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Five Times Foggy Nelson Cried, And One Time He Didn't.

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To be honest, it was probably because he was incredibly drunk. For some reason it was seen as the “normal” thing to do for men to repress their feelings (what asshole came up with that anyway?), but Franklin Nelson had never done so. He had emotions, so did everyone - what was the point of keeping them inside? This view of "letting it out" seemed to be a boon to Foggy throughout most of his life, however when he was drunk he also let the idea apply to his foul language, which tended to end much worse. So that was how Foggy found himself with Matt clinging onto him - or maybe he was clinging onto Matt? - as they stumbled back to their dorm from some seedy bar that they'd been thrown out of after Foggy had called one of their less moral coursemates something quite unmentionable. The unmentionable something was what Foggy kept repeating to his drunk friend, leaving the blind man in fits of hysterics that somehow increased with every reminder.

 "Foggy," wheezed Matt, letting go of his friend to grab onto the better support of a railing, "stop. Or I will die right here. You will kill me from laughter. Before we've even graduated."

"Okay, okay, I'll let you off," Foggy replied, finding himself sitting on the ground without quite realising how he got there. "You say it like it's fine for me to kill you with laughter after we've graduated?"

"At least you can legally defend yourself. 'Sorry, your honor, but I murdered my best friend by reminding him that I called Steve from our class a-'” but they start laughing again before Matt could finish his sentence. When they manage to calm themselves down they both sit on the pavement for a while, in friendly quietness. The stars look beautiful tonight, Foggy thinks, even from down here in Hell's Kitchen. But his mind is ripped from that when he feels Matt press against him, drunkenly looking for support. Foggy feels his heart skip a beat but he ignores it, it's probably just the booze.

"It's weird. I can't believe we're gonna be lawyers in less than two months. Feels like just yesterday we were made roomies," Matt muses, the alcohol only slightly slurring his voice. Foggy's glad he got Matt to come out with him. The guy works too hard, he needs to take a break every now and then, or one day he'll break himself. "We're so close to having our own law firm, I can taste it. We're actually gonna do it Foggy."

"Yeah. Yeah, we are, Matty." Foggy forgoes the obvious joke about heightened senses. There's something in Matt's voice that stirs him and he realises, yeah, they've almost made it. They've got through this mess of a four years together, and they'll come out of it together. He chokes up and before he realises, a couple of tears slide down his cheeks, not from the laughter. He lets them run their course. Either Matt hasn't noticed or pretends not to, but soon the almost sombre mood is gone when Foggy speaks again.

"And then we really can defend guys who murdered their best friends after they called Steve a-" Matt playfully hits him with his cane and the two of them are cackling again. Foggy pulls Matt to his feet and they stumble home, where they'll fall asleep fully clothed and in the midst of laughter.

**

The second time that Foggy can remember crying, really crying, is when Fisk steps into the public eye. The feeling of his stomach hitting the floor. The pure frustration in his tears as he gulps down a cheap bottle of… of something. They had been so close. They’d almost got the bastard. But he’d slipped out their grasp once again, always one step ahead.

Foggy looked at his silent phone across the room. No calls, no messages. No kind of contact at all from Matt. He wanted to call his friend up, say they’d get him next time, they’d get that son of a bitch, and with Matt agreeing with him then he’d be able to believe himself. But he knew it was pointless. The ringing would just tick over to answerphone and he’d get nowhere, again. Matt was so… distant nowadays. They used to stick together like glue, like cement, like… other sticky things, ugh, he didn’t know. But now Matt seemed to be getting further and further away from Foggy. They still kept up their banter, whenever Foggy managed to catch Matt around the office, but somehow he felt Matt’s heart wasn’t in it. His mouth didn’t quirk up in the corner like it used to when they were joking. It was like Matt could get on quite well without the presence of Foggy Nelson. But without Matt Murdock, Foggy felt… empty.

Foggy finished the bottle and opened another, but he wasn’t sure why he was crying any more. It might have been out of fury at Fisk had won again, or it might have been his desperation at having a void in his life where Matt should fit back in.

Or it might have been because he had to face the truth that Matt didn’t need him as much as he needed Matt.

**

He was the guy in the mask. He was the guy in the fucking mask. Foggy had thrown up when he first saw Matt, covered in his own blood, lying half dead on the apartment floor. He didn’t want to face the truth. But he had to and there was no avoiding it, Matt, his blind best friend, the man he…

Foggy didn’t let himself continue that thought. But Matt was still the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

He called up Claire, but told her not to come round. He would patch Matt up, even though he’d lie about the fact later. The nurse talked him through the disinfecting and bandaging of wounds, the strokes of the needle that Foggy had to pull through Matt’s soft, gorgeous skin. His hands were shaking at first but as always, liquid comfort guided him. It took over an hour but when he was done Matt looked more… well, alive.

His hands were stained with the other man’s blood and no matter how hard he tried it seemed that it wouldn’t wash off. But Matt might be okay. But this? On top of everything? On top of Elena’s death? They told each other everything. Foggy had never felt more betrayed.

