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When The Day Met The Night

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May 12th is the worst day of Foggy’s life.

Everything he knew about his best friend was a lie.

He goes to bed that night exhausted from crying.

Foggy wakes up to his alarm clock blaring ‘Shot through the heart and you’re to blame, darling, you give love a bad name’ and maybe the radio station is doing a Bon Jovi at 6 thing now because he’s pretty sure he heard that song yesterday morning as well.

He gets up, he gets dressed, he makes some burnt toast he doesn’t eat, and shuffles his way to the office. Foggy doesn’t want to go in but needs to clear up some things before he can officially take some much needed time away.

Karen greets him cheerfully and he gives a stilted nod in her direction. Instantly, she’s at his side asking what’s wrong. He’s surprised she’s not mentioning anything about the Nelson & Murdock sign in the trashcan. Maybe she thinks it was knocked in there by accident.

“Would you like any coffee, Foggy?”

“No, thanks.” He starts towards his office. “I’m just going to grab some things and head out.”

He misses Karen’s frown.

“Wait! I have to show you something before you leave.”

She’s really excited. Foggy sighs and follows her to her desk. She pulls out a bag from a drawer and reveals the Nelson & Murdock sign. Foggy stares at her and watches her smile turn into a frown.

“What’s wrong? Is it not right?” She turns the frown to the sign. “I gave them your napkin and told them exactly what you told me.”

“Karen,” Foggy begins. “You showed this to me yesterday. I threw it in the trash last night. What’s going on with you?”

“You threw it in the trash?” is her incredulous response. Then, “Wait, I just picked this up this morning on my way in – there’s no way you could have seen it yesterday.”

Foggy freezes.

“What day is it, Karen?”

“It’s Tuesday.”

“But what’s the actual date today?”

“May 12.”

Foggy has seen Groundhog Day enough times in his lifetime to figure out what’s going on.

He plasters a fake grin on and laughs.

“Sorry, Karen, I must’ve had a dream I saw the sign already. Déjà vu and all that.”

Karen gives him a bewildered look but eventually shrugs and puts the sign back into the bag.

“I can’t wait for Matt to get in so we can show it to him!”

Foggy nods and thinks he’s going to be sick. Matt. He’s going to be in any minute now and Foggy’s going to have to pretend everything’s okay with them. Foggy isn’t supposed to know Matt’s the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. His blood boils at the thought of all the secrets and lies.

“I’ll be in my office, Karen,” he manages to grit out before he can lose his cool.

He hides out there until Matt enters, smile on his face as he greets Karen. Foggy knows he’s glaring at Matt from behind the glass window and Matt pauses, frowning in Foggy’s general direction, and Foggy just wants to yell “Asshole” at him and maybe punch him but he restrains himself. He’s a good guy like that.

“Let’s show him, Foggy, come out here,” Karen is calling to him.

Foggy once again puts on the fake smile and meanders out to the main area.

“What do you need to show me?”

Karen pulls out the sign and presents it to Matt for him to hold and feel it. Foggy had said, yesterday, “Run your feelers over that, baby!” and threatened to kiss Matt but today he just stands there, watching Matt’s reaction.

He can see tears well up in Matt’s eyes, the happiness of finally having a sign symbolizing everything they had worked for. Symbolizing everything that would be ruined in less than 24 hours.

Foggy hates his life.


Foggy continues on his day as best as he can. He ignores Matt for most of it and he can tell that Matt wants to say something, wants to ask what’s wrong, but Matt doesn’t and Foggy is really glad for that. He’d definitely probably punch something.

He goes and has a few drinks then ends up at Matt’s apartment. He doesn’t even bother with the front door, knows Matt won’t answer and that it’s locked. He enters through the roof access, makes sure to skip the bottom broken step, and watches again as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen AKA Matt collapses to the floor in front of him. Foggy sighs, goes for the burner phone and says out loud he’s going to call Claire so Matt doesn’t try to punch him for thinking he’s calling an ambulance.

