Crash

19. RIPPERONI MATTERONI

Foggy’s nervous.

Maybe that should be some sort of consolation. Both in the same boat, or something like that. But it isn’t - Matt has long transcended beyond nervous. He has reached a higher plane that’s somewhere between “emotional breakdown” and “low key having an anxiety attack.” He couldn’t sleep last night, he felt so sick.

He kept replaying it over and over in his head - the way Foggy froze. How his heart skipped a beat in shock. The tension that’s materialised in his shoulders, the tremor in his voice.

It hadn’t been relief, or excitement, or anything positive, really. It’d been sheer, awkward shock - he’d had no idea, no fucking idea. Matt doesn’t know if that’s better or worse. What he does know is it’s uncertain, and he does not deal with uncertainty well.

The car smells like Karen’s perfume; she sat here, in the last few days. Matt closes his eyes and breathes and tries to imagine she’s here next to him, hand on his shoulder. It’s better when she’s here. She balances them out somehow.

But it’s just the two of them, and Foggy turned on the radio so he clearly doesn’t want to talk yet, and Matt closes his eyes and tries very, very hard not to flip out, taking slow breaths like he does when he’s meditating, willing his heart to calm down.

They’re halfway there when Foggy clears his throat.

“Hey - Frank looked really bad back there. Is he okay?”

“He’ll heal,” Matt replies. This is fine, this is a safe topic of conversation. “But he needs to rest. We can’t keep going on like this.”

“He tell you we told the cops?”

“Yeah. I think it was a good idea.” He shifts in his seat. “I... I trust Brett. I’ll get in touch with him as Daredevil. I have a plan, just needa get all the details worked out. Then I’ll fill you guys in.”

“Well, I’m glad someone has a plan that isn’t just run around screaming.”

“Frank told me you were fine last night. Held your own.”

“He hit his head. I think he was concussed. That’s the only reason it might’ve been impressive. Really there was a lot of wild flailing involved,” Foggy admits.

“That’s why we’re here then,” Matt murmurs. He can tell they’re nearing the gym, from the sounds outside the car.

“Yeah,” Foggy says softly. “Kinda.”

Matt bites his lip. He still doesn’t quite know what to expect from today, and it’s got him feeling off-balance. When they get out of the car, for a second he almost feels dizzy.

Just breathe. Just breathe. It’s just Foggy.

But a darker voice, at the back of his head - you’re gonna say the wrong thing. You’re gonna fuck this up like you always do and drive him away. You can’t fucking help it.

He doesn’t know what Foggy wants from him here. He trudges after him into the gym - quiet and empty, no classes this time of day - and they set their bags down.

“Your turf,” Foggy comments.

Was this meant to put him at ease? The familiar smell of sweat, leather, and polished hardwood are reassuring, but not very. Tied to this place are other weird memories. He remembers sitting here, wrapping his hands, and hearing his father’s voice so vividly real he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or hallucinating, half afraid he was in the middle of a mental breakdown. He remembers wondering how far he would go to stop Fisk. There are good memories, here, but there are nightmares too.

“What do you want to do?” he asks carefully.

“Talk and work out,” Foggy says. “Frank taught me to throw a punch but I’m pretty sure I still fucked up my hand.”

He holds it out. The knuckles are split and scabby, a spreading bruise across the back of his hand. Matt hesitates, then takes it. He feels Foggy’s slight tremble. The heat rising to his face. The blood pumping faster through his veins.

“It’s not broken, just bruised,” he says, and drops it like a hot coal. “We’ll wear gloves for now. I’ll help you wrap.”

“Okay,” Foggy says. They get changed in silence. Foggy’s not looking at him, but his heart is quick and nervous. He keeps swallowing like he’s waiting to say something.

I think I’m going to pass out, Matt thinks, and maybe it’s ridiculous and overdramatic, but legit. This is killing him here.

He wraps his hands slowly, Foggy looking over his shoulder and copying his motions carefully. Matt’s nearly brittle with tension, too aware of every flex of Foggy’s fingers, of the heat of his breath in the air when he exhales, of how close he’s standing. There’s something torturous about all of this. He doesn’t think it’s intentional, doesn’t think Foggy realises just how much this means-

Because he and Elektra used to spar. He still remembers the way she’d wrap her hands in quick, tight motions, and her lithe, nimble movements around the ring. The taste of her blood in his mouth. And he and Frank, too - hurling fists at one another in this very room.

Is this some sort of punishment? he thinks, fleetingly, then shakes himself. The world isn’t setting out to be your personal purgatory. Don’t be arrogant.

“Ready?” he asks.

Foggy nods. He grabs his gloves and Matt goes to get focus pads, then shakes the tension from his shoulders, or tries to - shifts into a fighting stance and bounces on the balls of his feet, like if he can only move fast enough he can outrun every doubt and insecurity that seems to be breathing down his neck.

“Before we start,” Foggy says, as he returns, “I need you to promise to be honest today.”

Matt hesitates. It’s not that he’s hurt, not quite, or even that he’s suspicious. But you lie for long enough, even by omission, and it becomes habit. It feels a bit like giving up his glasses; leaves him too open.

“Matt.” There’s something soft and chiding in Foggy’s voice. “I just need us to be on the same page here.”

“Okay,” Matt replies quietly. He senses Foggy’s small smile.

“Anything you want to ask me, I promise I’ll be honest too.”

“Okay,” Matt repeats.

They start shadowboxing. There’s a mirror on the wall opposite them, Matt knows. When they’re facing it, it’s impossible for him to tell what Foggy might be looking at, his own reflection or Matt’s. It leaves him feeling like he’s treading water so deep he can’t even sense the bottom.

