Safe and Mine

Chapter 3

NSFW warning! Contains dark themes, violent ninjas and explicit depiction of sex. Minors, turn back! Adults, proceed at your own risk!

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The “Coins and Charms” was dimly lit. In combination with the charming clutter, old pieces of furniture and the worn out carpet, the orange glow created an almost cozy atmosphere in the Pawn Shop. Only the sign, hinting to video surveillance, broke the nostalgic immersion. The sales area was not large, but the space was efficiently used with wooden shelves lining the wall and rows of displays in the room’s centre.

When Foggy entered, the owner lifted her head and narrowed her eyes at him. Foggy would not blame her for being mindful of customers who entered after sunset. It was likely that she had several rather shady people coming in and offering wares of dubious origin. Soon enough, the woman apparently decided Foggy was harmless and relaxed.

“What can I do for you, sir?” she asked, her tone turning it into a persiflage of the politeness in upper scale shops.

“Erm, hi,” Foggy said in an attempt to sound casual. “A friend of mine purchased a frame here a couple of days ago. Dark brown wood, about this size.” He displayed the estimated measurements with his hands and smiled, “I quite liked it, but so does he so not a chance he’ll sell it to me.”

A weird expression flicked across the woman’s face. She reminded Foggie of Josie, despite being younger and a bit slimmer. But she had the same eye and hair color and, right now, the same distrustful look.

“I remember,” she said, face inscrutable. “I had just this one. Only frames I have at the moment are the smaller ones with the autographs and pictures of celebs.”

“Ah, yes,” Foggy said. “I thought so. I was just wondering if you could tell me where you got this one so I can check if there is more where that one came from.”

“Kid, people come to me and sell stuff,” she said. “I don’t go running around town, finding them and their clutter.”

“Right, I… I just thought, maybe you know the guy - or lady - or can tell me something about them so I can…”

“What is this about?” she interrupted.

“Um… what?”

“You’re not the first guy coming here, making a fuss about that frame,” she said. “What’s so special about it?”

“Who was here?”

“You first, kid.”

Foggy sighed. If he was being honest, he did not really know what this was about. But what happened to Manuel was proof that being on the frame’s path was dangerous. Well, the lady here was unharmed, but who knew what had happened to the seller. Especially now that Stick had taken the frame, the ninjas might re-start tracing it.

“Look...” Foggy read her name tag, “...Molly, I don’t know any details, but some dangerous people are after the frame. The guy who bought it from you was attacked.”

“I knew something was off,” she murmured.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Foggy said. “But I don’t know about the guy who sold it to you.”

She scoffed. “Well, yesterday he lived. Tried to sell me more stuff. But after that creepy guy was here…”

“Wait? The man who sold you the frame had more stuff to sell?”

“Yeah, but the day before, another one was here, Asian, Japanese I think,” she said. “He asked about the frame. He gave me the creeps. I told him I sold it, but not to who. Well, it’s not that I knew who the guy was. No idea how they found him, I swear! But the whole thing reeked of trouble. So when the seller returned with more stuff, I sent him away.”

“Do you know who he is?”

She shook her head.

“Nope, I’ve seen him around, but I don’t know his name.”


“But…” She hesitated and let her eyes flick over Foggy. “You might want to check with Jarvis. He owns the ‘One man’s treasure’, a few streets away. If I don’t want their stuff, people often go to him.”

“You have an address?”


Brows furrowed in concentration, Matt strained his ears. But over the noise of the traffic, it was hard to hear anything, especially since he wanted to keep a safe distance. He regretted not having had the time to change into his costume. With roofs and fire escapes at his disposal, he usually could get close without being spotted. But these were not an option as Matt Murdock.

Matt could hear Foggy’s voice and a woman speaking. But what they were saying was hard to make out since they both spoke quietly. Foggy appeared to be looking for something and the woman could not help him. This all made no sense. It was unlikely that Foggy had financial trouble at the moment. So he neither had reasons to sell something nor to buy cheap stuff at a pawn shop.