“Matt? Are you okay?”

“It’s Foggy, Matt’s friend. He’s collapsed and needs help in the form of stitches.”

“Oh, uhm,” Claire seems taken aback by Foggy’s nonchalance about the whole thing. “Right, where are you guys?”

“His apartment.”

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

Foggy knows she makes it in ten.


Foggy is nursing a beer when Matt wakes up, startled.

“You’re at home, you’re safe,” Foggy supplies and Matt looks even more terrified at his words.


“Yup, in the flesh.”

Matt takes a hard swallow then tries to sit himself up before pausing with the pain.

“You may not want to do that."

Matt lowers himself back down onto the couch. There's an awkward, tense, silence. Foggy doesn't really know what to say.

"So. You're the Devil of Hell's Kitchen."

"F-foggy, I. I wanted to tell you."

"Bullshit," Foggy states and takes another swig of his beer. "If you truly did then you would have a long time ago."

"Did you stitch me up?" Matt asks and Foggy snorts. Matt knows how well he deals with needles.

"Nope, that would be your hot nurse friend."

Matt nods.

"So," Foggy starts. "I know you're the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and that you have super senses so let's skip past this part."

Matt looks like he's about to have a heart attack and maybe Foggy could have eased into it a bit more but fuck Matt, Foggy wasn't eased into it.

"How long?" Matt rasps out.

"Let's not dwell on that. I want to know about college. I know you weren't doing it then but there was a lot of shit you were hiding from me and I want to know all of it. "

Matt grimaces.

"You really don’t."

"I’m making the calls and I really do want to know. "

"What do you want me to say, Foggy? Yes, I knew every time you were lying but that doesn't mean I knew what you were lying about. You were allowed privacy and so I played along to give it to you. You would have transferred rooms as soon as you found out what a freak your roommate was."

Foggy ponders what Matt said. He honestly doesn't know what he would have done if Matt had been so open so early on.

"That doesn't mean I didn't eventually deserve to know."

Matts face consorts as he tries to hold back tears. Foggy thought he might have been able to avoid that face this time around but no such luck - it was his kryptonite.

"Yeah, sure. Hey Foggy, I have heightened senses which means I know every time you lie and what you ate for dinner last night and by the way, I can smell Marci all over you."

"You could smell her on me?”

"Chanel no. 7 perfume, watermelon kiwi shampoo, vanilla deodorant, and that strawberry granola yogurt she ate every day."

Foggy hums in a kind of impressed tone then mentally scolds himself - it is not interesting, it is invasive.

"Could you tell when I..." Foggy trails off as he makes a jerking off motion. The way Matt's lips turn into the flattest line ever tells Foggy the answer.

"Gross, dude! That is definitely not right!"

Matt lets some tears escape as he tries to curl in on himself away from Foggy.

"Sorry," Matt mutters and that ends that conversation.


Matt’s sitting on the couch after having shuffled his way to the bedroom to pull on a hoodie and sweatpants. Foggy’s having another beer and maybe he could get used to this Groundhog Day thing – unlimited beer and no hangover.

“How’d you find out?” Matt quietly asks, picking at the bottom of his hoodie.

Foggy shrugs.

“Fair enough,” Matt whispers.

“Look, Matt,” Foggy sighs. “I’m pissed off. Really pissed but I’ve had a bit of time to let it sink in so now I’m just tired of running through everything we’ve done together since we met. It’s a lot to take in.”

Matt nods and continues to pick, his fingers moving down to his sweatpants.

“I never-“ Matt clears his throat and tries again, “I never meant to hurt you. I honestly wanted to keep you away from this incase anything were to happen. I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”

Foggy frowns.

“You don’t think I could’ve made that decision for myself? Whether to stick around or not? I’m a fully grown adult, Matt, I don’t need to be coddled. I can take care of myself and figure out what is and what isn’t a good situation to be in.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Foggy,” Matt whispers and his face crumbles as soon as the words are out.

Foggy wants to hug him, let him know everything will be okay, but he doesn't know if that’s true anymore.