It’s kinda awkward without music. He can just hear the two of them huffing out little hissing breaths. Every footstep echoes around the space, rivets off wood and glass.

He thinks of his father, thinks of standing behind him as a boy imitating every step, every strike. He doesn’t remember all that much from when he could see, but that one stuck in his head; his Dad’s broad shoulders, the sweat sticking his shirt to the small of his back. A warm hand on his wrist. “Keep your jab light.”

Thinks of Stick, how he’d pace around Matt, swing at him now and then to keep him light on his feet. Misses both of them, fucked up as it is, with a dull ache.

“Why boxing?” he blurts out.

Foggy’s head turns towards him. He throws another, slightly clumsy, uppercut.

“Firstly, I legitimately want to learn self defence,” he says. “Last night scared me. I mean, you’d think with Frank there we’d have nothing to worry about, right? But we did. No ones invincible. I don’t just need to be able to protect myself, I gotta be able to take care of you guys too. Worst case scenario.”

Jab, cross, left hook, uppercut. Matt wonders who Foggy’s picturing as he throws them. He still imagines Fisk, sometimes, as he swings an elbow around. It’s probably not healthy.

“Secondly, I’m pissed off,” Foggy continues. He must catch Matt’s flinch because he adds, hurriedly, “Not at you! Just - at all of this. At the general disaster that is this Hell Hounds situation. At last night, at myself for feeling useless, at life for throwing so much crap at us. The stress levels are through the roof, man. This sort of thing makes you feel better, right?”

“Kind of,” Matt says. Thing is, he knows he’s got anger issues. He knows it’s not normal to want to go around beating people up every night. It’s not exactly the most stable outlet. “It makes me feel like I’m at least doing something, but - other things make me feel settled.”

Like hanging out with you, he doesn’t add. Like drinking with Karen. Like Frank and his dog and his coffee and his shitty instant noodles. That stuff grounds you.

“I’ll settle for this,” Foggy says, and Matt nods. He throws one last kick and then waves Foggy into the ring.

At least they’re talking. A little of his fears have settled; Foggy legitimately doesn’t seem angry with him.

“Throw a punch,” he says, lifting one focus pad.

He feels the way Foggy’s whole body tightens in concentration. His punch is pretty solid, actually, all things considered.

“Not bad.”

“Really? Frank seemed to think I was flailing around like one of those wacky inflatable tube people outside car dealerships. I’m sure they have a technical name but I don’t know what it is.”

“Frank broke his hand after punching a wall with the wrong knuckles, so he is not one to talk.” He steps forward. Foggy’s breathing stays easy, stays calm. “Tuck your chin and rotate your wrist more.”

“Like this?”

“Not quite.” He swallows, hard, takes Foggy’s wrist and pulls it to the right angle. “The twist will get more power behind it.”

“Okay.”

They’re too close. Foggy’s eyes are on him and his face must be giving too much away - he knows, knows he is breathing way too fast. He turns away.

“Okay. Again.”

They do padwork for a little bit, moving slowly around the ring, throwing different combinations. Foggy seems focused, but Matt can tell he’s just working up the nerve to start the conversation. He knows a minute before it happens that it’s time; Foggy sucks in a little breath, wets his lips.

“So you and Frank.” Deliberately casual, as he throws another cross. “How’d it start?”

Matt’s stomach twists. But. Honest, he thinks. He wants to bridge the rift between them. That has to start somewhere.

“That night I rang you up? Said I was gonna ask him to come with me?”

“I remember. Wait, you invited him cause you like him?”

“No! Jesus.” He swipes at Foggy, who parries it with a laugh. “Seriously, though. I invited him ‘cause... ‘cause I was having such a shit day. I felt really anxious and... I... I know I seem like I always want to work alone, but - not this time.”

Foggy nods. He’s frowning. Matt holds the pads for an elbow; it lands heavy but sloppy, too much emotion behind it.

“We barely got out of there alive. I’d hit my head; I was super out of it. But he got me out of there. We went back to his and we were super worked up and it just- happened. It’s hard to explain but after a fight-“

“The adrenaline,” Foggy says. “I know.”

“Not just that. We both needed someone. And after that it just escalated. At first it was just a distraction. He knew I liked you, and he...”

“He liked Karen.” Foggy doesn’t sound angry, or even resigned. He says it like a simple fact.

“Then it went beyond that. I like him for him.”

Foggy nods. Matt bites his lip, pauses to go and grab a drink. He doesn’t know if this is going well or not. He’s so nervous himself that it’s hard to get a proper read on what Foggy’s feeling.

They touch gloves. Start again. Foggy’s eyes are trained square on Matt’s face; he keeps his down as they move around the ring.

“What do you like about him?” Foggy says almost instantly.

Why does he want to know? But he promised honesty, so he swallows and says, “I... he’s decisive. He’s more caring than you’d think. He isn’t afraid to call me out - I like that. I... around him everything just feels steadier. I know I can trust him to have my back. I like how he doesn’t take shit from anyone, and that he’s funny, and that he’s willing to do so much for the people he cares about.”

It comes out a little too sincere. It isn’t it until he says the words out loud that he realises just how much he means them, and it isn’t until he hears it in his own voice that he makes a realisation - quite suddenly, but with a certain inevitability to it: I think I love Frank.

Foggy’s gone still.

