Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Foggy was healing, probably. It was hard to tell; his baseline for “okay” was probably much lower than other people’s after everything, but he was certainly doing better than he was six months ago, when Matt was…

Well, when Matt was dead.

He didn’t quite know what to call that period in his life. He knew that Matt wasn’t dead, knew it every time Matt groaned at one of his jokes or showed up to work with a black eye, but for all intents and purposes, Matt had been dead for those few months.

Foggy had grieved for weeks. From the moment that Matt didn’t walk through the precinct door, Foggy had felt empty. Every single fight they’d ever had, every time Foggy blamed Matt or Daredevil for what happened to the firm, every time Foggy scolded Matt for doing what he did rang through Foggy’s head like a shout echoing through a vast cave. And through the volume of those memories, one in particular became louder and louder.

A rough canvas bag in his hands. The determined set of Matt’s jaw. The weight of leather and kevlar and carbon fiber.

I still have a key to your place, so I brought you a change of clothes.

Then Matt was gone. Crushed beneath thousands of tons of steel and soil and guilt. And Foggy had put him there.

A distant voice in his head had told him that that wasn’t fair, that Matt made a choice not to escape with the rest of them, that Foggy couldn’t have possibly known how the night would end, but Foggy didn’t listen.

He walked Karen home, trying his damndest to hide how much he was shaking but knowing that she could still tell. He called out of work. Then he called out of work again. He locked himself in his apartment for two weeks, only ever getting out of bed to go to the bathroom or open the door for whatever delivery guy was bringing him comfort food. He cried every day for those two weeks, screamed until his throat was raw and dry and his cheeks were slick with tears. He ignored Karen’s calls and Jeri’s emails, just laid in his unwashed sheets and soaked his pillow through with saltwater until he fell back asleep.

In the darkest moments, he wished that he had been down there with Matt. If the building had crushed both of them, then Foggy wouldn’t have to grieve.

It was Marci who finally forced herself into his apartment and dragged him into the shower. She washed his sheets and did his dishes and made him eat actual vegetables instead of his rotating menu of cereal and pizza. Foggy was grateful for it, for everything that she did to drag him out of his debilitating grief and into the real world.

And Foggy had thought that his gratefulness was love.

It was love, he equivocated to himself, he did love Marci’s determination and patience, he loved spending time with her, loved her protectiveness of him. But he wasn’t in love.

Matt had come back and stolen Foggy’s wallet and nearly killed a man, and Foggy spent another two weeks crying every time Matt texted him or met him for coffee or just existed. His renewed presence in Foggy’s life, hell, his presence in life itself, made Foggy’s world tilt on its axis, and Foggy realized, painfully, that his feelings for Matt were far bigger than friendship, far bigger than what he felt for Marci.

Foggy had always thought he was straight. He’d thought he was straight and just really, really, liked being best friends with Matt. But now Foggy knew what it was like to live in a Matt-less world, and it had felt like drowning, like having hands wrapped around his throat and squeezing until he could barely take a single breath.

Foggy didn’t pay much attention to how Marci smelled, but he did to Matt. Foggy didn’t light up from the inside out when Marci touched him, but he did when Matt did. Foggy didn’t lay awake at night thinking about Marci, even when she laid right next to him, he didn’t think about her voice or her smile or her hands on his body or her life intertwining with his.

But he did think all of that about Matt.

The realization made him lurch out of bed in the middle of the night into a cold shower, made him lean his forehead against the shower wall and touch himself, crying at the guilt and the relief and the longing. There he was, thirty-one years old, having his gay (bi? queer?) awakening to his straight best friend while he was already in a committed relationship. He felt like he was in the sixth grade again, waking up to sticky sheets for the first time and trying to wash them in secret so he wouldn’t have to tell his mom about the dream he’d had about Michelle Horowitz in his algebra class.

Except Matt wasn’t Michelle Horowitz, he was muscular, bearded, male Matt Murdock, Foggy’s best friend of almost a decade.

He’d spent three days in a trance before breaking it off with Marci. He told her some bullshit lie about being together for the wrong reasons and then packed up some clothes to stay on Theo’s couch until he found his own place.

That was three weeks ago, and now Foggy almost felt like he was approaching normal again. He had a small, ragtag law firm, he tried (and failed) to convince Karen to watch Star Trek, he cajoled Matt into coming out for drinks with him and Karen.

Matt took Foggy to meet his mother a few days after opening Nelson, Murdock, & Page. She was waiting for them outside Clinton Church in her neat habit and greeted them stiffly, but there was a strange look in her eye. They were soon interrupted by Matt’s phone ringing, and Foggy was left with Sister Maggie while Matt discussed case specifics with their first official client.

Foggy rocked back and forth on his heels with his hands stuffed in his pockets and let out an awkward breath. “It’s kinda weird, knowing him all these years and finally meeting you. Not– not bad weird, I mean, just… weird.”

Maggie chuckled a little and pursed her lips. “I know what you’re talking about. It’s a big adjustment to make, especially for him.” Foggy hummed affirmatively and felt Maggie look him up and down. She took in a quick breath and stepped towards him. “You look happy that he’s back.”

“I am,” Foggy confirmed. “I don’t even think ‘happy’ is a good enough word. I mean, to me, he came back from the dead, you know? And he’s… he’s himself again.”

Maggie nodded and squinted slightly. “You seem nervous, Mr. Nelson. And I don’t think it’s just about meeting me.”

Foggy’s eyes widened and he felt himself pale. “I, uh, wha–?”

“Tell him,” Maggie interrupted. “You’ll both be better off once it’s out in the open.”

Foggy couldn’t reply, couldn’t say anything that might hint to what she was talking about. Matt was only a few yards away, he could probably hear their conversation better than Foggy could. So instead of talking, Foggy just clenched his jaw shut and gave a slow nod, grateful that Matt came back to him and Maggie soon after.

The worst part was that Maggie was right. Foggy had given Matt far too many lectures about openness and honesty to even consider keeping it a secret. All three of them were trying to tell the truth more; Foggy did it to encourage Matt and Karen, and Matt and Karen did it to avoid any more assassination attempts. Foggy knew that Matt deserved to know, deserved to be shown that their new honesty policy wasn’t a one-way street, and he knew that keeping it in forever wouldn’t be healthy, anyway. So a week after his conversation with Maggie, Foggy swallowed his pride, dialed Matt’s number, and asked him to come over to Foggy’s new apartment to christen it with beer and Mexican food.

Matt knocked on Foggy’s door at precisely 7:30 with a six-pack of beer, and Foggy tried to remember the breathing exercises he’d Googled to keep his heart rate down. Matt was kind enough to not mention Foggy’s hormones or blood pressure or whatever he could sense while they ate, and Foggy was thankful for it. He wanted to hang onto this feeling of being best friends again before Matt found out that Foggy wanted more.

Finally, as they both polished off their second beers, Matt changed his posture slightly. “You, uh, you’ve been really nervous all night,” he said simply.

Foggy sighed and set down his empty bottle. “Yeah, I… there’s something I need to talk to you about.” Matt’s eyebrows drew together and he sat up a little straighter. Foggy had already planned out how he wanted to say this, he just needed to run with his mental script. “I’m so happy you’re back, Matty. I really can’t describe how amazing it is that you’re alive, that you wanna stick around and be Matt Murdock again. The… the months that I thought you were dead were the worst I’ve ever had. And I’m not saying that to guilt trip you, before you get all Catholic on me. But when you were dead, I… there was this hole in me, it felt like I was walking around with a limb missing.”

“Foggy, I–” Matt started, but Foggy cut him off.

“No, Matt, I know. You’ve already been forgiven. I’m just saying that when you weren’t around, I wasn’t me anymore.” Foggy swallowed around the lump in his throat and forced himself to continue. “Even when Marci and I got back together, I never stopped feeling that empty space where you used to be. And then when you came back, right before I broke it off with Marci, I realized that… I realized that the space in my heart that you took up was so much bigger than the one for her.

“I’m not telling you any of this because I expect anything from you, you just deserve to know. It wouldn’t be fair of me to preach to you about honesty all the time and then keep a secret like this.” Foggy was shamefully grateful that Matt was blind, he didn’t know if he would have been able to make eye contact with him while he said what he was about to say. “I love you, Matt. A lot. Romantically. I think I’m in love with you.”