He sat, nursing a beer, watching the unconscious man on the sofa. Matt’s chest rose and fell, ever so gently, as if he hadn’t been on death’s door when Foggy found him. He was so… fuck, he was so beautiful that it hurt Foggy just to look at him. He slapped his forehead when he caught himself thinking this – no, he couldn’t feel like this. Not for Matt, not for his best friend, not for the Devil-

When Matt came to it was all at once, with gasps of air that were used for making little moans of pain. He knew Foggy was there instantly, and as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, Foggy’s anger at Matt became hot and wet, the kind of anger that set such a fire in a person all they can do is let the tears fall to try and extinguish it. The anger kept up all through their exchange. He couldn’t remember all of it, only parts weaselled their way into his mind.

“How could you keep this from me?”

Matt is crying too. It would be the worst thing in the world for Foggy if he hadn’t been so furious.

“You would have kept it from me.”

In a flash Foggy finds himself grabbing Matt’s shoulder, hard (and yet somehow he still made sure he didn’t touch any of the wounds), their faces inches apart. Foggy’s breaths are ragged and drawn out and warm on Matt’s skin. He doesn’t know if he wants to punch Matt or kiss him. He thinks he might do both. He lets a tear fall on Matt’s face.

“No, I wouldn’t.”

Matt’s sobs pause and he licks his lips and fuck it might just kill Foggy. The silence is tense. Suddenly, Matt’s hand is gently tracing Foggy’s face. Foggy stiffens, unsure of how to react. When Matt’s fingers touch his lips he’s thrown back into reality, though. Foggy lets go of Matt and grabs his coat on the way to the door.

“Foggy? Foggy!”

He slams it shut behind him as he leaves, his heart still racing, his tears still falling.

**

They skirt around each other for some time after. Foggy can barely bring himself to look at Matt, no matter how Matt tries to reach out to him. Not that he even does that much. He knows what he’s done is unforgiveable. He knows he’s betrayed his best friend, broken his heart by lying. Karen knows something has gone terribly awry and he wants to tell her that things will be alright. But he can’t do that. She’s like a kid in some terrible divorce between her parents. Not that they were ever going to be that, Foggy laughs, humourlessly, not that they would ever be a couple. But at least they used to be friends. And now it feels like that’s gone. Everything has.

He fucks Marci a few times. It’s hot, and it’s rough, and it makes him feel something when his cock is inside her and her nails are clawed into his back. But it’s not Matt. And when it’s over he always goes back to feeling hollow.

Foggy is at his apartment, channel surfing between various crap, when he hears the banging on his window. It nearly scares the shit out of him. He cautiously opens it – it’s raining outside for one, and it’s late, who would be knocking on the window of a fourth storey apartment now?

He knows the answer really. His heart is in his mouth when Matt stumbles in, wet and bloody and in that outfit he wears when he’s the Devil and fuck he’s perfect. Foggy stares at him, unable to react for a moment. He doesn’t know how to feel. He watches Matt catch his breath before realising that the blind man is clutching something in his right hand, something that manages to hold up to Foggy.

It’s a bunch of flowers. Probably quite nice ones too, until they were rained and bled on.

There’s a silence as Matt holds out his gift. And then Foggy starts laughing. Laughing harder than he has in weeks, because trust Matt Murdock, the blind superhero vigilante, to bring him roses after he’s been beaten to a pulp. Foggy’s laugh is infectious and Matt’s smile breaks into chuckles which builds to hysterics. Somehow they find themselves in each other’s arms, half embracing, half trying to keep upright through their hilarity. Tears of joy roll down Foggy’s face. At some point it feels like they’ve stopped laughing at the flowers, they’re laughing in relief, and then they aren’t laughing any more, they’re just holding each other. Foggy takes off Matt’s mask and lets his tears fall into the other man’s hair.

“I’m sorry, Foggy,” Matt whispers in his ear. Foggy pulls him into him, even tighter, if that’s possible.

“I know, you asshole,” Foggy moves back just enough so that he can see Matt’s face. “But don’t you ever do that to me again, young man!”

They start laughing again before Foggy suddenly reaches out to kiss him. Matt is shocked, and Foggy pulls away once their lips have briefly touched.

“I’m sorry,” stutters Foggy, and Matt can feel the adrenaline rush through him, feel where Foggy’s blood is going to, “I don’t know wha-”

But then Matt has grabbed him by the collar and dragged Foggy’s mouth back to his and they’re kissing, really kissing this time, with lips apart and tongues exploring each other and then they’re on Foggy’s bed and they’re both hard and so ready for this, so ready for this thing that’s been on the cards since Matt first walked into that dorm back in college.

Matt is firm and strong and Foggy is soft and gorgeous and one loves the feel of the other against him. When Foggy first runs his hand over Matt’s cock it’s a sensory overload for the poor man and he nearly comes right then. Foggy takes it slow though, pumping up and down gently, knowing Matt is hurt in some way or another, not increasing speed no matter how much Matt begs him to. He kisses the other man to silence him and Matt clenches his fists in Foggy’s hair which may just be the best thing that he has ever felt. Suddenly Foggy is on his back and his whole length is in Matt’s mouth which is just filthy because all the times he’s fantasised about Matt sucking his dick with those beautiful blowjob lips of his couldn’t have prepared him for how it would actually feel.