Matt swallows, mouth suddenly very dry. He… he’s getting the vibe he’s almost upset his friend, but he doesn’t know why. He did ask, after all. But after a second he realises it’s not upset, not quite. It’s something else - something strained and uncertain, something that’s making Foggy’s heart beat too fast, that makes his gaze feel like two lasers burning into the side of Matt’s face.

“Okay,” Foggy says, and takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

“You asked.” It comes out a bit too defensively.

“I’m not… it’s... I’m glad you have someone, Matt. Truly, I am. Frank’s a good guy.” Not lying. “But you get why I was so upset the other night, right? Jesus, why didn’t you just tell me? Wouldn’t you be hurt if I had a secret boyfriend and didn’t tell you all about it?”

This is the part Matt was dreading. He holds for a knee and the force of Foggy’s blow drives him back a step.

It’s hard to be open.

He’s kept his walls up for so long, even around his friends. It’s been a struggle to rebuild them after everything. Letting someone in is terrifying. But he takes a shaky breath.

“He’s not my boyfriend, not really, I… You’re right, Foggy, and I’m sorry, and I should know better by now. I was a coward. I thought you’d be upset because you don’t like Frank and I… I hate when we fight, I didn’t want to deal with it. But it’s not just that. I didn’t know what I was doing with him. I was sure I was gonna fuck things up like I always do and I - it would hurt less if I hadn’t gone around making it sound official by telling people. Less tethers to break when he inevitably leaves.”

“Matt…” Foggy’s voice is soft and pained.

“I know, I know. I’m working on it. But that was my thinking at the time.”

Foggy nods. There’s a pause that’s more thoughtful than anything.

“Are you happy?” Foggy asks finally.

Matt bites his tongue. He can’t really answer that one.

Happy?

I’m never happy. I haven’t been completely happy in a long, long time.

“I like Frank,” he says instead, “And I feel good around him, and I’m glad that all of us are working together.”

He hears Foggy’s eyebrow rise. Knows he noticed he ducked the question. But he doesn’t push it, just nods.

They pause for a water break, standing by the ropes, mopping their faces with towels. Foggy’s body temperature has risen from the exercise. Matt can feel the heat radiating off him. They’re standing close; if he shifted sideways their arms would touch. But he can’t, not even accidentally; he doesn’t know what Foggy’s thinking. Everything’s changed, now that he knows - Matt has to be careful, careful not to do the wrong thing, to send him running.

“So,” Foggy says then, voice abrupt and nervous, “Since college, huh?”

Okay. Here we go. Matt leans on the ropes, stares straight forward, doesn’t turn his head even as Foggy leans against them too and he feels them sway under his weight, feels the other man’s elbow nudge against his.

“I legitimately had no idea,” Foggy says. “That’s why I kinda freaked back there. You just - it surprised me.”

“I don’t exactly wear my heart on my sleeve for daws to peck at,” Matt mutters.

“That’s a hell of a long time, Matt,” Foggy says softly. “You never made a move. How come? You know I was single for a lot of that.”

Matt gnaws at his lip until he tastes blood. There’s a reason he hates talking about shit like this. He’s spent his entire life trying not to feel weak, and this? This feels weak. His instinct is to lash out, or run, or cover up and defend himself.

But he promised.

“So many reasons,” he forces out, finally. “First, you didn’t know about my senses. It wouldn’t be fair - to build something on that big of a lie. I never expected going to college that I’d even have friends, let alone someone as close as you. So I didn’t tell you, and then it had been too long, and I was in too deep, and I knew if I told you then it would ruin everything and you’d leave. And I didn’t want to lose you.”

Foggy lowers his head.

“Other reasons, too,” Matt continues. “I knew you didn’t feel the same way and I didn’t want to fuck up what we had. I knew there was no way you’d be into me.”

“Why not?” Foggy asks, voice quiet and tight.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“I know you haven’t seen yourself in nearly twenty years but I’m pretty sure you know you could walk into just about any room and be like, listen up fives, a ten is speaking, and no one would bat an eyelid-”

“It’s not about what I look like,” Matt snaps, “Bloody hell, Foggy, I couldn’t care less about that. That shit’s all just surface level. I knew you wouldn’t be into me because you’re - you deserve better. You’re everything that’s good about this world. You’re kind and you make people happy and everything about you is just - good. Me, I’m so fucked up that anyone who comes near me ends up as collateral. I’ve got a triple whammy of trust, anger and abandonment issues. I’m like a black hole that sucks all the joy out of everything and just turns it into pain and despair.”

“Jesus, alright, Prince Hamlet. You realise how ridiculous that sounds, right?”

“I’m not joking,” Matt says.

“Black hole of pain and despair? Seriously? That’s not fucking true.” Foggy sounds oddly offended on his behalf, but Matt just shakes his head.

“Well that’s what it feels like,” he says. “I knew I’d just mess things up and then you’d hate me. And then you’d leave, and I’d have no one. So part of it was selfish. I liked you too much to take the risk that you’d go. And then Elektra happened, and I sure as fuck didn’t want to date anyone after that. Not when I knew how much it could hurt if things went wrong. And then you were with Marci and then all that shit went down with Fisk and I just - it would’ve been a bad idea. You know it would’ve. Like hell I was gonna add more chaos into the mix by telling you I was in love with you.”

Foggy’s very quiet, but it’s not a confused quiet, so Matt knows he understands. He’s just - processing. Matt’s breathing heavily now; he hops out of the ring and paces over to one of the heavy bags, then starts throwing knees at it.

After a few minutes, Foggy follows him. He stands a little way back, watching, then clears his throat.