Foggy stands and looks at the random thrift store painting hanging on the wall since he doesn’t trust himself to look at Matt’s face.

“I need to go. Claire said she’d be by tomorrow to check on your stitches.”

He hears Matt’s broken calls of his name as he walks out the door and it will never get easier listening to that. He goes home, lays in bed and stares at the ceiling until he drifts off.


Shot through the heart and you’re to blame, darling, you give love a bad name

Foggy groans and hits his alarm to turn it off. Fuck work – he’s not going in.


I’m so fancy, you already know, I’m in the fast lane, from L.A. to Tokyo

Foggy curses letting Karen pick her own ringtone in his phone. He rolls over and blindly reaches for the phone still blaring Iggy Azalea at him. Managing to grab it as it tilts off the edge, he swipes the screen to answer.


“Oh, uhm, Foggy, hi. It’s Karen.”

“I figured that. What can I do for you?”

“Where are you? It’s almost noon and Matt’s freaking out.” Her voice turns to a whisper and Foggy imagines her swiveling away from Matt’s direction in her office chair, covering her mouth with a hand, trying to make sure Matt doesn’t hear her next words but Foggy now knows Matt always hears them. “He tried calling you a bunch with no answer. I swear he looked like he was about to-Oh! Matt, yes, I have him on the phone.”

Foggy hears Matt in the background asking to talk to him.

“Don’t give him the phone,” Foggy says.

Karen starts making weird squeaking noises and suddenly Matt is talking into the phone, obviously having just wrestled it from Karen.

“What’s wrong, Foggy? Are you sick? Is everything okay?” Matt pauses for a brief second. “Did I do something?”

Foggy laughs humorlessly.

“Yeah, yeah, something like that. I’m fine, Matt. Just need a day.”

“Oh. Okay. Sorry. Feel better.”

Foggy looks at his phone and the call has ended. He rolls over and goes back to sleep.


It’s 2am and Foggy is running around in the dark in his apartment trying to find some pants to wear. He slept all evening and now it’s 2 in the freaking morning and he should have been at Matt’s place over an hour ago to save him. Matt is not allowed to die no matter how pissed off Foggy is at him.

Foggy finds jeans hanging off the side of his hamper, throws on some shirt he found on the living room couch, and slides on flip flops (“They’re manly,” Foggy had told everyone he knew).

He’s at Matt’s apartment in record time, bursting through the fire escape door to find the apartment lit up.

Claire’s kneeling beside a passed out Matt, cleaning up cuts before getting rid to stitch them.

“Claire,” Foggy gasps and almost falls down the stairs part from exhaustion from running the whole way over and part from the relief that Matt isn’t dead.

Claire whips her head around to see Foggy and glares at him.

“Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Foggy, Matt’s friend,” he pants as he makes his way safely down the steps, almost forgetting to avoid the last one.

She gives him one last second of stink eye before returning to the matter at hand – Matt’s wounds.

“And what are you doing here at 2:30 in the morning?”

Foggy stands at Matt’s feet, staring at the bloody mess before him.

“Oh, well, you know, best friend telepathic instincts and all that – What are you doing here?”

Claire huffs as she pulls her medical kit closer to her and starts pulling out everything she needs for stitches.

“This moron managed to get in a quick phone call to me.”

Foggy feels such a huge weight lift off of him. No matter what, Matt doesn’t die at this point in the story. Even if Foggy hadn’t stumbled in, Matt still would be alive to tell the tale.

The night continues in a much similar fashion to the previous two – Claire leaves without explaining much, Foggy and Matt yell and cry at each other with a couple different questions thrown in, and then Foggy’s back in bed not eager to start the day over again.


It’s the sixth May 12th in a row Foggy’s had to live through and he’s tired of it. He’s tired of having to act normal around Matt during the day then patch him up at night before the accusations and crying begins.

It’s 10am, everyone is in the office in their own areas, when Foggy snaps.