Still, Matt was pretty sure the address the woman gave Foggy in the end was that of yet another business just like that. And Foggy apparently wanted to go there immediately for he still did not take the way to his home.

It had grown cold and Matt could hear the street lamps humming. The sun must have set already and while the first pawn shop was located in a dubious area, in the direction Foggy was heading now lay a worse one.

Matt growled lowly. All he wanted was for Foggy to be safe. At least, Matt attempted telling himself this was all he wanted. He tried not to linger on the thought of Foggy not to be in his own home, but in Matt’s. Matt did his best to shake off the thought of Foggy in Matt’s bedroom, laid down on silk, kept warm and safe by a soft blanket, the door locked, Matt the only owner of the key.

By slamming his hand against a nearby wall, Matt brought himself back to reality.

“For Heaven’s sake.” Matt let a hand run across his face, steadied himself and focused on the real Foggy, not the one in his mind, begging Matt to join him in the bed.


Foggy had no problem finding Molly’s competition. The “One Man’s Treasure” sat on a street corner, obnoxiously illuminated by blinking lights and definitely going for another vibe than the “Coins and Charms”.

Inside, a stale white lamp shone on the wares, each priced individually under several signs, saying “Take it or leave it”. A large man behind the counter eyed Foggy and gave him a broad smile. His name tag read “Jarvis” and Foggy was relieved that he did not look like a man who had been recently introduced to a ninja weapon.

Foggy was about to tell Jarvis a similar story than Molly about his friend and the lovely frame that he’d like to have, too, when his eyes widened. Right next to the counter stood a frame just like the one Stick had taken from the community center.

“Can I help you, pal?” Jarvis asked.

“Erm, yeah, that frame,” Foggy pointed at it, “Could you…”

“Forty bucks, I don’t bargain.”

“So your signs say, yes,” Foggy said. “I was just wondering if you could tell me where you got this from?”

“Look, man, I’m a businessman, not a quizmaster. I don’t ask questions.”

Sighing, Foggy put a 100 dollar note on the counter.

“I’d like the frame and information on the guy who sold it,” he said. “He might be in danger.”

Jarvis took the money and laughed. “Kenny Walsh? He’s just fine. Saw him this noon at the pub across the street.”

“Does he often sell… art accessories?”

Now Jarvis outright snorted. “Kenny sells everything he gets his hands on. I don’t ask him where he finds it. You still want the frame?”

“I paid for it, didn’t I?”

“Want a bag?”

The thought of ever-vigilant ninjas, keeping their eyes out for the frame, rushed through Foggy’s mind.

He swallowed, “Yes, please. Non-transparent, if possible.”

Trying to act normal, Foggy left the pawn shop. His heart was pounding so hard that he was sure not only Matt would be able to hear it. It was ridiculous, really. After all, those ninjas had not found the frame yet so why would they come here just when he bought it? Everything was fine. He was just a man, with a paper bag from a pawn shop.

At the corner, Foggy halted. It was dark already and this was not his usual territory. As he watched the passersby as well as their wardrobe and demeanor, he found himself sticking out like a sore thumb. This was a perfect spot to hail a taxi and go home.

And yet…

He had checked on the involved pawn brokers and on Manuel. Maybe the line ended with Kenny Walsh and checking on him would put Foggy’s mind at ease once and for all. Just a quick jog across the street, into the pub to ask for Mr. Walsh. Maybe he was even in there in person and Foggy would be sure.

For a moment, he gnawed on his bottom lip. But his guilt won out. After all, his lies to Brett made it impossible to get the police to check on these people. So Foggy waited for the road to be clear and crossed it. Only a few steps lay between him and the pub now. The neon light in the window painted a colorful pattern on the street and music reached Foggy’s ears from inside. He could do this. He was a grown man, going into a pub. Nothing unusual or concerning.

A strong hand covered his mouth, another grabbed his shoulder. Roughly, Foggy was dragged into a narrow alley near the pub and thrown against the wall. With a thud, the bag landed on the ground. Before Foggy could even think of fighting back (or begging for his life), he recognized his attacker.