“And it never… you didn’t…”

“Get over you?” Matt drives another knee into the bag with a solid thud. “I tried. Elektra, and Karen, that was all real. But those old feelings never went away. I was happy - I am happy - just being your best friend,” he adds. “I wouldn’t give that up for the world. It’s okay that you’re not into me. I’ll get over it.”

Foggy’s silent. Matt switches his fighting stance, starts on push kicks instead. The bag swings back and forth, like a pendulum.

“I’m not asking this to be arrogant,” Foggy says at last, “But what do you like about me?”

That one stops Matt in his tracks. He pauses, turning to face Foggy, and absently puts one hand out to stop the bag hitting him. Swallows hard.

“I… everything. You’re the best person I know. You… you have a good heart. Being around you makes me want to be a better person. Things feel easy around you, and I… I don’t say that lightly. You were the first person since… since my Dad, since Stick, that I ever wanted to open up to. The first person to make me smile and laugh so easily. The first person I ever felt safe around. I can hear so much, I… the world is full of so much shit and it drowns everything else out sometimes, but not around you. You’re smart and funny and kind.” Foggy’s heart’s pounding so fast now that it makes Matt falter to a stop. “I can go on.”

“Matt.” His voice is strangled, tight. He starts to step towards him and Matt freezes up. Starts to reach out - Matt’s shoulders tense; he almost wants to step back.

When Foggy’s hand brushes against his shoulder, he flinches.

He can’t do this.

Can’t get so close to what he wants but can’t have - can’t let himself hope. It’ll hurt too much. It’s like some sort of cruel punishment; he doesn’t want to step away, to make it look like a rejection, is scared what sort of message will be sent. But when Foggy’s hand curls around his bicep and he steps in so close that Matt can practically feel his chest rising and falling as he breathes, he feels something snap; he steps back.

“What are you doing?” he blurts out.

Foggy drops his hand like he’s been burned. A cold fist squeezes Matt’s heart.

“Working things out,” Foggy says, “Or trying to.”

“What did Karen say about this?”

Foggy freezes. His body’s reacting in all sorts of ways, but somehow Matt can’t put the puzzle pieces into any sort of coherent picture.

“She said she wants us to sort things out. But speaking of Karen. You said you’re still in love with me. What about her?”

Now that’s a loaded fucking question. Matt thinks of how Foggy reacted when he figured out Frank had feelings for Karen. That she, on some level, had feelings for him. If Matt being in love with Foggy hasn’t completely shattered their relationship, being in love with Karen might just be the killing blow.

But he said he wouldn’t lie. He promised.

“Karen is very important to me,” he says, reluctantly. “Things… things didn’t work between us because of Elektra. If she hadn’t returned… I regret the way things went down.”

“You love her,” Foggy says flatly.

“I guess.”

“Not I guess,” Foggy says. He sounds frustrated, and a bolt of panic spears through Matt’s chest. Here it comes. “If we’re gonna do this, you can’t be holding back.”

“Foggy…” It comes out soft and very pained.

“I’m not gonna be mad, but I need you to be honest.”

Matt turns away, fists clenching. He’s starting to get that feeling like an animal backed into a corner. See, Foggy can say he’s not gonna be mad. People can say anything. But they can’t help what they feel, and so far this conversation hasn’t given Matt anything to reassure himself with. He just feels like he’s sinking deeper and deeper into something he can’t come back from.

You owe him this, you owe him-

But it’s nearly impossible to let go, to allow himself the vulnerability this conversation needs. Even if he wanted to, it’s just - he’s a coward, he’s too scared, it’s too much-

“Frank says you trust me,” Foggy says then, his voice beginning to rise. “But I - God, Matt, it doesn’t feel like it sometimes. And I can’t begin to explain how much that hurts. Just - you gotta give me something here. I can’t… I can’t do this if I still feel like half the time I don’t know who you are - I know you said you deserve some secrets, but… if we want to make anything work, friendship or anything else, you… you can’t shut me out. Just give me something, Matt, anything. For once don’t just tell me you trust me, you gotta fucking show me-”

He’s getting upset. He’s getting upset, and if he’s upset, he’ll leave, and Matt - Matt feels everything swelling in his chest, like a balloon ready to burst. Something has to give.

Things he’s been carrying too long.

“Frank’s right. It’s not you, Foggy, it’s me. I’m not… not trying to shut you out, I just…” And there’s a lump in his throat suddenly; he wishes there wasn’t, hates himself for feeling so weak, but suddenly his chest is tight and his words are coming out all choked. “I should’ve told you this earlier, but I don’t… I had it drilled into me a long time ago, don’t look weak, don’t ask for help, don’t get reliant - it doesn’t come easy, okay? Weak gets you hurt. Don’t surround yourself with soft things. If you can’t do it yourself, you’re just not trying hard enough.”

“Jesus, Matt-”

“I’m not - since Fisk died, I’m not coping. At all.”

The words land like a dropped anvil between them.

“I feel like shit all the time. It’s stupid, because things are meant to be fine now, but I - I’m so scared we’ll have to go up against something like that again. So the Hounds, all this, it’s fucking with my head. It’s… it’s bad, Foggy, it’s really bad, I - I scare myself sometimes with how fucked up I feel.” He can barely get the words out now. “I think I need to see someone about it. I mean, medically. But I… I wouldn’t even know where to look. Maybe I’m just being stupid-”

He breaks off. His voice is barely a rasp; he can smell the salt of the tears sliding down his cheeks. Foggy is very quiet next to him - but he’s crying too, his chest moving in tiny jerks, eyes streaming with tears.

