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“Hey.” Foggy dives into the booth, sucking in his gut so he can get in. Karen and Matt smile, wave. They haven’t been drinking for very long, they still seem to be on their first drinks. He likes these Saturday nights at Josie’s. Just the three of them.
They exchange a few words and then Foggy sees it. Sees Matt’s face change. His eyes show nothing, hidden by shades. But Foggy knows to cast his gaze lower. To the wrinkling nose and pursed lips. He grins to himself. Wonders if Matt can hear that grin, the slick sound of lips pulling over teeth.
“Foggy doesn’t have a drink,” Matt tells Karen. He’s trying to keep his voice level. “You should get him one.”
Oh, good job, Matty.
Karen is bewildered, but she bounces off, clutching her purse, in search of the bar. The second that her blonde head is lost in the crowd, Matt slides across the booth and grabs Foggy by the shoulders.
“What did you do?”
“I did what you told me too,” Foggy hisses in his face, and Matt cringes at his breath spewing over his nose. “You said you would never want me — not like that— and you said I should move on—"
“Not with him,” Matt barks, and his fingers dig into Foggy’s skin. “Anybody but him.”
“Then, you should have told me.”
“You can’t be serious, how could you—”
“I have needs. We discussed this. I can keep discussing it if you want.”
“Not here.” Matt leaps up from his seat and exits the booth, sticking his cane under his arm. “My place.”
“What about Karen?”
“Text her, tell her something came up.”
Foggy does as instructed. Sends her a text. Sorry, DD stuff, me and Matt g2g. He receives a :( in response. And then, Matt’s pulling him home.
Well. Matt’s home.
“My brother!” Matt says, once they’re safely in his apartment. He shucks out of his coat and throws it on the couch. Foggy hesitates and then takes his coat off, too. “I said any man. I didn’t mean—”
“You should have been specific. I’d expect a lawyer to know better than to have vague wording in an oral contract—”
Matt mutters something that might be I’ll show you an oral contract but he could have been saying anything. And anyway, all his threats are empty.
“Sit with me.” He’s not asking. Foggy loves it when his voice is low and harsh. He’s played that voice over in his head like a well-used cassette. Usually while he’s getting bent over and fucked by a bar hookup who doesn’t deserve a name.
Foggy joins him on the couch. But Matt springs up and fetches two tumblrs and a bottle of scotch for them.
“Is that the scotch my Pop got you for Christmas?”
“Seemed as good a time as any to use it. Your family. My family.”
“Mike said you wouldn’t mind,” Foggy says gently and Matt’s hands shake when he pours a generous tot into Foggy’s glass.
“My brother wouldn’t piss on me if I was on fire. He — he delights in causing me misery.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“That’s because you’re stupid.”
Wow. Okay. “Your brother doesn’t think I’m stupid.”
“Let’s leave my brother out of this.”
“He’s already in it.” And because he can’t resist, “He’s already in me.”
Matt gulps down a mouthful of scotch and tries to hide his cough between his hand. “Fuck you,” he splutters wetly. “You stink of him. You slid into that booth and it was like he was in the room.”
“What do I smell of? His spit? On my lips?” He leans in, dared to do it. Blows his breath over that lovely face. “His cum?”
“His — everything. But luckily, I think his godawful aftershave is masking most of it.”
“Ah, yeah, he was a good host. He let me use his shampoo and his shower gel. He soaped me up—”
“Don’t—” Matt’s hand is a cold, hard thing wrapped around his glass. Pale skin and pink knuckles. Foggy wants to kiss them.
“He got me all wet and put that bar of soap everywhere. I was squeaky clean when he was finished with me...”
“Please,” Matt says and it sounds more like a sob. Foggy has been so caught up with gloating and showing Matt what he missed (maybe provoking Matt into taking what he wants) that he missed the anguish on his face. “I don’t—”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make it...weird.”
“It’s already weird,” Matt says wearily. “Drink your scotch.”
It’s several days later when Matt brings up the topic again. The two of them have been navigating a new frostiness. They’ve had bust-ups before but Foggy doesn’t trust the silence. Matt is too quiet. Brooding. What he’s thinking about is anybody’s guess. But Foggy is on tenterhooks the whole time. And he knows Karen can sense the awkwardness and is desperately trying to figure out what changed.