Foggy looked up from his shaking hands to see Matt’s mouth hanging open slightly, dumbstruck, before he let out a relieved sigh and cracked into a grin bigger than Foggy had ever seen on him before. He didn’t have much time to look at it though, because, in an instant, Matt grabbed Foggy’s face in both hands and kissed him forcefully. For a moment Foggy sat frozen as Matt’s lips moved against his own, but he snapped back to the present once he heard Matt take in a deep, hungry breath. Foggy closed his eyes and tangled his hands in Matt’s hair as he began to kiss back, not even bothering to stop the tears from falling down his cheeks.

Matt brushed a thumb over Foggy’s cheek and, feeling the wetness, drew back, a concerned look on his face. “Foggy, are you–”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Foggy laughed, wiping at his cheeks. “I’m better than fine. I’m, like, really, really good right now.”

Matt’s smile came back a little bit softer, but still just as genuine. He placed a gentle hand on Foggy’s cheek and Foggy leaned into it. “Well, in case it wasn’t obvious, I love you, too, Fogs.”

“Yeah, I sorta picked that up,” Foggy laughed wetly before leaning in for another kiss. Matt moved against his lips slowly, running his fingers through Foggy’s hair as he licked into his mouth. Foggy groaned and stood up, dragging Matt to the bedroom by his necktie.

An hour later and Foggy was laying in his bed, light from the street spilling into the room, with Matt’s head lying on his bare chest. Matt’s breathing was slow and even as Foggy massaged his head, feeling the soft strands of brown hair part between his fingers with each stroke. Foggy centered himself a little and concentrated on taking in every detail around him; he had a feeling he’d want to keep this memory for a long time.

Matt had an arm and a leg thrown over Foggy, and a few lingering droplets of sweat still clung to his naked body. In the soft light of the bedroom, Foggy could still see scars all over his body, some old and beginning to fade, others still tight and irritated. Those were the ones that Fisk had given him, Fisk and Poindexter. Beneath the scars, Foggy could see the rolling plains of Matt’s muscled figure, sturdy and heavy on top of Foggy’s body. His large hand was splayed across Foggy’s chest and, if Foggy tilted his head just right, he could see the span of Matt’s long eyelashes. Each breath that he took felt surreal against Foggy’s body, like a fantasy. Foggy didn’t know how long he’d wanted this for, could probably be convinced that he’d been in love with Matt for years without realizing it, but he knew that he wouldn’t change a single part of this moment he was sharing with him.

Foggy woke up the next morning extremely thankful that it was the weekend, because it meant he could stay in bed with Matt for as long as he wanted. At some point in the night, they had somehow switched positions, and now Foggy’s head lay on Matt’s chest, Matt’s fingers in his hair. He could feel the soft wisps of brown hair on Matt’s chest and stomach below his cheek, and he breathed in Matt’s scent, soft and masculine. Foggy groaned and squeezed Matt’s middle briefly before tilting his head to look up at Matt, a soft smile already crossing his face.

Matt’s hand stilled in Foggy’s hair and his smile grew wider. “Good morning, sunshine.”

“That’s my line,” Foggy grumbled. He hesitated for a moment, then reached up for a kiss. “Sorry if I have morning breath.”

“I don’t mind,” Matt said, smiling. The sunlight coming in from the window hit Matt’s face at just the right angle to illuminate his eyes from the side, their usual flat brown transforming into shades of gold and oak and terra cotta as they stared into Foggy’s forehead. “You want some breakfast?”

Foggy pressed a kiss to Matt’s chest before rolling off him. “God, yes. Could you smell my hunger or something?”

“Or something,” Matt winked, climbing out of bed and stepping into his underwear. Foggy watched him walk out of the bedroom shamelessly before getting out of bed himself. He put on a pair of boxers and sweatpants, then gathered his bedsheets into his arms and shoved them into his washing machine.

Foggy slumped into a stool in the kitchen after starting the cycle, looking Matt up and down as he started cracking eggs into a pan, still in only his underwear. “Do you, like, even know how hot you are?”

Matt smiled coyly at Foggy over his shoulder while he dropped two slices of bread into the toaster. “I have some idea.”

Matt slid the fried eggs onto two plates just as the toast popped up, bringing the plates over to the kitchen island while Foggy poured them each a glass of orange juice. Foggy sat back down on his stool while Matt stood across the island from him. Matt had a shy, serious look on his face when he took his first sip. “How, uh, how long have you thought I was hot?”

Foggy choked a little bit on his toast, clearing his throat and washing it down with a gulp of juice. For a moment he was relieved that Matt couldn’t see him blush, but soon remembered that he could probably feel the change in temperature on his face or some such bullshit. “Uh, I don’t… I don’t really know? I’ve only known I had feelings for you for a few weeks, but I think I’ve felt like this for a long time, I just didn’t realize it. Uh, you?”

Matt swallowed his bite of fried egg and flushed slightly. “L and Z, I think. I didn’t really want to think about it for a while, though.”

“Because of the–”

“‘Cause of the Catholicism, yeah,” Matt laughed. “Have you always liked… men?”

Foggy sighed and leaned back on his stool. “I… I think so. I just don’t think I knew that that’s what it was, you know? I just thought it was, like, a bromance or something. It wasn’t until you came back for real that I realized it’s probably not very heterosexual to fantasize about kissing your male best friend.”

Matt laughed again, bright and easy, “Probably not, no.”

They finished breakfast in a comfortable silence, and Foggy still couldn’t believe that any of it was real, the kiss or the sex or this lazy, shirtless breakfast they were sharing. When they were finished, Foggy cleared his throat. “So, not to get too serious, but, uh, where do you wanna go with this… thing?”

Matt tilted his head quizzically and raised an eyebrow. “This… thing,” he repeated back slowly.

Foggy rolled his eyes and huffed out a laugh. “Yes, this thing. Us. I just– how serious do you want this to be?”

Matt put on a small smile and walked around the island to stand next to Foggy. “I want it to be serious, Foggy. I don’t want to stop myself from being happy anymore.”

“God, this feels so juvenile to ask,” Foggy laughed shyly, “but are we, like, dating now?”

“Do you want to go steady with me, Foggy?”

Foggy snorted unflatteringly.

“Will you come with me to the sock hop at the soda fountain?” Matt’s smile grew wider as he stepped closer to Foggy and placed his hands on Foggy’s neck.

“Shut up,” Foggy laughed, swatting at Matt’s chest. “God, you’re the worst.”

“Nah, you love me,” Matt said softly.

Foggy smiled and wrapped a hand around Matt’s wrist. “Yeah, I do. Are we too old to call each other boyfriends?”

Matt chuckled. “Foggy, we’re thirty-one. I think we can call each other whatever we want.”

“Okay,” Foggy said softly before Matt leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Matt straightened back up and rested a hand in Foggy’s hair. “What about boo, is that one still a thing?”

“Oh, God,” Foggy groaned.

“Should I call you my boytoy? My main squeeze?”

“I want to break up.”

“No you don’t,” Matt laughed, running his hands through Foggy’s hair.

Foggy leaned his head into Matt’s hands. “No, I don’t.”

Chapter Text

“We can do this,” Foggy said, his hand warm where it rested on Matt’s cheek. “It’ll be fine.”

“Of course it will, there’s no reason to be nervous.” Matt tried to seem confident as he said it, but he knew that both of their hearts were racing. He was right, of course, they had no reason to think that Karen would be anything less than supportive. And yet, sitting here in their brand new office, waiting for Karen to get off the phone, Matt still felt his palms begin to sweat.

In all honesty, he was a little surprised they had made it this far without Karen figuring it out. It had been two months since they got together, and nothing about Karen’s body language suggested that she even suspected them of being in a relationship. At a certain point it felt like Matt and Foggy weren’t telling her just to see how long it would take for her to put the pieces together herself.

It wasn’t like they were keeping their relationship a secret because they didn’t trust her, it was just that every facet of it was so… new. Foggy still had to examine his past to find out how long he’d liked men, and Matt, of course, had to unlearn everything the church had told him about bisexuality. And after that, they had to learn how to actually be in a relationship with each other. They needed to figure out who was comfortable with what, what they did and didn’t like in bed, how much PDA they were okay with. Every single choice they made about their relationship, exhilarating as it was, was completely new to both of them. They respected Karen too much to show her a relationship that was still on unsteady ground.