“Matt,” he starts, and reaches out, but Matt bites hard on his lip and turns away.

He wants to let Foggy touch him, comfort him. He wants it more than anything. But he knows it’ll just make him fall apart, and this is too embarrassing already.

It’s meant to feel like a weight off your chest, isn’t it? Admitting shit like that after so long? Instead he’s teetering on the edge of a panic attack.

“Sorry,” he manages, “One second. I’ll be back.”

He turns and marches for the bathroom. Doesn’t stop until he’s surrounded by cool tiles, until he can splash water on his face and grip the cold porcelain of the sink and let himself break apart, just a little bit, in hitching, heaving sobs. His head’s tight with pressure, he needs to just - get it out, get it out-

What the fuck were you thinking-

Why did you run?

You shouldn’t have told him-

It’s not even that bad-

You’ve only upset him now-

You’re too broken, you can’t be fixed, you’re not strong enough to handle any of this-

You’ve only made things worse-

He barely notices the footsteps until they’re right behind him. And then there’s a warm hand on his shoulder, and he’s being spun around and pulled into a familiar chest, arms around him tight, holding him close, wrapped in a familiar scent, familiar heartbeat pounding against his.

“Matt,” Foggy whispers, and he doesn’t sound angry, and he’s not letting go, and it feels the same sort of safe it used to back in college, same sort of feeling that Foggy was the first one in a long, long time to trigger in him. Like maybe it can all be okay after all, like maybe it’s okay to not be alone.

INTERLUDE: THE LOVE SQUARE

So this morning, right, as Foggy’s leaving the apartment, he turns to Karen - clearly very nervous, if the way he keeps licking his lips and hesitating is any indication - and goes, “What did you mean?”

“What?” Karen asks, intelligently.

“Sorry. I mean, the other night. When you said,” and here it comes, word for word, a dead giveaway he’s been mulling it over all night, “You have my permission to do anything you need to to figure this out.”

Oh. Oh. She pauses, stomach twisting. Can’t read the look on Foggy’s face. She could fix this up in so many ways if she’s reading the vibe wrong, but-

Honesty.

“I like Matt,” she says slowly, “And I like you, and he likes you, and I think you know too that - that things between you guys might be more complicated than just friendship.”

“So you’re saying,” Foggy says, nervously, “that you want me to fuck him and figure it out.”

“Okay, you just jumped like ten steps ahead. Jesus, Foggy. You’ll scare him off if you go around like that. No, I’m saying figure it out. Tell him whatever you need to. And if you want to...”

She trails off. It’s flustering to put it into words, it feels so inauthentic. But Foggy swallows hard.

“Kiss him?” It’s nearly a whisper.

“If that’s what you want. And what he wants.”

“You’re really okay with that?” he asks.

“Of course.” Except now she’s second guessing. “Is that super weird?”

“I mean, it is a little weird, but that’s okay. We’re all already weird. We’re probably the weirdest four people in Hell’s Kitchen,” he says, and she starts laughing, and he grins too, and she’s relieved when he reels her in for a peck on the lips before he leaves.

Anyway.

So that’s how her morning went, and she kinda can’t stop thinking about it. It’s still circling around in her head as she pulls up outside Matt’s place and makes her way upstairs with the dog.

As soon as she opens the door Pi bounds forward, yelping. There’s a grunt from the couch and by the time she gets around the corner Frank is struggling to sit up and ward off a concerned tongue from laving his face.

“Okay! Okay, boy, I’m alright! Sorry I didn’t come back last night. I’m alright.”

Pi worms under his arm; he’s nearly too big to join Frank on the couch, but it sends a warm flush through Karen’s chest to see Frank wrap an arm around him and rub his knuckles against the dog’s head as he nuzzles in close.

“Oh my God, Frank,” she says, her heart dropping as she gets in close enough to have a proper look at him. “Are you-”

“I’ll fine, just not very pretty. Nelson gave me that spiel already,” he says, a fond exasperation in it. “And Matt doesn’t seem to think I’m about to drop dead.”

“It looks like it hurts.”

“That happens when you get the shit beaten out of you repeatedly,” he says.

Still. He got this protecting us. It’s a weird mix of guilt, gratitude, and a blazing deep affection as she steps forward and reaches out. Frank goes very still as her hands rise, fingers brushing gently across his bruised cheeks. His face is rough with the beginnings of a stubbly beard, and he leans into her touch a little.

“Karen...” he says, voice low and uncertain.

She lets her hands drop, flustered.

“I’ll make coffee,” she says, and escapes to Matt’s kitchen.

Nothing can happen. She knows that, not until she and Foggy properly unpack this. But her heart is pounding; whatever goes down with him and Matt today could change everything - or nothing.

Everything in Matt’s kitchen is carefully labelled with Braille stickers; it makes her miss him, with a sudden jolt. The two of them haven’t hung out in a while. They need to talk soon, too.

She heads back to the couch and passes Frank his mug. He sits up a bit, pats the seat next to him. She sits besides him, their shoulders pressed together, Pi’s chin resting on Frank’s lap.

“You doing okay?” Frank asks after a while, softly. She swallows hard.

“Been better.”

“Last night…”

“We don’t know if they’re dead,” she blurts out, and takes a shaky breath. Yeah, she’d be lying if she said it hadn’t been a pretty fucked up night. When she did manage to sleep, she’d dreamed of gunfire and woken in a cold sweat. “Either way, I… I’ll be okay. Not the first time I’ve shot at someone. God, not even close.”

“Karen.” His voice is very gentle. “You’re not a soldier.”

