Matt rarely sleeps these days. The looming threat of Fisk and his empire keeps him awake as does the guilt. A clean conscience makes a soft pillow they say. Matt would not know. His alternatives are ignoring the city’s screams for help at night or lying to Foggy during the day. Both would be thorns in his pillows, keeping him awake. So he chooses to be the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.
Foggy despises the Devil, not knowing it’s his best friend. It hurts. Being hated by Foggy, even if it’s just a part he hates, is a cruciating pain. But if Matt snuggled up into warm blankets, leaving the vulnerable to fend for themselves, he’d hate himself. Which would be worse. So he hides the Devil from Foggy and soothes his conscience with the thought that indirectly he keeps Foggy safe, too.
Indirectly becomes directly one night. Foggy tends to work late (picking up Matt’s slack more often than not). That leads to him getting his groceries long after sunset. Matt does not like it, but when Foggy asks - with a warm laugh - what else he should do, Matt has no answer.
But he can keep Foggy safe. Thursday is Foggy’s grocery day so Matt sits on a roof that oversees (in Matt’s case, overhears) the area between Foggy’s home and the store. Foggy never knows until that one night in which Matt’s concerns prove justified.
A paper bag rustles as Foggy moves and he hums a song about pirates. The fond smile on Matt’s face dies when he hears two men speak in a side street. Their voices bounce off the walls in the narrow alley and Matt makes out “the chubby blond in the suit” and “looks like money”. Matt is sure Foggy does not look like money to people who actually have money, but street robbers rarely do have money.
Matt takes the high road, the strangers take the low road. With hastened steps they follow Foggy on the sidewalk, Matt follows them above their heads over the rooftops. His way is longer and he needs to be quiet so they reach their target faster.
Their timing is impressive. Just when Foggy passes another alley, they catch up with him. Easily, one of them can push Foggy from the main road into the small space between two buildings.
Matt sprints to the roof’s ledge to reach the fire escape. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, guys,” he hears Foggy, his voice even, his heart thundering. So Matt all but flies downwards. He arrives from above to Foggy speaking, calm, reasonable, de-escalating.
There is a chance Foggy can talk them down (and maybe even win some clients in the process). Foggy has a way with words, Matt knows this. But he will not take the tiniest risk of a hair being misplaced on Foggy’s head.
Filled by rage, Matt grabs two of the men from behind. With all of his notable strength he throws them against the wall behind him, shortly reveling in the noiseful connection of their backs with the stone. The gravel under the third man’s shoe grinds across the ground with a crunching sound, giving away that he turns towards Matt. Before he can do anything, Matt’s fist hits his nose and the splintering of his nasal bone reverberates satisfyingly in Matt’s ear.
The robber stumbles back. “Shit, it’s him,” he murmurs and runs.
Quickly, Matt puts his attention on the others. They’re just getting on their feet again, groaning and cursing. One takes two steps towards him, then freezes. He, too, seems to recognize Matt because then he flees. The third wants to follow, but Matt grabs his collar and slams him against the wall again.
“Don’t touch him,” he whispers into the man’s ear. “Tell everyone who might think of touching this man that it is a very bad idea.”
Whimpering, the guy nods. Matt wants to emphasize his point again, but Foggy stops him.
“Hey!” he calls. “The man tried to run. You’re leaving the grounds of self-defense here!”
Wordless, Matt lets go of the robber. He steps back and listens to the retreating footsteps.
For a while, not a word is spoken. Foggy’s breath and heartbeat are both unsurprisingly elated. When they start to normalize, Matt turns his face to Foggy.
Though his instincts want him to run to Foggy, he doesn’t. He takes one step towards him but is mindful to keep his distance. Also, he makes sure to stay near the wall so the street light cannot illuminate his face. Foggy has known him for too long. He’d recognize him up close and in the light.
“Are you alright, sir?” Matt asks quietly, masking his voice in a whisper and a darker timbre.
“Yeah,” Foggy says. “I… I’m fine.”
For some reason, his heartbeat picks up speed again. Damn, Matt scares him!
“I… I don’t want to hurt you,” Matt hurries to say. “I wanted to get you out of the… situation.”
“I know,” Foggy says and adds sarcastically, “Hell’s Kitchen’s new hero.”
“Just… trying to help.”
“Sure.”
