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He supposed there were some people that might call Foggy average, maybe even Foggy himself would claim such a title, but to Matt he never was.
Foggy Nelson was extraordinary, in ways that Matt could only dream to be. Brilliant, yet humble. Caring, yet not overbearing.
There was something constant about his presence. While Matt's life could be in complete shambles, there was a warmth that came to simply being around Foggy-- hearing his voice, feeling the trembles in the air with his booming laugh.
Whenever he was absent it was noticeable-- quieter, unnerving. There was an uneasiness that nagged at Matt, like he'd left the stove on at home, whenever Foggy wasn't around. Especially when he didn't have the spandex to hide behind.
Matt had always struggled with the idea of being alone-- clinging to relationships, to memories, to anything that didn't remind him that he was a blind man scraping around in the dark for some sort of life. There was an inherent loneliness that came with his handicap, one that only deepened with the life he led. Yet, he could always count on Foggy. Foggy would be there. A hand on his shoulder, a voice to pull him through.
There were times he took it for granted, he'd admit. But Foggy had become the true crutch that Matt clung to. Matt could lose his radar sense, his cane, hell anything in his life and maybe he could still cope. His other senses would pull through, he'd get by.
If he truly lost Foggy, he doubted he'd survive it.
~~~~~
There were times Matt would catch himself imagining the details of Foggy's face. With his radar sense he knew the basics-- the shape of his jaw, the outline of his hair. But there was no color there, it was all for Matt to fill in. Sometimes he thought of asking, but the words always seemed uneasy on Matt's tongue. He was worried it was a question that his smooth charm couldn't cover, so he kept silent.
Sometimes he imagined him with blue eyes, not unlike his own. Sometimes light green, comforting as a lazy spring day. Or sometimes they were deep soft pools of brown. Whatever they truly were, he knew the spark that had to be there. The intelligence that people always overlooked when they saw Foggy Nelson, Average Joe.
It was something he thought more and more about. The thought that of everyone in his life, Foggy was his constant. His constant companion, friend, partner…
"Seems like all I've got is you, pal." Foggy interrupted his thoughts, nursing his second beer of the evening.
It had been a long day with a trying case weighing heavily on the lawyers' shoulders. They’d been working hard trying to get a man acquitted on charges of murder. The evidence was on their side, but unfortunately their client was not winning them any support from the jury. He’d had a previous record, and the elderly amongst them had been eyeing the tattoos on his neck with critical looks throughout the trial.
Matt smiled a bit, “I don’t know. That judge seemed to be very interested in what you had to say. Her body language was a dead give-away.”
Foggy laughed in that self-deprecating way he usually did. He ruffled his hand in his hair. “Her body language was a dead give away that she wanted my head on a platter, you mean.”
“Hate, love, both come from a similar place.”
Foggy chuckled a bit more before they fell into a comfortable silence, Foggy finishing his beer and Matt nursing on his own.
“Sometimes I think I should invest in a relationship other than romance. Like, a cat or something. A dog.” Foggy muttered, a sigh escaping his lips. His fingers tapped the wooden bar lightly.
“You’re very stuck on relationships tonight, what’s going on?”
“Just… you know, with the case. It’s clear that Davis didn’t do it not just because the evidence is saying otherwise, but because of the way he talks about his wife… he couldn’t have killed someone he loved that much, right? I don’t know.” He paused his tapping.
“It just hit me how I don’t think I’ve loved someone that much.”
“Enough to not kill them?” Matt cracked, placing his now empty bottle on the table.
“No. You know what I mean.”
“I know what you mean.”
Foggy nodded, tossing bills onto the counter.
“It’s about time to get off of this barstool. I need some air.”
Matt followed suit, tipping well to the bartender who, in all honesty, hadn’t quite earned it. But Matt always wanted to spread the wealth where he could.
They came out of the warmth of the bar and were greeted with a sprinkle of snow.
Matt found himself wondering if Foggy’s cheeks were rosy. From the beer, from the cold…
~~~~~
They walked the streets in silence, shoulders hunched ever so slightly in their coats.
Matt was leading the way, and with his apartment just a few blocks away, he decided to bring them both there to escape the cold a bit and unwind after their time at the bar.
It was just as it always was—the two friends had done this exact dance thousands of times. In the snow, in the rain, in the sun—they’d walked the steps to Matt’s apartment for God knows how many times and for how many different occasions.