“Okay, let’s just get it out in the open,” Foggy states as he marches into the common area. Both Karen and Matt look up at him in confusion.

“What’s going on, Foggy?” Matt asks and stands up behind his desk.

“Karen, this may be a shocker to you, but our dear friend Matt, here, is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.”

Silence. Extremely tense silence.

Matt falls back down into his chair and just stares near Foggy’s ear. Karen stares right into Foggy’s eyes.

Karen bursts out laughing to the point she slides out of her chair and onto the floor. Matt gives a weak chuckle but Foggy knows he can tell that Foggy’s not pulling this out of his ass for funsies.

“Oh, Foggy,” Karen finally manages as she pulls herself up off the floor and into a standing position. “Matt’s blind.”

Both Foggy and Matt frown at that.

“Obviously, Karen. He has heightened senses which allow him to be a ninja.”

Karen seems to be really taking him in this time and Foggy doesn’t really like the expression that’s starting to bloom on her face, an expression of concern.

“Foggy, are you alright? Are you sick? Did you bump your head?” Karen turns to Matt who still hasn’t left his chair. “C’mon, Matt, this is ridiculous. You can’t be the Devil. I mean… you just can’t.”

Her head swivels between Foggy and Matt and then slowly a hand creeps to her mouth and she’s sinking into her desk chair.

“Holy shit. Matt’s the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.”

Finally, Matt’s brain switches into survival mode and he’s out in the main foyer with Foggy and Karen.

“No, no, I’m not the Devil. I’m blind, like you said, how could I do any of that stuff?”

“Matt…” Foggy starts and Matt shoots him a glare from behind his sunglasses.

“No. I am not the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Okay? I’m a regular blind guy. That’s final.” Matt then marches right back into his office, slamming the door shut, and closes the blinds to hide.

Then there are a lot of crashing noises followed by a small yell. Karen runs to the office door and opens it to a scene of Matt standing in the middle of his office, papers floating down through the air and half the stuff that was on his desk now on the ground.

“Matt?” she tentatively asks.

“I tripped,” he states and then Karen’s a flurry of fists attacking Matt.

“I. Can’t. Believe. You’re. The. Devil.” She says, every word punctuated by a punch. Matt looks hilarious trying to protect himself, arms raised in defense.

“You. Saved. Me. And. Never. Said. Anything. You asshole!” Karen then storms out of Matt’s office, grabs her purse off her desk, and leaves.

Matt and Foggy face each other, Matt breathing heavily.

“How’d you find out?” Matt eventually asks.

Foggy shrugs.

“Why are you so calm about this?”

“I’ve had some time to deal with it.”

Matt nods sullenly.

“Now what?”

“Now, we try to heal and move forward. Also, don’t go after Fisk tonight – it’s a trap set by Nobu.”

Matt’s head whips up and if Foggy knew for a fact Matt couldn’t see details of the face, Matt had sworn that to him two nights previous, he’d swear he was staring Foggy right in the eye.

“How’d you know I was going to do that?” Matt takes a couple strained steps forward, immediately tense at how much Foggy knows. “How do you know Nobu?”

Foggy runs a hand over his tired face.

“Look, I just do, okay? And just – promise me you won’t go. Not until you get better armor or something because he is going to almost kill you.”

Matt’s breath seems to be taken away at that.

“What? How do you-?” Matt bites his lip. “Are you from the future?”

Foggy swears he almost dies laughing. Of course, that’s the most reasonable explanation Matt comes up with for everything. Foggy knows everything. Foggy must be from the future.

“No-no, I’m not from the future,” Foggy manages out while wiping tears from his face. “Thanks for that, dude, I really needed a good laugh.”

Matt is just standing there, arms crossed, frowning at Foggy and Foggy doesn’t care.

“Just don’t go out tonight. If you do, because you’re an asshole, then come to my place after. Don’t go home.”

Matt gives a stiff nod and Foggy leaves for home shortly after. He stays in, orders pizza, and watches The Simpsons on TV. Matt doesn’t stop by, Foggy doesn’t get a phone call saying he’s in danger, Foggy hopes maybe finally he’s broken the chain of events enough that he won’t wake up to Bon Jovi again.