But Foggy’s pulse does not calm at all. So Matt takes a step away from him and says, “You should go home, sir. It’s late.”
Foggy’s heart is still racing, but apparently he is grateful for the out. The fabric of his suit rustles and his hair swishes as he nods wildly.
“Right, I should.” Foggy grabs the bag with his groceries, mumbles a “thanks for the rescue” and walks away quickly.
Sighing, Matt listens to his friend’s shoes hitting the concrete until the sound fades into the night. That could have gone over better.
*
Matt can hear them talking. He always can, of course, but this time he feels a bit guilty. This time, Karen and Foggy don’t talk about the rebellious copying machine, rant about a mean client or joke around. All these things they’d share with Matt anyway so Matt doesn’t think he’s overstepping.
Karen’s voice is lowered. She doesn’t know Matt can hear her and neither can Foggy. It indicates this is a private conversation. Well, Matt is in the kitchen. Being honest, he could turn on the coffee machine and focus on its sounds, block out Karen and Foggy. But he doesn’t. Even though he came for coffee, he does not make it. Instead, he swirls the coffee spoon in his hand and listens.
“So,” Karen says. “What did you want to tell me?”
“I was robbed last night.”
“What?” she whisper-screams and Foggy shushes her.
“Let’s not tell Matt,” Foggy says and Matt feels like being stabbed in the gut. “He worries about me anyway…”
“Just like the other way around,” Karen interrupts with a smile in her voice.
“...not the point… we don’t need to upset him.”
“Did you report it? What did they steal?”
“Nothing to report but a stain on my suit jacket and a pair of almost pissed pants,” Foggy chuckles before repeating insistently, “Emphasis on ‘almost’.”
“Yeah, I got that,” Karen says. “What happened?”
“Your hero in black happened,” Foggy admits with a sigh. “Took him five seconds tops to rough them up and scare them away.”
The sound of her heels suggests Karen is jumping up and down. She squeals in delight.
“See?” she says excitedly. “He is a good guy.”
“Hmm.”
“You still don’t believe it?”
“I believe he believes it,” Foggy says.
Karen sighs. “That’s something, I guess.”
“Plus, I will happily agree with you on one thing,” Foggy says.
“Oh?”
“He is, just as you put it, ‘super smoking hot’.”
Matt drops the spoon he is playing with. Deafeningly loud, the metal piece is hitting the ground, spins around a few times and finally comes to rest.
Foggy’s office door opens. “You alright there, buddy?” Foggy calls over.
“Yes, all good,” Matt answers, trying not to choke on his own spit. “Just dropped a spoon.”
“Need help?”
“I can make coffee, Foggy,” Matt says, pretending to laugh. “And even you can’t save coffee spoons from gravity.”
“True, but I’m working on it,” Foggy jokes. Then his door closed again.
“Matt okay?” Karen asks.
“Clumsy but okay,” Foggy chuckles.
“Good… anyway, the hot devil,” Karen says.
“Let’s not call him that.”
“You called him Devil and hot so…”
“Yeah, alright, I did.”
“Didn’t think he was your type,” Karen says, fishing.
“Who did you think was my type?”
“I don’t know.” Karen draws out the words teasingly. “I’d have thought you’d date people who are like Matt. For example… Matt.”
In the kitchen Matt holds his breath while Foggy coughs and laughs. Ouch. Bitter irony. Karen fishes for that information because she is interested in Matt, a feeling Matt can’t return because he wants Foggy. Meanwhile, Foggy chokes on his own spit at the mere thought of dating Matt.
“Matt?” Foggy asks. “I mean, I agree that Matt is a good example of people who are like Matt, but…”
“Don’t even think of giving me the ‘straight white boy’ act. I’ve seen you stare at hot dudes. Matt is a hot dude.”
“I have two ties in the bi colors, Karen,” Foggy sighs. “I’m not claiming to be straight, but Matt and I are just best friends.”
“He is hot, you guys live in each other’s pocket, have a gazillion inside jokes and share a lot of interests.”
“All correct,” Foggy admits to the thundering beat of Matt’s heart. “Matt is a very handsome, smart and great guy, but he… erm… he lacks that… spark of danger, you know?”
“Spark of danger?” Karen repeats, laughing. “What is that?”
