Leaving New York was a strange feeling. For a moment, Matt thought of an astronaut whose tether ripped apart, making him drift away from his ship: exposed to a terrifying freedom. Matt smiled. Had he voiced his thoughts, Foggy’d called him a drama queen. Rightly so. The comparison was ridiculous.
Matt was outside his familiar territory, yes. But the world outside New York was nothing like space as there was oxygen and food. Plus, he was not alone but in the company of his best friend. He was going to be fine. Hell, he had been willing to do this on his own. Now, Foggy was here.
Foggy, who had kissed him this morning and not spoken of it since. To be fair, Foggy had to focus on the road. They’d been driving for over two hours now and it wasn’t that Matt could take over for a while. Matt grinned as he remembered that Foggy had to promise he’d be the only one driving at the car rental office.
The thrumming of Foggy’s heart was faster than usual. Maybe he was nervous, maybe it was just the many cups of coffee he’d drunk to stay awake. Matt felt guilty. After all, he was the reason Foggy was exhausted and the reason Foggy could not rest yet.
However, said guilt was not stronger than his own tiredness. In the last weeks of the possession by the Beast of the Hand, Matt had not slept at all. At first, he’d thought his body had not needed it, but now he realized that all these nights were borrowed only, his human need for rest now back with vengeance.
So Matt allowed the steady drum of Foggy’s heartbeat to lull him in. Matt’s eyes fluttered shut and the tension of weeks and months left his limbs. The songs from the radio faded into the background as the motions of the car rocked him to sleep.
When Matt jerked awake, he was alone. A woolen blanket had been thrown over him but, nonetheless, he shuddered. Quickly, he buttoned up his jacket and crossed his arms. Apparently, the sun had set as the car windows were cold to the touch. From the bonnet Matt felt barely any heat as well which suggested that the car had not been running for a while. Most worrying, however, was that he could neither hear nor feel Foggy nearby. Carefully, Matt opened the door and left the vehicle. Taking a few hesitant steps, he took in his surroundings.
The ground was firm but not paved. There were no drops falling, yet the air smelled of upcoming rain. A cool breeze rushed over Matt’s skin and through his hair. Around him, Matt heard leaves rustle and wood cracking under the wind’s force.
Matt focused on the next gust. Its movement was broken a few steps from the car’s front and its low murmur split in two directions. Surrounded by the trees stood a solid structure: a two storey house.
As if to confirm this, a door opened nearby. Familiar footsteps caused by a familiar shape sounded on wooden ground.
“Matt,” said Foggy. “I’m sorry I left you alone. But I had some preparations to make and you were so fast asleep. I thought you’d need the rest.”
“I’m a big boy, Foggy,” Matt said with a smile. “You can leave me in the car without breaching the duty of care.”
Foggy chuckled. “Are you sure?” he asked. “What if you escape and bite someone?” He reached out to Matt. “Come inside, Funny Guy.”
Foggy’s hands were warm against Matt’s arm. With a firm yet gentle grip, he steadied Matt as he led him to the house. He announced the three steps to the porch, though he certainly knew Matt did not need the warning.
Inside, it was cool as well. However, the lack of wind made it far more comfortable.
“The heating was off,” Foggy explained as if reading Matt’s thoughts. “It will take a while for the house to warm up. But I brought extra blankets.”
“I know,” Matt said fondly. “Found one on me when I woke.”
Audibly, Foggy swallowed. He said nothing and led Matt up to the first floor. Turning left, he ushered Matt into a room close to the stairs. The smell of lemon and fresh chamomile greeted Matt and a draft made a nearby curtain swish across the floor.
“Wait, I’ll close the window,” Foggy said. “Just wanted some fresh air in here.”
He left Matt’s side for a moment and shut the window.
“It’s the old guest room,” Foggy said. “I hope it’s alright. The last time my parents were in the house was months ago. So everything is a bit dusty and stuffy. I cleaned up in here and changed the sheets so your nose won’t be too offended. I’ll do the other rooms one by one.”
Matt froze. “You cleaned up the guest room for me?” Matt asked. “While I was sleeping?”
“You definitely needed the rest,” Foggy said dismissively.
“So do you.”
“And I will get it,” Foggy said and joked, “My senses aren’t as touchy as yours. So cousin Debbie’s old room will do with fresh bedding. But first…” he gently pushed Matt towards the bed and Matt sat down. A cup of chamomile tea was put in his hand. “...you settle in while I get those blankets.”
A moment later, Foggy was out of the door. Matt was left to sit, stunned and silent, on the soft mattress Foggy had prepared for him. The smell of fresh tea and pleasantly scented cleaning agents filled his nose as he tried to sort his thoughts.