“What do you think you’re doing?” Matt sounded more like an angry animal than his usual self. His right hand was pressing against Foggy’s chest, the left was wildly gesturing around. “Someone almost gets killed for a frame from a pawn shop and as soon as you see one, you buy it?”

“How do you… right, creepy super senses.”

“Indeed, I couldn’t hear much, but enough to know what you bought,” Matt said. “And unless you are taking up painting, I assume you chose this frame because it looks like the other.”

“Maybe I just commissioned a nice portrait and need a frame?”

“Not the time for jokes, Foggy!”

“I’m almost sure I don’t owe you any explanations,” Foggy hissed back. “What’s it to you, anyway?”

“What’s it to…?” Matt drew in a sharp breath. He let go of Foggy, but his body still blocked the path. “Instead of going home, you travel to some shady shops, buy something the Hand wants and now head towards a pub full of people that basically have ‘trouble’ tattooed onto their forehead. You’re practically begging to get killed and you ask me what’s it to me?”

“Yes, exactly,” Foggy said in challenge. “I didn’t know you were suddenly back to caring about me. You and your new friends are so busy with the ‘greater good’. Compared to that, what’s one dead lawyer in Hell’s kitchen?”

Within the blink of an eye, Foggy found his wrists pinned above his head by Matt’s right hand. Matt’s left circled around his throat, not choking but making a point. A growl echoed from deep in Matt’s chest as he pressed their bodies together.

“Don’t you dare say that again,” Matt rumbled.

Foggy blinked. Suddenly, Matt’s voice was far away. There was only the heat of the muscled torso and the strong hands so easily keeping him where Matt wanted him. Instinct had him fight back, but Matt did not budge even in the slightest. Foggy looked upwards to the long fingers circling around his wrists in an unrelenting grip. Struggling made no sense, but Foggy could not stop, too allured by the futileness of his attempts and the sensation of being so helpless.

A gasp fell from Foggy’s lips. It was hard to hear anything over the rushing of the blood in his ears. He swallowed and his heart beat like thunder.

Of course Matt noticed. For a second, guilt flicked across the handsome features. But soon it made way for confusion, then surprise before finally an expression of smug self-satisfaction settled on Matt’s face.

“Oh well,” he purred. “Someone likes being manhandled.”

“Fuck you, Murdock!” Foggy spat.

But Matt’s complacent smirk did not waver. Condescendingly, he tutted at Foggy. “Ah, Mr. Nelson. As your former roommate I’m pretty sure that’s not what you want. As far as I recall you prefer being on the receiving end. Making the prettiest noises by the way.”

“Asshole!” Foggy’s feet were the only part of his body currently not pinned. So he lifted one to let it crash on one of Matt’s as forcefully as he could.

Hissing in pain, Matt loosened his hold. Foggy took the chance to push him off and grab his bag. Harshly, he slammed his purchase against Matt’s chest.

“Here,” he said. “I’m sure your friends are interested in that. Yes, I bought it to get it away from the streets so that those ninjas don’t come after more innocent people like Manuel!”


“The young artist who gifted the painting to the community center,” Foggy said while catching his breath. “I couldn’t tell the police to check on him because I lied to Brett - for you! So, unlike you, I checked on Manuel and brought him to the hospital.”

“Stick sent people to check,” Matt mumbled defensively.

“I was questioned by the police, went home, took a shower, remembered Manuel and went to research his address. And still I was faster, I was the one to find Manuel, not your friends,” Foggy said and pointed at the bag. “But if you care so much, bring that thing away from unsuspecting civilians and check on Kenny Walsh. He is the guy who - God knows where - found the frames and sold them.”

“I will,” Matt said with a nod. “But first I get you home.”

“I’m a big boy, Matt,” Foggy said. “I can go home all alone.”

“I’ll see you into a taxi.”

“What’s your problem?”

Again, Matt crowded Foggy against the wall. “Your mine to protect,” he pressed out between gritted teeth.

Foggy swallowed. Matt felt his own cheeks burning, in rage and shame and arousal. After what seemed like an eternity, Foggy nodded.

