A/N: So, this is completely self-indulgent angst and fluff I concocted in order to satisfy my urge to write about my loves Matthew Murdock and Franklin "Foggy" Nelson. It is also an ode to Wifey, the incredible Mickey_D, who is the creator and owner of Bucky's Beans: a collection of loosely-connected one shots featuring LGBTQ+ couples from many different fandoms under one rainbow roof. Go and pester her on AO3 about it!
Timeline for this is Season One of Daredevil. Timeline for Bucky and company is wonky since this is a no powers AU (except for Matt, who is still Daredevil). Tony (who is briefly mentioned) is still a billionaire but he is not Iron Man. Pre-Serum!Steve/Bucky and Foggy/Matt are the main ships with some Natasha/Karen. Just go with it. I promise it'll be great!
Love You a Latte
Tucked away in some forgotten corner of Brooklyn, New York, was a place Foggy liked to call heaven.
It wasn't a pizza joint or a strip club, but a tiny coffee shop by the name of Bucky's Beans. Unlike most independent coffee shops that attracted nothing but hordes of millennials and hipsters, this one was always mellow. There were never more than a few tables occupied at a time even though the place had more than enough space to accommodate the occasional acoustic Monday night concert, which always made Foggy wonder how they kept the lights on. Not that he was complaining. Their coffee was second to none. In fact, the only problem Foggy had with the place was that it was so damn far away.
That, and the sign.
Dear God, the sign.
Foggy shuddered as he passed under the abomination, clutching a bag of cigars to his chest as the bells chimed to let the few patrons know that someone else was joining the party. It wasn't much of a party though: a couple pressed up against the far right table giving each other moony eyes over their steaming cups of coffee, another couple reclining in the same oversized chair - the blond who had just started growing in scruff reading a book thicker than Foggy's head while the other listened to headphones perched in a nest of wild brown hair, fingers tapping to the rhythm while he scratched away on the papers in his lap. None of them gave Foggy so much as a passing glance, except for Natasha - the red headed hired muscle who always sat by herself at the bar that lined the front windows. Her green eyes assessed everyone who walked through the door, and while she may not have looked like much, Foggy learned very quickly after a couple of close-minded frat boys sauntered in that Natasha could and would break every bone in someone's body to prove just how dangerous she could be.
Natasha gave Foggy a brief smile and nod before returning her attention to her cellphone. He had been given the stamp of approval. Now he could get down to business.
"Hey Bucky," Foggy greeted as he made his way over to the register.
The long dark-haired mountain of a man working behind the counter turned Foggy's way and waved. "Hey Foggy. The usual?"
"You know it," Foggy said and leaned across the counter. There was no one else in line at the moment, so that gave him the perfect opportunity to heckle his favorite barista. "So, when are you guys ever gonna change that God awful sign?"
"Don't knock the sign," Bucky warned, waving a finger in Foggy's direction. "It's a classic."
"Are you kidding me? Matt's blind and even he can tell how ugly that thing is all the way from Hell's Kitchen."
Bucky only scoffed. Foggy knew it was because the man secretly agreed with him. There was no way anyone could love that eyesore, not even the person who commissioned it. Foggy knew some people who owed him favors, people he and Matt had helped out through the firm. Suppose paying for legal services in homemade pies and IOUs came in handy from time to time. One of them could probably -
"So, Matt..." Bucky said as he reached to pull the lever on the espresso machine, hot milk frothing up in cloud of steam. "Your mystery boy has a name."
Foggy spluttered.
Years he had been going to this place, since his freshman year at Columbia, and never once had he let that little tidbit slip. He was always so careful! The owner of the second vanilla latte with lowfat milk and no foam had remained a mystery for as long as Foggy had been frequenting the shop. And now...poof. The mystery, and Foggy's dignity, were gone. Foggy blamed it on his good mood. For once, things were looking up: he passed his Bar, was a partner at his own firm, and even managed to match his socks today. It was supposed to be a good day - hence the need to celebrate with the nectar of the Gods, aka, Bucky's Beans. It was not supposed to be a 'Foggy exposes his secret crush' day.
"Matt is my partner - platonically speaking - my business partner. And my best friend. We just opened a law firm together: Nelson and Murdock. Maybe you've heard of us?"
"You do know that my boss has enough money to buy the best lawyers in the country."
"Ouch, way to stoke the ego," Foggy griped, though he hardly meant it. He knew that two kids fresh out of law school were far from the best sharks in the tank, but he'd get there. He did graduate top of his class, after all. "We wouldn't even want to represent Tony Stark anyway."