“I’m not really a civilian at this point either,” she points out, and takes a deepy, shaky breath. “It’s alright, Frank, really.”

“If you wanna talk about it…”

“I don’t know that there’s much to say.” She swallows hard. “Is it terrible that I don’t regret it?”

“Only if it’s terrible that I don’t regret any of the lives I took as the Punisher. We can’t all be torn up with guilt like Murdock. And he hasn’t even killed anyone.”

She snorts, even if she knows it’s terrible.

“I appreciate it, really,” she says, and reaches out and squeezes his hand. It’s very warm from where he was holding his coffee. “But I think I’m okay. I’m just - learning how to live with what I am. I’ll figure it out.”

“Good,” he says, and smiles at her, and Karen feels another sudden, great surge of affection for him. She slumps back against the couch until their sides are pressed against each other and holds her coffee up near her lips.

“So,” she says, “Foggy and Matt.”

“They went boxing. You reckon they’ll be okay? Did Nelson say anything?”

“Not really, but I think… the way he’s been acting since you two got together… I think there’s something there. But maybe I’m just seeing what I want to see.”

“So what you want,” he says slowly, not looking at her now, “Is for him to realise he likes Matt too? Then what?”

Her face blazes hot - but somehow, of everyone, he’s the easiest to talk to.

“I want it to be all three of us,” she says, with more confidence than she feels. “That’s what I want. What I hope Matt wants too. What I think… if I’m right about Foggy, then I think it could work.”

Frank hums. She dares to glance over at him. He doesn’t seem shocked, just thoughtful.

“So where do I fit into all this?” he asks finally, and she bites her lip.

“It doesn’t bother you that Matt loves Foggy?” she asks.

“I knew that going in.”

“And if Foggy decides that he… that he wants this too?”

“Matt and I didn’t really put a name to what we are,” he says. “But he’s not the only one I’m interested in. This is gonna be a bigger conversation than just the three of you, is all I’m sayin’. I don’t know, maybe once it would’ve bothered me. Maybe if it was anyone else… but things feel different. With the three of you.”

The three of you. Foggy included. But she doesn’t want to jump to conclusions.

Still - it’s a weight off her shoulders even just to have said it out loud, and she manages a smile.

“This whole situation’s not exactly normal,” she admits, and Frank snorts.

“Matt’s got superpowers. His girlfriend came back from the fucking dead. We’ve all been accosted by zombie ninjas and now there’s a meth gang after us. What the fuck is normal at this rate?”

“Good point,” she says, and rests her head against his shoulder.

She’s scared. Of course she is. So much here hangs on them all managing to sort out their feelings, and that’s the one thing none of them have ever been that good at. But there’s nothing she can do about it - just wait. Wait, and hope that against all odds, everything manages to come together.

20. FOGGY AND MATT SITTING IN A TREE

“I didn’t mean to push too hard,” Foggy says.

They’re sitting on the floor, backs to the mirror, shoulders just touching. Foggy feels all sorts of things. Protective. Guilty. Exhausted. Relieved.

God, when Matt - when Matt burst out like that… of everything, he hadn’t expected that sort of breakdown. He’d spent ten minutes in the bathroom just hugging him. It’s not the first time he’s seen Matt’s walls crumble, but every time it never fails to break Foggy’s heart. In those moments, he almost gets a taste of what he thinks Matt must feel like as Daredevil; a righteous fury, a blazing desire to protect, a certainty that he would do whatever he had to in order to keep him safe, to punish anything and anyone responsible for the hurt.

“It’s okay,” Matt replies. He’s staring straight ahead and Foggy bumps their arms together a little.

“No, it’s not. I was… I upset you. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“Don’t apologise,” Matt says, and takes a deep breath. “It’s… it’s good. I’m glad I told you. I was meaning to for a while, I just - didn’t really know how to. And I was too chicken shit to, didn’t want to look weak. But it’s… it’s a relief.”

“Okay,” Foggy whispers. “Well, I’m glad. You know we’re all here for you, Matty, we just want to help.”

“I know,” Matt murmurs, and turns towards him a little, and on impulse Foggy reaches out and folds a hand over his. Matt doesn’t pull his hand away, just squeezes back gently. He seems to have gathered himself now, but he’s still a bit pale and shaky, eyelashes matted together with tears.

Foggy closes his eyes, takes a shaky breath.

Okay. Okay. Well, here we are. Last night was crazy as fuck and today’s been a pretty wild trip too. His emotions have been all over the place. Since his conversation with Karen, he’s been-

Well, imagining.

Imagining what it would’ve been like if they had dated in college. Or if they started dating now. What scares him the most is how fucking easy it is to picture. In fact, not a lot changes. And the thought puts a little thrill deep in the pit of his stomach.

But acting on it - that’s a big leap.

Still. Today’s all about honesty. They’ve all spent way too long hiding things from each other.

“I was jealous,” he admits, and Matt properly turns towards him now, “When Frank helped you out, that day after you came back from being sick? I was really fucking jealous. I… I can’t lie and say I was into you this whole time, but… I think you just weren’t even on my radar, like - you were so out of my league it just didn’t seem possible.”

“Out of your league? You were out of mine,” Matt says.

“No, you,” Foggy says, and pokes him, and Matt huffs out a laugh and squirms away. It’s nice to see him smile. Something very warm and fond spreads through Foggy’s chest. It bolsters his courage.

“Karen said I can do whatever I need to figure this out,” he says.

“Yeah?” Matt says, and hesitates. “What’s that mean?”