Now, though, now they were ready. Matt placed one last kiss to Foggy’s cheek as he heard Karen hang up the phone, knowing from her posture and the direction of her voice that she was facing away from the large window looking into his office, and he settled back into his desk chair while Foggy leaned against the doorframe to call her into the room. Foggy stood next to Matt as she entered, hands in his pockets and heart beating to the same fortissimo beat as Matt’s.

Karen walked into the office casually, but soon slowed when she sensed the nervous tension in the air. “Hey, what’s up?” she asked tentatively.

Matt sucked in a deep breath and took the initiative. “Karen, we, uh, we need to tell you something. It’s good, don’t worry,” he added shakily when he noticed her heartbeat spike. She inclined her head towards the two of them, waiting for Matt to continue. “For the last couple of months, Foggy and I have been… starting a relationship.”

Karen was silent, and Foggy reached over to gently take Matt’s hand. “There’s been a lot of stuff that we needed to figure out together about… this. We only waited to tell you to make sure that we were both confident in where the relationship was going.”

After another beat of silence, Karen shifted on her feet and swallowed, “Yeah, of course, I…” she shook her head and laughed nervously, “I’m sorry, I just really wasn’t expecting this.”

“We get it,” Foggy said.

“I just, um, I thought you were both…”

“Straight?” Matt finished, trying to make his smile as sincere as possible.

Karen let out a breathy laugh, “Yeah.”

“That’s one of the things we had to figure out,” Foggy said placatingly. “But we did some, like, soul-searching and stuff, and decided that we… aren’t, and we thought that now was the right time to tell you.”

Karen crossed her arms and nodded, silent again but with a more relaxed heartbeat. “You know, it actually makes a lot of sense. I’ve seen the way you look at him, Foggy. The more I think about it, the less surprised I am.”

Matt felt himself blush at the idea of how Foggy might look at him, what about his expression or posture would make it clear to Karen how much they loved each other. He cleared his throat and straightened his back, trying to draw attention to whatever bright red color his cheeks might have been. “Right, well, we just thought that it was time to tell you about us, as our coworker and as our friend.”

“Yes, of course,” she replied, a polite sort of enthusiasm in her voice that Matt only ever heard directed towards clients. “I’m happy for you guys. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Foggy said, nodding.

Without another word, Karen stepped slowly out of the office and Matt and Foggy both let out a relieved sigh. Matt squeezed Foggy’s hand and tilted his head up to face him. “See? Nothing to worry about.”

“I never said there would be,” Foggy laughed.

Matt heard the creak of Karen’s chair as she sat down at her desk, and felt her eyes on them. Since their relationship wasn’t a secret anymore, Matt decided he could afford to mess with Karen and Foggy a little. With his free hand, Matt grabbed Foggy’s tie and pulled him down, down, into a deep, slow kiss, removing his other hand from Foggy’s grasp and resting it on the back of his neck. Foggy moaned a little, and Matt pulled back.

“Oh, God,” Karen grumbled from her desk, loud enough for both Matt and Foggy to hear, “you guys are gonna be insufferable.”

“You know it, Page!” Foggy yelled back, the heat from his face radiating out into the room. “You knew she could see us, didn’t you?”

Matt bit his lip and smiled coyly. “I plead the fifth.”

Foggy laughed and rustled Matt’s hair. As soon as he turned around to leave Matt’s office, Matt leaned forward and smacked his ass as loud as he could, satisfied to hear both Foggy and Karen’s embarrassed laughs.

About four days ago, someone hotboxed this cab, Matt was sure of it. It had been washed since then, but the lingering scent of weed and rolling paper still clung to the upholstery on the seats. He didn’t know if the driver or Foggy could smell it, too, but Matt found it incredibly distracting. He had to tear his focus away from the smell to catch the last bit of Foggy’s ramble.

“–not saying they’ll be, like, homophobic or anything, but it’ll be a big change for them, you know? And obviously I know we’ll need to tell them at some point, but, I don’t know, maybe we should wait until they’re in town for longer.” Foggy’s heart was racing beside Matt, and his leg was bouncing quickly on the cab floor.

Jumping back into the present, Matt grabbed Foggy’s hand and squeezed it. “Fogs, they’ll be fine. They’ve known me for years, it’s not like you’re bringing some stranger from the red light district.”

“I know, I know. I’m just nervous.” Foggy knew that he didn’t need to tell Matt that, that even without his senses Matt would be able to tell how anxious he was about telling his parents about their relationship. Matt supposed he was trying to justify his nervousness to himself more than anything.

“How about this,” Matt started, looking for a way to calm Foggy down as they neared the restaurant, “if they bring it up, we’ll tell them, and if not, we don’t. Does that sound good to you?”

Foggy let out a long breath as their driver parked the cab. “Yes, thank you. God, you’re smart. You should be a lawyer or something.”

Matt kissed Foggy’s cheek and escaped the oppressive pot smell of the cab while Foggy gave the driver some cash. Ed and Anna were only in town for a few days to meet their newborn niece. Technically, she was a second grand-niece, once removed, but to the Nelsons nieces were nieces and the degrees of separation didn’t really matter. Foggy quickly joined Matt on the sidewalk, and Ed and Anna seemed to notice them from the patio of the Italian restaurant where they were all meeting for lunch.

Matt was quickly enveloped in Ed’s bear hug and Anna’s perfume, both of them rattling off greetings and commenting that Matt needed to eat more, and he felt surprisingly at home.

Matt could admit that he might have been too stubborn when Foggy asked him to come to Christmas with his family. He had been expecting noise and crowds and kids running between his legs, but, though Foggy assured him that that would be the case for Christmas Day itself, tonight was just Ed, Anna, Theo, Foggy, and Matt. Anna made pork chops while Ed talked to Matt about golf, Theo conspicuously offered Matt an edible, and Foggy was right by his side for all of it.

Dinner was delicious, and Matt was starting to really like Foggy’s family. They weren’t intrusive or insensitive, they asked Matt about his life and actually seemed like they cared. Shortly after everyone finished eating, Matt broke away to use the bathroom. He could hear Ed and Theo still aimlessly chatting about the Giants as Foggy joined Anna in the kitchen to help with the dishes. They were quiet for a moment, until Anna hitched in a breath and stopped drying the plate she was holding.

“What– what happened to Matt’s family? I– he’s a lovely boy, and I’m glad you invited him, but… where are his parents?”

Foggy turned off the faucet and paused for a moment. Slowly, he started to answer her. “Matt… never knew his mom. She left when he was a baby, and his dad died when he was eleven, a couple years after his accident. He doesn’t have any other family. Before undergrad he lived in an orphanage, and now he always just stays in dorms and gets summer housing. I think if I hadn’t invited him, he just would’ve spent the whole break studying.”

They were both silent, and Matt could smell the salt beginning to gather in Anna’s eyes. He opened the bathroom door and barged cheerfully back into the dining room before the conversation could continue, and prayed to God that Anna wouldn’t ask him about it.

Two hours later, Ed had dragged Foggy and Theo away to help him with one of his gifts for Anna, and she and Matt were left sitting in an amicable, if slightly awkward silence in the living room. It was still two days before Christmas, and the whole apartment smelled like pine needles and nutmeg and clove, exactly like the department stores Matt used to walk past as a kid. He could tell the shape of the Christmas tree to his left, humble but well-decorated, and Foggy had delightedly told him just how hideous everyone’s sweaters were. Matt was perfectly content to keep sitting in that quiet, festive moment, but Anna soon turned towards him and caught his attention by clearing her throat.

“My mother lived an incredible life,” she began, and Matt already dreaded where she was going, “but in her last few years she got really sick. Breast cancer. She fought longer and harder than anyone expected her to– that was probably half of why she did fight so hard, spite– but in the end the cancer got the best of her. That was about twenty years ago.