Foggy has just enough breath to tell Matt to stop, because he wants to come inside him. He doesn’t know how they restrain themselves long enough for him to grab a condom and some lube out of a bedside drawer and prep Matt for his entering. Matt is so hot and tight around Foggy’s fingers and he hisses as Foggy moves in and out of him, begging for Foggy’s cock. Foggy rolls the condom on, ever so slowly, knowing it’s agony for Matt, relishing it a little because of all the shit Matt put him through. Matt knows he’s thinking this.

“If you want to punish me, do it by fucking me,” he says, breath thick and heavy. So Foggy does, with one swift motion he sheaths himself inside Matt who only lets out a gasp before Foggy fucks him into euphoria. Foggy comes inside Matt with a cry, and Matt comes over his own stomach, and the two of them collapse into each other, panting.

“Fuck,” manages Foggy, trying to put together a sentence but failing in the way that all post-coital do. Matt laughs beneath him and he nearly goes hard again.

“What, again, already?” whispers back Matt, and they’re laughing, and they’re kissing.

And it’s wonderful.

**

Karen is so not surprised. Neither is Marci, really. After Fisk ends up behind bars they decide to go more public about their relationship, deciding it can take the front seat now Hell’s Kitchen is relatively safe. Marci is over in the office, taking lunch with them, and she and Karen titter at how affectionate the two are around each other. The two girls seem to be getting on really well together lately. Really well, thinks Foggy, as he watches Marci cast an eye over to Karen, a little smile on her face. He doesn’t linger on it though, because Matt’s giving him that gentle tug on the hand that he does when he wants a kiss. Foggy rolls his eyes but is far too happy to oblige him.

“Eurgh, if the two are you are any sweeter, I might throw up,” Marci says in between bites of the Italian they picked up for lunch.

“Sorry that you can’t find a boyfriend, Satan. I’ll pin it on the aura of pure, unadulterated evil that oozes from you,” replies Foggy, lightly. Marci throws up her middle finger.

“She’s flipping him off, by the way,” Karen says aloud, and Matt hoots in laughter. Foggy feels a pang of sadness that he has to keep up the act to Karen, one of their best friends, but he knows things won’t ever be perfect, even though, with his friends and the man he adores, it does feel pretty damn close.

“It’s fine, he deserves it. I love him, but he deserves it,” replies Matt, jovially. Foggy’s heart skips a beat and he looks towards Matt.

“You love me?” he asks. He loves Matt, but they’ve never said it. Not yet. Matt raises his eyebrow.

“Of course I do,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Foggy feels the tears rising before he can quash them.

“I love you too, Matt,” he chokes out, wiping at his eyes a little too late.

“Awh, Foggy Bear, are you crying?” cackles Marci. She shuts up when Foggy throws a meatball at her from across the room and then kisses Matt again.

He takes it back. It is perfect.

**

Foggy didn’t cry. But Matt did. But that’s because of the surprise, mostly.

Foggy had suggested they get lunch together, get out of the office. It was a spring day, warm, with a breeze blowing. Matt was smiling each time it picked up and rustled his hair, holding Foggy’s hand a little more tightly at each gust.

“You’re so damn adorable, it’s not fair,” Foggy remarks. And he’s so damn in love. He takes in a deep breath and slows to a stop. Matt stops with him, looking confused. He must have heard Foggy’s heart beating about a mile a minute ever since they stepped out of the office together.

“Hey Matt, I’ve been doing some thinking.”

“That’s new,” Matt manages, but he’s clearly more distracted by whatever has made Foggy suddenly serious.

“I’ve been thinking,” Foggy says, taking both of Matt’s hands and drawing him in closer, so their fronts are pressed against each other. “You… you remember college?”

“I hope so,” replies Matt, more confused by the second.

“I was wondering,” whispers Foggy, his voice low, “If… If Steve ever stopped being a c-”

Matt hits him as he doubles over, hooting. Foggy laughs hard at Matt who gasping for breath.

“I should have known, you really got me going for a second there Nels-”

But he stops when Foggy takes his hand and presses something into it. Matt’s breath hitches. He can tell what it is immediately. He can sense the silver and the tiny, unassuming diamond made into a ring. And he knows it will fit his finger perfectly.

“Oh my god,” he manages.

“I love you Matt Murdock. I always have. Will you marry me, make an honest man out of me?”

It’s so cheesy but Matt starts to cry anyway. Happy tears fall down his face between shocked gasps. Foggy laughs a little, scoops up his face in his hands, and kisses the tears away of his shaking boyfriend.

“You need to give me an answer, dummy.”

“Yeah,” Matt replies, “Yes. I’ll marry you, Foggy.”

He lets Foggy take the ring back from his unsteady hands and put it on his finger, and they kiss as if their lives are about to end – when really, they’re only just beginning.

 

 

 

 

 

They invite Steve to their wedding. Foggy’s right. He is still a -