Chapter Text
Matt and Foggy return Jason to the orphanage. The cold of night fades into a slightly warmer morning as they approach the door. Slowly, the people of the night slip back into the shadows as commuters, street vendors and other early birds start to populate the streets.
From the shelter's kitchen, Matt hears dishes clattering. Javi is up. As he knocks, Matt's ears follows the sound echoing through the building. Shortly after, quick steps meet the ground and the door opens.
With a mixture of confusion and relief, Javi takes the exhausted but unharmed boy out Daredevil's arms. Attentive, he listens to the short summary of the events . He gives a slow nod. He doesn't question Foggy's presence or address it. Either he doesn't recognise the lawyer who terrorised the shelter or he has concluded by now that Foggy wasn't quite himself lately.
Matt feels horrible for thinking it, but he is glad the kids are still asleep. They wouldn't let him off the hook. Not as easily as Javi does anyway. They would ask the superhero who brought back Jason if he knows where Father Matt is and Daredevil would have to lie. He doesn't need to lie to Javi who just returns the goodbye and the well wishes.
After the door is closed behind them, Matt sighs in relief. He and Foggy make their way to the hospital to check on Cole, but Cole's exhausted, fading in and out of sleep. The subtle scent of tears reaches Matt's nostrils as Foggy squeezes Cole's hand a whispers a goodbye as well as a promise to visit again tomorrow.
Irrational jealousy bubbles up. But Matt pushes it back down, angry with himself. Cole got badly hurt and has to stay in a hospital bed for at least a week. Matt on the other hand walked away with a few scratches and gets to take Foggy home, who is equally unharmed.
When they arrive at Foggy's apartment, Matt immediately notices the difference. It doesn't smell like Foggy. Which makes sense. Foggy hasn't lived here for some time. Pride has. The scents are from overly expensive aftershave. deodorant and lotions. The laundry detergent is a different one, no longer the neutral smelling product Foggy started using years back for Matt's benefit.
But Foggy still smells of Foggy. Soon his apartment will, too, again, Matt reminds himself. Once inside, Foggy slams the door shut, locks it twice, deadbolts it and falls against the wall with a groan. He takes a few deep breaths.
"What a nightmare," he says.
Matt only nods. There is nothing to add. It doesn't bare thinking about what Foggy went through. First, he was possessed by a demon of Pride. Then, after just free from Pride, Wrath kidnapped him, tossed him around and almost killed him. Hard to tell which violation was worse.
All because of Matt.
So Matt can hardly believe his luck, when Foggy asks, "Will you stay, please?"
No, he doesn't ask. He pleads. Matt's heart breaks a little because Foggy seems to think Matt would leave even though Foggy needs him.
"Of course," Matt hurries to say. "Can I borrow spare clothes?"
"Help yourself to my wardrobe," Foggy answers. "I'll make some tea and sandwiches in a moment. Got something to do first."
While Matt rummages through the back of the wardrobe, hoping to find something that doesn't have Pride's stench on it, he hears the rustling of a garbage bag. Foggy walks through the apartment, opening several cabinets and cupboards. Several items land in there. Probably whatever Pride has brought into Foggy's home.
When Matt is out of his costume and in Foggy's old sweats instead, Foggy is leaving the bathroom. Apparently, it was the end of his tour. He throws the garbage bag into the corner near the entrance door before joining Matt in the bedroom. He, too, changes, replacing his suit with an old set of pajamas. Then he returns to the kitchen to prepare the promised tea and sandwiches.
*
They eat in silence. Once again united with Foggy on the couch, Matt searches for the right words. Foggy wanted him here. So Matt better be useful by finding something helpful and comforting to say.
"Foggy, I'm so-" is how far he gets because Foggy wildly shakes his head.
"Don't, Matt," he says. "None of this was your fault. Or mine. This… this is just the kind of stuff that happens to you. And - subsequently - to me."
"Yes. Subsequently," Matt says drily. "I drag you into this and-"
"I can take it," Foggy interrupts. "I can."
Matt frowns. Foggy's heartbeat picks up and his voice sounds almost petulant. Again, the salty scent of tears emanates from him and Matt reaches out. At the last second he stops himself.