“Don’t mock me, Miss Page,” Foggy demands in fake indignation. “You know… that little touch of something secretive, dark, risky, potentially dangerous. Some people have that.”
“Like the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?”
“Yes,” Foggy concedes. “Like the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. I like that, sue me.”
“Who’d be my lawyer?”
“Funny,” Foggy says. “Anyway, Matt is just… Matt. Sweet, kind and harmless.” He pauses and finally says, “Now go back to work. We’re not not paying you for gossiping.”
Karen chuckles. “Right,” she says. “Boss.”
“Shoo.”
A few seconds later, Foggy’s office door opens again. Karen’s heels click on the floor as she makes her way to her desk. Matt is not in the mood for coffee anymore. But he waits a moment for Karen to settle. Then he schools his face into an indifferent expression and leaves the kitchen.
He exchanges a short greeting with Karen and disappears into his office. Licking that wound will take an hour or two.
*
Matt's stomach sinks and keeps sinking. His heart is beating like drums of war and he is shaking. All those injuries he suffered in his fight against Nobu and Fisk don’t even hurt as much any more. Foggy’s anger hurts. As do his disappointment and his doubt.
“Was anything between us ever real?”
“Are you even blind?”
“You ever stop to think what would happen if you went to jail? Or worse?”
“You really think that anyone would believe that I didn't know what you were doing? That Karen didn't know?”
All of Matt’s pleas and promises, that of course not everything was a lie, of course he cares about Foggy, of course he thinks about his friends, too, don’t get him out of this. In the end, Foggy leaves. Not all is said because Matt does not have the words to explain his world. Not all is done because there is nothing Matt can do.
*
Matt stays home for a few days. After all, Karen thinks he was in a severe accident. Even though he already feels better, she’d just send him home if he went to the office.
One evening, Foggy comes to visit. He brings work. Unlike Karen’s, his sympathy with Matt is strictly limited. So he expects Matt to go at least through some files and do some research. Matt agrees. He is glad for the chance to soothe his guilt a bit and for Foggy to still trust him as a partner. However, Foggy’s cold attitude irks Matt.
“You could stay for a beer,” Matt suggests as Foggy lays the files on the kitchen counter. “Maybe a movie? I need my narrator.”
He puts on the smile that usually evaporates any irritation Foggy feels for Matt. This time it fails.
“No time,” Foggy says, tight-lipped.
“Oh? What are you up to?” Matt asks.
Foggy sighs. “Nothing,” he admits. “I just don’t want to be around you right now and you know full well why! I… I have no idea what is real anymore. You lied to me, you made me lie to Karen. You messed everything up.”
What can Matt say? It’s all true. It is a terrible spot he put his best friend in, but there was no alternative. However, this was not something Foggy would understand, could understand. Because Foggy could not hear her.
“This city needs me in that mask, Foggy,” Matt tries and Foggy falls silent for a moment - for a moment in which Matt thinks it might be okay.
But then the salty smell of tears reaches his nostrils. It’s a stinging throwback to the night Foggy found out. For a few seconds, Matt thinks Foggy will just leave again, but then he speaks.
“Maybe you're right,” he says, voice breaking. “Maybe it does. But I don't. I only ever needed my friend.”
Matt feels tears rising, too, different tears. Tears of shame to have failed Foggy. Of fear to lose Foggy .Of desperation in the face of a decision Matt cannot make. But also of anger. He swallows all the tears, the anger remains.
“Your friend?” he spits and steps into Foggy’s space. “You mean your harmless friend?”
“What?”
“You know, sweet, kind and harmless Matt?” Matt goes on. “Sweet, kind and harmless Matt who is not at all like the bad but also very hot Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?”
Foggy says nothing for long seconds. At first it surely is confusion, but then he takes a sharp breath. His body tenses and Matt hears his fists clench.
“You heard what I said to Karen,” Foggy says. It’s a statement, nothing more. Neither guilt nor anger swing in the words.
“Yes,” Matt laughs bitterly. “I heard.”
His body vibrates with his emotions and Foggy tenses. But he holds his ground.
“Oh no!” he says. “You don’t! You don’t get to turn this around. You won’t make me feel bad now because I said something you’re only even aware of due to the superpowers you hid from me.”
Matt’s nostrils flare with his anger. “Maybe,” he growls, “it’s not so much that I heard it, but that you even think that of me. It’s insulting! Whether I know you think so or not.”