Foggy opens his mouth - then pauses. He realises that once he puts it into words and makes it real, he can’t take it back. Everything will change.

Do you really want this?

But the more he thinks about it… the more sure he feels. Matt’s already one of the most important people to him in the world. There’s the start of something there. Now that he knows it’s a possibility, it’s like his vision has shifted; everything feels different.

The one thing that would’ve given him doubts would be the idea of more secrets. He had been lowkey worried there was something big, something he wasn’t being trusted with. Finding out it’s a mental health crisis is… well, it’s not a relief, that’s not the right word, but at least it’s something that it’s understandable for Matt to hide. Something that Foggy can try to help him with.

“I think,” he says slowly, “Karen… Karen wants it to be the three of us.”

“Oh,” Matt says, after a pause. His face gives nothing away.

Foggy’s heart might just about explode at this rate.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, his voice shaking a little.

Matt swallows hard. Then he nods - and tenses, bracing himself for Foggy’s response. But Foggy just takes a deep breath. Thinks, okay, okay.

“Okay. I... if we’re being honest, I just - I need to wrap my head around it a bit. But I don’t think I’ll know unless we start - trying things out. You know?”

God, he feels like an awkward fifth grader trying to ask his crush out to the school dance. Luckily, Matt’s good at picking up on all sorts of unspoken signals. It’s sort of his schtick. Unluckily, Matt is also a super emotionally constipated fuck and even though Foggy knows he knows what he means, he doesn’t say anything. Just sits there nodding.

“Dude,” Foggy says.

“What?”

“You know what I’m getting at.” He shifts, reaches for Matt’s hand, rethinks it, rethinks it again, and then reaches out and pokes his arm instead. “Jesus Christ, you’re gonna make me say it out loud? Well, I guess that’s fair. I’m trying to say I want to kiss you.”

Matt bites his lip. Foggy’s eyes track the motion and his mouth suddenly goes very dry; his stomach explodes with butterflies.

“What,” Matt says quietly, voice a bit too vulnerable, “As an experiment?”

“It sounds awful when you put it that way.” Foggy shifts back a bit. “But also, let’s get one thing clear, we’re not gonna do anything you don’t want to. If… If you want more time to think about it, or you’d rather not at all, then-”

“God, Foggy, you think I don’t want to kiss you? You think I haven’t wanted to for like ten fucking years?” Matt blurts out, and something about the heat in his voice, the sincerity, sends an electric rush down Foggy’s spine. “Of course I do, just - I need to know we can do this and not… not get hurt more. Not ruin everything if it doesn’t work out.”

“I can’t promise we won’t get hurt,” Foggy says softly. “That’s the nature of this stuff. You gotta take a risk. But I can promise one thing, even if things go disastrously wrong, even if one of us realises we don’t want this after all - we’ll still be friends. I won’t leave. I’m never going to leave.”

He lifts Matt’s hand to his chest, presses it close over his heart.

“You know I’m not lying,” he says, and Matt swallows hard and nods.

“Okay,” he says quietly.

“Okay,” Foggy replies.

There is a very awkward silence. They both know what’s coming but now that it’s time, Foggy’s like, freaking out just a little bit. Ha ha ha, this is fine! He’s only been picturing it all last night! He’s kissed people before! He knows what he’s doing!

Matt is clearly not going to make the first move. Fucking hell, why does it feel like the entire weight of the world depends on this?

But he knows if he doesn’t do something Matt will literally just leave them sitting here forever. He reaches out and gently wraps a hand around the back of Matt’s neck. His skin’s blazing warm; Foggy can feel it even through the wraps. He leans in. Presses their lips together.

At first contact Matt’s whole body freezes up. And not gonna lie, it’s not perfect, not even remotely. In fact, it’s not even good. They can’t get the angle right and they’re both strung more tightly than a violin and oh my God, why are there so many teeth? And okay, maybe Foggy’s kinda freaking out a bit. This is going so badly and what the fuck are you doing and this was a bad, bad idea, he’s gonna think you’re the world’s most shit kisser what the fuck-

He pulls back and takes a shaky breath.

“Okay, reset,” he says, and huffs out a sort of hysterical giggle. It’s a rather embarrassing sound but it makes Matt laugh too, breaks the tension between them a little. “Sorry, that was like eighty percent my fault. Let’s just relax, okay?”

“Relax?” Matt says. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Ha. That was funny,” Foggy says, but the sight of Matt’s grin does ease something in his chest. It’s just Matt. Matt who he’s known for so long, who he’s shared a room for years with, Matt who’s seen him at his worse - shit-faced drunk or bawling after a break up, seen his highs and lows, Matt who’s apparently loved him all the way through it. They’ve seen each other through the trenches of law exams, the flu and the aftermath of some very messy college parties. This is the last person he should be self conscious in front of.

“Relax,” he murmurs again, more to himself than to Matt.

He shifts so they’re facing each other. Lifts his hand to the back of Matt’s head instead and runs his fingers through his hair. Matt leans into it, lets out a happy sort of hum.

It’s encouraging, and Foggy bolsters his courage and tries again. He’s better placed now to tilt Matt’s head so they can fit their lips together properly, careful not to yank at his hair too roughly.

This time, this time he gets what people mean when they talk about feeling sparks.

This time sends an electric tingle over his skin. He’s hyper aware of the heat of Matt’s body against his, the other man’s hands shifting to rest gently on his waist. He lets his free hand run over Matt’s shoulder, down his arm. Feels rough, ropy scars, feels his muscles tense - then relax as he seems to finally let go, to melt into it.

