Parties were not Matt’s thing. The loud music, the overwhelming mix of smells and tastes and textures, the crowds of people that generally don’t give a damn about accommodating for a struggling blind person. When Matt had enrolled at Columbia, he thought he’d spend his four years studying, reading, and just generally being an upstanding college student. Now Matt spent every other weekend at some random party thrown by some stranger Foggy met and immediately became best friends with.
The only thing that made parties bearable?
The booze.
And Foggy.
But mostly the booze.
Booze didn’t work on Matt like it did on other people. It numbed the edges of his senses, took away the pressure of hearing everythingall the time. It dulled his awareness just enough to make him feel normal, not constantly sorting through overwhelming amounts of sensory input. But Matt had to drink at least 5 times the amount of alcohol as a normal person to repress his senses enough to even feel slightly drunk.
Long story short, Matt was at a party. And he was drinking like it was the end of the world.
Unfortunately, when Foggy walked up to him, Matt was sober enough that he could hear his heartbeat: ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.
“Matt!” Foggy didn’t sound drunk, just… happy. Foggy was always happy to be at parties like this. Some song was playing on the radio by Rihanna or Beyoncé or Shakira or someone else Foggy had forced him to listen to but that he didn’t particularly care for. Foggy stood in front of him. Matt could smell the sweat on his skin. “Dance with me.”
Matt almost shook his head ‘No’ so he could stay in this little corner and drink until all the sounds and smells and tastes eventually faded away. But, before he could, Foggy reached out a hand to touch his arm. It sent sparks across his skin. And suddenly he couldn’t say no.
Foggy dragged him into the middle of the living room where a crowd of people had gathered to grind against each other and call it dancing. The smell of arousal and sweat and cheap beer was overpowering, and immediately Matt wished he had another drink in his hand.
Matt had a hard time picking out the positions of individuals in the throng of people, and, thus, wasn’t able to get out of the way fast enough when a large, drunk football player came barreling through the mob towards an inconveniently placed keg stand.
As he started to fall, he could almost predict the feel of the floor against his back, could almost hear the thud of his spine as it collided with the tile.
But it wasn’t the cold, hard floor littered with plastic cups and trash that caught him. It was Foggy. Foggy’s arm snaked around his waist, bringing them face to face and incredibly close together.
“Careful there, bud.” Matt’s face was inches away from Foggy’s. He could practically feel the beating of his heart, much faster now than it was earlier. He could smell the mint flavored chapstick on the other man’s lips. He was so warm. For the first time since Matt had arrived at the party, he could focus his senses on one thing. Foggy. The smell of his shampoo, the sound of his breathing, the feeling of his skin against Matt’s. Matt never wanted to feel anything else again.
He leaned in, mostly confident about where his lips would land, and kissed him.
Foggy let out a little noise of surprise before leaning in to the kiss, soft and slow, wrapping his other arm around Matt’s waist to pull him in closer.
Matt felt Foggy’s smile against his lips and lost all control. His hands rushed to Foggy’s hair, tangling at the top of his head and pulling until he heard the other man’s heart start racing.
Matt suddenly was all too aware of the party full of people that could see them. He wanted to be somewhere more… private.
He moved one hand down to run through the hair at the base of Foggy’s neck, relishing in the shudder that coursed through Foggy’s body when his hand tightened its grip there.
Matt pushed Foggy backwards, guiding him towards a nearby bedroom without separating their lips. He pushed them through the door, deftly closing it behind them. He was too distracted by the taste of Foggy’s lips to think about the fact that he wasn’t exactly keeping up appearances as a “normal” blind person. Foggy’s steps never faltered, he let himself be led into the bedroom without hesitation.
Foggy’s mouth left his for just a moment to reappear on the underneath of his jaw, kissing a path towards his ear.
Matt pushed Foggy’s back against the door he’d just closed, sliding his leg in between Foggy’s while simultaneously sliding his hands under his shirt.
“Matt…” Foggy’s voice was ragged with desire. Matt answered by rolling his hips against the other man’s. Foggy groaned, but, to Matt’s surprise (and disappointment), he gently pushed him away.
“Matt, we can’t.”
Matt stepped back, flushed with heat, lips tingling. Foggy was gasping for breath and very clearly turned on, so Matt couldn’t understand why he’d stopped.