“For the first year or two, I noticed every single ‘first’ I had without her. My first birthday, first Christmas, Franklin’s first soccer game, the first time I got sick and couldn’t call and ask for her chicken soup. God, when Theo was born and she wasn’t there to hold him, I cried my eyes out. That one was hard, too, because it was the first time I felt really, truly happy since she died. There I was, holding my newborn son in my arms, so happy and proud that Ed and I had made such a beautiful baby, and she was still sitting in her urn on the mantle. What kind of daughter was I to let myself be happy when she was dead?

“I felt like that for a long time. Every time I was happy, even about the littlest things, I’d feel so guilty about it that the happiness would disappear. Finally Ed pulled out one of her old scrapbooks from storage and made me go through it with him, and I saw just how often she smiled. Every single picture of her, she just had the biggest, toothiest grin on. I think it looks just like Franklin’s. And, looking at all those pictures, I remembered that the only thing that she ever really wanted was for me to be happy. Me being so guilty over what she would have actually wanted was pointless. I couldn’t be happy in spite of her, I needed to be happy for her, I needed to feel and put out and exude all the happiness that she couldn’t.” Anna coughed and wiped at her eyes, and Matt realized that he was crying, too.

“I… I’m sorry for your loss,” was all he could manage to get out.

“Don’t be,” Anna replied. “I’m saying all this because Franklin told me about your family. I… I won’t pretend to know what you’ve gone through, what you’re still going through, but I do know what grief feels like. And I’ve learned that the grief and the sadness never really goes away; I still miss my mom every single day. But eventually you start to have more good days than bad ones, and you stop counting those firsts without the person you’re grieving, and you stop feeling guilty for being happy. I don’t know where you are in that process, but I want you to know that I’m here to help you have more good days than bad. So is Ed and so is Theo and so is Franklin. We may not be the family you were born into, but you’re welcome to be a part of ours anyway.”

By the time that everyone finished their main course and Ed and Anna were squabbling over whether or not to order dessert, Matt felt full and comfortable and content. Foggy’s heartbeat had evened out over the course of lunch, and now they were both just enjoying Ed and Anna’s company. They’d only been in Florida for a few months, but Matt was still surprised by just how much he missed them while they were gone.

Anna finally conceded to ordering some tiramisu to split, and turned toward Matt with a determined set to her shoulders. “So, Matt,” she began, “how’s the dating scene? Are you seeing anyone?”

Shit. Foggy stiffened beside him and Matt tried to form as vague a response as possible. “Uh, yeah,” he said, “I’ve been seeing someone for a few months now. It’s going really well.”

“Really? Oh, that’s fantastic!” Anna threw her arms up into the air and leaned into Ed’s shoulder slightly. “Tell me about her. Is she Catholic?”

Matt tried not to outwardly cringe at “her” and “she”. “Um, raised Catholic, but pretty lapsed. We’re really happy together, though.” He gave a tight-lipped smile and heard Foggy’s heart rate steadily increase.

Anna, apparently satisfied with her interrogation of Matt, turned towards Foggy determinedly. “And you, Franklin. You already know I want you to find a girl soon and give me some grandkids.”

At that point, Foggy’s heart was beating so hard Matt thought he might be going into cardiac arrest. He was silent for a moment, clenching and unclenching his fist, before taking a deep breath and sitting up in his chair. “Actually, Mom, I’ve been seeing someone, too,” he said, gently resting a hand on top of Matt’s where it rested on the table. “It’s Matt.”

Matt turned his hand over so he could lace their fingers together, turning towards him to give him a soft smile. Ed and Anna were quiet, and all four pulses at the table were quick and nervous. Realizing that all of the Nelsons could easily let this silence drag on forever, Matt spoke up again. “We got together a few weeks after starting up the new firm. I think it’s been a long time coming, though.”

Ed sputtered a little bit, “You– I don’t–”

“Franklin,” Anna interjected quietly, “you never told us you were…”

“Bisexual,” Foggy finished. “Both of us are. I– I’m sorry I didn’t tell you; honestly, I didn’t really figure it out until right before we got together.”

“Are… are you sure?” Ed finally asked. “If– if this is something you two really want, you have our support, of course you do, but… how do you know?”

Matt sat up a little bit and squeezed Foggy’s hand. “Foggy was the first person to never dance around me and my blindness, or act like I was less than everyone else because of it. He saw me as a person, first and foremost. There’s never been a moment when I doubted that. I don’t know what he looks like, obviously, but in the way that I perceive the world, he’s just… light.”

Foggy took in a shaky breath and faced Matt. “Matty, I…,” he turned back towards Ed and Anna. “He makes me brave. And not just for me. He taught me how to stick to my morals and defend the people who need it. If it weren’t for Matt, I don’t think I would have learned how to do that.” He took in another deep breath and laughed a little, “And, I mean, look at him. He’s hot.”

Ed and Anna both let out aborted little chuckles at that, and their waitress finally arrived with their tiramisu, noticing the tension at their table and deciding not to say anything. Anna looked at Ed for a moment before squaring her shoulders again and turning back towards Matt and Foggy. “I… can’t say that either of us were expecting this. We never thought either of you were…” she trailed off awkwardly. “But we do know how much you mean to each other, and how much you mean to us; and if this is how you two are happy, then that’s all we want. We just want you boys to be happy.”

Matt smiled and squeezed Foggy’s hand again, and Foggy gave a small nod and whispered, “thank you”.

Slowly, awkwardly, they started to have a more normal conversation as they divvied up the tiramisu, and Matt let himself lean into Foggy’s side a little and rest a hand on his knee, unashamed of the contact. The conversation continued, Ed and Anna asking polite, if slightly clumsy questions, and bit by bit Foggy and Matt relaxed again.

By the end of lunch, Ed was insisting that he and Anna come back to New York in June and take Matt and Foggy to Pride.

Chapter Text

p>Foggy had been sound asleep. Emphasis on the had. He was having a dream about a pirate ship (at least, he thought it was a pirate ship, it might have turned into a commercial jet later on in the dream), fast asleep, enjoying the comfort of his bed, until his phone started loudly ringing. He was pulled into consciousness, sleep still gluing his eyelids shut as he slapped around his nightstand to find his phone. He brought it lazily up to his ear and answered with an eloquent, “Hmuh?”

“Fogs? Are you awake?” Matt’s voice sounded a little strained through the phone, and Foggy shot up, instantly alert.

“Yeah, I am now. Are you okay?” Foggy swung his legs onto the floor and switched on the lamp on his nightstand.

“Yeah, I just got back from patrol. I’m fine, I just have this gash on my arm that needs stitches, and I can’t do it one-handed. Can you–”

“Already on my way,” Foggy interrupted, pulling on a t-shirt and stepping into a pair of sneakers. “Be there in five.”

Matt sighed a little through the phone. “Okay, thank you. See you then. I love you.”

Foggy paused as he grabbed his keys and wallet off the kitchen counter and smiled to himself. “Love you, too, Matty.” He pulled the phone away from his ear and tapped the screen to hang up.

Foggy barely even let himself think as he rushed through the sleeping streets of Hell’s Kitchen to Matt’s apartment. Every time he passed an alley he thought, this could have been the place where he got cut. His blood might still be drying on that wall. He heard his heart pounding in his ears and knew that, even at this distance, Matt could probably hear it just as clearly.

Not for the first time since Matt came back, Foggy found himself deeply missing his old suit. Dorky as the horns were, it gave him a hell of a lot more protection than a black gym shirt and a bandana. Foggy knew that they both had mixed feelings about the suit. The last time Foggy had seen it, Ben Poindexter was wearing it, throwing a billy club straight at Foggy’s face. Poindexter’s body in that suit was wrong, uncanny; he didn’t move with any of the grace and precision that Matt did, his wry smirk didn’t belong below that cowl. But at the end of the day, Matt was safer when he wore the Daredevil suit, and Foggy would have to learn to push that memory of Poindexter attacking the Bulletin to the side.

He rushed up the stairs to Matt’s apartment and pushed through the door, shifting straight into Doctor Foggy Mode, as he called it in his head. Matt was sitting shirtless at the kitchen table, pressing a rag to his right bicep, first aid supplies already laid out on the table. He tilted his face up towards Foggy and gave an unconvincing smile. “Hey. What brings a guy like you to a place like this?”

Foggy sighed and pulled the rag away from Matt’s arm, noticing that he must have already cleaned the gash while Foggy was en route. “My dumbass boyfriend got himself stabbed by a common criminal.”