“You, my friend, know shit,” Foggy hisses.
His finger pokes into Matt’s chest. Then Foggy moves to walk past Matt, probably to leave. However, Matt doesn’t let him. He turns towards him, grabs Foggy’s shoulders, nails digging through the fabric, and slams him against the kitchen counter.
“I know that you thought of me as poor blind puppy dog Matty,” he presses out between gritted teeth. “And now that you know I’m not, you’re scared.”
Foggy scoffs. “I’m not scared of you,” he gives back.
The words sound honest, but Foggy’s pulse is beating like crazy.
“Liar.”
“It’s not a lie!” Foggy insists. “And even if it was, you had no business complaining about it.”
Angry, he pushes against Matt, trying to free himself. But Matt is stronger. He does not budge, instead holds on tighter and pins Foggy against the counter with his body.
Foggy freezes. His breath hitches and his pulse races even faster. Almost, Matt feels guilty for scaring Foggy. Then he smells it. It’s subtle at first, but Matt is no stranger to it and he recognizes it. Indeed, Foggy has not lied. At least right now, he is not afraid. He is aroused.
At first, Matt’s almost giddy. Foggy’s aroused by him. Then he reminds himself that this is not really true. Strictly speaking, Foggy is aroused by the Devil of Hell’s kitchen - the mysterious man from the shadows that carries the “spark of danger”.
Fueled by anger and jealousy, Matt grabs the back of Foggy’s head. Growling, he pulls Foggy into a searing kiss. He drags his teeth across Foggy’s lips and aggressively pushes his tongue into Foggy’s mouth.
Matt half-expects a kick against his chin, another, more forceful shove or at least a sound of protest. He gets neither. A surprised noise escapes Foggy, but then he kisses back - no less fierceful. His fingers curl around the fabric of Matt’s shirt firmly, dangerously straining the seams, he presses himself close to Matt and bites into Matt’s bottom lip.
Hissing, Matt pulls Foggy’s hair. A rumble vibrates in his chest as he drags Foggy away from the counter and steers them both towards his bedroom. Matt’s manhandling Foggy, but it does not take much. Foggy follows willingly, still sharing the rough, anger fueled kiss with Matt.
Matt walks Foggy towards the bed. When the back of Foggy’s knees hit the mattress, Matt pushes him down forcefully. Quickly, Matt follows, climbs on top of Foggy and holds him in place with his weight.
Within seconds, his lips are on Foggy’s again, demanding, bruising. Matt takes a hold of Foggy’s wrists and pins them beside the pillow. Both men are trembling with rage and arousal. Groaning, Matt rolls his hips and his erection brushes against Foggy’s. With a gasp, Foggy throws his head back into the pillow.
“Fuck! Matt!” he manages to exclaim before Matt has chased down his lips again.
“Not so harmless now, am I?” Matt rumbles against Foggy’s mouth and steals any rejoinder Foggy might want to give right from his tongue.
Wildly, they grind against each other. With a moan, Foggy strains against Matt’s grip and Matt’s grip gets firmer. For a while, they carry on like this and Matt can feel precum staining his underwear.
At one point, it’s no longer enough. Matt wants more. Now. Swiftly, he sits up, letting go of Foggy. Foggy whines as the kiss breaks and his hips twitch, seeking more friction. His now free hands lay down on Matt’s thighs, stroking them just right between too harsh and too tender.
Matt’s fingers hook into the waistband of Foggy’s pants. Then he freezes. Yes, he is more pissed at Foggy than ever before. But he can’t just…
“Yes,” Foggy says as if reading his mind.
Helpfully, he lifts his butt so Matt can remove his pants and underwear. The scent of Foggy’s arousal becomes stronger and Matt’s vigor returns. He pulls Foggy into a sitting position to get rid of his shirt. Foggy’s hands slip beneath Matt’s t-shirt and he pushes the fabric upwards. But he is too slow for Matt’s taste so Matt slaps his hands away and gets rid of his clothes himself.
“My nightstand. Lube.” It’s an order not an information.
Foggy scrambles across the mattress to obey. The upper drawer opens and closes. Soon Foggy presses the bottle into Matt’s palm with shaking fingers and without a word. Matt lubes up his right hand and puts the left against Foggy’s broad chest.