The fight against Pride and Wrath has put it in the background for a few weeks, but now the issue pushes itself into the front of Matt's mind again. There is still the matter of Chaos magic connecting Matt to Foggy, giving Matt access to Foggy's thoughts and dreams.
He can't touch Foggy. Not right now. Bringing the Chaos magic's strange effects into the mix of the fear and trauma from two demon encounters is bound to make it worse.
So Matt reaches behind himself and gropes for the blanket that he knows his draped over the armrest of the couch. When he finds it, he quickly unfolds it and throws it around Foggy - an improvised hug without touching.
"Matt, what…"
"Come on, you need rest." Ignoring Foggy's confusion, Matt gets to his feet.
Awkwardly, he helps Foggy up, careful to touch only the blanket. Somehow he manages to manhandle Foggy towards his bedroom that way and Foggy doesn't resist much as he is sat down on the bed.
"Believe me," Matt says as cheerful as possible. "After a few hours of sleep, you'll feel much better."
Foggy laughes. "Matt Murdock lecturing someone about the benefits of getting rest," he deadpans. "Are you training for the hypocrisy olympics?"
"Touché," Matt replies. "But I promise I'll lay down on your couch and get some sleep as well."
"Alright. You'll need this then," Foggy gives back the woolen blanket from the couch before lifting the bed covers. "But Matt?"
"Yes?"
"Please be still here when I wake up."
"I swear."
*
With a jolt, Matt awakes. His dreams of sulfur and other hellish odors fade. The cries and wails from disembodied voices fall silent and are replaced by ticking and humming.
It takes him a moment to realise he is on Foggy's couch, in borrowed clothes. Responsible for the ticking is the clock in Foggy's kitchen and the hum is caused by the distant late night traffic.
Matt sits up. With a low groan he rubs his hand across his face. His throat is dry and his muscles sore. Now that his mind has calmed, his body is catching up to what Matt has put it through in the last days.
Foggy's right. Matt is going to need some rest, too. For a moment, Matt indulges in the comfort of listening to Foggy's heart in the nearby bedroom.
The aroma of tea wafts over from the living room table. Matt grabs a cup. He winces at the taste of the cold beverage, but it beats the thirst.
Tilting his head, he listens to the city. The noise level suggests it's late and a news show on a nearby radio confirms it's just after midnight. It would be wise to go back to sleep. But just as he grabs the blanket to adjust it, he hears a small whimper from Foggy's room. The pulse that beats in the bedroom picks up and the rustling of sheets suggests upset.
Matt's on his feet before he knows it. Almost on their own accord, his legs carry him through the living room. The bedroom door is ajar and protests only with a low creaking against the light push Matt gives it so he can enter and get to Foggy's side.
Tossing and turning, Foggy has pushed his blanket off, his body radiating too little heat to be comfortable. Matt feels for the lost cover. When he finds it, he tucks Foggy back in, fighting the urge to press his own body against Foggy's to keep him warm.
Matt sighs. He'wants to run a soothing hand through Foggy's hair. Maybe press a light kiss to his forehead or rub his shoulders in a comforting manner. But he can't risk touch. Not now. Not when things are like this.
"Good night," he whispers and turns to leave.
But then Foggy stirs again and breathes out, "Matt!"
Matt frowns. Tilting his head, he listens. Foggy's pulse suggests he is still asleep. But he calls for Matt a second time, more desperate now. Torn, Matt digs his teeth into his bottom lip and steps closer to the bed again.
"Matt, please!" Foggy cries.
That does it. Quickly, Matt's at Foggy's side again. Knowing that whatever haunts Foggy right now has to do with him, he can't stop himself. He runs his hand through Foggy's hair. It doesn't take long for the scenery to change.
He's back in Foggy's living room, equipped with eyesight. Foggy and another version of Matt sit on the sofa. But aside from that, it's nothing like the first vision Matt had. Foggy's crying and Duplicate Matt is watching, looking annoyed.
"I can take it," Foggy repeats what he told the real Matt a few hours ago. But now, he's crying and pleading. "Please, Matt, I can."