“You wait until I’m in the taxi and then you’ll check on Kenny Walsh?” he asked.


“Be glad I’m too tired to ponder the empirical value of your promises, Murdock.”


Pinned by Matt, Foggy tensed. His heart thundered and his blood rushed wildly under his skin. At first Matt thought he had scared him, the guilt bitter on his tongue. But then he noticed the difference, the truth. It was not fear Foggy felt.

Matt could not help feeling smug about it. “Oh well. Someone likes being manhandled.”

“Fuck you, Murdock!” Delicious heat rose in Foggy’s cheeks as he struggled in Matt’s hold.

“Ah, Mr. Nelson. As your former roommate I’m pretty sure that’s not what you want. As far as I recall you prefer being on the receiving end. Making the prettiest noises by the way.”

“Asshole!” Foggy exclaimed. “You spied out all these private things about me when I did not know about your abilities. You don’t get to use them to…”

With his lips, Matt silenced Foggy. It was hungry and demanding and Matt could feel Foggy yielding underneath its force. Matt’s tongue flicked across Foggy’s mouth, intention clear. Sighing, Foggy opened up for Matt. With a greedy sound, Matt took the change, slipped in and made his claim with teeth and tongue. When all tension had left Foggy’s body, Matt broke the kiss.

“You see, Foggy,” he whispered against his friend’s mouth. “I will use them. I will use everything at my disposal to keep you safe. Am I playing unfairly? Maybe... no, probably. But I don’t care. You’re mine to protect and if I need to use all your hidden secrets, I will.”.

Matt let go of Foggy’s wrists, but did not release him. Instead, he went exploring with his fingers.

“Don’t tell me you don’t want me to protect you,” Matt whispered. “You want to be mine. You always were. I may not deserve you, but I have you. Don’t I?”

Foggy whimpered. Matt’s hands slid along Foggy’s side, the waistband of the trousers his goal. An enticing smell beckoned him and became stronger when he opened Foggy’s fly and pulled down the trousers.

“Don’t I?” Matt repeated softly.

Closing his eyes, Foggy nodded. Matt’s nostrils caught the salty scent of a stray tear and he hurried to kiss it away.

“It’s fine now,” Matt said. “I’m here. Noone will hurt you and I won’t leave you again.”

Matt’s erection chafed against the fabric of his clothes. Smiling, he pressed a kiss to Foggy’s lips and caressed the round cheeks.

“Help me with my trousers,” he ordered. “I want your hands on me.”

Nodding, Foggy hurried to comply. His fingers all but flew to Matt’s waistband and quickly he freed his friend’s erection.

“Well done.”

With a quick motion, Matt turned Foggy around. Pressing the ample body against the rough stone, Matt grinded his crotch against Foggy’s bared ass.

“Now,” he said while his fingers glided along the cleft to find what he wanted. “Let’s make sure you know you’re mine.”

“Karen, Karen, Karen.”

Groaning, Matt reached for his nightstand. The automated voice kept repeating his friend’s name while he searched in vain for his phone. When he finally found it under the bed, Karen had hung up and Matt called her back.

“Hi, Matt!”

“Karen, hey. Sorry. Wasn’t fast enough,” Matt said.

“Did I wake you?”

“Yeah, long night,” Matt said truthfully. As he had promised to Foggy, he had made sure Kenny Walsh was fine and nobody else had been on the frame’s path. “Everything alright?”

“I’m okay,” she said. “Just wondering… did you meet Foggy?”


“So you did?”

“Briefly,” Matt said, deciding that the unclear semantics of ‘brief’ allowed this to pass as true. “Did he say something?”

“Not really,” she said. “That’s the thing. I just met him for lunch and as always I asked if he’s seen you recently. Because I’m waiting for you two idiots to get your shit together.”

“Right.” Matt let out a sigh.

“Usually, he gets angry and I learn new swear words,” Karen said. “But today he just fell silent, became beet red and changed the topic. So… what did you do?”

“Um…“ Matt bit his lip, wondering how much he could tell her. “We had a disagreement about personal safety?”