Half Matt pushes him, half Foggy sinks down. Matt can’t suppress a groan when the thick thighs spread so he can slip between them. When his hands wander up Foggy’s legs towards the luscious butt, Matt goes slow. He needs to be sure Foggy has enough time to stop him, should he want to.
But there is no protest. So Matt spreads Foggy’s ass cheeks and lets one wet finger circle around the puckered hole. Foggy moans and arches his back, swaying into the touch.
Matt is generous with the lube. He knows that Foggy has done this before (dammit, yes, Matt knows, he heard and he smelled it], but still Matt won’t risk hurting him. So he is determined but careful while entering Foggy. Inch by inch, he conquers the tight channel. Foggy’s body gives and Matt takes.
As Matt kisses Foggy again, a part of him suddenly wishes he could go slower, could be sweeter with Foggy. But he is too afraid that the spell will break if their rage does not feed it. So he all but ravages Foggy’s mouth while kneading the soft flesh of Foggy’s hips and waist. One last time, he nips at Foggy’s bottom lip before pulling away.
Bracing himself on his lower arms, Matt starts rolling his hips. It’s too much and not enough. Matt bites his lips as the friction and the tight wet heat threaten to overwhelm his sensitive nerves. Experimenting with the angle and the intensity of his thrusts, he stores away Foggy’s reaction, every sound, every shudder and every little hitch of his breath.
Foggy’s hands find Matt’s upper arms, holding on and clenching around his biceps. Foggy moans out his pleasure without holding back. Smugly, Matt chuckles and bends down to bury his face in the slope of Foggy’s neck.
“Still too harmless?” he asks between kisses and nips.
“Jesus, Murdock,” Foggy says, beside his lack of breath sounding annoyed. “Could you get over… fuck!”
A specifically well aimed push against Foggy’s prostate shuts him up. His arms sling around Matt’s upper body, nails digging into his back. Matt repeats his movement over and over again, for one, to keep Foggy speechless and for two, to revel more in the delicious noises falling from Foggy’s lips.
“Admit it,” Matt whispers against Foggy’s throat. “I was benched from the start as the ‘wounded duck’, just your nice buddy Matt. But now that you found out who I really am, you couldn’t wait to spread your legs.”
Again, Matt does not let Foggy answer. He grabs Foggy’s wrists once more and starts a series of vicious wild thrusts that makes Foggy scream. Quickly, Matt covers Foggy’s lips with his to swallow the sound.
Now, it does not take long for Foggy to tense underneath Matt. His channel clenches around Matt’s cock, he shudders and Matt feels hot wetness between their joined bodies. Smell, sound and sensation push Matt over the edge as well.
Matt digs his teeth into Foggy’s shoulders and groans. A hushed “Matty” reaches his ear while he rides out his orgasm. Finally, the tension leaves his limbs and Matt all but passes out on top of Foggy.
*
When Matt awakes, he is alone. The musky smell of sex emanates from his bed and himself. Dried semen and sweat cling to him, cold and sticky. Shivering, he sits up and curses.
"Shit, shit, shit!" All the horrible things he has said to Foggy come rushing into his mind.
He can’t exactly know the time, but the noise level on the street and his decent inner clock make him estimate it’s around midnight. Probably, Foggy went home. If so, Matt could not blame him - with how Matt treated him. With what he said and how rough he was.
But then there is a noise. With sleep losing its grip on Matt, he can now hear the faint heartbeat from the bathroom. Not long after, the toilet is flushed and the tap is running.
Matt jumps out of bed. Hurrying through his flat, he almost bumps into Foggy as his friend steps out of the bathroom.
“Whoa!” Foggy jumps back in shock. “Give a guy a warning, Mr. Ninja.”
Matt ignores the jab. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”
“Erm, yes and yes?”
“I hurt you?”
“Well, obviously,” Foggy says in an unplaceable tone. “I felt like this was the point? I mean,” a little smile sneaks into his voice, “I gave as good as I got, right?” His hand brushes over a scratch on Matt’s upper arm.
Admittedly, there are matching marks on Matt’s back. Still, Matt feels bad. Especially when Foggy moves to the bedroom and Matt perceives his walk as off. Foggy apparently notices Matt staring.
“ You alright?” he asks, sounding insecure.