Matt’s place was warm, although not quite as toasty as the bar had been, but it suited them both well enough.
Foggy took his regular place on the couch, and Matt got the coffee brewing.
“You know, maybe you should get a dog, Matt. This place is a little lonesome too.”
“Growing up I never had one because all the smells drove me mad, the dander and all. When I was younger I just couldn’t take it. But maybe now… who knows.”
Foggy looked out the window to the snow that was collecting outside. “I just think it might be nice to have someone to come home to.”
Matt brought over the coffee and sat down next to him on the couch.
“Have you ever thought…” Matt stopped himself, staring down at his mug.
“Thought what?”
“I don’t know... lost my train of thought I guess.”
Matt could tell he’d been caught in a lie, the slight squint of Foggy’s eyes, the turn of his brows, but he wasn’t called out on it.
The silence hit again, but though before it was comfortable now Matt felt uneasy. This was something they’d done countless times, but suddenly he didn’t know what to do. Where should his hands go? Is he sitting too close? Should he turn the tv on? Should he—
“Matt, is there something you want to talk about? You’re acting a little funny.”
Matt’s heart started pounding in his chest—if Foggy had Matt’s senses he’d be able to tell just how much.
“It’s just all this talk of relationships I didn’t know…” What was going on? This was Matt Murdock, hotshot lawyer. Where Foggy could win his cases on knowledge of law alone, Matt won his with charm. With his words.
And yet his words were exactly what was failing him.
Foggy looked confused, placing his coffee on the table next to him. “Matt would you just—“
Matt planted the softest kiss on the corner of his mouth, silencing him.
Foggy blinked a few times, mouth open in surprise. “Wait… what?”
Matt’s heart was hammering so hard he could hear it thudding in his ears. “I—sorry just those beers I guess I never know what I…”
Foggy shook his head.
“Matt I saw you, it was two beers and you’re no lightweight. Is this… what I think it is?”
Matt paused.
“What do you think it is?”
“Well, I’m thinking that wasn’t exactly a friendly peck, Matty. I don’t know many pals that just kiss each other on the lips.”
“Are you asking if I’m—“
“I’m not asking. I mean, unless you want to divulge. I’m just asking if… this is something. Between us.”
“Well, I guess we can pretend that this was just a drunken kiss if you want or…” Matt licked his lips, hands nervously clinched at his sides.
“Or, it could be something. Between us.”
They sat in silence for a moment, and Matt restrained himself from listening to Foggy’s heartbeat. He wanted to hear honesty from Foggy’s mouth, nothing else.
“You know… I never really thought about it. Us. Together. I guess maybe other people did. I don’t know how many girls have told me I was more in a relationship with you than with them but...” Foggy took a sip from his coffee, turning to Matt.
“I don’t know. It’s not that strange at all, is it? Before, when I talked about Davis I said I didn’t know what it was like to love someone that much. But I think I care enough about you that people could tell I wouldn’t kill you.”
“How very romantic, Foggy.”
Foggy just smiled.
“You know for as many people as I’ve seen you with, that kiss was pretty unimpressive.”
“Ah, yes, clearly this conversation is going swimmi—“
“Maybe we should try it again.”
Matt’s brows shot up above his glasses.
“Oh. Yes. I guess we could do that.”
It felt strangely familiar, Matt’s lips pressed against his, Foggy’s hands tangled in his hair. Even though they’d never done it before, Matt felt at ease. All that nervous tension gone from his shoulders.
And yet it was all new—Matt couldn’t remember the last time his palms sweat before the first kiss, nor the last time he felt this comfortable doing it.
Foggy pulled away, finally, hands having moved from Matt’s hair down to his shoulders.
They both smiled slightly, and Matt heard the steady tempo of two heartbeats.
“Foggy… I have a question.”
Foggy’s brows lifted.
“What color are your eyes?”
Foggy laughed, the sound filling the nearly silent apartment.
“And to think I thought this was going to be something serious. Do you really not know? Er… ok, I guess you wouldn’t. Brown, Matty. They’re a very dull brown.”
“You know, Foggy… I bet they’re extraordinary.”
Foggy smiled and shook his head, leaning back on the couch. He rested his hand on Matt’s and they both looked out the window at the city now dusted in white.
Matt couldn’t help but think that maybe what they needed wasn’t pets, like Foggy suggested. Maybe all he needed was… this.
He rested his head on Foggy’s shoulders and let the quiet wash over him.