"No," Duplicate Matt, or more: Wrong Matt answers, voice cold and cutting. "I don't think you can, Foggy." He shrugs. "I can't blame you. You're not a superhero. So obviously, you're not strong enough to deal with the kind of life I lead."
The wrong Matt stands. Foggy grabs his hand, panic written all over his face. "Please, don't go, Matt. Let me try."
"Look, Foggy," Wrong Matt says on an exasperated sigh. "It's not that you were completely useless. And I appreciate that you helped me out once or twice. But fact of the matter is that I, as an actual superhero, can have better friends. I do have better friends."
In an aggressive motion, Wrong Matt yanks his hand away from Foggy's and turns to leave.
"Matt, please," Foggy whispers. "I need you."
Slowly, Wrong Matt turns around once more. A pitiful smile forms on his face. The real Matt, meanwhile, clenches his fists as his twin chuckles at Foggy's desperation.
"Of course you do, Foggy," he answers. "You're weak and vulnerable on your own. But I? I don't need you."
He wants to go again. But Foggy jumps to his feet and reaches for him. Wrong Matt rolls his eyes.
"You can take it, Foggy?" he asks. "What my life brings? You can hardly take this."
Roughly, he shoves Foggy, laughing when the shocked Foggy stumbles backwards.
Matt, the real Matt, has seen enough. With quick steps he crosses the room and growls at his cruel mirror image. Not hesitating in the slightes, he punches the other Matt's face, as hard and vicious as he can.
The sound is real. That familiar crack of a nasal bone breaking under his fists. He'll have to make do with the satisfying noise because he doesn't get the gratification of seeing the asshole hit the ground. Wrong Matt simply vanishes.
Matt doesn't have time for him anyway. A gasp reminds him of Foggy. Whirling around, Matt finds his best friend staring, eyes flicking between Matt himself and the empty spot his mean doppelgänger had been standing in moments ago. Tears leave glittering traces on Foggy's cheeks, but the desperation has made way for confusion.
"Matt? How… Who… That was you… but you are you…"
"He's an imposter," Matt says. "A bad one, too! You know that I would never say such things, right?"
Matt's heart aches when Foggy furrows his brows and stammers, "I… I don't know… I mean, you'd be justified…"
"What? No! Foggy, for…" Matt takes a steadying breath. "For one, it's simply not true!You are an amazing friend, my best friend and I do need you. For two, I wouldn't hurt you like that and… I mean, this asshole pushed you!"
"I was annoying him." Foggy lowers his gaze and slings his arms around himself. Subdued, he says, "I was wasting his time, your time. Your a hero. I'm only me."
Quickly, Matt closes the space between them. While smiling reassuringly, he takes Foggy's face into his hands.
"There is no 'only' when it comes to you, Foggy," he whispers.
"It's my own fault," Foggy says, lips wobbling. "I told you so often to lose my number. Even though I never meant it. Even though I needed you more than you needed me. Of course, one day you'd leave for good and I'd be.."
Foggy's sentence ends in a startled gasp. Gentle, careful, afraid to scare Foggy away, Matt brushes his lips against Foggy's. Foggy lets him. When Matt's hands leave Foggy's face so Matt can wrap his arms around him, he sways against Matt's body. When Matt runs his tongue along his cupid bow to ask for entrance he grants it.
But he trembles in Matt's hold. Doesn't relax. This isn't like the last time. It's not a dream woven out of one bad and stressful day. The wound this dream seeps out of isn't as easily healed with a kiss. As much as Matt wishes it was.
With a regretful sigh, Matt breaks the kiss. Smiling, he applies a gentle tap against Foggy's nose with his own. "You should wake up now," he tells him.
"What?"
"Wake up, Foggy."
And the environment dissolves, leaving Matt, once more, in a different but rich world, made of redolence and reverberance.
*
Gasping, Foggy jolts awake. His heart thunders in Matt's ear. Matt can feel his confusion as his head frantically looks from one side to the other. Without thinking, Matt pulls him into his arms.
"Shhh," he soothes. "I'm here. You're alright."
"Matt?" Foggy asks. "What's going on? I don't…"
Reenacting his behaviour in the dream, Matt cups Foggy's cheek and gently puts his forehead against Foggy's.
