Chapter Text
“I appreciate your help, Devil. Truly. I could heal your wounds…” the Scarlet Witch offers. She gently puts her hands on Matt’ shoulder. Matt feels the magic spark, but takes a step backwards.
He smiles. “Sure, but then how would I learn anything?” he asks.
It’s ridiculous of course. No amount of pain or blood loss ever taught him a lasting lesson. Yet, he doesn’t feel like sharing that he thinks he deserves the cutting sensation of the wind brushing over his split skin and the burning where the fabric of his suit meets an open wound. He deserves hurting.
However, Wanda accepts his explanation. They say their goodbyes and part. Matt knows he should go back to his hotel room to rest so he can return to his current quest as fast as possible. But he can’t bring himself to.
After fighting a bunch of people turned into zombies by a dark God, he feels the urge to check on Foggy. Foggy doesn’t want to see him. While it hurts, Matt has respected it in those last weeks. But now he has to see Foggy, has to make sure he is alright. So he allows his tired feet to carry him to Foggy’s apartment building.
When he arrives, the nightly streets are empty. Nobody is around to see him slip around the corner to the back of the house and climb the fire escape. But from inside the apartment the familiar pulse tells him Foggy is awake.
Tomorrow’s Sunday and Foggy probably allows himself an allnighter with a good book. His heart beats even, relaxed for once. So Matt could leave. What happened today, hasn’t affected Foggy. He is safe and sound. There is no need to break into one of Foggy’s rare quiet moments, but Matt knocks anyway, hating himself for it. But he wants to hear that voice, even if it scolds him.
When he taps against the window, the springs of Foggy’s old sofa squeak . A clap sounds as a book is closed and floorboards creak as Foggy gets to his feet. Matt focuses on the noise of Foggy’s slippers while he comes closer. The moment Foggy enters the kitchen can’t be missed as he immediately groans.
“Someone must have been feeding strays again,” Foggy says and the kitchen light clicks on.
Matt’s lips twitch. Of course, Foggy knows Matt can hear him. So the fact that he is joking at his expense instead of telling him to get lost, is a good sign.
The window opens. Subtle waves of Foggy’s aftershave float towards Matt and the rich aroma of hot cocoa lies in the air. Fabric rustles as Foggy puts his hands on his hips.
“What happened to you?”
“People were turned into zombies.”
“Oooof course they were.”
“Well, something like zombies. Magic stuff. Doesn’t matter.”
“I’d say magic that turns people into ‘something like zombies’ matters a little,” Foggy deadpans, “but I’m sure you got it handled. What do you need from me?”
“Just checking in,” Matt says quietly.
Foggy’s muscles tense “Hm.”
“Please, Foggy, I… I know you hate me…”
“I don’t ha….”
“…but you’re my best friend and I need to know you’re alright.”
Foggy rubs his hand across his face. “Of course, I’m alright. I’m not the one who…” he interrupts himself with a sigh. After a beat, he steps away from the window. “Want me to look at those still bleeding wounds before the infection sets in?”
Swallowing hard, Matt nods. His throat is dry and his voice hoarse when he answers, “That would be nice.” Matt climbs inside and closes the window.
“Living room,” Foggy says and reaches for Matt.
When Foggy touches his shoulder, both men hiss. A sensation like a mild electric shot goes through Matt and judging by the small curse, Foggy feels the same.
“What the…?”
“Static energy?” Matt suggests, but he can feel the unique tingle of magic in the air.
“There were red sparks!”
“Oh… erm… could be… residue of Chaos Magic?”
“What?” Foggy exclaims.
“It was aimed at me with the intention to heal,” Matt hurries to say. “I… don’t think it’s harmful.”
“Yes, I am sure an energy form called Chaos Magic is completely reliable.”
“When used by the right person it is,” Matt says, although he has no idea if that is true.
Foggy stills for a moment. Then he says, “Well, I feel okay…” He touches Matt’s shoulder again and this time nothing happens. “Alright, let’s try stitching you up.”
A few minutes later, Matt’s is down to his boxers. He sits on Foggy’s sofa, still warm from when Foggy had been lounging and reading here. It smarts when Foggy cleans the cuts and the smell of disinfectant is sharp in Matt’s nose. But the soft and gentle palms of Foggy’s hands make up for it.
When Foggy’s done disinfecting, he carefully bandages the deeper wounds and applies ointment to the superficial cuts. Matt bites his lips. He forces down the pleased moan that threatens to fall from his lips when Foggy runs a hand across his back to double check on his spine and shoulder blades.
And suddenly…
Matt can see.
Not like he usually does, shapes, vibrations, temperature and sound. No, he sees in a way he hasn’t seen since he was a boy. Well, and the short period of being possessed by a cosmic entity.
However, it can’t be right. He is no longer on the couch, instead sees a redheaded blind man sitting there. He looks at himself, on Foggy’s couch. But his boxers are gone. Foggy is kneeling in front of him but he is not tending to Matt’s wounds. Matt, the Matt on the couch, the other Matt, sports a full erection and Foggy’s bending forward to wrap his lips around it. The other Matt moans, slides a hand into Foggy’s hair and grabs a fistful.
“Matt!”
Just like that, Matt’s blind again. Confused, he finds himself back on the sofa and in the world of scent, sound and radar sense. His underwear is still where it was and Foggy is decidedly not sucking his cock but faces him, no doubt expectantly.
“So… sorry what?”
“I said, I don’t think anything is broken,” Foggy tells him. “I mean I’m no doctor, but it’s not that you’ll visit one of those.”
In an awkward angle, Matt gets to his feet. Thankfully, Foggy doesn’t seem to have noticed Matt’s half hard cock and Matt intends to keep it that way. But he can’t get the picture he has seen out of his head and the semi erection will become a full one soon.
