Reconciliation
Maybe we can find a way to move forward.
Yeah, Foggy would've like that. He still hadn't completely forgiven Matt for having kept his secret identity well, a secret – he felt like such a fool even for thinking those words – but he also missed his presence more that he was willing to admit.
He made a few steps closer. Matt didn't move.
Maybe he hadn't heard him – no he had. It was impossible that he hadn't, not after all the stuff he told him.
He didn't move away because he'd chosen not to move away.
Their lips touched – neither of them had realised the other was leaning in too until it happened.
Matt's lips were so cracked, so ruined on certain places. Must've been one of the already numerous prices to pay when fighting crime.
Foggy stopped thinking about that. Not now, he told himself, not now…
He should break away; he wasn't there for that, but Matt was clinging onto him, kissing him so desperately, like he needed it in order to survive, and Foggy couldn't back out now.
It had been always like that: whenever Matt needed something, he couldn't bring himself not to give it to him.
It wasn't that he didn't want that – the kissing – in the first place, however; he always had some sort of crush towards him, but at first he'd thought it was just simple admiration.
He never dared to hope Matt would feel the same, but apparently he'd been wrong about that too; part of him was still convinced that it was happening only because he needed any kind of comfort, so he was going to take what he could get, but even in that case Foggy was willing to give it to him.
Maybe it was selfish of him, but he'd waited for so long for something like that that he didn't care about the rest. Well, mostly.
They had to break away to catch their breath, but even in that case they were still drawn to each other.
Matt rested his hands on Foggy's cheeks; in all their years of friendship, that was only the second time Foggy allowed that to happen.
He could see Matt's eyes, unfocused, but that time they looked like they were staring right at him, at his soul, like Matt could actually see and actually he could, in his own way.
They kissed again and Foggy didn't know where he found the strength – and also the courage – to push Matt against the boxing ring, maybe with too much strength that he'd anticipated at first, but that only managed to make Matt moan in the kiss.
… What kind of masochist bullshit was that?!
He gripped Matt's hips while he put his arms around his neck.
It was far from the typical romantic kiss lovers shared, but it was good enough for them. Something too sweet would've felt out of place in that context.
- You're still gonna find Fisk, aren't you? -, Foggy muttered, once they broke apart.
- Yes -, Matt replied, and it hurt Foggy how sure he was. He hadn't hesitated not even for a second.
He wanted to persuade him to let it go, to help him and Karen to get to him by the law – he was a lawyer, damn it, he was supposed to do that – but he knew already that he wouldn't have succeeded.
Once Matt set his mind on something, none could stop him; he was stubborn like that.
- I know I can't stop you… -, he started then, and he saw Matt exhaling, like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth.
Maybe it was for the best that he hadn't said anything.
- … At least have the decency to be careful. The city doesn't need a martyr -.
He didn't need a martyr, but he didn't say that out loud.
He was sure Matt got the message across anyways, in fact his hand slid down Foggy's arm, reaching for his hand, and he squeezed it, but who knew if it was to reassure Foggy or to reassure himself.
- I will, I promise -.
Author's notes: it's been way too long - over a year - since I had this idea, but finally I managed to write it down. These two will be the death of me.