"You're my best friend," Matt says. "I need you. More than anyone else. And I won't leave you again. Not even if you tell me to go." He smiles. "Or if you tell me to lose your number."
Foggy freezes. He backs away a little and his pulse quickens. Letting go off Foggy's face, Matt sighs. Time to face the music.
"Why did you say that of all things?" Foggy tilts his head. "That was in the dream I just had. I said it to you… to the second you who punched the first one away… How did you know?"
"Foggy, I have to tell you something," Matt says, "and you will ask me to lose your number which as we established I never will. But please, let me finish, alright?"
"Al-right?"
"Alright."
After taking a long breath, Matt explains. Foggy listens. His heart is still beating faster than usual. Now and again, his breath hitches while Matt speaks. But at least, he isn't trying to run and he doesn't try kicking Matt out of his bed, home and life.
And Matt tells everything.How he fought by Wanda's side. How she started a spell to heal his wounds but interrupted it when he asked her to. How despite that he had already been touched by her Chaos magic and accidentally connected himself to Foggy with it.
"That was a few weeks back," Foggy realises. "When I was zapped while looking at your injuries. You said it was nothing to worry about!"
"I did," Matt admits. "And I think in a way, the magic was trying to, um, work in my favor. So to speak…"
"What do you mean?" Foggy asks. "Are we getting to the part that will make me mad?"
Matt nods. And then, after swallowing hard, he explains the effects. During Matt's account, Foggy falls very quiet. His pulse even normalises. Still, Matt doesn't feel like Foggy is happy. When Matt ends his explanation, there is a long pause.
Then Foggy lets out a mortified groan. He hides his face is in his hands, muffling his own voice.
"Oh, god! Oh, god! God!" Foggy repeats so often that it takes all of Matt's self control not to ask Foggy to stop using the Lord's name in vain. But so far Foggy hasn't punched him and Matt's not keen on risking that specific status quo.
"Foggy, look, I'm sorry…"
"You're…?" Foggy reappears from behind his palms. "Matt that's so humiliating! You saw what I thought about… you and me and my… Godgodgodgodgod…"
"I know." Matt nods. "And I should have said something but I didn't know how to stop it and you would have wanted it to stop so I would have had to stay away from you. But I wanted to be close. Because-" Matt stops and sighs. "No, that's not true. I mean, this did cross my mind as well. But the main reason was… I liked it. I wanted to see it."
"What?"
"I wanted to see that you want me," Matt confesses. "That you want me, not anyone else. That you think of me. When you are aroused and when you need a saviour. I wanted… I wanted to know that I'm your everything just like you are mine."
Again, silence falls. It stretches for a long while until Foggy breaks it with a sharply released breath.Matt braces himself for Foggy's anger, heartbreak and disappointment. He is, however, not prepared for the soft, warm palm suddenly cradling his face.
"So when you said the magic tried working in your favor," he says drily, "you meant it gave you something you were too chicken too ask for?"
Matt blinks. He's surprised by Foggy being so calm. So it takes him a moment to realise that Foggy is right. The spell has answered questions about Foggy that Matt was too scared to ask his friend himself.
Do you want me?
Do you need me?
Do you love me?
Sitting here, Matt feels silly. Because while it's true he hasn't dared to ask them out loud, he never needed to. The answers are so obvious in everything Foggy does. In the gentle hand on his cheek. In the tea and sandwiches he was given for dinner. In every exasperated "fine" Foggy has ever muttered before giving Matt whatever he asked for. In the wordless permission to sit right next to Foggy after putting him through a demonic possession and a demonic kidnapping. In the mere fact that Foggy is still, after all this time, right there whenever Matt needs him.
But what Matt knows now is that Foggy harbors fears similar to those that haunt Matt. Foggy is scared to lose Matt. For Matt to find him lacking. To be unworthy.
"You're right: I was a coward," Matt finally replies. Smirking, he adds, "Then again, so were you. You didn't say anything either."
Foggy huffs. "About?"