"Mmmhmm..." Bucky trailed off, his voice long and drawn out and full of disbelief. "So this strictly platonic partnership is why you have me draw little foam hearts on his coffee?"
"Wow, I uh..." Foggy stammered, not expecting to be called out. His cheeks were flushing as he gathered the cups. He didn't even mind that they were burning his fingertips. "I'm just gonna run away now and never come back."
"Don't be such a drama queen," Bucky sighed, rolling his eyes and placing two steaming cups on the counter. True to Bucky's word, one of them had a heart drawn into the ripples of the foam.
"Thanks man."
Foggy quickly slid on sleeves and capped both of them to avoid looking at the embarrassing display of affection.
It wasn't that Foggy was ashamed of his crush - well, it was more than a crush at this point. More like a love so deep that it scared the shit out of him every time he thought about it. But that was okay, right? It was totally normal to be head over heels in love with your best friend of seven years...
...right?
The bell chimed again as Foggy pushed his way back out into the city. He would need to catch a cab or an Uber or something to get all the way back to Hell's Kitchen in time for the morning's meetings. Once all that was settled and he was safely deposited back home via the back seat of a prickly old man's black sedan, there was one more call he had to make.
His phone rang out three times before someone picked up.
"Good morning sunshine!" Foggy greeted, purposely overly bright for a Monday morning.
"What time is it?" Matt asked half-asleep, his voice like broken gravel music to Foggy's ears. Obviously the man had just woken up, and Foggy could not stop himself from rolling his eyes.
"Half past get the hell up," Foggy teased and heard Matt's resulting groan. "Let's go. We gotta meet the real estate agent in forty-five." More moaning, and Foggy started to get suspicious. "What was that? Was that a moan? Do you have someone in bed with you?"
At first, real paranoia started to creep its way up Foggy's spine. It wouldn't be the first time he had interrupted one of Matt's liaisons. But, the next moan that came over the line was most definitely one that was put out from Foggy's antics rather than romantic. All the tension faded from Foggy's bones and he was able to relax back into the funny best friend role.
"The paralegal? Is it the para over at - never mind, I don't wanna hear about it. No! I do wanna hear about it. What was she like?" Foggy went on and on, perhaps a little over the top, but one could never be too careful trying to play the overenthusiastic heterosexual.
Another long, put out sigh came from Matt's end. "Violent."
"I gotta get the blind thing going on. It's so unfair. Oh hey! Real estate agent - not your type. Very homely, might be genetic, no need to be charming," Foggy continued, half in jest and half in all seriousness. Matt had a freakish sense when it came to beautiful women - and maybe it was selfish - but Foggy really wanted his first memory in their new firm to be of the two of them, not Matt schmoozing some curvaceous blonde. "And she kinda told me she thinks blind people are God's mistake."
Matt laughed, a rumbling sound that came deep from his chest. "That's a horrible thing to say Foggy."
There was no heat to it, but Foggy couldn't help but feel warm and pleased all the way down to his toes. "I know! In this day and age?" Foggy looked up to see that he was where he needed to be earlier than expected. "Alright, shake it. I gotta go bribe a cop."
"Uh, Foggy?" Matt's voice contained a warning, though a distinct lack of surprise.
"Kidding! NSA, if you're listening..." Foggy took the time to look around him before he crossed the street. "But seriously, yeah, gotta bribe a cop."
Foggy listened to Matt's exasperated laugh as he hung up. Then he spotted the familiar man in uniform across the way and looked down at the bag of cigars.
He had to go bribe a cop.
The meeting with the real estate agent went pretty well.
There was a tolerable amount of flirting - which once the woman saw just how attractive Matt was was inevitable - and at the end of the spiel they came out of it with a marginally above-budget office space. It was small and creaky and had barely enough room for the two of them, nonetheless clients, but it was perfect.
And it was theirs.
Matt stood in the center of the main room, hands folded neatly over his cane, his body facing the windows even though there was no way he was taking in the view. But maybe he was imagining it, trying to picture to the best of his ability what this moment was like. Was he just as excited to stand side by side with his best friend, ready to take on the world? Did he feel the same level of exhilaration knowing that everything they'd ever wanted was just within their grasp?
Foggy knew he could do anything so long as he had Matt by his side. Now, Nelson and Murdock: Attorneys at Law made that possible.
If only they had clients...