“Yeah, all good, just… I thought you had left.”
“Do you… want me to?” Foggy wants to know and now Matt can hear the hurt.
“No,” he says, too loud and too fast. “Please stay! I mean, if you want. Go back to sleep. I… take the couch.”
Foggy snorts. “That seems kind of silly now, doesn’t it?” he says, trying to laugh but failing. “You literally fucked me into your mattress, Murdock, and now you can’t sleep next to me?”
“I…”
Sighing, Foggy shrugs. “Don’t care. Do what you want.”
He walks into the bedroom and Matt follows. Carefully, Matt takes hold of Foggy’s hand.
“I’m sorry,” Matt says. “I… I shouldn’t have…”
“Yeah,” Foggy says, toneless. “I know. Mistake, spur of the moment, anger, won’t happen again.”
“I don’t mean to make excuses, Foggy. I shouldn’t have, even though I was mad because of what you said to Karen.”
“Goddammit, Matt!” Foggy suddenly yells. “What was I supposed to say to Karen?”
“Um, I don’t know, but…”
“‘Oh, you know, Matt is exactly my type, just like he is yours and you’re his and I’d love to be the third wheel in your budding romance’,” Foggy says in a fake delighted voice and adds drily, “Yeah, that would be awesome.”
“Uhhh…”Matt scratches his head. “It would not be true though, would it? You said you needed that spark…”
“... of danger, yeah,” Foggy says. “Like in a man who’s always calm and collected, but whose nostrils flare whenever a misogynist gives his ‘opinion’ on abortion rights or job equality. The spark of a man who won’t say a word but whose hands clench so tight around his cane that his knuckles go white when a child abuser or a rapist walks free. A man who, in the face of injustice, is the perfect picture of serenity on first sight but trembling with barely contained rage at a closer look. For a spark of danger that’s enough. What you do in your black pajama is not a spark, it’s a fucking fire.”
It takes Matt a while to catch up. “So, you…uh… actually…”
“Yes, so, I, uh, actually,” Foggy mimics before sighing, “But I know you like Karen and she likes you. She is a very nice woman though. If she knew that I’m in… how I feel for you,” he swallows hard, “she might back off, not wanting me to get hurt. I didn’t want to ruin this for you, man.”
Matt remains silent. His impressive eloquence and vast vocabulary are not at his disposal right now. So he just stands dumbly in his own bedroom. Finally, Foggy clears his throat.
“Yeah, right,” he says, subdued. “Imma… just… get my clothes and leave you alone.”
Fishing for some errand piece of his wardrobe, Foggy bends down. But Matt finally is done processing. Quickly, he grabs Foggy’s arm and pulls him close. He drags Foggy’s soft form against his own lean body and gently cups Foggy’s cheeks. Before Foggy can react, Matt kisses him, softer and sweeter this time. When he pulls away, he brushes his nose against Foggy’s and shakes his head with a fond smile.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Matt asks.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I withdraw the question.”
They both chuckle. Very careful, Matt steers Foggy back to the bed and lowers him down on the mattress. Whispering apologies, he presses soft kisses on the bite marks and bruises he left. Foggy tries to dismiss Matt’s remorse as unnecessary, but Matt shushes him.
The tender touches have an effect on both of them and soon, they find each other hard again.
“May I?” Matt asks as he puts his hands on Foggy’s knees.
When Foggy says “yes”, Matt spreads his legs and positions himself again.
Foggy is still wet and loose. With a satisfied groan, Matt easily slips in. They take their time now, exchanging sweet words in hushed whispers. Bodies joined, they find their climax together, kissing and holding on to each other.
Afterwards, Matt gently turns Foggy to his side and wraps himself around the generous body. Foggy laughs a bit, but then he sighs pleasantly and sinks into the embrace.
“Just to be clear,” he murmurs. “I haven’t forgotten that you’re secretly a ninja and I’m gonna be very mad about it for a while.”
“Hmm, hmm.” Unimpressed, Matt tightens his grip and presses closer against Foggy. “Just to be clear: I haven’t forgotten that you called me ‘smoking hot’ and I’m gonna be very smug about it forever.”
Foggy groans into the pillow. “I hate you,” he mumbles.
“You don’t,” Matt says, - as promised - very smug.
“No, I don’t,” Foggy admits. “I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
The End