Matt had his head cocked to the side in the way that generally meant he was confused that Foggy found absolutely adorable.
“Matt, you’re drunk.”
No, he wasn’t.
“No, I’m not.” The retort came instantly.
Foggy laughed.
“Yes, you are. You reek of beer, Matt. And I watched you down more alcohol than I think is humanly possible to contain.” He shook his head, scoffing. “God, I shouldn’t have even- I let you kiss me, knowing you were drunk.” He was spiraling. “That’s so shitty, I’m so sor-“
“Foggy.” He stopped and looked at him.
Matt looked incredible. Panting, face flushed, lips swollen, hair and clothes disheveled. When he said his name, Foggy’s entire focus went to him. It took everything in Foggy not to grab him by the waist and kiss him again. But all it took was one whiff of the air around Matt to tell he had to be at least tipsy. And Foggy wouldn’t do anything with anyone who couldn’t consent, not even if he looked like a goddamn Renaissance painting.
Matt’s mind was racing. Of course Foggy thought he was drunk. He had no reason to believe he wasn’t, he’d just watched him drink a shit ton of alcohol. But he didn’t want to stop. He wanted to kiss him, to touch him. And he couldn’t do that because Foggy was too much of a damn good person.
“I’m not drunk, Foggy.” There was an undercurrent of pleading in his voice.
He was almost inclined to believe him. He sounded surprisingly coherent. But it didn’t matter. Foggy had made up his mind.
“Yeah, you are.” He sighed. “Let’s go home, bud.”
Matt, surprisingly, didn’t argue. Foggy offered his arm to guide him, and Matt took it, sliding his hand slowly across the underneath of his arm before settling on his elbow, sending a shiver down Foggy’s spine.
The bus ride back to their dorm was tense, to say the least. At one point, the bus jostled and Matt’s hand landed on Foggy’s thigh. He snatched it back as quickly as he could but he couldn’t ignore the rush of desire he’d felt from both of them.
Matt didn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t, not with Foggy laying across the room, so close to him. He couldn’t focus on anything else, couldn’t tear his senses away from the breath rising in Foggy’s chest and the steady beating of his heart.
Foggy woke up alone. Which was not unusual, but disheartening nonetheless. Matt was gone. His cane was missing from its usual spot. Foggy’s heart twinged at the thought that he had woken up early to avoid him.
Just before Foggy left for his first class, Matt showed up. He was sweaty and red-faced, and for a brief, terrible moment Foggy wondered if he’d just had sex.
“Where were you?” It took every ounce of effort not to keep his voice from cracking.
“The gym.”
Oh. That made sense.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Every clipped response sent a dagger through Foggy’s heart.
“Do you… remember last night? You were pretty wasted.”
“I remember it.” Matt sat down on Foggy’s bed next to him.
“Oh. What do- Do you- How do you feel about it?”
“It was-“
Foggy cut him off, panic surging in his voice.
“You’re right, it was stupid. It was a mistake. You were drunk and I was… it- it shouldn’t have happened.”
“Foggy-“ Matt tried to interject, but Foggy steamrolled past him, intent on tripping over his own words and spiraling in anxiety.
“I’m sorry. I never should’ve-“
Matt couldn’t take it anymore.
He kissed him, cutting him off, hands flying to the sides of Foggy’s face.
Foggy gasped into his mouth, hands uncertainly landing on Matt’s hips.
“Matt…” Foggy groaned.
Matt pulled them apart for a second, breathing heavily.
“It wasn’t a mistake. Foggy.” He rubbed his thumb over the apple of Foggy’s cheek. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day we met.”
Foggy blinked, visibly taken back.
“Really?” Foggy had a hard time believing that the inhumanly beautiful man sitting in front of him would be interested in him at all; let alone since the first time they met, back when he was an awkward freshman with no idea how to conduct himself around a hot blind person.
Matt kissed him again, softly this time, reveling in the way Foggy’s body tensed with restraint. Foggy pulled them apart tenderly.
“Can you say it again?” His voice barely rose above a whisper, but Matt heard him perfectly.
“Foggy Nelson, I have wanted to kiss you since I first laid eyes on you.”
So he did.