“Can I use your bathroom?” he asks while trying to keep his breathing under control.
“Um, sure,” Foggy says and points into the corridor. “Out of the door and to the right.”
Matt thanks Foggy. He disappears in the bathroom and locks the door.
What was that? What kind of dirty vision overcame him? Was it just an intense daydream? In his dreams, he often can see like an average person. But flashes of imagination during the day usually are featuring the familiar sensation of his heightened remaining senses. He has imagined Foggy’s touch, the feeling of a kiss, Foggy’s scent in his nose, but he never pictured it. And he surely hasn’t done so with such inconvenient timing.
Groaning quietly, Matt splashes cold water into his face. He wills the erection down. Despite being angry, Foggy let him in and tended to Matt’s wounds. And Matt thanked him by thinking about fucking his mouth. Dammit. He is thinking about it again!
He stays in the bathroom for a good long while.
When Matt returns to the living room, Foggy snores on the couch, a sweet and soft whistle. Smiling, Matt listens for a while. It’s a comforting sound, memories of safety and love singing in it.
He planned to ask Foggy if he could have the sofa for the night. But he will not wake Foggy now. And occupying Foggy’s bed instead would be a huge overstep at the current state of their relationship. So even though Foggy doesn’t need the bed right now, Matt decides against taking it. Instead, he feels around the armchair for Foggy’s favourite fleece blanket and lays it across Foggy’s sleeping form. Matt makes sure all the windows are locked safely again and quietly slips out through the apartment door.
*
Foggy hesitates. But in the end, he nods and lets Matt into his office rooms. Deeply, Matt breathes in the smell of paper, toner ink and fresh coffee. There was a time when he couldn’t wait for the work day to end, to put on his costume and be the free, daring, swash-buckling superhero. Hell, there were days when he didn’t wait for the work day to end to do that.
Now, he looks forward for a day with Foggy in the office.
Matt can’t hear Cole around and he is glad about it. Cole has a protective streak and he might kick Matt out to keep him from taking advantage of Foggy. Matt knows he is. Taking advantage. But he needs Foggy’s keen eye. And while Cole probably would be a great help, Matt can’t deny he likes having Foggy to himself for a while. To just for a moment recreate the good old times where it was just the two of them in a tiny office, researching and strategising.
“Okay,” Foggy says. “You can use my computer. Grab the headphones from the upper drawer and listen to whatever news about the area you can find. I’ll go through the newspapers.”
Smiling, Matt nods. “Good idea. Thanks for helping me with this Foggy.”
“Well, I live here so a bunch of demons roaming free in the city isn’t exactly in my interest,” Foggy dismisses the gratitude.
Matt makes his way to the desk chair and leans his cane against the wall. For a moment, Foggy leaves the room. As he returns, a thud on the other side of the desk tells him Foggy got a second chait for himself. Matt smiles. Foggy will sit here with him, not in Cole’s office or in the reception area.
Shortly after, Matt hears rustling. Foggy apparently begins reading through the first newspaper so Matt gets the headphone like Foggy told him and gets to work as well.
Unfortunately, they aren’t exactly successful. After an hour, they haven’t found anything and with each minute more that passes, Matt’s frustration grows. It must show on his face because Foggy asks gently, “Tea? For the nerves?”
“Not sure it will help,” Matt grumbles, “but it won’t hurt.”
“Be patient, Matt,” Foggy says, getting out of his chair. “This is New York. I’m not surprised people possessed by demons don’t stand out at first glance.”
In a comforting manner, Foggy pats Matt’s shoulders. Matt chuckles. He opens his mouth to comment but before he can, the room changes around him.
Again, from one moment to the other, he sees the world like he shouldn’t be able to.
He is in the office. A humble desk stands in its center, cluttered with newspapers. Two large file cabinets stand against the wall opposite the door, a window to its left and bookshelves drawing an L from the door and along the last wall. The room is small and the space fully used. Yet, thanks to furniture of light colored wood and the large window, the room seems bright and not oppressive.
In the desk chair, Matt sees himself. Next to him stands Foggy. He smiles and his hand rests on Matt’s shoulder. He turns to leave but when he lets go of Matt, Matt grabs his wrist, drags him backwards and pulls him right into Matt’s lap. Before Foggy can react, Matt cups his cheek and kisses him, soft yet insistent.
Foggy sighs pleasantly as Matt deepens the kiss and pets his hair. Matt sees his doppelgänger holding Foggy tenderly but firm, pressing the soft body against his lean one.
Something clinks beside Matt. He startles. The vision fades and his own, unique way of perceiving the world is back. Chamomile aroma rises next to him and the warmth of Foggy’s body reaches him from beside the desk,
“Are you alright, Matt?”
“Um… yes, sure, I mean,” Matt stammers, trying to sort his thoughts. He jumps to his feet. “You know, actually, no. I don’t feel so good. I think I, um, better go home, well, to the hotel. Rest. Sleep.”
“Are you sure you shouldn’t see a doctor?” Foggy asks. “Just… let them check on you? You needn’t tell them you recently fought zombies and got hurt. Just say you took a tumble down the stairs or something. Have them check the wounds for infections. Are you running a fever?”
Foggy reaches for Matt’s forehead, but Matt evades him with a quick step back.
“Doctor! Yes!” he exclaims. “I’ll do that! Good idea, Foggy!”
Skepticism and astonishment are vying for power in Foggy’s voice as he asks,”What? Really? Just like that? You’re going to see a doctor because I suggested it?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Matt laughs almost hysterically. Then he grabs his cane and coat and all but flees the office, calling “Thanks, Foggy!” over his shoulder.
“You’re welcome?” he can hear Foggy’s confused voice after the door has already closed behind him.