“Hey,” Matt protested lightheartedly, “I wasn’t stabbed. I was sliced. There’s a difference.”

“I don’t care if you’re sliced or diced or minced or julienned, I still don’t like seeing your blood all over your nice dish towels.” Foggy sat down next to Matt and pulled the suture kit out of the first aid box, scanning over the supplies inside to find the right size needle and forceps.

Matt stilled and his face fell while Foggy put on a pair of latex gloves. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“Clever phrasing, counselor,” Foggy hummed with a smile. “Turn a little to your left, I need to get a better angle.” Matt winced as Foggy pushed the needle through his skin and pulled the thread through after it. “Oh, don’t be such a baby, Daredevil.”

Matt laughed despite himself. “How about I start stitching you up, and you tell me if I’m still a baby for wincing a little?” He bared his teeth and sucked in a breath as Foggy pulled the first knot tight.

“Yeah, yeah. Well, of the two of us, only one is a famous superhero, and it’s not me, so.” Foggy snipped the thread and started on the second stitch. Matt would probably need ten or so, maybe twelve.

“Can we talk about something else?” Matt hissed through his teeth as Foggy pulled the needle through his skin again. “Distract me.”

Foggy paused for a moment and racked his brain for something else to talk about. He needed something stupid, something inane to get Matt’s mind off of the pain. “Oh, you know what I don’t get?” he asked, resuming his stitching. “How come you can butter toast, but you can’t cream cheese a bagel? Why does ‘butter’ get to be a verb but ‘cream cheese’ doesn’t?”

Matt laughed a little through his wince and thought about his answer for a moment, biting his lip pensively. “Maybe people have been buttering toast for longer? Bagels are newer than bread, I think, so ‘buttering toast’ has probably just had more time to enter the… what’s the word? The lexicon.”

“So what you’re saying,” Foggy posited, “is that it’s my responsibility to make ‘cream cheesing a bagel’ a thing?”

Matt’s face became deadly serious. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, counselor.”

Foggy chuckled to himself and finished off the rest of his stitches in silence. As he started on the last one, though, he turned serious again. He chewed the inside of his cheek a little and made up his mind. “Are you ever gonna start wearing the suit again?”

Matt sighed a little and ducked his head. “I don’t know. The last time people saw that version of Daredevil, he was killing people in a church, in my church. I don’t know if people will trust it anymore.”

“Well, reputations can be healed, Matty. Some of these scars can’t.” Foggy finished off his last stitch and tore off his gloves before leaning back in his chair. “I know I can’t stop you from going out there, I know that Daredevil is who you are, but I at least want to know that you’re protected out there. At least a little bit.”

Matt leaned forward slightly and cupped Foggy’s cheek with his left hand. His thumb stroked beneath Foggy’s eye and Foggy smiled sadly. “If you want me to put it back on that bad, I’ll do it. For you.”

“Don’t just do it because I ask you to, Matt,” Foggy breathed. “Do it to keep yourself safe. Because you deserve to be safe and in one piece, plain and simple.”

Matt thought for a moment, nodded slowly, and mouthed “okay.”

Foggy leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to Matt’s forehead, looking forward to the day when he’d know with absolute certainty that Matt was safe.

This case was minorly kicking Foggy’s ass, if he was being completely honest. Matt swore that Dave Joiner was innocent, and Foggy trusted him, but his fingerprints were still on the murder weapon and the motive was there. Three days ago, police had found Dave’s brother Todd’s body slumped in an alleyway with fourteen stab wounds, a knife from the restaurant where Dave was a sous chef still buried in his sternum.

“Okay, let’s go over it again,” Foggy said from his kitchen as he got them each a beer, “Todd borrows $5,000 from Dave, doesn’t pay it back after a year and a half, blames Dave for their dad’s suicide, and, to top it all off, sleeps with Dave’s girlfriend. Dave tells his work buddies about it, breaks up with Shannon, and cuts Todd out. Two days later, Todd’s dead with Dave’s prints on the knife and no one can corroborate Dave’s alibi of being at home at the time of the murder. That’s all the evidence against us. Now you tell me again what the evidence in our favor is.”

“Dave’s telling the truth,” Matt said simply.

“And the means by which you know that are inadmissible in a court of law,” Foggy sighed, slumping back into the chair at his kitchen table where he and Matt had all their work laid out. “Don’t get me wrong, Matt, I believe you, but we gotta have something better to work with than ‘my blind superhero boyfriend can hear the defendant’s heartbeat, and he says he’s telling the truth’.”

They’d only gotten the case two days ago, and they had already resolved to pull an all-nighter at Foggy’s place to prepare their defense. They’d sent Karen to reexamine the evidence and statements at the precinct with Brett’s help, and now all there was to do was figure out how to flip the existing information in their favor.

“I know that, Foggy,” Matt said placatingly. “I never said this case would be easy, but Dave’s an innocent man. I can’t let him go to prison for a murder he didn’t commit.”

Foggy groaned dramatically. “Ugh, you and your morals. I should have stayed corporate and just sold my soul for easier cases.”

“Come on, Fogs,” Matt laughed, “we both know that Jeri wasn’t giving you ‘easy’ cases.”

“Let me reminisce in peace, Matthew,” Foggy said, turning to his laptop to get to work.

They spent the next hour quietly working alongside each other, Matt writing the first draft of his opening statement while Foggy started researching case law, when Matt stilled. His left hand was resting on a pad of sticky notes while his right roamed over the table near him, head tilting this way and that as he apparently extended his senses to look for something.

After a moment or two of that, Matt stopped and clenched his hands into loose fists. “Shit,” he whispered.

“What’s up?” asked Foggy, looking up from his laptop screen.

Matt sighed. “I left my slate and stylus at home. I need to write something on a sticky note so I don’t forget it; are you okay if I run home and grab it?”

Foggy could clearly picture the slate and stylus that Matt usually just kept in one of his jacket pockets. He was always fascinated by how quickly Matt wrote with it, instantly lining up the slate on a piece of paper and gliding the stylus along the holes before pressing through to the paper, leaving lines and lines of perfect braille writing behind. “Yeah, totally. Honestly, those things are cheap enough, I should just buy a couple for you to keep here and at the office.”

Matt stood and tugged on his jacket before leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Foggy’s head. “You’re the best. See you in a few.”

“Beat feet, Murdock,” Foggy said as Matt left the apartment and started making his way down the hall, not even bothering to raise his voice as Matt got further away. “I’ll order us some food.”

Foggy took his time calling up his and Matt’s favorite Chinese restaurant, he knew that they would both be working long enough that they were in no rush to eat early. Oddly enough, the apartment felt just a bit emptier with Matt gone.

Matt came back soon enough, proudly brandishing his slate and stylus in the hand that wasn’t holding his cane, and Foggy greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. Food was delivered and enjoyed, research was done, sticky notes proudly written on with the stylus, and the case was still as daunting as it had been two hours ago.

Until Karen called.

Deep within Matt’s pocket, the electronic droning of “Karen, Karen, Karen,” filled the room, and Matt quickly put the call on speaker phone. “Hey, Karen, you’re on speaker,” Matt said.

“Hey,” Karen’s voice was chipper and upbeat through the phone, and Foggy leaned forward in anticipation. “I think Brett and I found something. We were reexamining some footprints left at the scene, and the murderer clearly had a limp– a limp that Dave doesn’t have.”

Foggy threw his hands up joyously and Matt smiled. “There it is!” Foggy said. “That’s something we can use! Karen, you’re a godsend.”

“I know,” she answered matter-of-factly, smile evident in her voice. “Brett and I are gonna finish up over here and then I’m going home. You boys good for the night?”

“We are now,” Matt said. “Thanks, Karen, this really helps.”

“And thank Brett, too!” Foggy interjected.

“Sure, Foggy. I’ll see you two tomorrow,” she laughed, then hung up.

Matt sighed in relief and sat back in his chair. “Pretty sure that will be admissible.”

“Okay, fine,” Foggy rolled his eyes, “you told me so. Do you want the honor of calling Dave, or should I?”

Matt stood up and gathered the remaining Chinese food containers from the table and dumped them unceremoniously into the trash. “All yours, Foggy.”

