Nothing special ever really happened to Foggy Nelson. Really, literally, nothing at all. He did the same thing every day: woke up at the same time, went to the same coffee place, got to the same job at the same law firm to do the same work, and left at the same time. His nights might vary slightly depending on whether or not Karen or his sister wanted to do anything, but, other than that, that was about it. He felt as though he was the epitome of the regular everyday guy.
So, obviously, he was in the bank when it got held up. And, obviously, he got shoved to the floor and was forced to wait with the only other customer in the bank, who was clearly blind and super hot. Foggy tried not to feel too nervous as he watched one of the guys in a mask on his phone, the other guy holding the only teller in the place at gunpoint. It was a little after nine in the morning, right when the bank opened, so the only people in there were Foggy, the other guy, the teller, and the manager, who was back at the vault with the third masked robber.
“Should we do something?” Foggy hissed to the guy beside him. The guy furrowed his brow.
“They’re not a real threat yet,” the guy answered. Foggy frowned, turning his attention back to the one with the gun. He settled in next to the guy, the set of his shoulders tense, even as the guy seemed comfortable enough to mostly relax. “What’s your name?”
“Uhh,” Foggy answered eloquently. “It’s Franklin. Nelson. Franklin Nelson. But, my friends call me Foggy.”
“Hi, Foggy,” the guy answered, smiling a little. Foggy wanted to keep his smile forever. “My name’s Matt Murdock.”
“Hi, Matt Murdock,” Foggy replied. “That’s some nice alliteration you’ve got there.”
“My full name’s Matthew Michael Murdock,” Matt told him, and Foggy whistled.
“Sounds good. Good name.” Foggy looked down at his hands, picked at a thread along the seam of his jeans.
“If you like that, you should hear my phone number,” Matt said, and Foggy’s head snapped up. He laughed, but the guy just grinned at him. His eyes crinkled when he smiled that wide. Foggy wanted to feed him cake and keep him forever.
“Wait, really?” Foggy asked. Matt lifted one shoulder.
“If you want,” Matt replied. “Don’t feel obligated, of course.”
“I’d love to hear it, but they took my phone when they took all our shit.” Foggy motioned up at the counter at the box full of their personal effects. “I just pointed at the box with our stuff in it.”
Matt laughed. “Thanks. Hold on.” He fumbled around in the drawer next to him where they sat, their backs pressed against the counter, before emerging with a pen. He held out his right hand, twitching his fingers in Foggy’s direction. Foggy put his wrist in Matt’s hand, and Matt scribbled across his forearm. “How’s that look?”
“It’s legible,” Foggy assured him. Matt smiled before suddenly cocking his head to the side.
“I don’t mean to be forward,” Matt said, dropping his voice down to a hush, “but you’re about to see something very odd and I want you to keep an open mind. Also, I would like to take you out for coffee after this.”
“If we survive,” Foggy joked. The corner of Matt’s mouth turned up.
“If we survive, of course,” Matt agreed. He raised an eyebrow. “Keep an open mind?”
“You got it, Matthew Michael Murdock,” Foggy answered. Matt pulled his circular sunglasses off, folding the temples and hanging them to Foggy. “What are you going to do?”
“Nothing too dangerous,” Matt assured him. He moved to lean away, then hesitated. He leaned back in. “Again, I don’t mean to be forward, but…” His hand twitched up towards Foggy’s jaw. “In case we die,” he quipped, smiling. Foggy took his hand by the wrist and guided it to the side of his head.
“Just in case,” Foggy answered. “You can’t be too sure.”
Matt leaned forwards, stealing a quick kiss from Foggy. When he pulled away, Foggy chased after him, taking a second kiss, then a third.
“Don’t be stupid, Matt,” Foggy warned. Matt smiled at him again, and, this close, without his sunglasses, Foggy could see that his eyes were brown, like rich oak, shining like scotch whiskey, and Foggy realized he was waxing poetic in his own head so he clapped a hand on Matt’s shoulder.
“I won’t be,” Matt promised. He suddenly sprung into action, launching himself over the counter effortlessly. Foggy took advantage of the distraction to scramble to the other side of the counter and smack the silent alarm. Meanwhile, Matt had knocked out the guy with the gun in seconds, turning the gun on the man on the phone. The guy dropped the phone, and Matt shot him in the thigh. He hit the ground, clutching at his leg, and Matt jogged back to the vault. He returned with one hand twisted in the last man’s collar, and he tossed him down by the man whose thigh he had shot, and knocked him out with a heavy-handed jab at his temple with the gun. Foggy stood up, looked around him, and laughed once.
“That was badass,” Foggy commented, a little breathless. Matt turned in his direction, smiling.
“Yeah!” Foggy made his way to the back, saying soothing, placating nonsense to the manager to get him to follow him out to the front. Foggy could hear sirens approaching; the teller was frantically hugging Matt.
“Really, it wasn’t anything,” Matt was telling her, and Foggy came up next to him, clapping him on the shoulder. The cops flooded in then, and they insisted on taking Matt, Foggy, the teller, and the manager down to the station. Luckily, as it turned out, there was a Starbucks right across the street from the station, since Foggy wanted to get a drink with Matt as soon as he could and find out, not only how he could do those kickass ninja moves, but where he learned them, because holy shit.
Matt laughed, stirring far too much sugar into his coffee, and Foggy smiled. Sometimes, good things did happen to ordinary people. Looks like all he really needed was a break in routine.