"I asked Brett to keep an eye out. You know, throw us a bone or two. God knows we are gonna need someone to help us get our feet since you intend to run us into the ground right off the bat," Foggy griped, though it all lacked any real spite. Part of what Foggy loved most about Matt was that incredible, selfless heart of his. It was like he was wired to help people, no matter the personal cost. Or, lack of cost since pro bono seemed to be Matt's favorite type of case. "Plus, I may have sweetened the deal by buttering up his mom with her favorite Cuban goodies."
"I'm sure Brett appreciated that."
"Like I told him: Bess will outlive us all."
Matt chuckled, an even more beautiful sound to hear in person than over the phone. Especially because when Matt smiled, tiny little lines creased the corners of his eyes that peeked out behind those smoked glasses. It was adorable. Matt was absolutely adorable.
Foggy was so spectacularly fucked.
"Is that...coffee I smell?"
"Ah yes, how could I forget," Foggy chided himself, turning to grab the now cooled coffee cups from where he'd put them on the sill. "I thought we could celebrate our first day in our brand new office in style."
With the coffee right under his nose, Matt was able to get a much better smell. His eyebrows shot up as he recognized the particular blend. "You went all the way out to Brooklyn?"
There was something soft in Matt's tone that Foggy ignored lest he be completely and utterly wrong - which, after years of seeing Matt and his revolving door of gorgeous female lovers, Foggy was certain he was. Even though Matt could not see it, he forced himself to smile brighter and wider.
"What can I say? It's a special occasion," Foggy shrugged, willing Matt not to make a big deal out of it.
Matt swallowed the coffee with a smile on his lips, taking the foam heart down with it, unnoticed as usual.
That...that was it right there. That was the problem.
Foggy loved Matt more than anything in the world, and Matt had absolutely no idea.
Before Foggy could slip into another existential crisis, his phone rang. Brett's name flashed across the screen, and Foggy's pulse quickened as he swiped to answer.
"You remember how you told me to keep an eye out for anything interesting?" Brett asked rhetorically, Foggy biting back a 'boy that was quick' whlie Matt's head cocked to the side as he strained to listen from across the room. "Well you better haul your ass to the precinct. You're gonna wanna see this."
By the time Foggy hung up, Matt was already out the door.
Karen Page was the sweetest woman Foggy had ever met. The tumblr definition of a cinnamon roll. And accused of murdering a man in cold blood.
Foggy had to admit, as skittish and gentle as Karen appeared, he wasn't totally convinced of her innocence at first. The mutilated body Karen was found lying over and the knife covered in her prints were pretty damning. It was Matt who trusted Karen completely, who believed her at her word. And Matt was right, as he always was. Foggy should have known by now that Matt was like some kind of superhuman lie detector.
It wasn't easy clearing the charges, but when they did, victory was sweet on Foggy's tongue. Almost as sweet as a vanilla latte with extra foam and no whip.
It was Karen's idea to repay them by working for them. After all, they were going to need a secretary, and it wasn't like they could afford one, so having extra hands around the office while they got on their feet was pretty perfect. Added on top that Karen was genuinely good company with a strong work ethic and a wicked sense of humor and Foggy felt his little world of him and Matt open just a smidge.
There was only one problem.
Karen's coffee was terrible: like mud brewed in dirty sock water. A mortal sin, Foggy called it, which actually managed to get a laugh out of Matt.
Foggy then made an executive decision to take the rest of the day off and escort Karen to Bucky's Beans because how do you live here and not know about the best coffee in all of New York, Karen?
The bell to the shop dinged, and immediately they were hit with a blast of warm, sweet air. The smell of coffee and scones made Foggy's mouth water.
Before they could get two steps into the place, they were stopped by the usually silent security.
"Hello, what's your name?" Natasha asked as she slid off her stool with inhuman grace. Even though she stood a good head shorter than Karen, Natasha was not afraid to stand toe to toe with her.
Karen blushed and ducked her head as she introduced herself, shaking Natasha's hand and everything. Foggy decided then would be a good time to back away and get the coffee to give those two some space. Foggy knew a pick-up when he saw one. Karen probably didn't want Foggy cramping her style anyway, and he was too afraid to risk Natasha's ire.
"Hey Foggy, the usual?" Bucky asked when the lawyer approached the counter.
"Make it three," Foggy requested, pulling the money out of his wallet.
Bucky jerked his chin towards the front door. "So, who's she?"
"Karen Page. She's Matt and mine's new assistant."
"Pretty girl."
"Nat sure seems to think so."
Both of them watched for a moment as Natasha put on her most winning smile, charming the pants off of a now-giggling Karen. Foggy had never seen either of them this way. It was disturbing to say the least.
By the time the flirting was over and Karen returned, Foggy had his hands full of coffee.