Foggy smiled lightly and pulled out his phone, tapping through his contacts list to find Dave’s number and pressing ‘call’.

The phone rang a few times on speaker phone, enough for Matt to sit back down at the table next to Foggy, and Dave picked up. “Uh, hey, Mr. Nelson, what’s up? D’you guys find something?”

“It’s ‘Foggy’, Dave,” Foggy said with a laugh, “and yes, we did.”

Matt scooted forward in his chair and leaned an elbow on the table. “Dave, do you know anyone with a prominent limp?”

Dave was silent for a moment before speaking up. “Yeah, one of the guys from work, Mitch, he has a limp.”

“What’s Mitch like?” Matt asked. “Do you two get along?”

“Ha! The guy fuckin’ hates my guts after I told his wife about all his sleeping around. He’s a real piece of work.” Dave was quiet again for a split second. “Wait, do you guys think he…?”

Foggy spoke up, “We can’t say anything for sure, Dave, but that definitely sounds like a motive to me.”

“Mitch could be framing you, Dave,” Matt said cautiously.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Dave whispered. “By going after my– my own brother… Oh, God.” Dave made a noise that was muffled a bit through the phone, but Foggy was willing to bet he was crying.

“Listen, Dave, if Mitch did frame you, we’re gonna do everything we can to make sure he’s brought to justice, okay?” Foggy poured every ounce of sympathy and confidence he could muster into his words.

“Yeah, yeah. Thank you,” Dave said softly.

“That’s our job, Dave,” Matt added. “We’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

Dave merely gave a quick “mm-hmm,” before hanging up, leaving Matt and Foggy in a hopeful silence.

“Well,” Foggy started, “that makes our job a lot easier.”

Matt smiled and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah.”

Foggy nudged Matt’s ankle with his foot and leaned forward. “You wanna call it a night? Break in those silk sheets I just got?” He bought them especially for nights when Matt stayed over, but he found that he liked them enough to keep them on all the time.

Matt looked darkly interested for a moment before his smile dimmed slightly. “Shit, I don’t have any clothes here. I took them all back last week for laundry.”

“You could just swing by yours in the morning…” Foggy said before trailing off, realizing why his plan wouldn’t work, “... but you have that meeting with the prosecution early tomorrow. Damn it.”

Matt stood up, soft smile spreading across his face, and pulled Foggy up with him. “Tell you what, you come over to my place on Friday and we’ll have an actual date night instead of just a post-work hookup. I’ll make dinner and everything.”

“Wow, and he cooks!” Foggy joked, gladly accepting Matt’s kiss. “See you tomorrow, babe.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

It was finally Friday, and the universe seemed to be doing everything possible to keep Foggy from going to Matt’s apartment for their date. First, Foggy’s hair refused to fall into any sort of coherent shape (he was growing it out again, and it was still in that awkward middle phase between short and long), then his favorite shirt had a stain on it that he’d forgotten to wash out, and to top it all off, it was pouring rain and he couldn’t find his umbrella anywhere.

He couldn’t call Matt and tell him any of that, of course; he’d instantly go into full-on Catholic guilt mode and insist that Foggy shouldn’t come over, that he might catch a cold or get struck by lightning or drown in a puddle. The only option was to put on a brave face and haul ass through Hell’s Kitchen and be grateful that the rain would at least give him an excuse for his unruly hair (he knew that Matt couldn’t actually see his hair, but he still had his pride).

Foggy finally made it to Matt’s apartment, soaking wet, shoes squelching unpleasantly with every step, and tried to pull himself together at least a little bit, even if to sighted people he probably looked like a wet pomeranian. He straightened his back and knocked on the door for courtesy, even though he knew that Matt could have smelled his footsteps from a mile away.

Matt opened the door a moment later, already looking crestfallen at the smell of rain still clinging to Foggy’s clothes and the quiet tap, tap, tap of water dripping off of him onto the floor. “Foggy, are you–”

“Couldn’t find my umbrella,” Foggy interrupted before Matt could get too guilty. “I’m fine, just a little wet. Okay, a lot wet, but I didn’t want to be late.”

Matt stepped aside to let Foggy in and placed a soft kiss on Foggy’s lips, an odd, pensive look on his face. “You could have called, you know. We could have rescheduled.”

“That,” Foggy replied, “is exactly why I didn’t call. I’m a grown-up, Matt, I can survive a little rain.” Foggy turned the corner into Matt’s kitchen and inhaled deeply, the rich scents of parmesan and prosciutto filling the room. “Mmm, plus I didn’t want to miss whatever delicious smelling thing you’re making.”

Matt trailed behind him and put on a resigned smile. “Carbonara. It’ll be another few minutes before it’s done, though, why don’t you borrow some of my clothes and I’ll put those in the dryer?”

Foggy’s heart melted. God, he thought, he’s such a sweetheart. “Sure. You keep cooking, though, I can put them in the dryer myself.”

Matt conceded to the compromise and walked back towards the pan on the stove, that strange look still on his face. Foggy dug through Matt’s closet to find the comfiest things he had before shucking off his soaking wet clothes and redressing. After taking a detour to the bathroom to try and sort out his hair, Foggy finally made his way back to the kitchen, seeing Matt expertly piling two plates with pasta before filling two wine glasses with pinot noir.

Foggy stepped right up behind Matt as he re-corked the wine bottle, wrapping his arms around Matt’s waist and kissing the space where his shoulder and neck met. Matt hummed softly before turning around in Foggy’s hold and wrapping his arms around his neck. Matt kissed Foggy’s forehead and smiled that new smile that Foggy had only just begun to see; soft and genuine and completely natural, as if that particular smile was etched into his DNA for only Foggy to see.

Matt’s cooking skills had certainly improved since law school, and Foggy delightedly finished off his plate while he and Matt chatted aimlessly, easily. At the start of their relationship, he’d expected that there would be some sort of paradigm shift in their dynamic, that they’d act like all the overly sappy couples on TV, constantly cooing over each other and spouting out cliched pet names. There had been changes of course, they touched more, days filled with kisses on the lips and cheek, and nights filled with kisses everywhere else, but the foundation below them was still the same. They were still Matt and Foggy, Foggy and Matt. They had the same dumb inside jokes and playful insults, they still knew each other’s soft spots and boundaries. It was all the same, just so, so much better.

They kept talking and joking and teasing, until eventually Foggy checked his watch and saw that it was almost midnight. His clothes were dry by now, and the rain had long since stopped. Reluctantly, he cleared his throat. “It’s getting pretty late, I should probably head home.”

Just as Foggy started to stand, Matt’s hand shot out and grabbed Foggy by the wrist. Distantly, Foggy wondered if he’d ever get used to seeing Matt do that– interact with the world almost the way sighted people did, grabbing things without having to feel for them or be told where they were. “Wait,” Matt said, his voice low and determined, “stay.”

Foggy felt his heart pick up in interest at what Matt might be implying. “Oh? Lookin’ for a little action tonight, Murdock?”

Matt blushed the slightest bit and set his jaw. “No, I mean, stay. Here. Forever. Move in with me.”

Foggy’s heart might have sped up, or it might have stopped beating entirely, he couldn’t tell. He and Matt had only been together, what, six months? Seven? Weren’t they supposed to wait longer? “M- Matt, I… Isn’t it a little soon for something like that?”

Matt shook his head and pulled Foggy back down into his chair. “Foggy, I… I think this is the right thing for us. I mean, your lease is up soon, right? And– and, we’ve already lived together once before, we know how to be in each other’s space. I don’t want you to have to run through the rain to spend the night with me. I want spending the night and having dinner and being together to be our default.” Matt blushed furiously and seemed to search for his next words carefully. “I… want you to use my umbrella.”

“You want me to… use your umbrella?” Foggy asked, having completely lost the plot.

Matt furrowed his brow and shook his head a little. “Shit, no, I mean, if you lose your umbrella, I want mine to be here for you anyway. I want to be in your space again. I want to wake up with you all the time, Foggy. I love you.”

Foggy was at a loss for words. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was Matt’s mixed metaphors, but Foggy was completely overtaken by emotion, and he needed to take a moment to gather himself. “I… really can’t think of a good rebuttal to any of that,” he said wetly. “I love you, too, Matt, I… sure, I’ll move in.” Huge grins broke over both of their faces as he said it, and Matt pulled him into a bruising kiss. Foggy’s lips moved to the same rhythm as Matt’s and he let out a soft hum as Matt’s fingers found their way into his hair.

