It’s nothing but an idea. A crooked drawing on a now beer-soaked napkin. But Foggy makes it big because for him it is. A plan for the future of “Nelson and Murdock”, Foggy and Matt.
“You really wanna do this?” Matt asks with the perfect combination of hesitant voice and insecure puppy face.
“Hell no,” Foggy says. “I’m pissing my pants. And I’m talking actual urine in my trousers.” Matt laughs while Foggy turns serious as he adds, “But I trust you. You think this is what we should be doing - I’m with you. For better or worse.”
“Oh, we’re talking about marriage now?” Matt grins.
“This is so much bigger than marriage, Matty,” Foggy says. He turns up the dramatic timbre in his voice to hide what the thought of being married to Matt does to him. “Thoughts, dreams, bills, crushing debt - we’ll share it all.” Softly, he adds, “And there is no one I’d rather be doing that with, buddy.”
Matt smiles fondly as Foggy reiterates the significance of their bond. “You’re not gonna kiss me,” he states, that infuriatingly pretty grin on his face.
“I’m feeling a little something,” Foggy says with a teasing edge to his tone.
Usually, that’s the end of it. They laugh it off and turn to whatever beverage is nearby. Both take a large swig of their drink like there was nothing to it but pals being pals. Because that’s what it is.
Not this time though. Unexpectedly, Matt leans down and is suddenly very close. Foggy can feel his breath and see the tiny little scars around his eyes.
“A little something?” Matt asks.
Foggy clears his throat. While he does wonder what Matt is playing at, he will not let that beautiful asshole fluster him. “How could I not?” He gestures around the sleazy bar. “The romantic atmosphere, the historic moment, your seductive new aftershave...”
Still, Matt does not move away. He chuckles, but it’s not the familiar “oh my, aren’t we hilarious” tone. It’s low and deep and a little bit dark, as if melting chocolate had been turned into a sound.
“And still you’re not gonna do anything about it?” he asks. “Coward.”
There is no malice in it. Matt breathes it out, the whispered word hanging in the mere inches between their lips.
Foggy swallows. He is as lost as he’ll ever be. Are they still playing or is this a serious case? And if the latter, a serious case of what exactly? There sure is a memo floating around somewhere he didn’t get, either about “Mess with Foggy day” or “Alien brain eaters taking the form of your crush day”.
“I… I don’t know,” he says, the humor slowly slipping out of his voice. “Maybe I just know the upper end of my league.”
Now, the smile falls from Matt’s face. Subtly, he shakes his head so his nose brushes against Foggy’s.
“Seems to me like you know shit,” he says.
Then Foggy dies.
At least, that’s as likely an explanation as the alternative. Because either he died and went to Heaven (he’s a good boy after all) or Matt Murdock’s lips are really on his, soft but insistent.
A moment passes. Then another. The curses from the pool players suggest this is not Heaven, neither does the sticky floor or the unpleasant odor which wavers through the open bathroom door. Not dead then.
But the lips are real. A tongue runs gently across Foggy’s bottom lip and Foggy is still frozen. This is happening and he has no idea what to do. In his stupid fantasies he is always cool and suave, impressing Matt with his worldly manliness (whatever the fuck THAT means).
Apparently, in reality, he becomes some sort of wooden post - stiff, unmoving and extremely passive. After a while, Matt pulls back. He frowns and concern is written all over his face.
“Uh, sorry,” he says. “I thought…”
Foggy comes to life again. “No, please,” he hurries to say. “Don’t… stop on my behalf.”
“‘Don’t stop on my behalf’?” Matt repeats, mood somewhere between amused and offended. “That’s not exactly ‘enthusiastic consent’.”
“But it is!” Foggy says. “I swear! I was just shocked!”
“That… is not a good thing either.”
“Argh!” Foggy hides his face in his hands. “I mean… you… Give my brain a second to reboot.”
Taking a deep breath, Foggy sorts his thoughts. Well, he does his best, his thoughts are slippery little rascals after all. When he looks at Matt again, Matt’s pretty face has relaxed. However, his cheeks are red and there is an adorable little wrinkle between his eyebrows, speaking of his worry.
“What I meant,” Foggy explains slowly. “I was surprised. You kissing me tonight - or ever - was very low on the list of things likely to happen. Under ‘Matt has a secret evil twin who kidnaps me to blackmail Matt’.”
Matt laughs, but he still appears to be uncertain. “So - unexpected, but not unpleasant?” he asks.
“Exactly.” Foggy lets out a sigh of relief and takes Matt’s hand. “I swear, I’m actually a really good kisser. I think. Second chance?”
“Anytime.”
This time, they meet halfway. Foggy feels Matt’s smile against his own and his hand squeezing lightly. They take it slow, relaxed, now knowing they’re on the same page.
At first, it’s chaste. Just a careful, an almost shy brush of lips. Again, it’s Matt who initiates more. But he doesn’t demand, he teases. The tip of his tongue touches the corner of Foggy’s mouth and he hums. Foggy answers in kind and they both slowly open up. A large warm hand finds the back of Foggy’s neck and Matt pulls him closer. Sighing, Foggy tilts his head when Matt’s tongue slips in and seeks out its counterpart. Leisurely, they map out the foreign territory, taking their time.
Bit by bit, Foggy’s brain catches up which has his nerves and heart flutter. As if Matt senses it, he begins to tenderly caress Foggy, matching the cadence of their kiss. In the same tender rhythm in which their tongues and lips slide against each other, Matt’s right hand runs through Foggy’s hair. Fortunately, the loud music muffles the moan which escapes Foggy. Matt hears though, tightens his grip and deepens the kiss even more.
When they break apart, they are both breathless. Matt’s face is cherry red and judging by the heat in his own cheeks, Foggy is sure he fares no better.
“Home. Bedroom,” Matt manages to say.
“Our current home is a bedroom,” Foggy laughs.
“Perfect.” Matt gets up, grabs Foggy’s hand and pulls him to the door.
“Hey!” Josie calls after them from behind the counter. “How about you two lovebirds pay your drinks?”
“Put it on our tab,” Foggy says.
“I don’t do tabs.”
“Please? Just this time?”
She sighs. “Fine! But don’t let it become a habit.”
“Of course not!” Foggy promises.
Then he is dragged out of the bar.
The End