Matt covers the hand Foggy tries removing from his cheeks. Gently, he circles his hand around the wrist and leads it to his mouth to press a kiss against Foggy's pulse point. As he hears Foggy swallow, his grin widens.
"About how much you want me," Matt says smugly.
"I'm pretty sure evidence gathered by Chaos magic isn't admissable," Foggy says. "So you can't prove anything."
With a hum, Matt kisses Foggy's wrist again. Then he grabs the other and uses his hold to push Foggy into the downs. He slides on top of Foggy, pinning him in place, revelling in the surprised yelp and the rising smell of Foggy's arousal.
"Good point, counsellor," he purrs. "I'll get to gathering better evidence right now."
Before Foggy can answer, Matt bends down and brings their mouths together. Wasting no time, he lets his tongue slip into the gasp that parts Foggy's lips to seek out its counterpart.
Matt moans. They both slept for hours and neither brushed their teeth. And yet, Matt can’t get enough of the kiss’ taste. As his grip on Foggy fastens, his tongue prods into the hot wet sensation and his hips roll against Foggy‘s.
“Stay,” Matt orders when he finally breaks the kiss and frees Foggy’s wrists.
It gets him a quiet “yes” and Matt hums his appreciation. Foggy keeps still. And Matt dips his head to start his exploration at Foggy’s shoulder.
The sharp bite elicits a surprised squeak that morphs into a helpless moan. Matt’s cock gives an interested twitch at that. Matt nips and licks his way along Foggy’s neckline before digging his teeth in again when he reaches the sensitive skin at the throat.
Foggy fails to hold still then. But Matt forgives him quickly when the roll of his hips brushes their cocks against each other, causing both men to groan and shudder. Greedily, Matt sucks a mark into Foggy’s neck before focusing his attention elsewhere.
Matt finds he doesn’t miss the visions. His hands see Foggy just fine and his ears tell him what he needs to know.
Applying passionate kisses and tender bites to the lush body beneath him, Matt journeys further downward. He runs his tongue from one perked up nipple to the next while his hands roam along Foggy’s sides, ever so often digging into the flesh in a possessive manner.
Matt stays on guard. All the while, he never stops listening to Foggy’s thrumming heart and the elated breath. He’s careful not to miss the tiniest sign of discomfort.
There is none. Foggy’s sighs and moans are of pleasure only. The aroma of his arousal fills Matt’s nostrils adding to Matt’s own.
As he runs his fingers across the pudge of Foggy’s belly Foggy bucks his hips. Grinning, Matt slides his palm sidewards, deliberately avoiding Foggy’s erection to put his hands on the thick thighs instead.
Matt smiles fondly at the indignant noise Foggy makes. He tuts and scolds, “Patience.” before asking for lube. The cluttering noise of Foggy clumsily groping for his nightstand reaches Matt’s ear. While Matt waits, Foggy finds the drawer and fishes out something. A moment later, a small bottle is pressed into Matt’s palm.
After pushing Foggy's thighs apart roughly, Matt lubes up his fingers. Part of him wants to take it slow, make it last. But his own patience runs thin. So he wraps his left hand around Foggy’s cock while he pushes two fingers of the right into Foggy.
Foggy cries out. Arching his back, he moans Matt’s name. Encouraged, Matt hurries the preparation, trying to be thorough despite his burning want. Foggy doesn’t make it easy, swearing he’s ready, pleading to be fucked already. And Matt’s only human.
He pulls out of Foggy and takes the little bottle again. Messily, he slathers his dick in lube and positions himself between Foggy’s legs. He opens his mouth to ask for permission one last time, but before he can, Foggy speaks.
“Murdock, I swear if you talk now instead of fucking me,” he threatens, “I will…”
Matt doesn’t learn what Foggy will do in that case. Because he pushes his cock into the tight heat of Foggy’s body without another word. A loud unrestrained moan falls from Foggy’s lips while Matt throws his head back with a low groan. Matt slides home without resistance.
Past teasing now, Matt starts moving his hips. He makes a study of Foggy. Foggy’s reaction to every touch, each angle of thrusts, is stored away safely in Matt’s mind. He finds that special spot soon enough and makes good use of the discovery.