Matt’s much shyer than he expects. It’s Foggy taking the lead and he can practically feel the effort it’s taking for Matt to let someone in so close. To let him in. Somehow that makes a heat spark deep in his chest; something about it all feels strangely more intimate, even if he knows Matt’s let Frank in, let others in before.

But this is different, this is trust - trust that Foggy means what he says, that they can take this leap of faith, can risk everything to see if this works.

And above all-

It feels right. It doesn’t feel awkward, doesn’t feel like pushing something too far with a platonic friend. It feels like sharing, and something about feeling timidity from Daredevil of all people, from Matt Murdock who wears suits and sunglasses like armour, who’s always had a chip on his shoulder about not wanting to seem like he needs anyone- it’s endearing.

By the time they pull apart they’re breathing heavily. Foggy feels like between this and the workout his clothes are sticking to his skin; everything’s too warm, too intense. Still, he can’t bring himself to go too far. Stays cradling Matt close, enjoying feeling his chest heave as he breathes in, out.

“Wow,” Foggy breathes. Then, “Okay, that went better.”

Matt laughs, a bit nervously, and Foggy cups his cheek.

“Hey. You okay?”

Matt nods and lets out a deep breath.

“Yeah. Just - didn’t think that would ever happen. Everything about today feels unreal.”

“Did we go too fast?” Foggy asks, concerned - but Matt shakes his head.

“I’m good,” he assures him, and smiles. “Really good.”

“If it isn’t already obvious, I’m really good too,” Foggy says. He finally lets go of Matt, and shifts to sit next to him, leaning over so their shoulders are pressed together. “Well. That was something.”

“Got the answers you needed?” Matt asks, and Foggy reaches out and laces their fingers together.

“I want to take this somewhere,” he murmurs, “Or try to. Is that still what you want? You… you said before you and Karen…”

“I really regret the way things went down with Karen,” Matt admits. “I… I hurt her a lot, when Elektra came back. It wasn’t what she thought, but - I should’ve just been honest with her. But we got closer again when we were taking down Fisk. I wouldn’t want to do this without her.”

“Good. We’re on the same page then.”

“What about Frank?” Matt asks hesitantly.

That makes Foggy pause.

This is… so, so much more complicated than he originally thought. Every time he thinks they have the path laid out clear ahead of them, some other twist or turn comes along.

The thing is - especially since last night, Foggy can see the appeal of Frank. At first he was like, fuck that, why would anyone be into a mass murderer? But the more time they spend together, the more he has to grudgingly admit he knows what Karen sees in him. And last night…

He almost has a crush too. Almost. Look, it’s hard not to when someone literally jumps in front of a fucking bullet for you.

Or maybe his head’s just all mixed up. He can’t jump into anything. Hell, he’s barely sure of his existing relationships without throwing any new ones into the mix. He needs to get to know Frank more. The other man probably doesn’t even feel the same way, so no need to get ahead of himself.

“We gotta talk about it,” he says, diplomatically, “With all of them.”

“Me and Frank,” Matt says, a bit pained, “I can’t just drop it. He’s important to me.”

“I know.” Foggy squeezes his hand. “And I… I know that Karen’s into him too. We’ll sort it out.”

“Foggy…”

Matt turns to him. He hesitates, then reaches out and squeezes Foggy’s shoulder.

“You put up with a lot from us,” he whispers. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“That’s why we’re talking about it,” Foggy says patiently. “So none of us get hurt. Including you. Including Frank. We’re all into Karen, so she’ll be fine.”

Matt snorts out a laugh, and Foggy sees a little of the tension fall from his face. It’s odd, sometimes; he doesn’t realise just how tired and sad Matt looks all the time until those little moments when he finally smiles, or relaxes, and seems to put down whatever burden he’s always dragging around on his back.

Foggy wraps an arm around his shoulders. Pulls him close and, on impulse, presses a kiss to his temple.

“Sorry I snapped at you before,” he whispers. “And sorry if I stressed you out with this whole thing. It’s just - been hard to figure out. I wasn’t angry with you, not really.”

“It’s okay,” Matt says. “Sorry I lied, even by omission. I do trust you. I’ll try to show it more, it just - doesn’t come naturally to me.”

“I know. It’s okay. You know I’m always here, right? I’m not gonna leave, no matter what.”

“I know,” Matt says, and Foggy can tell that he’s not just saying it to pacify him.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he repeats, as much to convince himself as Matt. “And what you said before? Thank you for telling me, I… I’m really glad you trusted me with that. We’ll sort out this shit with the Hellhounds. Brett will help us and we’ll fix things up. After all you’ve been through, it’s no wonder you’re not okay. But you’re not alone. You know? You won’t ever be. We’ll figure it out together.”

“Okay,” Matt says softly, a little choked.

He’s looking a bit upset again, a bit too vulnerable, a bit too close to closing himself off - without even really thinking about it, Foggy lifts the arm around his shoulders, cradles his jaw and gently tilts his face towards him. The kiss this time is soft; they lean into each other, pushing and pulling, lips working together slowly. It feels-

Way, way too easy. Way too natural. They can’t go back after this, Foggy realises. He’s opened a can of worms he can’t shut here - but in a good way.

I know what I want, he thinks with a sudden fierce certainty. I want this to work. I really, really want this to work.

And once you’re sure of something like that - once you know, you can fight for it, whatever else happens.

“C’mon,” he murmurs against Matt’s lips when they finally pull apart. He strokes a hand down the other man’s back, reassuringly. “Let’s go talk to the others. I’m ready to figure all this out.”