"Here you go," Foggy said, passing over one of the lattes and purposely ignoring the napkin Karen was not-so-stealthily putting into her peacoat pocket. It was none of his business if Karen got Natasha's number, even if curiosity was gnawing at his insides.
"Thanks," Karen replied, stepping off towards the condiments table. "I just need to get some sugar."
They separated again, Foggy hanging out by the front door, waiting patiently for Karen. However, as soon as she got the lid off, Karen remained frozen in place. Her eyes grew as wide as saucers.
"Um, Foggy..." Karen trailed off, looking utterly bewildered as she stared into the coffee. Foggy walked over, confused. Did Bucky get the order wrong? He always got it right.
Then he looked down at the little foam heart, and Foggy spit out his drink.
Fuck. Fuck!
"It-it's not what it looks like," Foggy fumbled for the words, mortification taking over his entire body. His face was beet red, and his palms were sweating. He had given Karen the wrong drink and now he was absolutely, a hundred percent going to die right here right now and -
"I'm flattered, but - "
"Karen, I swear, this does not mean what you think it means," Foggy pleaded, begged, both her and the universe to understand. "It...it wasn't for you."
Karen's face contorted into a mess of confusion. She stared at Foggy like he had grown a second head, trying to parse it out. Foggy recognized the exact moment when Karen finally put the pieces together. Her face cleared, confusion fading into pity.
"It was for Matt," she said and it sounded an awful lot like she was reading his eulogy. Foggy didn't have to say anything to confirm what she already knew, the gears whirling in that sharp aspiring-journalist's mind of hers. "Does he know?"
Foggy only flinched as a response.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, shouldering her purse and angling her body to turn around. "Do you want to go and get him another one?"
"No, no it's..." Foggy didn't know what he wanted to say, what he could say to make himself any less pathetic in Karen's eyes. "Just...don't tell him? Please."
"Of course," Karen assured. Foggy was wrong before. It wasn't pity he saw in Karen's eyes, it was sympathy.
She tucked her arm into Foggy's elbow and held him close the entire cab ride back to the firm.
Things started going to hell pretty quickly after that.
A wayward assassin showed up at their door alongside a smarmy bastard in a showy suit who offered to pay far too much than the going rate as if that could cover up the stench of criminality. Then that guy had to go get himself murdered, leaving behind some kind of Russian gang war that consumed Hell's Kitchen for days. Now, their current client - an elderly woman by the name of Elena Cardenas - claimed she was being forced out of her home, but that too was turning out to be far more sinister than it first appeared as the bodies started piling up the longer she refused to move. There was someone else behind the scenes pulling strings, someone powerful, and someone not to be fucked with.
Foggy and Matt were way out of their depths, and Matt seemed to be taking it the worst. He was always tired and stressed. Sometimes Foggy swore he saw bruises beneath the cuffs of Matt's button-down and dried blood under the collar. Or maybe that was Foggy's own, paranoid mind making things up.
Then the city blew up, and Matt was nowhere to be found.
Foggy, half-delirious from blood loss, could not find his best friend and love of his life while the city he loved burned around them and for the love of God he was not okay! Except for the times the nurses had him knocked out to do sutures, Foggy was on anyone and everyone, asking them if they had seen a blind man with dark brown hair and a smile like an angel wander into the ward. Every 'no' was both a relief and another shot of anxiety.
Where was Matt? Where the fuck was Matt? If he was dead...Foggy could not even bear to think about that. He didn't know life without Matt anymore, and he didn't want to.
Of course, the bastard showed up unharmed in his apartment. Foggy would have been furious had he not been so relieved. When Karen dropped by his hospital room and gave Foggy the news that she had seen Matt in person and dropped off his Get Well Soon balloon (the monkey was totally Foggy's idea, not that he would admit to anything so cheesy), Foggy was only mildly ashamed to say he cried. However, he was only convinced all was well once he was back at work and had Matt in his arms, pulling the blind man to him and warning him in his best no-nonsense tone that Matt was never to go missing during an explosion ever again so help me God -
Foggy held on for longer than was probably considered platonic, but he didn't care.
Matt was okay.
They were going to be okay.
Then Foggy showed up to Matt's place one night to find Matt half dead and bleeding out on the floor with a black mask covering his face, and he knew nothing would ever be okay again.
As the door slammed shut behind him, Foggy felt his heart break all over again, but it was not enough to make him turn around and go back inside.