While Matt had been sleeping, Foggy had driven for hours, then cleaned a room and made tea for Matt. Matt couldn’t even claim to be surprised. These were the kind of things Foggy did for Matt.
And Foggy didn’t do it because he wanted Matt to solve a crime for him, to get or keep him out of jail or to lead his ninja clan to new glory. Foggy did things like that for Matt without expecting anything in return.
That felt good.
Not because Matt didn’t want to do things for Foggy, too. Heaven knew Matt would do anything for Foggy. But the knowledge that Foggy’s care, his loyalty, his… affection was unconditional, was reassuring. It softened the blow of realizing that everything else came with a price.
However, Foggy needed rest as well. His footsteps on the stairs were slow and heavy and the frequency of his pulse was low. As good as it felt to have Foggy take care of him, Matt had to return the favor now.
“Here you go,” Foggy said as he entered the room. “Your bag and the blankets. If you need anything, I’ll be right next door. Good ni…”
“This is a double bed,” Matt said.
“Erm, yes?”
“You could stay here.”
“I… I…,” Foggy stammered.
“Come on, Foggy,” Matt said. “You’re tired. The sheets in your cousin’s room need changing, this bed is prepared, it’s big enough and we’ve been sharing a bed before.”
Foggy hesitated. But Matt knew him well enough to know that he was wavering. So Matt decided to play dirty.
“If not for your sake, do it for mine,” Matt said. “I’d feel much better if you’d got some sleep now, too. Don’t put it on my conscience that you have to clean a second bedroom tonight.”
“Alright,” Foggy said. “I’ll get my stuff.”
After some awkward shuffling while refreshing in the small bathroom, they both finally got to lay down. To no surprise, Foggy fell asleep fast. His generous form came to rest, the broad chest rising and falling with even breaths. None of them had bothered packing pajamas so Matt was well aware that he lay in his underwear right next to his best friend who was also in his underwear.
The familiar scent, the heat of Foggy’s body and the closeness brought back the memories of their kiss. Matt touched his lips as if to summon the sensation of Foggy’s against them. It had been an awkward kiss, close-mouthed and clumsy. But still, it left Matt curious for more. Matt caught himself wishing Foggy hadn’t pulled away, had given Matt the chance to do more, to explore. He wondered how it would feel to kiss Foggy again, this time maybe touching Foggy. Perhaps this time pull him into a private corner and press him against a wall, prying his lips apart. Quickly, Matt shook the images off. The last thing he needed now was an erection.
Being honest with himself, Matt had to admit the feeling was not new. Not for men in general and most certainly not for Foggy in specific. Shameful fact of the matter was that for a long time Matt had feared to think about it.
As a young man it had been easy to ignore those feelings. Women liked Matt and Matt liked them. Some of them he’d even loved, deeply and desperately. It was no problem to push aside the occasional flare of desire a man might awaken. Why stray from the easy path when you can find happiness there? But Matt could not push every man out of his head and heart. And not for lack of trying.
Some of it was his faith. Some of it was the fathers he had known. They’d just been an excuse though and deep down Matt had always known.
Stick would not care. Not in an “I don’t care because I love you no matter what” way, more in an “I literally don’t care what you are feeling or for whom” way.
Father Cathal was a catholic priest of course. But Matt remembered him as warm and kind and open-minded. In hindsight, Matt was ashamed of ever hiding from his feelings behind this man.
As for the most important person, Matt’s actual father, Matt could not know for sure of course. Jack, in Matt’s memories, presented a specific kind of masculinity that immensely influenced what kind of man Matt wanted to be. Matt’s younger self who had seen Jack die, had lost him much too soon and wanted to be the exact image of Jack’s ideal, could not help but wonder what Jack would have wanted. However, picturing Jack, if asked what kind of man he wanted his son to be, Matt could imagine many answers: “brave”, “righteous”, “smart”, “educated”, “kind”, “generous”, but most of all “happy”. Certainly not “straight” or “not in love with his best friend”.
Finally allowing himself these thoughts in the stillness of a stranger’s house, Matt felt pathetic. Wondering about a dead man’s blessing and approval when it was his own cowardice keeping him from doing anything.
Matt swallowed. Foggy was next to him. Only a few inches away lay Foggy Nelson (who had kissed him only hours ago, goddammit). What Matt needed was right there. All he had to do was reach out.
Slowly, Matt adjusted his position, turning towards Foggy. He lifted his arm. For a moment Matt’s hand hovered over Foggy’s shoulder. Then he pulled back.
Sighing, he fell into his side of the mattress.
“Tomorrow,” he whispered into the night.