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Foggy frowned down at the book in his hand. Its contents remained frustratingly difficult to comprehend. He recognized some letters, but not others, and was able to piece together some words from there. Still, it was slow going.
He had nothing but time though. It was Friday night, and Matt was out on patrol. Foggy had considered trying to make plans, catching up with Karen or Marci or Theo, but mid afternoon had brought with it a light drizzle which by evening turned into a downpour. Rain meant he could retreat to his apartment and spend a quiet night in, completely guilt free. The fact that staying in on a Friday night brought him relief rather than disappointment was the real testament to his age.
He’d thought Matt might take the night off due to the weather, but apparently crime happened in New York rain or shine. Halfway through watching a rerun of 12 angry men Matt had perked up from Foggy’s side, cocking his head towards the window.
“Fog—“ Matt started.
“Go ahead. I kept your suit in the dresser, third drawer down.”
“Thank you,” Matt murmured against his cheek, then he was off.
They’d been staying in his apartment this week. There was no real pattern to whose apartment they stayed at— they switched off every couple weeks, seemingly at random. But Matt hated sleeping alone, said it gave him nightmares, and Foggy— well. All of Foggy’s nightmares were about losing Matt. He should probably bring up the idea of moving in together at some point, but he’s not sure what Matt will say so he doesn’t.
The one concession Matt made was tossing all of Foggy’s polyester and cotton blend sheets. He bought new silk ones, and insisted on paying even though Foggy wouldn’t have minded just buying them for him. Matt looked so guilty about it though that Foggy decided to just let him have it. Foggy had to admit though, they were ridiculously soft.
The movie didn’t hold his attention for much longer after Matt left. Instead he poured himself two fingers of scotch and grabbed the book he’d been storing in his room.
The couch creaked underneath him as he shifted his head against the arm rest, balancing the amber liquid against his leg. Rain pounded against the windows, giving his apartment a soothing background noise. He read his book illuminated only by the soft light of the lamp over his shoulder, and he passed the time like that for what must’ve been hours.
The creaking of the window was what finally roused him. He looked up to see Matt swinging in through the window, legs first. He was still going out wearing his all black suit, not having found anyone who could make him a replacement since Melvin was arrested. Matt had taken his case, despite Melvin giving him up to the FBI, but Melvin still got time. Less than he would have otherwise, but for now Matt was stuck beating up criminals in his underwear.
“Jesus, you’re drenched,” Foggy said, setting his book aside on the coffee table. Matt was dripping onto his very expensive rug. Still, the water was doing a very nice job at making his shirt cling to his abs.
Matt reached down to the edge of his shirt, lifting it away from his body and squeezing it between his hands. Water pooled onto the ground before sinking into the carpet. “Was that necessary?” Foggy asked exasperatedly. Matt grinned, shucking his mask and boots off before bounding towards Foggy. He leaned forward so his face was hovering over Foggy’s, almost like he was going to kiss him, then instead shook his head so little droplets of water from his hair sprayed over Foggy’s face.
Foggy sighed, then decided that he was already wet anyway, and pulled Matt by the waist on top of him. He was immediately much wetter, but Matt in skin tight drenched clothing was something like fantasies 30 through 54 of his college days, so it was probably alright. Thank god this couch was made of leather.
“Hey,” Matt said, getting comfortable in Foggy’s arms.
“Hey yourself,” Foggy murmured, nuzzling into his neck. He balanced his forgotten scotch in his hand. “You have a good night?”
Matt shrugged lightly. “Stopped a couple of muggings, a robbery two blocks down. Nothing too bad. How about you? Whatever you’re drinking smells expensive.”
“It is,” Foggy said, smiling a little. “You wanna try some? I can get you a glass.”
“I’d rather just try yours,” Matt said, leaning in to kiss him. Foggy tilted his head into it, parting his mouth slightly. Matt’s tongue swiped over his lips, then he bit down gently onto Foggy’s bottom lip. His hand came up to cradle Foggy’s cheek. His wrappings were still on, and they brushed roughly against Foggy’s skin.
“Yeah, it’s good,” Matt said, voice low, once he had taken his fill.
“For the price I paid for it, it had better be.” Foggy watched as something uncomfortable flashed over Matt’s face, there and gone again. It was a source of— not argument, exactly, but tension maybe. Foggy had a frankly ridiculous sum of money squared away from his foray into corporate law, and their firm wasn’t doing bad these days either.