Matt was fine. Or he would be. At least, that was what Nurse Hottie McBurner-Phone kept saying whenever Foggy started having panic attacks because oh my God that was so much blood. Matt was losing so much blood...But after a few well placed stitches and a night's worth of surveillance, Matt was deemed in the clear, and his mysterious nurse friend - Claire, she had introduced between Matt's thrashing and her manhandling him to stay still while she sewed what was left of his shredded skin - packed up her things and left just as quickly as she came, leaving Foggy with the aftermath of one nasty revelation.
Physically, Foggy was shaken, but he was fine - much better shape than Matt. Mentally was debatable. Emotionally was another story altogether.
Foggy was drained from the fighting. He was suddenly twenty years older and so, so tired. With every word Matt said, Foggy's heart sunk like a lead balloon, jagged pieces tearing him to bits on their way down.
When Matt was lucid enough to try and force his ass up off of the couch, Foggy made him lie back down, and then they had it out. Nasty words were exchanged. Tears were shed. Middle fingers were flipped. If Foggy were a worse person, he would have felt happy that he had made Matt cry. But seeing Matt upset and in pain only worsened Foggy's own. Hence why he had to leave. It was too hard to stick around and look at the man who had singlehandedly shattered his heart.
Everything was a lie. Everything - every moment, every laugh, every touch and guide in the right direction. None of it was real. Matt never needed Foggy's help. He never needed anything. He just strung Foggy along, like Foggy was some kind of idiot.
But instead of being angry at Matt, Foggy found that he was more angry with himself.
Foggy's hindsight was twenty-twenty.
He should have asked Matt about the late nights. He should have believed his eyes when he saw the bruises. He should not have accepted the excuses about tripping on edges of tables and falling up stairs. He should have pressed Matt harder when Matt tried to run. He should have realized that Matt's lie-detector thing wasn't normal. He should have said something about the invisible distances Matt put between himself and everyone else, even Foggy. He should not have let love blind him to the truth.
He should have realized a lot of things.
Most of all, he should have realized after all these years of pining that he would never mean anything to Matt, and that hurt worse than any lie.
When faced with the fact that the most important relationship in their life has been a sham, most people would find their way to the bottom of the nearest bottle. Foggy was tempted - oh, he was so, so tempted - but instead of slowly poisoning his liver sad and alone, he found himself face-down on the bar at Bucky's Beans.
The place had long since closed and he was the only patron in the place - even Natasha had slipped away - but Bucky hadn't had the heart to toss him out. Instead, the surly barista leaned across the counter, lending a sympathetic ear.
"So you're in love with an idiot who likes to dress up in red leather and get the shit beat out of him?" Bucky summarized pretty efficiently.
"Basically, yeah," Foggy agreed, lowering his head into his hands. "Oh God, I'm so screwed."
It had been weeks since the revelation, and his and Matt's relationship had been tentative at best (there was that brief period where Foggy could not stand to be in the same office space as Matt and left the firm). Foggy should have been over it by now, or at least over this angry, depressive stage of grieving, but he just could not force himself to look past Matt's transgressions. Yes, they had put aside enough of their bullshit to throw Wilson Fisk, the kingpin behind all this chaos, behind bars and gained themselves some credibility as half-way decent lawyers in the process, but it in no way fixed their friendship. If anything, Matt's new and improved costume, and that God-awful nickname - Daredevil, only furthered the rift between them.
Foggy was so torn up he couldn't think straight, and if he didn't get his shit together soon, he was bound to do something he would regret.
"No you're not. Trust me, I've got plenty of experience dealing with that particular type," Bucky said as gently as Bucky could. Foggy gave him a look that called bullshit, but Bucky merely shrugged. "My idiot, Steve, is five feet, four inches, and ninety-four pounds of scrawny, righteous fury. Did you know I had to drag him away from a fight last week? - the moron was in some back alley using a garbage can lid as a shield against four guys twice his size. Got a nice shiner as a souvenir."
"Holy shit," Foggy hissed, scared for how this panned out for Steve.
"Yeah. I was livid," Bucky chuckled, and Foggy was amazed at how he could laugh at something that so obviously had upset him earlier. "I think he'd take on all the bullies in the boroughs if he could. And that's without all these fancy skills and senses yours possesses."
Foggy knew what kind of reaction Bucky was trying to get. He wanted Foggy to think. Well, things aren't so bad. I could have had a Steve. But at least Steve didn't hide his activities from Bucky. At least Steve was honest. At least Bucky knew what he was in for and could make an informed choice before he handed his heart over. Foggy didn't have that luxury.
"How do you handle it? Knowing that he's going out there and getting hurt?"