Shot through the heart and you’re to blame, darling, you give love a bad name

“FOR FUCKS SAKE,” Foggy screams at his ceiling. His upstairs neighbor stomps at him in anger.


13 days of this never-ending cycle – Foggy meets Stick.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Foggy yells as he jumps about a foot into the air.

The old man just smirks as he comes from out of the shadowy corner in Matt’s apartment.

“Who the fuck are you and how the fuck did you get in here?” Foggy tries to use his peripheral vision to pick up on any weapon nearby that he can use to beat this crazy guy’s head in.

“I’m Stick.”

“Holy fuck,” Foggy’s body freezes in shock and a little bit of fear. “You’re Stick.”

The old man – Stick – chuckles as he makes his way to where Matt’s lying unconscious on the couch.

“I see our Matty here filled you in on who I am.”

“Vaguely,” Foggy mutters. “He did tell me how big of a dick you are.”

“Oh, yes, he always did like to call me that. I always thought a couple whacks across the head would beat some sense into him but Matty always was a stubborn little bastard.”

Foggy clenches his fists.

“Don’t talk about him like that.”

“Or what?” Stick turns abruptly to face Foggy. “You’re going to fight me? Kill me? Puh-lease.”

Stick goes back to observing Matt, muttering under his breath, “Fucking softie.”

“Well,” Stick finally says after a few minutes of very tense silence. “Doesn’t look like he’s going to be much help to me for a while.”

Stick makes a motion as if to spit on Matt and Foggy lunges at Stick before he can really think things through. The next moment, Stick has a hand wrapped around Foggy’s neck with little to no effort and Foggy is finding it hard to breathe. He pathetically tries to pull Stick’s hand away but the man is extremely strong.

“Nuh-uh-uh,” Stick taunts and Foggy swings his left arm around to try and punch Stick in the head when his fist is caught by Stick’s free hand. “I didn’t come here to hurt you, boy, so you better back down.”

Stick shoves Foggy back and releases his hold. Foggy manages to land back in the chair he originally started in and Stick is briskly heading towards the front door.

“Tell Matty I said hi,” are Sticks last words before the door closes behind him.


Stick was here?” Matt strangles out and looks absolutely terrified of the idea.

“Yeah,” Foggy replies with a slight rasp.

Matt shakes his head and lets out a long breath.

“I’m sorry, Foggy. I never wanted you to meet him.”

Foggy leans forward in his seat.

“Matt, did he-Did he beat you?”

Matt laughs and it’s cold and unnerving.

“To say the least. He called it training but really he was just using me as a punching bag half the time.”

Foggy is stunned. He never knew. Of course he never knew, Matt kept everything a secret from Foggy, but- Foggy feels like he should have figured it out a long time ago. He just chalked it up as the catholic thing but it all kind of makes sense now.

“Jesus, Matt,” and Foggy can hear Matt holding back the ‘Language, Foggy’. “Didn’t the nuns at the orphanage ever say something?”

Matt half shrugs.

“There were a lot of kids and I kept mostly to myself when I wasn’t talking back to Sister Joan.” Matt smirks, more than likely at the memories that sentence brings up.

“But, Matt-“

“Look, Foggy,” Matt interrupts. “If we’re going to have this conversation about Stick I think I need a drink. How about yourself?”

Foggy nods.

“Oh, sorry, I-“ and he cuts himself off, remembering that Matt can tell.

“Nodded,” Matt says with a twisted frown before struggling to get up. Foggy has started giving up trying to force Matt to rest. For the past two weeks, all he’s done is fail at keeping Matt lying down. Every time he turned around, Matt was up and about, wincing with every footstep.

Three beers later and Matt’s a bit more relaxed, a bit looser, and so is Foggy. They’re now sitting next to each other on the couch, staring at the broken door to Matt’s bedroom.