Matt pulled away and his smile turned dark, hungry. “How about you stay tonight, too? You mentioned something a little earlier that… piqued my interest.”

Chapter Text

It had been a year since Foggy told Matt about his feelings. Okay, ten months and three weeks, but Matt wasn’t splitting hairs. It had been roughly a year since they started the best relationship of Matt’s life. He and Foggy lived together, worked together in the freshly minted offices of Nelson, Murdock, & Page, spent every moment together they could; not out of necessity, but because they wanted to. Maybe a few years ago if someone showed Matt two people in a relationship like that, he’d let the cynicism take hold and call them codependent, but now Matt thought that they were just… dependent. They counted on each other for everything, and it was wonderful.

It had taken some training on Foggy’s part to teach Matt how to be okay with that– their dependence on each other. After however many years of secrets and lies and guilt, Matt felt like asking for help with even the smallest task was somehow committing a cardinal sin. Matt held his independence like a sword, not only for defense against attacks, but also to prevent any attacks from happening in the first place. For so long he’d thought that if he didn’t bother making any close friendships, then there wouldn’t be anyone to question his capability, to worm their way inside his space and make him need them– because that was really the scariest part: needing someone.

How long had it been since Jack died? How long had Matt been alone? Twenty years, twenty-one? Maybe after all those years it became less about independence and more about sticking to the status quo.

Now, though, he knew what a mistake that had been. Now, he and Foggy were walking into December together hand-in-hand down the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, they were stopping to listen to carollers and drop spare change into donation boxes, they were leaning on each other in every sense of the word and knowing without a doubt that the other could shoulder their weight.

Ed and Anna were back in New York for the whole month of December, and the Nelson family Christmas was set to be just as crowded and familiar and warm as it always was. They were staying above Nelson’s meats for their whole visit, spending every possible second cataloging how many of Theo’s girlfriend’s things there were in the closet and kitchen and bathroom, placing secret bets on when she’d move in.

The day that Matt asked to meet them for lunch was uncharacteristically sunny, with no cloud cover or scent of snow to block the sunlight from licking across Matt’s skin. He really hadn’t meant to act so suspicious about the whole thing, but he also needed to make sure that Ed and Anna didn’t tell Foggy that they were meeting, so all three of them showed up to the Thai restaurant stressed and jumpy.

Matt let them direct the conversation for the majority of lunch, talking vapidly about life in Florida and Anna’s bad hip and did you see Aunt Tina’s new boyfriend? He’s half her age! Matt let himself be comforted by the nothingness of it all, of the meaningless chatter with people who he knew viewed him as family, and who he was finally allowing himself to view as his family, too.

All good things must come to an end, though, and eventually Matt had to get down to brass tacks. He cleared his throat shortly after their plates were cleared and Ed and Anna’s heartbeats instantly picked up. “So, I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you not to tell Foggy about meeting you today.” Ed nodded curiously without narrating it, so Matt moved on anyway. “You both know how much he means to me– how much we mean to each other, so you might have seen this coming.” Carefully, Matt reached into his jacket pocket, wrapped his fingers about the small velvet ring box sitting in there, and set it on the table. He didn’t open it, just trusted Ed and Anna to know what he meant.

Anna let out a gasp and brought her hands up to her face, and Ed immediately leaned an elbow on the table. “Oh, Matt,” Anna whispered through her hands, and Matt could hear her heart pound inside her chest.

Ed kept gaping at the box on the table, so Matt continued. “Ed, Anna, I’d like your permission to marry your son.” He felt a little silly saying it out loud, but he felt like he needed to take this step.

Slowly, Ed cleared his throat , “Matt, son, you have it, of course, but you really don’t need our permission. It’s the twenty-first century.”

Matt felt himself blush a little and tried his best to explain. “I– I know that, Ed, but I… it’s been a long time since I had a family, really had one. You and the rest of the Nelsons have always been so good to me, but I still never really let myself believe that I could have a family again. Thought it was too good to be true, you know? So now I– I have an opportunity to really have a family again, have nieces and nephews and,” Matt tried not to show how much he was choking up, but his voice still broke on the word, “parents again, and I need to make sure I do it right. If I’m gonna be a Nelson, or a Nelson-Murdock, or whatever we decide to do with our names,” he laughed wetly, “then I need to do it with your permission.”

Ed and Anna were both crying, and Matt was certainly close, the smell of salt quickly filling the air around their table. Anna took in a shaky breath and gently laid a hand over Matt’s where it laid on the table next to the ring box. “Of course,” she whispered, a smile in her voice.

After a moment of deep breathing, Ed reached into his wallet with shaking fingers and dropped some bills on the table. He pushed his chair back and stood, crossing over to Matt and pulling him into a tight hug. Under any other circumstances, Matt might have felt embarrassed for being so emotional in such a public place, but now he just let himself feel the warmth of Ed’s arms and round his shoulders and Anna’s kiss on his forehead.

It wasn’t actually Christmas yet, they were still a week or so out, but the apartment above Nelson’s Meats was still bright and buzzing and pine-scented like it was every year. Tonight was just a small gathering of Foggy’s immediate family and a handful of favorite aunts, uncles, and cousins, plus Matt and Karen, and Matt thought of it as a sort of warm-up for the real party on Christmas Day. He could get all the awkward football talk with Uncle Bobby out of the way and get re-accustomed to Cousin Andrea’s grating laugh, all while leaning into Foggy’s side and swapping sarcastic jibes with Karen and practically drowning himself in eggnog.

After four hours of delicious food and cheap alcohol and Ed trying to start everyone singing Irish drinking songs, the night was still far from over. Matt felt the strength of Foggy’s smile beside him and let himself breath out the tension in his shoulders as the moment he’d been planning for drew nearer. As Anna, Karen, and some other cousins started making a dent in the dishes, Ed tactfully invited everyone else by name to come see some souvenir he’d brought from Florida in another room, and soon Matt and Foggy found themselves alone at the dinner table, fat and happy and warm.

Foggy lolled his head over to lazily smile at Matt, his whole outline bursting out into a bright shimmer. “Did you get to hear Bobby’s spiel about those vitamins he’s selling?”

Matt laughed nervously. “Yeah. He’s so sincere about it I almost don’t want to tell him it’s a pyramid scheme.” They both knew that this wasn’t even really a conversation, just some words to fill the silence, so Matt didn’t feel too bad when he took the reins and changed the subject. “So, it’ll be one year in, like, a month.”

“Huh, you’re right,” Foggy agreed. “It’s weird, it feels like it’s been both longer and shorter than that, right? Or am I just crazy?”

Matt smiled. “No, you’re not crazy. I see what you mean. I… after everything we’ve been through together, Foggy, this last year feels… unreal. I didn’t think I could ever have something like this, something that made me this happy.”

“You know you deserve it, though, right? Being happy?”

“Yeah, I’ve learned that.” Matt consulted the little script he’d laid out in his head for what to say next. “Foggy, I don’t think I ever really thanked you for sticking with me through everything. Even after Nelson & Murdock closed, you were still looking after me. I wish I could have understood that before…” he trailed off, not wanting anyone to overhear any incriminating details about Midland Circle. “But now I’m happy that I get the chance to pay that all back. And I– I don’t ever want you to think that I’m not thankful for you, every single day.”

Foggy shifted a little in his chair. “This is some pretty heavy talk, Matty. Is everything okay?”

Shit, Matt had to get this back on track. “Yeah, Foggy, I just… needed to get all that out of the way before I do this next thing.” Focusing on evening out his breathing, Matt reached into his pocket and settled his fingers around the ring box. Slowly, wordlessly, he stood up out of his chair and knelt down beside Foggy, finally pulling out the box and flipping it open, presenting it to Foggy. Foggy’s breath hitched and his heartbeat started doing all kinds of different rhythms. From what Matt could remember, along with Karen’s description of it, Jack’s ring was a flat silver band, about a quarter of an inch wide, with a simple continuous Celtic braid etched into it. It was one of the only possessions that Jack left behind.