It made Matt uncomfortable, the idea of dropping a ton of money on something frivolous like alcohol. Which was strange, because Foggy had followed Matt’s cases after their firm dissolved. Matt could’ve made double, triple what Foggy was making just by taking a small percentage of his clients settlements, but he just— didn’t. He didn’t want the money, he just wanted to help people. Before he’d met Matt, Foggy hadn’t been certain that people like him really existed. Foggy wanted to help people too, of course, but he wanted to get paid for it too. He hadn’t grown up poor, exactly, he always knew where his next meal was coming from. But his parents argued about bills all the time, and he had sworn that would never be him. Matt had grown up poor. Somehow it had the opposite effect on him.
“What were you reading?” Matt asked, taking the glass from his hand and setting it down onto the coffee table. He settled back down with his head tucked into the crook of Foggy’s neck. Foggy wrapped his arm around Matt’s waist, pushing the edge of his soaked shirt up and rubbing tiny circles against the small of his back. Matt made a small noise of contentment, audible only because his mouth was so close to Foggy’s ear.
“You might’ve heard of it,” Foggy said blandly. “It’s pretty popular. Fifty Shades of Gray.”
“Liar.”
“Cheater.”
“I didn’t even need to listen to your heartbeat to know that was a lie.”
“Hmm,” Foggy said. “In that case, you’re right. It’s not Fifty Shades of Gray. It’s actually the sequel, Fifty Shades Darker.”
Matt snorted. “You know a lot about these books for someone who has never read them.”
“Guilty,” Foggy admitted. “I was in an airport, they were— bad. She describes sex like someone who’s never had good sex before, or maybe sex at all. And there’s barely any BDSM, they spend the entire time talking about signing this legal contract.”
“A legal contract,” Matt said, raising his brows. “Sexy.”
“Seriously Matt, I think we could have better freaky sex then they do.”
“Do you want to try?” Matt asked, looking horribly intrigued by the idea.
“Maybe tomorrow,” Foggy said fondly. He played a little with the end of Matt’s drying hair.
“So what are you reading, really?”
“Oh, you know,” Foggy hedged. “A book.”
Matt shifted up to face him fully, frowning. “Why are you being weird?”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m really not— Matt!” He grabbed at Matt’s hands, trying to pull them away from the book, but winning a physical fight against Matt, no matter how unserious, was something that was never going to happen. Matt wrapped his hands around the book, lifting it into his arms, then froze, fingers brushing against the cover.
“You’re reading in braille?” Matt said, running his fingers over the raised bumps. He looked astonished. “Why?”
“Because— because I wanted to, I don’t know.” Matt seemed unimpressed with this answer. “Look, you’ve got everything labeled in your apartment, you know? I should probably know what it says, so I don’t mess anything up. And besides, you read everything in braille, I should probably know what half the documents in our firm say.” It had made more sense in his head. When he said it out loud it just sounded dumb.
Matt was looking at him with an expression Foggy wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him wear before. Foggy kept talking, nervously filling the silence. “It’s easier for me, I think, because I can just read the dots visually. I tried doing it with my fingers but that was— so hard, I have no idea how you do that. But I’m getting pretty good now, I can read whole paragraphs without checking my key. Though I keep mixing up my u’s and v’s.” He snapped his mouth shut.
“Where did you get this book?” Matt asked, lifting it up. “You’re reading the bible.”
“Your mom gave it to me. I asked her if she had anything lying around, and she said no one had used them since you lived there. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually read the bible before this. There’s some interesting stuff in there. I liked the parts from Ecclesiastes. ‘To everything there is a season’—“
“‘And a time to every purpose under the heaven’,” Matt murmured. “Does this mean you’re a devout Catholic now?”
“Fuck no,” Foggy snorted. “I’ll leave that to you, thanks.”
Matt was quiet for a moment. “I love you,” he said abruptly. His voice was a little hoarse.
“Oh,” Foggy said, surprised. “Yeah, I love you too, sweetheart.”
Matt swallowed, and Foggy finally figured out where he’d seen that expression before. That was the face Matt made when he was trying not to cry. “I’m sorry,” Foggy said, stricken. “Did I, did I mess up—“
“No, Foggy,” Matt shook his head, swiping at his dry cheek. “You didn’t mess up. I just… I don’t think anyone’s ever loved me the way you do, you know?”
Foggy let the sweetness of that statement knock against his heart. His chest ached. He wrapped his hand around Matt’s, drawing it up to press a kiss against his knuckles. Matt inhaled slowly, then breathed out. “I’m,” Matt started, then shook his head again. “I’m wet.”
“Kinky,” Foggy said. It was a testament to how off kilter Matt was that he actually laughed at that, at Foggy’s lame joke.
“I’m going to go shower,” Matt said, smiling. “Do you want to come?”
“I mean, which way are we talking?”
Matt considered. “Both.”
Foggy never got up so fast in his life.