“So, Stick. Asshole or what?”

Matt laughs and nods.

“I agree. Very much so. He used to-“ Matt pauses to take a sip of beer. “He used to bring me all this food that I used to love – brownies and grilled cheese and hot dogs – and make me eat it all until I could tell him every last ingredient and where in the world it came from.”

Foggy gags at the thought.

“I can never look at a can of sphagetti-o’s again without-“ and now Matt’s gagging and Foggy’s gagging and it takes them a couple minutes, including Foggy going to the bathroom, before they can continue talking.

“Why are you okay with this?” Matt quietly asks.

Every day that Foggy has gone through Tuesday, May 12th, Matt has asked this question in some form. Foggy typically just shrugs in response and Matt accepts it wholeheartedly. He never presses for more information and Foggy’s starting to realize it’s because Matt doesn’t think he deserves an answer, not after what he’s put Foggy through.

“This is my thirteenth time re-living this day,” Foggy simply states and takes a long sip from the beer bottle, trying to ignore the way Matt’s unresponsive-to-light eyes bulge out.

“WHAT?” Matt yells and twists with a wince to face Foggy full on. “What do you mean this is your thirteenth time?”

“You ever see that movie, Groundhog Day? With Bill Murray?”

Matt looks confused.

“Your life is like Groundhog Day?”

Foggy closes his eyes and sinks back into the couch.

“Apparently. Every day I wake up and it’s May 12th all over again and I am getting fucking sick and tired of Bon Jovi.”

Suddenly, there’s a hand touching Foggy’s forehead and it startles him into sloshing some beer on his legs.

“Jesus, Matt,” and Matt clucks at him like a freaking mother hen.

“No fever. I guess you’re not hallucinating.”

Foggy laughs.

“Trust me, I thought that too. Went and saw a doctor and everything. That was a mistake. Ended up in a mental ward until I fell asleep and woke up in my bed to another day of May 12th.”

“Huh.” Matt plays with the label on his beer bottle. “So, you’ve had to re-live me almost dying thirteen times now.”

Foggy nods and waits for the waterworks – he’s used to this happening by now.

“I’m s-so s-sorry, Foggy,” Matt manages out before crumpling forward and leaning his forehead on Foggy’s shoulder.

Foggy awkwardly pats him on the head.

“It’s alright there, buddy. I’m still mad about the whole secrets and lies thing but I’ve gotten to know you very well over the past two weeks so it’s not too bad.”

Matt’s kicked puppy face moves into Foggy’s eyesight.

“You’re the best friend I ever had,” Matt says then collapses onto Foggy – either from the alcohol or pure exhaustion, Foggy has no idea.


It’s day 17 and Foggy is playing golf off the roof of their office building.

“Foggy!” calls Matt from the roof access door. “What in the world are you doing out here?”

It’s a bit brisk of a day, and Foggy has never swung a golf club in his life before, but the sky is baby blue with no clouds in sight and hardly any wind. He believes this is what golf people call a perfect day.

He lines up the ball with his club, pulls back and lets it rip. He watches as the golf ball bounces neatly onto the roof of the building across the street.

“Just practicing my golf swing,” Foggy eventually replies once Matt is almost standing beside him.

“What has gotten in to you?” Matt questions and seems sincerely concerned. Of course he is. As of this point, they’re still the bestest buddies in the entire world.

“Nothing, my dear friend,” Foggy claps Matt on the shoulder. “Nothing at all. Care to take a swing?”

Foggy holds out the club to Matt who turns to Foggy with a look of ‘Are you fucking serious right now? I’m blind, remember?’

“Alright, I am sensing that is a no. That’s okay, I only have a couple balls left.”

Matt shakes his head and starts to head back inside.

“I’m not going be around when the cops finally figure out where all the golf balls are coming from and arrest your sorry ass.”

Foggy grins.

“I’d like to see them try.”


Foggy doesn’t pray often. He only does it in times of great stress like when he was sure he was going to bomb that midterm or when his mom called to let him know Uncle Claude was being taken off life support.

