggy asked breathlessly when they finally pulled apart, cheeks flushed in a way that had nothing to do with alcohol.
Matt huffed out a laugh, equally breathless, still close enough that their noses brushed. “Yes. I’ll marry you, Foggy Nelson.”
Foggy blinked at him, eyes wide, mouth hanging open for a split second before his face broke into the kind of grin that could light up the whole damn bar.
“Wait-- really?”
“Really.”
“Holy shit.” Foggy laughed and leaned in to kiss Matt again, nearly knocking over both their drinks in the process.
“God, I love you.” He whispered against Matt’s mouth as he pulled back, still grinning so hard Matt could hear it. “I love you so much, Matty.”
“I love you too.” Matt smiled, his voice soft and a little unsteady.
Then, before he could realise what was happening, Foggy was standing, a sudden burst of energy that made Matt instantly wary.
“Foggy--" He started, but it was too late.
“HEY, JOSIE!” Foggy shouted, grinning from ear to ear. His voice was loud enough to cut through the noise of the bar, people’s conversations stuttering to a halt as half the room turned to look at him.
“What is it, Nelson?” Josie responded, unimpressed but amused, pausing where she was wiping down some freshly cleaned glasses behind the bar.
“MATT AND I ARE GETTING MARRIED!” Foggy beamed. “FREE SHOTS FOR EVERYONE! PUT IT ON MY TAB!”
The whole room erupted in cheers and Matt ducked his head in embarrassment, mortified by all the attention suddenly turning their way, but still so very in love with the absolute idiot announcing their engagement in front of everyone.
Josie muttered something under her breath about tabs, but Matt caught the slight uptick in her heartbeat that told him she was actually happy for them. She had known them and had watched them pine after each other for such a long time, that when she found out they had finally gotten together she had poured them both a free shot and said it was about damn time. She would hopefully comp some of tonight’s bill, too, because Matt wasn’t sure Foggy could afford to have this many shots added to his tab.
Foggy flopped back into the booth, sliding in beside Matt this time instead of across from him. He all but threw himself into Matt’s side, arm wrapping around Matt’s shoulder like gravity itself was pulling him into place.
“Did you really need to do that?” Matt muttered, but there was nothing but fondness in his voice, letting himself lean into Foggy’s warmth.
“I absolutely did,” Foggy hummed, nuzzling his nose against Matt’s temple like an affectionate golden retriever. “I’m engaged to the hottest guy in Hell’s Kitchen. Everyone should know!”
Matt let out a breathless laugh, leaning into him more fully. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re mine,” Foggy’s arm tightened around him, his hold a little possessive in a way that always made Matt’s chest go warm and tight.
“God, I’m gonna marry you.” Foggy whispered it into Matt’s hair like had just discovered the secret to the universe, voice full of awe and wonder. “I’m gonna marry you, Matty.”
“You are,” Matt murmured, lightly brushing the napkin ring on his finger. It felt like it was going to fall apart any moment now, but it didn’t matter. The paper could dissolve right there against his skin and it wouldn’t change anything. “And I’m gonna marry you.”
“I love you, Matty.” Foggy pressed a kiss to Matt’s temple. “So much.”
“I love you too.”
Matt turned his head, angling just enough to brush his lips against Foggy’s, tasting whiskey and feeling the warmth of Foggy’s breath against his own. The kiss was soft, unhurried and lingering, like they had all the time in the world.
And maybe they did.
Because they now had forever.