Cabin Fever, or Isolation Is A New Layer of Hell That I Never Imagined
Friday, June 6th, 2020
Hell's Kitchen
1:05 p.m.
Three months into this global shutdown, he thought that things had shifted into some form of "normalcy" for him and Matthew. He's picked up some new hobbies; learning how to speak French, cooking, riding his bike more often to tone down some. But for his boyfriend, he was becoming more withdrawn and anxious.
"Matt, soup's on." He called out to the living room where Matt was sitting in an armchair, reading one of the new books that got delivered yesterday. He took a plate and soup bowl from the cabinet and started plating the new recipe he had attempted to make from an old cookbook he had never utilized until now, Italian Wedding Soup with Caprese Bruschetta. Setting the soup on the table, he went back to the stove, grabbing his spatula to get two pieces of the toasted bread with mozzarella and cherry tomatoes. Foggy heard Matt's footsteps as he shuffled to the kitchen table, pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. Getting a spoon from a drawer he set the plate next to the soup and placed the spoon beside the bowl, giving Matt a kiss on the top of his head. "The soup's hot, so be careful."
"Thanks." Matt responded, as he picked up the spoon. Feeling for the edge of the bowl, he slipped the spoon into it, stirring the soup. He felt the steam billowing up as the smell of aromatic chicken broth wafted into his nose. He lifted the spoon, blew a couple times, and slipped it into his mouth. The flavor was pleasant enough, although it was quite a formal recipe to make for a lunch. But then again, this is a new world that they've found themselves in.
Foggy set his bowl and plate down by the chair across from him. "Did you want something to drink?"
"I'm okay for now... thank you, though." Matt set his spoon back into the bowl before picking up a piece of the bruschetta.
Opening the fridge, he grabbed a Coke Zero and a bottle of water (just in case), shutting the door. Returning to the table, he took the spoon from his back jean pocket and sat down. "How's the bruschetta?"
"Good," he replied after swallowing, setting the piece back onto his plate. "You did good, Foggy." He smiled briefly, before picking up his spoon again.
"I hope your appetite's improved." Foggy took a couple bites out of his piece of bruschetta, waiting for the soup to cool. "The last couple weekends, I was worried that either Wade or Peter was going to think that I was starving you or something." He chuckled, opening his bottle of Coke Zero and taking a long sip.
"They should know you aren't starving me." He ate a couple more spoonfuls of the soup, before going back to the bruschetta. "Could you get me a bottle of water, please?"
"Already got you one," Foggy set the bottle next to his bruschetta plate. "And it's pretty easy for anyone who knows you to tell that you've lost quite a bit of weight."
"I weighed myself last weekend: the bathroom scale says I'm 160." Matt picked up the water bottle, the cold aluminum had a layer of condensation on its surface. He unscrewed the lid and took one sip then another, sensing that Foggy was watching him intensely. His heart rate is normal, so he doesn't seem overwhelmed at the moment, but his tone had notes of worry in it, so he made an attempt to assuage Fog's fears. "Franklin... you know you have nothing to worry about. I'm just having a case of cabin fever which could put anyone on edge. After our practice had to close its doors due to Covid, I'm sure you've been feeling the same way."
"I have been a little stir-crazy, yes... but I've tried to keep busy." Foggy answered between bites of his last piece of bruschetta. "Granted, I don't get to break the monotony with the occasional fighting evil in the name of justice, but I manage alright. Also having a boyfriend who has a bad habit of keeping his inner turmoil bottled up instead of sharing this stuff with me, can be a pain in the ass."
Matt sat in silence for a minute, then slipped the sunglasses off of his face, tucking them in his shirt pocket. "I forget how well you can see through me, Fog."
"It's been part of my job since you and I first met in law school... I know you very well, Matthew Murdoch. Even in the secrets that you are too stubborn to admit to."
"Like what?" Matthew queried getting back to his soup, wanting to finish it before it could turn cold.
"Like the unreciprocated feelings you've had for Peter when you were roommates in NYU."
"...Peter and I are friends, Fog. That's all we've been." Matt sighed, tapping his spoon on the side of the bowl, the stoneware making a cold clinking sound that rang in his ears.
"When Pete started dating Wade, you would be unnecessarily harsh to him. On missions, you refer to him as Wilson. Whenever Peter makes a plan, you are quick to agree with it, but if Wade was to give a similar plan you'd think it was a shit idea. And even Wade knows that you're sweet on him."
"Whatever... fleeting attraction I may have had for Peter Parker ended when he told me that he thought of me as the brother he never had and how much our friendship meant to him."
"These feelings aren't fleeting, dear... and it would be better for you, if you get the chance to talk to Peter alone, to hash it out. I'm sure he'll understand."
"There's nothing to discuss, Fog." Matt picked up his soup bowl and carried it to the sink. "Even if we were to talk, Wilson always has to butt in every five minutes."
"If you do plan on clearing the air with Pete, I can keep Wade occupied... he's easily distracted."
Matthew went back to the table to finish eating what was left of his bruschetta toast, weighing his options. He had thought that their relationship was holding up pretty well, all things considered, but if the cracks were easy for Frank to see, that gave him pause.
"I'll think about it... thanks again for the lunch. I'm gonna head down to the basement and get some steps in on the treadmill: might catch up with a podcast I've been slacking on." Matt collects his plate and walks over to where Foggy is seated. "Have you decided on what we'd watch for movie night?"
"It's a two-way tie..." Fog tilted his head up towards Matt so they could share a brief kiss. "You're the deciding vote: Pierrot le Fou or The Umbrellas of Cherbourg?"
"Pierrot le Fou; how have you been doing in your French?"
"Not well enough to not go without subtitles, but I've been improving. Currently, I'm on work related conversations... I'm looking forward to when this romance language gets a bit spicier."
"I'm looking forward to that too, mon amour." Matt smiled warmly, giving Foggy's bicep a lingering squeeze before setting his plate in the sink and maneuvering towards the basement steps.
Foggy watched Matthew until he disappeared from view and worked on putting the dishes in the dishwasher, relieved that this conversation went better then he was afraid it would've been. As strong as their relationship was, whenever Matt's anxiety was up and he got on edge, he learned it was better to give him space and once he was ready to talk, Matt would come to him. Since there wasn't enough dishes in the machine for a load, he decided to wait to do them after dinner, shutting the dishwasher door and securing it with its lock. Looking around, he debated on whether to watch season four of The Simpsons or read a book... Simpsons won out, so he turned on the TV and took disc two out of it's case. 'A couple days to go until the weekend; hopefully Matt will be in good spirits and I can keep Wade preoccupied so he and Pete can talk one on one; I'm ready for us to be able to move on from these worries that plague his mind. And Matt can eventually see that Wade and Pete's relationship works surprisingly well. One day at a time, Frank...'