But, here he is, at the church down the street, sitting in a pew and trying to remember how to pray. He has his eyes closed, his head bowed slightly, and he begins with, ‘Dear God,’ like they do in the movies.

He prays for this madness to end. He doesn’t know how many more days he can take of May 12th but he doesn’t know how to fix it. He’s tried keeping Matt from going out, almost literally tying him to a chair; He’s tried telling Matt that he forgives him for everything, but not even Foggy can believe that lie; He even tries to stay up all night in hopes that if he doesn’t fall asleep the day can’t reset (yeah, that doesn’t work, he dozes off for about 3 minutes and his alarm is going off).

Foggy tells God, or whoever is up there listening in to his call, that he doesn’t know what else to do but he can’t keep on living like this, stuck in a perpetual loop. He asks for a sign, any kind of sign, to show what he has to do to make things right – because that’s what the movies taught him to do in situations like this. Make things right and life goes back to normal. He already has the superhero best friend so movie logic must apply.

Then, the fire alarm is going off in the church and Foggy is getting evacuated. Foggy doesn’t curse at God for answering some kids prayer to get out of church instead of his own.


By the fourth week, and Foggy’s starting to lose count, he sees Matt stumble in through the bedroom archway, crash onto the floor, and it hits him like a ton of bricks.

He’s in love with Matt.

Of course he fucking is.

Foggy then calls Claire and once she arrives he bolts. He cannot stand another gab session after that revelation.


Shot through the heart and you’re to bla-

Foggy throws his alarm clock at the wall and snuggles down into the covers when he hears it break into what he hopes is a million pieces.



Foggy burrows further under his blanket in response.

“Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean I don’t know you’re there.”

Matt’s voice is getting closer to the bed and Foggy sighs.

“Foggy is offline at the moment. Please come back later.”

Matt chuckles and suddenly the blankets have been thrown off of Foggy and onto the floor.

“Leave me alone, Matt.”

The bed dips where Matt takes a seat and Foggy squeezes his eyes shut.

“What’s wrong, Foggy?”

Foggy squirms around in response, making weird noises.

“I am feral – I have rabies – stay back.”

Matt just snorts and grabs onto Foggy’s calf causing Foggy to freeze on the spot.

“Matt,” Foggy pleads and Matt squeezes the calf before letting go.

“I’m worried about you. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

Foggy bolts upright and turns on Matt.

“You! You are what’s wrong, Matt!”

Matt is obviously startled and it wasn’t until Foggy had to live through 4 weeks, maybe 5 by now, of the same day did he realize how much Matt truly leads with his face.

“I have been re-living this day for God knows how long and don’t you fucking language me, Murdock!” Foggy springs to his knees and points a finger right in Matt’s face. “I have lost count of how many May 12th’s I’ve had to live through – how many times I’ve had to find you half-dead on your apartment floor – how many times I’ve had to “discover” that you’re Daredevil!”

Foggy is breathing harshly and Matt is just sitting there, looking like he got slapped in the face.

“You-,” Matt swallows. “You know?”

“Yes I fucking know! Aren’t you listening? I’ve lived through this day too many times to count and I’m sick and tired of it! I’m sick and tired of you almost dying every single fucking day!”

“Foggy,” Matt says gently.

“Don’t you ‘Foggy’ me! I cannot be Foggy’ed!” Foggy pauses and furrows a brow. “I don’t know what that means.”

Matt chokes out a laugh and Foggy can see the gears churning in Matt’s brain. Foggy loses all the steam he had gathered and slumps back down onto the bed.

“How many times?” Matt finally asks after a minute.

“I honestly don’t know,” Foggy offers. “I think it’s around week 5.”

Matt makes a painful noise in the back his throat.

“And every day I almost die?”

“Yeah… You go after Fisk and a ninja named Nobu slices you up pretty good. That’s how I found out, by the way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every time we do this you always ask, ‘How do you know?’ and I never answer but… I find you passed out on your apartment floor half-dead. That’s how I find out you’re the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.”