Foggy kept on breathing deeply and his hands started to tremble, so Matt moved on with the rest of what he had planned. “Foggy, you’ve been in my life longer than anyone else I know. You were my first real friend, my business partner, and my wingman, ironically enough. Everything we’ve been through together, every single time I doubted myself or forgot that I… forgot that I was worth something, you were always there to remind me again. You’re the smartest person I know, and the kindest, and the funniest, and the only one I know who can sing the entire Pirates of Penzance soundtrack from memory.” Foggy laughed, tears in his eyes. “I never want to go another day without you, Fogs. I want you to hog the blankets and complain about my taste in music and borrow my umbrella. I want to wake up next to you every day, Foggy.” Matt cleared his throat and set his shoulders. “All that is to say: Foggy Nelson, will you marry me?”

Foggy sniffed and dropped his shoulders from where they had climbed up to his ears. “What the fuck do you think, Murdock? Yes, I’ll marry you.” Foggy grabbed Matt’s face and dragged them both up to stand, kissing him deep and slow as tears finally started to spill down both of their cheeks.

Within a second of Foggy saying ‘yes’, champagne bottles were popped and Karen and the Nelsons came spilling out of all the doors and hallways where Matt had heard them listening in the whole time. As soon as they pulled away from the kiss, both of them were completely surrounded by hugs and congratulations and well wishes. Matt had to physically remove himself from Anna’s hug so he could push Jack’s ring onto Foggy’s finger, grateful that his guess at Foggy’s ring size had been correct when he took it to be resized. Karen wrapped an arm around each of their necks with tears in her own eyes and said, “Got the whole thing on video, you dorks. I better be your maid of honor or best man or something.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Page,” Foggy laughed, wiping at his cheeks.

Matt awkwardly accepted the fizzing champagne flute that Ed shoved into his hands, and let his focus zero back in on Foggy. His heart was still beating fast, but his breathing had evened out, and he was staring straight back at Matt, bright smile filling in his glowing silhouette.

“Foggy, come on, you’ll be fine,” Matt said placatingly as they took a seat in a booth at the cafe.

“I know, I know, but this is the second time I’ve met her, like, ever, and she’s a nun and you’re my fiance,” They’d only gotten engaged two weeks ago, and hearing the word ‘fiance’ in Foggy’s voice still filled Matt with a warm buzzing feeling.

“Foggy, listen to me: she already likes you, us being engaged isn’t gonna change that. She’s, like, an ally.”

“I know,” Foggy repeated before snickering a little. “You know, the first time I met her, she actually told me to tell you about my feelings. I don’t know how she knew, but I guess we technically have her to thank for everything.”

Matt chuckled into his coffee and ran a thumb across the ring he was now sporting on his left hand, made to match Jack’s. Foggy finding out whose ring Matt had proposed with was why they had decided to go where they were going after coffee with Maggie. Foggy’s small bouquet of chamomile and lilies laid beside him on the bench, even though Matt said that they really weren’t necessary.

Within a couple minutes of them sitting down, Maggie entered the cafe, ordered her small coffee with milk and sugar, and joined them in the booth. “So,” she said, adjusting her skirt beneath her, “I hear there’s cause for celebration.”

Matt beamed and took Foggy’s left hand. “There is. Maggie, this is Foggy Nelson, my fiance.” He really leaned into the word, practically addicted to it.

“Well,” Maggie’s smile was evident in her voice, “congratulations to you two. It’s good that you both finally have something that makes you happy.”

“Yeah,” Foggy said quietly, “we really do.”

Maggie only had a short time available to meet with them, so their time together was short, but Foggy already seemed more relaxed around her. She gave them each a hug goodbye, and when Matt called her “mom” he almost didn’t notice that it was the first time he’d said it.

Foggy and Matt took their time walking down the street to their next destination, gloved hands tightly interwoven in the cold late December air. The pre-Christmas buzz no longer echoed through the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, instead replaced by the lazy contentment that always came with the end of a year.

Finally, their walk ended, and Matt carefully pushed open the gate to the cemetery behind Clinton church, navigating through the rows and rows of headstones by memory until they reached a small stone tucked away in one of the back corners. Neither of them said anything, and after a moment, Foggy leaned down and gently placed his little bundle of flowers at the base of the stone. Matt had run his fingers over the stone enough times to know exactly what it said.

John “Battlin’ Jack” Murdock, Beloved Father, 1966-2001.

Foggy had never come to the grave with Matt before, had never “met” Jack, and this moment felt too important to let the silence stretch out. Matt was introducing his fiance to his father, he should at least tell Foggy a little bit about what he was like.

“My favorite memory of my dad,” he started, a measured calmness in his voice that he knew Foggy would pick up on, “was when I was eight. He had just lost another fight– that was his job, really, losing fights– and he was feeling all put-down about it, so I asked him to teach me a few moves. He was real resistant at first, he never wanted me to fight, but I convinced him that I could, I don’t know, take down bullies at school or something and he gave in. He took me down to Fogwell’s on one of the slow days when he knew there wouldn’t be anyone else around, and he taught me how to wrap my hands, where to place my feet, how to put my shoulder behind a punch. We spent hours just throwing slow punches and messing around with each other. It felt like he was letting me in on a secret, like I was receiving some family heirloom or something. I still think about it whenever I wrap my hands.” Matt sniffed a little, not letting himself cry, not yet.

Foggy took his hand again and squeezed lightly. “He’d be proud of you, Matt. Everything you’ve done, all the people you’ve helped… I know he didn’t want you to fight, but I think he’d be happy with all the good you’ve done.”

Matt choked a little and squeezed Foggy’s hand back. “I– I’ve hurt so many people, Fogs. I have so much blood on my hands that sometimes I don’t think I’ll ever be able to wash it off. But the thing that I’m the most guilty about is that I– I’ve forgotten what he looked like.” Finally, Matt let the words rush out in a quiet sob.

Foggy turned him by the shoulders and wrapped him in his arms, letting Matt tuck his face into his neck and cry. He cried for five minutes, or five hours, or five days, what was the difference? But eventually he noticed how wet Foggy’s scarf was getting where his face was buried in it, and Matt pulled away, sniffing indignantly and wiping at his cheeks. Foggy didn’t say anything, just let Matt gather himself and keep standing in his own thoughts.

After a few minutes, Foggy finally spoke, softly and reverently. “From everything I’ve heard from you and Maggie and anyone else who met him, your dad was a really great guy, Matt. And I think he gave that goodness to you. Whatever that ‘Murdock devil’ is that you’re always talking about, I think it’s just what makes you recognize that things need to change, and that you have the power to change them.” Matt bit his lip and nodded minutely. Foggy took in a deep breath and turned to face Matt, taking both his hands in his own. “Matty, we haven’t really talked about it yet, hell, maybe it’s too early to be thinking about it at all, but what would you think if I took your name?”

Matt blinked and let his jaw hang open. “Foggy, I… why?”

Foggy seemed to consider his words, then continued. “I’ve had thirty-two years to be a Nelson, Matt. I love my family so much, and they love me, and they’ll always be my family. They’ll always be your family, too. We don’t need to be named Nelson to still be in the family, though. Your dad gave up everything for you, I don’t want you to give up his name. And yeah, sure, we could just not change our names at all, but I– I don’t want you to be the only Murdock anymore. If we start our own family one day– which is such a huge thought that I’m not gonna linger on it, but if we do, I want there to be more Murdocks in the world.”

Matt just stood and gaped, more tears silently falling onto his cheeks. Foggy’s heartbeat was sure and true, and his hands were steady in Matt’s. All around them, the smell of snow and cold filled the air, and the sound of pigeons flapping their wings created a beat for the melody of all the conversations spilling into the streets of New York. The cold air bit at Matt’s wet cheeks and surely turned them an embarrassing shade of red, and Foggy’s breath still tasted like the latte he’d had just thirty minutes prior. In the span of a single instant, Matt could identify his own scent on Foggy’s clothes, his preferred brand of toothpaste on Foggy’s teeth, his shampoo and conditioner in Foggy’s hair. His father’s ring on Foggy’s finger

“Yeah,” Matt whispered after a moment. “Yeah, okay.”

Foggy placed his hands on Matt’s cheeks and kissed him, sweet and slow and not asking for anything, just wanting him, wanting Matt. And Matt wanted him back.