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Brett’s not completely sure when Foggy went from a friendly acquaintance that he found a little annoying to the only person he’s out to besides his mother, but it probably started somewhere around the unused orchestra locker room. Specifically, the cello locker he’d crowded Foggy against one Wednesday when they were cutting home ec and asked if he could try something.
He remembered thinking it was weird, to finally being having this experience he’d thought so much about. Well, not this situation exactly. When Brett imagined kissing a boy, it usually wasn’t Foggy Nelson. Or in room filled with cages to lock string instruments in. Definitely less fluorescent lighting. But look, Brett had imagined kissing a guy before, and it turned out there was a difference between intellectually knowing he was gay and then being in the orchestra locker room kissing a guy.
It was a nice kiss, as far as Brett could tell, not having much experience beyond a few awkward middle school party experiences. But Foggy’s mouth was soft against Brett’s and his tentative hands at Brett’s hips were pretty good too.
“Well that certainly was something,” Foggy said when Brett pulled away. His hands stayed on Brett’s hips. “Clear anything up for you?”
Brett ducked his head. “Yeah.”
“Gonna share with the class or should I guess?”
“I’m definitely gay. I was pretty sure, but this really clinches it.”
Realizing he was still quite close to Foggy, Brett took a step back. Foggy grinned at him.
“Hey man, always happy to help.”
They didn’t date, not exactly anyway. They continued to cut home ec together, and sometimes met up to play video games, like they usually did, and it wasn’t like they were any nicer to each other. Foggy was still kind of a weirdo, and Brett continued to act exactly as put upon by it as he always had.
So maybe sometimes during those things they made out a little. It wasn’t that uncommon to make out with a friend of compatible sexual orientation. Brett wasn’t going to buy him a ring or anything.
Except, well.
There was the time Foggy asked him to prom. But that had so clearly been a joke, and Brett responded liked it was a joke, and it was joke.
Except, well.
There was that time when Foggy was getting ready to go home, and Brett’s mom told him to stay for dinner, her son’s boyfriend was always welcome for dinner. And Brett felt a little twinge of something as Foggy stammered out that they weren’t boyfriends and fled.
Except, well.
“You going to miss me at your fancy Ivy League school?”
Foggy shoved at Brett’s shoulder with not nearly enough force to move him. Brett sprawled out over him on the couch, something they purposely did not discuss.
“Come on man, it’s not like I’m actually going anywhere. And it’s not like you’re not going to college. We’ll see each other.”
Brett didn’t see Foggy until Thanksgiving break. It was fine. Completely fine. It was also fine that Foggy spent almost the entire time he didn’t spend asking Brett all manner of ridiculous questions about his first semester talking about his roommate. It was fine how transparent his crush was. Foggy wasn’t his boyfriend. Brett wasn’t jealous.
During his sophomore year, Brett dated another aspiring cop. When the broke up, Brett said he didn’t want to have any overlap in his personal life and future professional life. During his junior year, he dated an English major who perfectly nice but also perfectly boring.
During his senior year, Brett dated no one, but he did finally meet Foggy’s idolized roommate. Matt Murdock in person turned out to be a little awkward, a little shy, and somehow still completely floored that Foggy was his friend. Brett couldn’t help but like him.
(It didn’t hurt that Foggy’s crush had faded over time.)
His path crossed with the pair of them several times over the next few years, and Murdock gets folded into the Brett and Foggy pseudo-enmity dynamic easily enough. By the time Foggy is handing him a bag of cigars for his mother as a bribe, he’s accepted them as a perennial annoyance in his life. Of course, he’s also accepted that he sort of thinks of Foggy as the one that got away, and that’s probably a contributing factor.
But now that Nelson and Murdock were based in Hell’s Kitchen, Brett saw a lot more of them. Which would be fine, good even, except the entire city was going crazy, and that seemed to include Foggy and Matt.
“It’s just a disagreement about the direction of the firm,” Matt said when Brett asked him about it.
“He’s terrible at communication and always convinced he’s right,” Foggy said a few days later when he’s out for a drink with Brett, but the way his punctuated this statement by taking a shot concerned Brett.
“If it’s a fight, you know I’m on your side, right?” Brett said, because as much as he wanted to pry, he wasn’t going to.
Foggy patted his arm. “Of course you are; I knew you first.”
The next time Brett saw both of them, they were up to their necks in dangerous corruption scandals, but together again.
Even as Matt and Foggy patched things up, Brett couldn’t shake the feeling that something was up. But he told himself it wasn’t his place to meddle if Foggy didn’t want him to meddle, and he wasn’t saying anything. So Brett let it go, and scolded them when they showed up at crime scenes and sent clients their way when he could.
And then the fiasco with Castle happened.
Sure, maybe Brett was a little biased, but it was objectively Matt’s fault. Matt was the one who got them involved in defending that nutjob, who didn’t show up in court, and oh yeah, the one who didn’t end up with a bullet in the shoulder.