Matt looks ashen and maybe a little green at the same time, sick at the thought of Foggy finding him in a pool of blood.

“Foggy, I’m so-“

“Sorry,” Foggy interrupts, nodding. “I know. I’ve heard it a million times.”

Matt bites his lip and scrunches his face up in an effort not to cry.

“C’mere,” Foggy whispers and pulls Matt into a hug. Matt lets the tears flow freely and Foggy doesn’t hold back his own.


It’s later in the evening, and both Matt and Foggy are laying on their backs, side by side, in Foggy’s king sized bed.

“I truly am sorry you’ve had to re-live this day so many times.” Matt intertwines his right hand with Foggy’s left. “I couldn’t imagine seeing you like that every day for weeks on end. I think…”

Matt chokes back a sob and Foggy squeezes his hand.

“You would go mad?”

Foggy feels Matt nod against the bed.

“I think I already have,” Foggy admits and then Matt rolls over to cling onto Foggy.

It’s fifteen minutes of content quiet before Matt speaks up.

“I won’t go out tonight.”

Foggy’s heart stops and his breath catches. In all of this, not one version led to Matt saying he wasn’t going out.

“I love you.”

Matt stills.


Foggy waits and feels his heart going a mile a minute – must be a pounding drum to Matt.

“You don’t have to-“ Foggy begins.

“No, Foggy,” Matt pushes himself up so that he’s leaning over Foggy, getting their faces lined up. “I love you, too. Always have.”


A grin spreads across Matt’s face and causes the skin around his eyes to crinkle.

“Really really.”

And then they’re kissing and it’s wonderful and a bit messy but Foggy’s okay with that. It’s a representation of what it’s taken for Foggy and Matt to get where they currently are.

Matt deepens the kiss and moves his left leg over Foggy to be properly straddling him. Foggy runs his hands down Matt’s biceps to his back and then down his sides. Matt lets out a small, happy, sigh into Foggy’s mouth and Foggy is surprised in the way his hips jerk upwards slightly.

Foggy lets a hand wander down to Matt’s ass and squeeze and this time it’s a groan to Matt lets out before smirking against Foggy’s lips.

“Naughty boy,” Matt whispers and Foggy surges up for more kissing. He’s definitely not done kissing those beautiful lips yet.

They’re rutting against each other and it’s a bit chafing so Foggy makes the initiative to tug down Matt’s pants. Matt breaks their kiss and pushes his face into the crook of Foggy’s neck, gasping out Foggy’s name as Foggy gets a hold of Matt’s dick.

“Foggy, fuck, please. I’m not going to last long.”

And neither is Foggy so Foggy jacks Matt off until he’s coming to Foggy’s name. Foggy’s hips stutter and he reaches for his own dick to finish himself off. Matt collapses onto the bed and sluggishly shoves Foggy’s hand away and replaces it with his own. A couple strokes later and Foggy comes with a grunt.

“Well,” Matt says through harsh breathing.

“Yeah,” Foggy adds.

After catching his breath, Foggy gets up to grab a cloth to clean them both up with. Once done, he flings himself onto the bed and curls up into Matt’s side. Matt kisses the top of his head and slowly they drift off.


Tommy used to work on the docks, union’s been on strike, he’s down on his luck, so tough

Foggy wants to cry. Maybe he is crying. Fucking Bon Jovi.

“Foggy, foggy, it’s okay,” Matt is cradling Foggy and he feels real.

“It’s Bon Jovi, Matt, it’s fucking Bon Jovi,” Foggy cries and holds onto Matt with all his might.

“I know,” Matt laughs. “But it’s the 13th, Foggy. It’s not May 12th anymore.”

Foggy shakes his head.

“It can’t be, Matt. I must have finally lost it. It can’t be.”

Matt pulls Foggy away from him and starts pressing kisses all over his face before landing on his lips.

“Trust me, Foggy. Trust me.”

And Foggy does for the first time in weeks.