"Way I see it, I have two choices: push Steve away out of anger or suck up my pride and stick by his side. These urges, this drive to help others, or put on a mask, or whatever you want to call it - it's ingrained in him. It's part of who he is. He's gonna do it whether I like it or not. I just want him to have somewhere safe to come home to rather than bleed out in an alley somewhere."
Foggy groaned and smacked his head down against the counter. Why did Bucky have to guilt trip him like that? It wasn't fair.
"Can't I just be mad at him? Aren't I allowed that much?"
"Of course you are. The guy flipped your lives upside down. I want to kick his ass for you," Bucky said, and Foggy felt a sense of gratitude towards the man. Not that he wanted Matt to get in any more fights, or for Bucky to start them. The sentiment was nice though. "But he's also human, he makes mistakes, and he probably has a reason for the madness. So, when the anger fades, give him a chance. I've watched your sorry ass walk in and out of this coffee shop with a love letter written in foam more times than I can count. Don't throw away a good thing, or you'll regret it."
Bucky was right, and Foggy knew Bucky was right, but Foggy wasn't ready to face that just yet. Righteous anger first, fixing dreams of the future later.
"Wow, thank you Doctor Barnes. I had no idea you were so wise."
"Don't be such a smart ass," Bucky rolled his eyes and snapped his dishrag at Foggy. "Quality therapy doesn't come cheap. I'll send you my bill."
Foggy laughed a genuine laugh for the first time in days. It felt good, loosened something stiff in his chest.
"You know what this means, don't you?" Foggy asked, suddenly serious and Bucky arched an eyebrow. "They can never meet. I don't think the city can handle it."
"Damn right," Bucky agreed, chuckling as he reached to dry off another mug. "Yours would give mine bad ideas. I can barely keep track of him as is."
"Hey, now," Foggy warned, pointing a finger Bucky's way. "That's my idiot you're talking about."
That night, Foggy and Bucky got incredibly drunk and stumbled into Foggy's apartment at some ungodly hour past midnight. How no one arrested them for public intoxication or jumped them the entire journey from Brooklyn to Hell's Kitchen was a mystery. All Foggy knew was that one of these days, he was gonna convince Bucky to forgo his boss' fancy contraband liquor and come down to Josie's and drink the eel.
They woke up on opposite sides of Foggy's lumpy bed to a text from Tony Stark.
Have you been going through my liquor cabinet?
Bucky tossed his phone back on the nightstand and pressed a pillow over his head. Foggy laughed when he groaned to make the room stop spinning.
The ghosting was an answer in itself. Twenty minutes later, Bucky's phone dinged again.
Goddamn it Barnes!
They spent the rest of the morning nursing terrible hangovers and laughing their asses off.
"You smell like that barista from Bucky's Beans."
Of course that would be the first thing Matt's said to Foggy all day. Not, 'how have you been Foggy?' or, 'how can I make your life easier Foggy?' or, 'I'm sorry for ruining seven year's worth of friendship Foggy'. Of all things, Matt chose to fuck with his heartstrings. Of course he did.
Whatever Matt was playing at, Foggy wasn't falling for it. He wasn't even going to be weirded out by Matt's blatant misuse of his superior senses. He was far too hungover for this particular game.
"Yeah. We hung out last night."
"Hung out?"
"Yeah, hung out. You know, that thing that friends do from time to time." Friends who don't go around lying behind their supposed best friend's back for years.
"Oh," Matt replied, all wounded and confused like some kind of lost baby duck. Screw him for playing the victim. Screw him for making Foggy's heart ache at the sight. "I didn't realize you two were close."
"What does it matter to you, Matt?" Foggy finally snapped, tired of walking on eggshells.
Matt worked his jaw, ground it so hard Foggy was surprised he didn't break teeth, and didn't say a damn word. Then, he did that thing where he jut the square of his chin out in defiance.
"It doesn't."
And that was that. Matt went back to running his fingers over their latest case and tuned Foggy out entirely. It hurt.
In the end, it was Karen who managed to get the two of them back together. Karen and two steaming cups of Bucky's Beans vanilla latte.
Their secretary had gone out for lunch, presumably with Natasha if the red quality of Karen's cheeks when Matt asked about her plans was anything to go by, and left Foggy and Matt to their own devices. Since she had an intuition second to none, she had picked up on the rising tension in the office. Bless her, she asked no questions, and only wanted to see everyone happy. Perhaps that was why she left behind a treat of Bucky's Beans - a meager peace offering to stave off World War III before she got back.
Foggy had planned on walking over to Karen's desk and getting a cup himself, but his fellow avocado at law beat him to the punch. Matt stood in the doorway of Foggy's office, far too tense and ready to dart.