Matt increases the pace. His hips snap forward frantically, making Foggy mewl and wail. It doesn’t take long for Foggy to clench around him and dig his nails into Matt’s biceps. As the hot channel tightens around him, it drags Matt over the edge as well. With a shout, Matt spills himself inside Foggy while Foggy comes between their stomachs.
Not caring about the mess, Matt drops himself onto Foggy, stealing a filthy kiss. Slowly, their heartbeats normalise, their breaths even out and their tense bodies relax.
Tiredly, Foggy clings to Matt. With a smile, Matt strokes his cheeks before rummaging through the nightstand. As he hoped, he finds wet wipes and cleans them both provisionally.
Afterwards, he cuddles himself against Foggy’s back and kisses his shoulder. For a while, they just lie there, blissful in the afterglow and in each other’s company.
Then Foggy speaks into the pleasant silence.
"Hey."
"Hm?"
"Any visions?"
"Um, no…" Thinking about it, Matt realises that he hasn't felt the effect of the Chaos Magic since leaving Foggy's last dream. "It appears to be gone."
"Maybe it's satisfied with what it has accomplished," Foggy offers.
Smiling, Matt nuzzles his nose into Foggy's sweat damp hair.
"Makes sense," he says on a yawn. "I know I'm satisfied."
Foggy awkwardly turns in Matt's embrace. Resting his head against Matt's chest, he says, "I'm glad to hear that. Maybe I can dream my embarrassing dreams in private now."
"I guess." Matt sighs. "But please try to dream about me."
"Doing my best."
*
Early morning finds Matt hard against Foggy's delicious butt. It's not his fault. Foggy smells of Foggy - and of Matt. The combination of their scents, sweat and semen, on Foggy's skin awakes a possessive instinct that refuses to go back to sleep. Sweetly, but insistent, Matt kisses the nape Foggy's neck so he can ask for more. After a while, Foggy stirs. His words are slurred and sleep addled, but they give consent. So Matt slides into Foggy, wet still and willing again, with a long drawn out groan.
Matt takes Foggy gently now. The burning need is not sated but tamed so Matt can go slow. Whisper sweet things. Indulge himself by running his hands leisurely across the warm flesh of his lover's generous form.
Foggy moans as Matt's hands find his half-hard cock and teases it into a full erection. But he keeps still. Like last night, he lets Matt be in control of both their pleasure and Matt's intent on rewarding that trust. Ignoring Foggy's whine, he removes his hand from Foggy's cock, grabbing the broad hips instead. His free hand tangles in Foggy's hair while he quickens the push of his loins against Foggy's arse. Adjusting his thrusts just so, he finds Foggy's sweet spot. He alternates between hitting it right on and missing deliberately.
A breathy chuckle escapes him as Foggy switches between cursing like a sailor and begging like a whore. To his luck, Matt is too eager to make him wait. Making sure to hit Foggy's prostate with each motion now, Matt digs his fingertips into the meat of Foggy's hips as he pushes into him, slow but firm.
Together they climax and Matt fucks them through it until both their bodies go limp and they breathe out, relaxed and relieved.
"Matty," Foggy whispers.
Matt kisses Foggy's hair. "Right here."
*
"Breakfast or lunch?" Foggy asks, hours later when they finally have made it out of bed and taken a shower.
Matt doesn't like that the smell of sex is fading. So he remains close to Foggy to catch the subtle remains that linger even after cleaning up.
"Neither," he says. "I'm not too hungry."
"I take offense," Foggy jokes. "Shouldn't last night… well, and this morning, have left you ravenous?"
Chuckling, Matt wraps his arms around Foggy and kisses his shoulder. "Usually yes."
"And unusually?"
Matt sighs. "I need to go to the home. Face the kids. Explain. Say goodbye. It's gonna be hard."
"Want me to come with you?" Foggy offers because of course he does.
Trained to martyrdom Matt opens his mouth. His age old habit to suffer everything alone urges him to say, "No, thank you, Foggy. I got this."
But Matt doesn't.
Instead he tightens his embrace, pulling Foggy closer.
"Yes, please," he says. "Thank you."
Foggy turns his head and kisses Matt's chin.
"Always."