Unlike Matt, Foggy could not tell by a person’s breath or heartbeat if they were asleep. So he wasn’t sure if Matt pretended to avoid an early morning conversation or really was out of it. Well, probably the latter. After all, he had wanted to talk about the kiss.
Then again, he might have changed his mind when he - like Foggy - had realized what can of worms Foggy had opened. Only a few seconds, one fluid move - one kiss pressed on the mouth of your best friend for years. Right now, it just hung in the air. But speaking of it, spelling out its meaning - would change things forever. One way or the other. Maybe Matt had grasped this.
Either way, Foggy took the chance to sneak out of the bedroom and refresh. Afterwards, he got dressed as silently as possible and went to the kitchen.
While the coffee brewed, Foggy cleaned up the room a bit. He was very thorough since as long as he had something to do, he didn’t need to think. However, nobody could clean a kitchen forever. And the questions came back.
Suddenly the kitchen felt very small and suffocating.
Supplies! They would need supplies! Foggy grabbed pen and paper to make a shopping list. If getting groceries meant another hour or two he could postpone facing Matt, it was just a coincidence.
Foggy filled the fresh coffee in a thermos. Then he left a braille note for Matt and took his coat before he left. On his way to town, he called Jessica so she could let everyone who cared know that Matt was alright, well, alive. Of all Matt’s friends, she was most likely to understand that it took some time to understand that there was no running from oneself.
As expected, she was empathetic.
“I know what it’s like when your mind is not your own,” she said with a sigh. “The feeling of violation, mixed with guilt… I’ll tell the others to leave you guys be.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She paused before saying, “It’s good that you’re with him. Should be no one else.”
Foggy didn’t know how to answer that. So he just said, “Good bye, Jess. Thanks again,” and rang off.
The air was cold, but Foggy hoped it would clear his head and help him sort his thoughts. Indeed, he breathed a little easier, was a little more relaxed, knowing he had time to think. Unlike in the house, he did not have to expect Matt to approach him any second.
Matt.
Foggy’d understood some time ago that he was not a straight man. He’d of course met and loved wonderful women as well as some less wonderful ones. But Matt was not some grand exception to his heterosexuality. What made Matt special was that he deserved better than shameful fumblings in dark corners or supply closets. Being honest, the other men had deserved better, too. But a mix of convenience and cowardice had kept Foggy from being open about it.
He was a smart man, a successful lawyer and had made a name for himself. However, part of him was still the insecure little kid, not good enough even for his own mother. And this kid did not want to add “gay” to “chubby” and “awkward” on his list of mockable traits. Stupid really. But he was an old dog and it was no secret how those felt about new tricks.
Nevertheless, with every second that Foggy forced himself to think about it, one thing became clear. For Matt, he could overcome his fears. Matt was, after all, fear’s natural enemy. But would Matt even want or need him to?
Caught up in his musings, Foggy almost walked by his destination. At the last second, he noticed and entered the “Supermarket”. Since it was the only supermarket in Lily’s ridge the name was not prone to cause any confusion.
Efficiently, Foggy worked through the shopping list. With every item he threw into his cart, his mood dropped. When he was done here, he’d have to go back. He was not ready at all to return to the house and discuss the kiss.
Maybe Matt would agree to just forget it. He probably would and after a few weeks or months of terrible awkwardness, things would go back to normal. Great prospect.
The weeks and months of terrible awkwardness were not even Foggy’s biggest problem. His main problem was that he did not want to forget it. Could not.
While the possible repercussions made him wince, the memory of the kiss itself put a smile on his face. Vividly, he remembered the surge of boldness that went through his blood in the milliseconds before he stood on toe. The kiss had not been spectacular, not movie worthy, nothing a bard would write a song about. But for Foggy it meant everything that he got to feel Matt’s lips on his. Furthermore, it was nice that Matt had not pulled away or pushed Foggy back in disgust. Did that mean something?
Foggy shook his head, annoyed with himself. It meant something alright. It meant that Matt was a decent person who did not make a habit of humiliating his best friend on the busy streets of New York city.
It was important to stay realistic. Yes, he loved Matt. He wanted to be with him. As his friend but also as his… what? Boyfriend? Lover? The label probably did not matter so much.
However, how likely was it that Matt wanted Foggy? Foggy was not dense. It was impossible not to notice that men did strike Matt’s fancy now and again. While Matt was quite good at concealing it, from his best friend he could not hide how he would swallow hard, wet his dried lips or swipe his sweaty palms on his trousers. But Foggy never caused these reactions in Matt. Countless hugs they had shared without Matt becoming flustered, stuttering afterwards or fleeing the room with some bullshit excuse. Hell, yesterday Foggy had kissed Matt without Matt even blushing.