"I uh, brought you this," Matt said, showing Foggy the cup with the Bucky's Beans logo on it. He moved slowly, as if testing if he was welcome further in the tiny office.
"Thanks," Foggy managed, taking the cup and letting the warmth seep into his fingertips.
He looked up and Matt was still hovering in the doorway, shuffling his feet. In fact, Matt looked downright antsy. And was his tie askew?
"Everything alright?" Foggy asked despite himself because even though he was mad, Matt was acting weird(er than usual) and Foggy could not stop himself from caring.
"Did you, uh, check? To make sure it was okay?"
Foggy arched an eyebrow, now suspicious. However, Matt looked genuinely spooked, so Foggy did as Matt asked and immediately had to sit down.
Right there, drawn in the center of the drink, was a little foam heart.
Foggy sucked in a sharp breath, tears smarting at the corners of his eyes. "Matt..."
Hold yourself together, Foggy told himself, repeating it like a mantra so that he did not break down right then and there. This had to be a mistake. Karen had gotten the usual, and Matt handed over the one with the heart on accident. There was no way...this had to be a mistake. Matt couldn't possibly be this cruel.
But Matt's face was contorted into something incredibly sad and apologetic and far too knowing for this coffee delivery to be mere coincidence.
"My taste is better than most. The foam, it congeals differently on the surface than the rest of the coffee, and it tastes different, and the shape of it feels different - " Matt stumbled on his words, and for a man who usually knew exactly what he wanted to say, this was very unsettling to witness. More unsettling was what Matt meant by the rambling, Foggy piecing together what the man truly meant.
"Are you trying to say that your super senses managed to work out that there was a heart in your latte?"
A single nod from Matt. He even had the nerve to look ashamed, but it didn't compare to the embarrassment that flushed through Foggy's body like a tidal wave. And to think, all those years he thought he was being subtle...
Foggy's eyes closed, unable to look at his partner for the next part. "How long?"
It was more a statement than a question, heavy and loaded and so very tired.
Matt squeaked like Foggy had slapped him. "What?"
"How long have you known?"
The room grew so quiet he could hear a pin drop, and Foggy knew the answer before Matt said a word.
"I've always known, Foggy." Matt replied, honesty naked in his face. "Always."
Anger unlike Foggy had ever known ran through his veins, and he was unable to hold his tongue. "And you never said anything? You knew how I felt and... all these years..."
"Because you deserve better!" Matt shouted before Foggy could continue, stunning him silent. Matt weaved his fingers through his hair and pulled in frustration. "You deserve so much more than what I can give, and I thought - I thought that you would get over it, in time...and then Marci came into the picture, and I wasn't even sure if you were into men, and I have always been happy to have you as a friend. It didn't matter that I was in love with you and I just wanted - "
Matt kept rambling but Foggy's world had come to a screeching halt, the entire world flipping on its axis because he could not have possibly heard that right.
"Say it again."
The look Matt fixed him with was bewildered, eyes unfocused and glassy. "Say what?"
"You know what," Foggy replied, his voice tight and stifled with the hope he was trying and failing to crush. "Say it. Please."
Matt looked torn between fainting and bolting. His face was stark white, his expression so pained it was as if he were living out some kind of torture. But he managed to straighten his spine just a little, swallowing audibly as he did his best to meet Foggy's eye. Matt was still off, gaze landing somewhere just above Foggy's left shoulder, but there was no doubt in Foggy's mind that Matt knew every twitch and tremor that racked Foggy's body.
"I love you, Franklin Nelson," Matt rasped like it had been wrenched from him. "God, I love you so much."
Foggy felt like he had been punched in the gut, but in the best way. It was painful and sweet and overwhelming all at once. Foggy could have stood forever in that moment, letting Matt's confession ring through his ears, but even he was not cruel enough to leave the blind man waiting.
In the next moment, Foggy launched himself from his desk, pulled Matt down by the tie, and crushed their lips together. Matt made a surprised noise in the back of his throat that Foggy swallowed, scraping his nails along the stubble of Matt's cheeks until he got a good grip at the nape of Matt's neck. Matt was just as clingy, floundering in disbelief at first (and honestly Foggy himself cannot believe he did just did that) but quickly enough there were hands fisted between Foggy's shoulder blades and at the small of his back.
There was little finesse to the kiss, far too many years of pent up emotion and lingering frustration, but it didn't slow their collision.
"Idiot," Foggy hissed as he pulled back, Matt's lips chasing his the entire way. Foggy bit at them, warning, but Matt - the masochist - seemed to enjoy it. "Such a stupid fucking idiot."