Brett felt weird about visiting Foggy in the hospital, like it might almost be too much. But he steeled himself and went, because he cared, dammit.
“Aw, Detective Mahoney, you didn’t have to stop by for little old me,” Foggy said, fluttering his eyes ridiculously, when Brett entered.
“Foggy, what kind of friend doesn’t visit a friend who’s been shot,” Brett said. “I see you have this giant bear to keep you company, but I bet he’s not the greatest conversationalist.”
Foggy frowned for a moment, like he wanted to say something that had been bothering him, but he must have thought better of it, because what he said was “How dare you insult my bear. Marci brought him, which means not only is he a sensational conversationalist, he can also probably cook, clean, and serve as an attack bear.”
“So Marci came by?” Brett asked. “You two aren’t dating again, are you?”
“Never again,” Foggy said with a laugh.
“And Matt?”
There was the frown again. No Matt, then.
“Well, I’m sure he’ll be by soon,” Brett offered.
The silence stretched between them, and Brett tried very hard not to hate Matt Murdock in that moment, but he didn’t really succeed. How could he, with Foggy laying in that hospital bed, looking like someone had shot his dog in front of him. And then shot him in the shoulder for good measure.
“Look, I’m gonna stop by your place when you get out, okay? Bess was saying something about making you a pie.”
Why are you saying this? Brett thought as the words tumbled from his mouth. It was so obviously a lie, a pathetic, sad lie. Foggy knew Bess didn’t bake, of course he did. This was transparent.
He let Brett have it though. “I guess I’ll see you then.”
A few days later, Brett put a freshly made pie into a travel dish and rang the buzzer for Foggy’s apartment.
“It’s strawberry rhubarb,” he said as he placed the pie on the counter.
“Bess made this pie,” Foggy said skeptically. Brett definitely hated the ridiculous gesture he made with his eyebrow and did not find it at all charming.
“Figured you could use something sweet after being shot and all that, yeah,” Brett said.
“And decided after years of swearing she couldn’t bake with an easy bake oven, let alone a full grown one, she thought, hm, well, might as well make my first pie for Franklin Nelson? Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it, but you should probably feel unloved, being her only son and all.”
“How do you know she isn’t just testing it out on you? Might be poisoned.”
“Dude, come on. Your mom loves me. All moms love me. Although--” he eyed the pie warily. “Just because it’s not intentionally dangerous.”
“Just eat the damn pie, Nelson.”
“Once you admit that Bess didn’t bake it!”
“FINE I MADE THE PIE!”
“....you did?” Foggy looked taken aback, and Brett wanted to shake him, except he knew he was injured. “I thought, I don’t know, she just bought it somewhere.”
“The pie is from me, okay? I wanted to give you something, because you’ve been having such a terrible time, I know you have, and Murdock’s been treating you like crap--”
“Brett.”
“Don’t try and defend that, you know it’s true! And then you were in the hospital--
“Brett. ”
“And he didn’t come, and I just wanted you to know someone still cares about you, okay?”
Brett felt a little out of control, a little twitchy, like a live wire replaced his nervous system. Foggy’s expression had evolved from taken aback to straight up shocked.
“Brett, I’m gonna need to you to explain in very specific words what you mean by care.”
“I… Look, it’s not like I’ve been pining.”
“Very specific words, Brett.”
“You’ve always been my ‘what if’ person, okay? It’s ridiculous and cliched, but there you go.”
“Oh my god.” Foggy propped himself up on the counter with his elbows, placing his head in his hands. “Oh my god, we’ve been so stupid.”
Brett’s hackles raised immediately. “I am not going to be called stupid for confessing my feelings at your request…. Wait, we?”
“I asked you to prom, Brett!”
“That was a joke!”
“Yeah, because you made it a joke, and I thought, oh, he’s giving me an out. I’ll act like I was joking, and we won’t have to be weird about it.”
Foggy pushed himself off the counter, stepped around to stand next to Brett. “What do we do with this now?”
“You could start by kissing me,” Brett said, impressing himself by sounding far more confident and suave than he felt. He held out a hand for Foggy to take.
“We probably only think this is a good idea because we didn’t properly get it out of our system in high school.”
“Then we’ll break up and chalk it up as a mistake, but that’s really not a reason to not kiss like I asked you to, Nelson.”
Foggy nodded, but stayed where he was, hands flexing nervously.
“Oh come here,” Brett said, stepping up to him and pressing his mouth to Foggy’s.
Foggy’s arms wrapped around him after a moment, so Brett let himself relax into the kiss. They’ve both gotten better at this since high school, finding a balance push and pull between their lips, just a enough tongue to be interesting.
When Foggy pulled back, Brett grinned at him. “Clear anything up for you?”
Foggy shoved at him. “Unbelievable.”
Brett kept grinning. “You like me.”
“Maybe a little.”
“That’s good, because I might find you a little less annoying than I’ve let on.”
“Yeah, well, come back when I’m feeling better and prove it.”
“Take me to dinner first.”
Foggy laughed. “It’s a date.”