And it was not really a surprise, was it? Sure, Foggy was not unattractive, he was clever, eloquent, funny sometimes, but, compared to the superheroes Matt frequented with, he was not at all remarkable.
With a sigh, he reached for a box of chocolate cookies. The last item on his list.
“Time to go home,” he murmured to himself.
*
A knock at the window startled Matt awake. After a few seconds of listening, he realized there was nobody there. A tree branch was thrown against the window by the wind ever so often, creating an arrhythmic tapping sound.
Matt sat up and stretched his limbs. He felt rested and refreshed, in a way he had not experienced in what seemed like an eternity. And apparently, he had slept tied. The other bedside was empty so Foggy had woken up and left without waking Matt. Usually, that was impossible.
Yawning, Matt made his way to the bathroom. While he brushed his teeth, he tried locating Foggy, but there was no noise, indicating he was even in the house. However, the smell of fresh coffee wavered through the house so Foggy probably was not far away.
Back in the bedroom, Matt found clean clothes. Smiling, he let the worn but pleasantly smelling fabric glide through his fingers. Foggy’d packed for him yesterday, in a rush. Matt had felt his friend’s fear that Matt might change his mind. Guilty, Matt remembered just sitting in his chair while Foggy’d rummaged through his wardrobe. Still, Matt could not help but grin as he recalled Foggy murmuring about the ugly Christmas sweater, knowing full well Matt could hear him.
By now certain that Foggy was not on the property at the moment, Matt took the chance to explore the house a bit. But soon, the scent of coffee lured him into the kitchen.
It was not hard to locate the thermos and right next to it, Matt found his favorite mug. Warmth blossomed in his chest when he filled it, knowing Foggy had remembered taking it with him.
A noise drew Matt’s attention. From the refrigerator, aside from the machine’s own humming, he heard a fluttering noise. Sure enough, there was a note pinned against the door with a magnet. The paper was firm, vibrating against the refrigerator door. Matt’s eyes went wide as he let his fingers glide across it.
“Gone shopping”, it said - in Braille. Foggy must have brought his slate and stylus as well as the required paper. For Matt.
Suddenly, Matt’s heart ached. He missed Foggy. Which was silly as Foggy had slept right next to him the whole night and probably would be back any minute now. But Matt longed to talk to him. He wanted, no, needed to tell Foggy how grateful he was to have Foggy in his life.
To ask him if maybe they could be… what exactly? “More than friends” sounded wrong as it would imply their friendship was “less than romance” now. And “less” was a word Matt would never use when speaking about Foggy in any context.
Of course, there was the tiny voice that told him that Foggy deserved better. But as their time together had shown, Foggy did not think so. He’d come back to Matt again and again. Something Matt may not deserve, but appreciated greatly.
Sipping on his coffee, Matt realized he wanted it all: Foggy, as his business partner, his best friend and his lover.
Determined, Matt nodded to himself. This was what he wanted and he would ask for it. How bad could it be? Foggy had kissed him after all and that had to mean something, right?
Matt tilted his head. Someone approached the house. The sound of the steps matched Foggy’s weight and height so Matt tensed. He ran a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to straighten it and leant against the kitchen counter, casual and cool. Well, he hoped it was casual and cool.
A key turned in the lock, the front door opened and closed. A few seconds later, Foggy entered the kitchen, grocery bags rustling in his arms. He stopped in the door frame. His heart beat furiously and Matt heard him swallow hard.
“You’re up,” he said. “I mean… good morning.”
“Hi,” Matt greeted and to break the following awkward silence, he said, “erm, you could’ve woken me. I could have helped with these.” Vaguely, Matt gestured towards the groceries.
“Oh… no, no problem,” Foggy said. “You needed the rest. It’s just a 20 minute walk into town and the bags aren’t that heavy.”
“Okay. Right,” Matt said. “Foggy, I…”
Suddenly, Foggy became even more jittery and rambled, “You know what? I… I have a bad headache. I need some air! I’ll go for a walk in the woods.” He all but threw the bags into Matt’s arms. “Just put the milk and the cold cuts in the fridge. The rest aren’t perishables.”
“What?” Matt asked. “Foggy! Wait!”
But Foggy was already hurrying to the back door. Not wanting to just drop the bags, Matt put them on the counter. When he arrived at the access to the garden, Foggy was already outside. Matt opened the door.
“Are we really going to pretend you’re a ‘walk in the woods-person’?” he called.
But Foggy did not answer. For a moment, Matt pondered just letting him go. But then he shook his head. Milk and cold cuts be damned. Matt was going to have his say and Foggy was going to listen.