He didn't know if he was cursing himself or Matt or the both of them, but Matt did not protest. He just continued kissing Foggy as if his life depended on it, as if the slick heat of Foggy's mouth was his salvation. And maybe it was. The way he licked into Foggy's mouth, pushing into every corner, demanding more, more, more sure as hell felt like devotion.
Foggy should have known that Matt would not be one for half-measures. Once Matt started, Foggy was quickly realizing that he would be impossible to stop. What started as a kiss had quickly spiraled into Matt backing Foggy up against the edge of his desk, pressing him into the edge of the wood until Foggy felt it bite at the base of his spine. Everything was hot, too hot, and there were way too many layers between the two of them. Matt's fingers were at the button's of Foggy's shirt, pulling clumsily to get at the skin, fevered fingers tracing the curve of Foggy's throat, the slant of his jaw, the shells of his ears.
Then Matt slotted his thigh between Foggy's legs, their hips brushing just so, and holy fuck they were both so hard -
That's when the brakes cut on.
"We are not doing this here," Foggy said, using every last inch of his self-control to push Matt off of him. He bit back the urge to whine, his entire body screaming how wrong this was, that he had waited so long...
"Foggy - " Matt was whining, and damn if that didn't go straight to Foggy's groin.
"No, I refuse to let our first time be ruined by Karen walking through the door," Foggy continued, cutting Matt off because so help him if he heard any more of Matt's protests then he would give in so quick and this was one part of their relationship he would not compromise on.
"But - "
"I've waited for you this long, Murdock. I can wait a little longer," Foggy said with a shrug, and found that it was true. What were a few more hours in comparison to years? "Besides, I'm still angry at you."
Matt flinched, curling back into himself as he let his Catholic guilt consume him. "Foggy, I've already told you how so- "
"I don't want your apologies Matty," Foggy sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets hoping that would relieve the embarrassing tent in his pants. The heat between them was already cooling, but it would not take much to rekindle. "I know that you feel bad, but that doesn't change what happened. It can only change how things go from here on out. And I, for one, like it when I'm not totally blindsided by little things like your best friend is a secret ninja superhero."
"I'm not a superhero."
"Next thing I know you'll have your own light in the sky. And then what's next? Capes? A super team?" Foggy continued until Matt finally got the joke and actually managed to smile. The beauty of it took Foggy's breath away. "If you get famous and leave me behind for your new super friends - "
"I could never leave you behind," Matt swore, his tone as gentle and tentative as his smile. He reached out with an accuracy too uncanny for a blind man and grabbed Foggy by the wrist, stroking the sensitive skin inside. "You're too important to me."
"Yeah, you're important to me too buddy," Foggy replied, the hitch in his voice unmistakeable even to the average ear. Matt's smirk turned a little devious and self-satisfied, and though Foggy would was eager to explore all the ways Matt could make him lose his breath, now was not the time. Foggy disengaged and returned to his desk. "Alright, let's get out of here."
Matt cocked his head to the side, brow furrowed. "Where are we going?"
"My place," Foggy replied as he gathered up his briefcase and his jacket while Matt still stood in the doorway with the most adorable dumbstruck expression on his face. Oh, the lovable idiot. For someone who disable drug rings and kingpins, Matt could be so very oblivious. "First we are going to eat dinner and have a long conversation about honesty and expectations, and then you are going to show me exactly what those super senses can do."
Matt growled, and Foggy thought his knees were going to give out right then and there.
It took longer than Foggy was willing to admit to pull himself together enough to remember to lock the door to the firm as they left, stumbling down the hall like two horny teenagers. Matt was jittering with energy as they called a cab, the two of them piling in the backseat in a fit of giggles and giving their driver a good show while Matt whispered absolutely filthy things in Foggy's ear that no good Catholic school boy had any business knowing. Foggy didn't care. It was impossible to keep his hands to himself now that he was given permission to touch Matt in all the ways he couldn't for years.
However, Foggy did manage to keep ahold of his wits long enough to send out a text to his favorite barista:
Thanks for the advice. Owe you a latte
Bucky's reply dinged not a second later:
*Love you a latte
Foggy chuckled and turned off his phone, leaning down to weave his fingers into Matt's and squeeze.
"What's that about?" Matt asked, curling into Foggy like a cat. Foggy had not expected Matt to be so tactile, but he was not complaining.
"Oh nothing. Just...love you a latte."
Matt's nose curled at the terrible pun, but he still smiled. "Love you too."