“Can we talk?” Matt asks him on Friday evening.
“Is Josie’s okay?”
“Fine by me.”
So, here they are, once again. They find a table that’s not too sticky. Matt buys them both drinks, stands at the bar with a grim face as he’s facing the firing squad. Matt gives him a brittle smile when he sets down their drinks.
“Some guy jostled me. Spilt a bit of your drink. But you can have mine if you want…”
“Matt.”
Matt looks relieved that Foggy isn’t in the mood to play games.
“What’s this about?”
“Mike.”
Ah.
Matt fiddles with a coaster. “Have you seen him again? Since...the last time?”
“No. Didn’t think you wanted me to.” He’s probably not reading him right. Matt sits, looking sort of small and uncertain, with his jacket hanging on the back of his chair. Hands clasped around a streaked glass of beer but not making any move to drink it. “Was I wrong?”
“No, you were… I don’t know. I guess I — I don’t know what I expected. Mike. He’s so…”
“He’s good-looking.”
“He looks like me,” Matt says sulkily. “Or so people tell me.”
Foggy is starting to get his bearings now, he takes a quick gulp of beer and says, “Yeah, and you’re good-looking too.”
Matt smiles and Foggy can breathe a bit easier. They’ll be okay. This is hell on both of them, hashing this out in the bar. But their dynamic has always been a little odd and they’ve remained friends for so long.
“I’m not in denial. I know you have feelings for me.”
“I do. I’m not ashamed of it. I haven’t done anything wrong.” Foggy responds.
“No, you haven’t done anything wrong, of course, you haven’t. But. It’s so. You kissed me, and I—”
“Shot me down like __.”
Matt winces at that but come on, buddy, it’s true. “I did. And I said I couldn’t. And I said you’d have to—”
“Move on. Find a different guy.”
“I was cruel.”
“You were cruel. You said some other man would have to ‘fill my tank’. Couldn’t believe it when I first heard it. I knew there was devil in you — whatever that means. But that was just bitchy.”
Matt laughs shakily. “A bitch? Yeah, I was bitchy. I was angry, Fogs. I hate not being what you need me to be. You need a friend. Somebody reliable. And instead, you get me. You pulled the short straw.”
“Hey, it’s not so bad. You’re alright, Murdock. And I would never…” Foggy actually has to look away from his face when he says this. “I’d never want you to pretend. You don’t like me in that way. It’s okay."
“Thanks. So, Mike does what I can’t do?”
“He would never replace you. He’s good, but he’s not… you know.”
“If he’s not what you truly want, why do you even bother with him?”
Foggy thinks it over. “You ever heard that expression? Half a loaf is better than none? He’s not perfect but...it’s better than nothing.”
Matt sighs. “I know he can’t be your business partner but he can do things for you that I can’t. I don’t want to lose you, Fogs. As long as you keep me in mind.”
“Always do,” Foggy says airily. “Always do keep you in mind.”
“Fuck, Matt.”
Mike responds by fucking him harder. Yeah, he’s a bit of a bitch, too. Mike’s still learning. Doesn’t know how to be rough. Foggy has to grab one of Mike’s hands and guide them to his hair. Curls Mike’s fingers around the greasy tendrils of Foggy’s hair, gives an encouraging tug. He knows he can make him go harder. Mike’s got a bit of devil in him, although he might pretend to be the softer brother.
Mike’s not soft right now.
They’re in Foggy’s apartment and this view makes him realise there’s a discarded twinkie under the couch. He’s eye level with the space under the couch and his vision swims with every thrust. Words slip out and he doesn’t know what he’s saying. It’s not Matt behind him but it feels like it could be.
His whole body shudders and Mike has to hold him to keep him up. His knees ache. The rug underneath him feels like the sidewalk. And he surrenders to gravity, falls down on elbows and knees. Mike grasps his sweaty hips, drives in deeper.
Afterwards, Foggy is nice enough to offer him a beer and then kicks him out. He’s not sure he wants him to spend the night. Lying in the dark beside a warm body sounds nice but he thinks it would kill him to wake up to him. Seeing Matt’s face on another man. Yeah. So. Kicks Mike out until next time. And he knows there will be a next time.