“I may have overstepped,” he admitted. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll fix it. I promise.”

“Please!” she said. “You’re both miserable. He misses you and I’m sure you miss him, too.”

“I do… Look, Karen, I have to wrap up a… thing. Then I will talk to Foggy. Okay?”

After a beat of silence on the other end of the line, Matt heard Karen sigh.

“Yes, alright,” she said. “Don’t wait too long though. The world seems so wrong when you two aren’t side by side.”

“Tell me about it.” A sad smile formed on Matt’s face.

“I gotta go,” Karen said. “Work is calling. Talk to you later.”

“Yes. Bye, Karen.”

The call ended and Matt sighed. He had really crossed a line with Foggy last night, but if his dreams were anything to go by, his subconsciousness did not feel sorry about it in the slightest. Since his manhood twitched as he remembered the dream, his consciousness had a long road to go as well. But that was a problem for another time.

After a quick shower, Matt had breakfast and went out to meet Stick.

The weather was clear, but the park still smelled of the morning’s rain. Autumn lay in the air, mingling with the scent of hot dogs, pastries and whatever else Hell’s Kitchen’s inhabitants ate for lunch. Underneath an old oak, Matt halted and listened. Children squealed and laughed, men and women chattered, dogs barked and music played. Matt smiled at these tokens of life’s happier side as he tried to make out the tapping of a cane.

On a bench, near an ice cream cart, Matt found his old teacher.

“That wasn’t bad work,” Stick greeted. “Franklin found the second part of the code without even looking for it.”

“Wow,” Matt said sarcastically as he took the seat next to Stick. “You actually used his name.”

“Well, calling him ‘your girl', ‘your boyfriend’ or ‘your blushing bride’ seemed to get you all riled up,” Stick said. “In both ways actually.”

“What about the code? What does it say?” Matt changed the topic, not wanting to discuss his wet dreams with Stick.

“It’s a location,” Stick answered. “One of the artifacts the Hand is looking for is supposed to be there. Kowareta Sunadokei, the broken hourglass.”

“Who needs a broken hourglass?” Matt asked with raised brows.

Stick laughed. “It’s just a name, Matty. The artifact can manipulate time.”

“Time travel?”

Stick shook his head, “Not on a grand scale, no. But it could be used to speed up certain… processes in a limited space.”

“So it’s true?”

“The Hand believes it.” Stick shrugged. “It doesn’t matter if true or not. They think it is and will kill for it. But I already sent reliable men and women to retrieve the hourglass. Thanks to your… ahem… thanks to Franklin the Hand has no clue where to look for it, but we do. You should thank him when you see him.”

If he ever wants to see me again.”

“Don’t underestimate the grasp you have on the kid’s heart, Matty,” Stick said. “I have to go now. I’ll let you know when we found the artifact.”

Matt waited until Stick was out of hearing range. For a moment, he hesitated. But then he decided the news about the Hand were a good pretense to meet Foggy. After all, Foggy stupidly endangered himself after the attack so he probably wanted to know what this all was about.

Unfortunately, Foggy was not at work. His secretary gave Matt an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Murdock,” she said. “Mr. Nelson took a few days off.”


“Yes,” she said. Her eyes went wide, she lowered her voice and told him secretively, “Apparently, he was attacked.”

“Attacked?” Matt asked, alarmed.

“Yes. You heard about the incident at the community center in Hell’s kitchen? Those… terrorists?” the secretary whispered. “He was in the middle of it. Poor thing. He deserves some rest.”

“Ah, yes, indeed,” Matt said with a relieved sigh. “I’ll try next week.”

“Thank you, Mr. Murdock. Have a nice day.”

That was good. At least, it was a hint that Foggy took his mental health seriously which would hopefully extend to his physical safety. So Matt was in a somewhat better mood when he went home. When Foggy wanted rest, the last thing he needed was for Matt to show up at his doorstep. Matt would give him a call later.

But when he approached his own home, Matt halted. A familiar heart beat inside the building, close to his door.


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