*
Foggy couldn’t. He just couldn’t. A minute ago he’d though he could take it. But seeing Matt standing there in the kitchen, with his boyish smile and mussed hair… how he started to speak, ever so softly. Foggy was not ready for a painfully gentle rejection, filled with understanding and sympathy. So he fled outside.
“Are we really going to pretend you’re a ‘walk in the woods-person’?” he heard Matt yell after him.
At first, Foggy thought Matt would go back inside. But soon, he made out his voice again.
“Seriously?” Matt called. “Not to brag, but I can outrun ninjas. You’re no match for me, Nelson.”
What an ass. He was right though. It was unlikely Foggy could run from Matt. Hiding from Matt, however, was impossible. So Foggy quickened his steps. Unfortunately, he really was not a “walk-in-the-woods” person and was distracted by fleeing from his best friend.
He stumbled across a clearing. When he noticed the depression in the grass covered ground, his right foot was already in it, twisting painfully. Yelling and cursing, Foggy went down.
At once, a panicked voice called out his name. Only seconds later, the foliage nearby rustled and Matt stepped onto the glade.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, rushing to Foggy’s side.
“Just my pride,” Foggy sighed. “Well, and my foot.”
Foggy drew in a sharp breath when Matt semi-professionally palpated his ankle.
“Nothing seems broken,” Matt announced. “You’ll be fine. Let’s get you inside.”
Carefully, Matt helped Foggy to his feet. Foggy swallowed as Matt put an arm around his waist to support him. But in the end, he leant against Matt and the two of them went back to the house.
“Is this alright?” Matt asked and joked, “I could carry you.”
Despite the situation, Foggy laughed, “I’m not exactly a lightweight.”
“I still could.”
“Show-off”
“Maybe a little.”
Back in their temporary home, Matt led Foggy to the couch and gently made him lie down. With eerie certainty, he found the house’s first aid kit and applied some ointment and a bandage.
“There,” he said assuringly. “Should be better soon.”
“Thank you,” Foggy said, subdued.
But his hope to be let off the hook for now was in vain. Matt sat down next to him, their hips touching.
“Now that you can’t run from me,” Matt said, “why did you kiss me?”
Staring at his hands, Foggy shrugged.
“What do you want to hear?” Foggy asked. “That I kissed you so you don’t run away? That I simply wanted to? That I’m in love with you? Does it matter?”
Matt said nothing. When the silence stretched too long, Foggy dared to look up. A thoughtful expression lay on Matt’s features.
“Look,” Foggy said. “Can’t we just…”
Matt leant forward. All speech was lost for Foggy when Matt’s fingers brushed across his cheek in a featherlight caress. Matt’s free hand ran through Foggy’s hair and he moved even closer. When their noses touched Matt tilted his head and brushed his lips against Foggy’s.
This was much softer than their first kiss, yet so much more intimate. Foggy dared to lay his hands against Matt’s chest. For a while, it was shy, barely more than a lasting peck. Then, hesitantly, Foggy parted his lips.
Foggy felt Matt smile against his mouth. Tenderly Matt’s tongue ran along the seam of Foggy’s cupid bow before slipping in for just a second. It was not teasing, it was asking. So Foggy mirrored the movement, signaling what he wanted.
Matt’s hand left Foggy’s hair, sliding down to his shoulder. Gently, Matt pushed Foggy down against the armrest and deepened the kiss. Foggy slung his arms around Matt, all doubt and hesitation drowning in the sensations. Growing bold, he sought out Matt’s exploring tongue with his own, earning himself a pleased hum from his partner.
For a second, Matt broke the kiss. But before Foggy could object, Matt was on him in one fluid motion, straddling him. Then his lips were back on Foggy’s and any complaints were forgotten.
Minutes passed. Tongues and lips were sliding against each other, fingers tangled in red and brown hair and bodies pressed together. When they finally parted, they both were out of breath and smiling broadly.
Softly, Matt lay his forehead against Foggy’s. Approvingly, he sighed when Foggy stroked his back.
“What was this about?” Foggy asked quietly.
Matt shrugged. “You were the one claiming that ‘wanting to’ is a good reason to kiss someone,” he said with a smirk. “Oh, and being in love as well. You running away is a minor concern since you’ve proven to be very bad at that.”
“Jerk.” Despite himself, Foggy laughed. “So… in love, huh?”
“Yes.” Matt nodded.
Silence fell. Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, Foggy tried processing everything. It was what he wanted and Matt wanted it, too. But it was a huge change.
“Where do we go from here?” Foggy whispered.
“Don’t know,” Matt admitted. “But wherever, I’d like to go with you.”
Smiling, Foggy pressed a short kiss against Matt’s mouth.
“I’d like that, too.”
“It’s decided then,” Matt said. “You and I.”
“You and I.”
The End