A/N: I don't know if you've ever read any of my stuff, but to be honest I mostly write more character studies in the loose guise of a story, rather than actual plots or anything. This doesn't break with tradition in any way, really: a look into Foggy's head dealing with the way that he sees the fact that Matt is into him, and fears that they have too much of a potential to become dependent on each other to the detriment of their everyday life.

To be perfectly clear, Foggy's discomfort doesn't come from any homophobia, but from the fact that he wants himself and Matt to live full and complex lives and to not be completely co-dependant.

Foggy doesn't really have any friends until he's sixteen. It's not that anyone particularly dislikes him - just because you're not friends with someone doesn't mean you don't like them - and he gets on well enough with all of his classmates, but he's not really friends with any of them. He never sits alone during lunch, attaches himself to one of the cliques around school and sits at the fringes of the group. No one really talks to him or engages him in conversation, but no one tells him to leave, either. And the next day he sits with another group.

So Foggy at fifteen gets along with everyone, but isn't really friends with anyone. When he's assigned a partner for group projects they'll laugh and joke around together, but when it's over they won't really talk anymore except to say hi when they pass each other. No one comes to his house after school except Brett, and he only visits because their mother's are friends. Brett spends all of his time at Foggy's house with his mother. If anyone did actually dislike him it would be Brett, but only in the sense that he is exasperated with everything Foggy does, too many years of Foggy trying to get too close, of not really respecting Brett's boundaries (looking back he knows that now, but at the time he'd been too desperate).

Foggy watches a lot of TV in those first fifteen years. He has two older sisters, so he watches a lot of romance television. And he sees the way that romance plays out on the screen, the way characters become so involved in each other that they can't function alone, the way that one character's happiness depends entirely on how they're treated by another, disregarding all other relationships. The way that they break beyond repair when something goes wrong. He sees dependancy and it terrifies him, the idea of everything hinging on one person, and he wants so part in it.

And then he turns sixteen, and suddenly he's not just the loud, chubby, giggly kid. Something changes - people grow up, he doesn't know - and suddenly he's funny. Suddenly he's Foggy Nelson: the guy who can get the girl - or guy - to laugh, so it's easier for you to swoop in once they're relaxed and open. Because Foggy is soft and unthreatening and he kind of hates being used like this, hates the implication that he's not desirable to any of the people he spends time with, that they don't have to worry about him stealing away the person they're interested in because he's Foggy and whatever he has to offer doesn't compare to what they do. But on the other hand, he likes it. He likes to talk to the people around him, to tell them jokes, to make them laugh. He likes that he can make people comfortable, and that he can help them. Most of all, he likes that people like him. And they do: they don't stop spending time with him once they don't have to anymore, they keep coming back, and when Foggy flits around groups during breaks he's the centre of every one.

Still, when he starts college, Foggy decides to put all of that behind him. He knows he could continue to be the affable funny boy - and honestly that doesn't sound so bad; it's his niche, he's good at it - and that would be safe and easy, but he wants to experience things for himself, to use his own talents selfishly for a change. So he sleeps with Marci. And then things kind of spiral from there. He doesn't know what Marci says to people, but suddenly they're approaching him in the hallways, winking at him in classes. And not just girls, guys too, and Foggy doesn't know where Marci finds all these people who are interested in him, but he goes on a few dates, sleeps with some of them, but mostly he just has fun; coffee and a chat and maybe some good food. He sleeps with Marci a lot, enough that they'd probably be dating if either of them were interested in that. Instead they lie in bed together after and Marci talks about herself and their classes and laughs at his jokes and sometimes she'll ask about the other people he's slept with, who she has to thank for that particular move. Foggy is always wary of telling her, because he knows she will actually thank them, but it's flattering nonetheless. It's fun, and it's easy, and he doesn't love Marci but he has a great time with her, and he's pretty sure she enjoys it too.

With his suddenly expansive social life coupled with his classes and studying, Foggy doesn't have a whole lot of time to watch television anymore. But he remembers the promise he made to himself, and if his relationships are a reflection of it, then he's happy it's worked out so well.

-00000-

Foggy has never lacked self-confidence. The fact that people almost always seem surprised about that is kind of offensive, but he's learned to take it in his stride. He knows that every media outlet is practically clamouring to tell the world that anyone even slightly overweight must be ashamed of themselves, and it's difficult to ignore a representation you see everywhere. Regardless, for all his confidence, he knows that his primary appeal is in the fact that he's funny and he's nice, not that he's particularly charming or enchanting or interesting. He can laugh someone into comfort or sometimes into bed, but rarely can he do the same with blushes. He kind of prefers it this way - it's a good feeling, making people happy - but it does have its own consequences. Namely, Foggy doesn't like to think too highly of himself. Or more accurately, he doesn't want to overestimate his importance to people. Laughter is great, but it's fleeting; a delighted exhale of air, stuttering sounds that need to be broken off for the sake of breathing, if nothing else. Marci could have anyone she wants - and frequently does - and his friends from classes and coffee dates flit in and out of his life as they please with all the other things they have to do.

But then there's Matt. And again, Foggy doesn't like to be presumptuous, but he thinks there's a worryingly large chance that Matt never had any friends before Foggy came along. He recognises the signs from his own 15 years of it; the way that people are polite but distant, the fact that Matt is always in their dorm room, that he doesn't seem surprised or even offended when someone comes to their door and invites Foggy to a party and not Matt, even though he is well in eyesight. So Foggy throws himself wholeheartedly into befriending his roommate. Their first meeting had been straight after Foggy had decided to take things for himself in college rather than just help everyone else, and emboldened by that decision he had tried flirting with Matt the minute he saw him. He's pretty sure now that Matt's awkwardness about it had been due more to how incredibly unsmooth he had been, rather than any particular aversion to men making passes at him, but regardless, Foggy has to live with Matt for at least the rest of the year, and that means that it is best for them to be strictly platonic.

It's difficult to begin with. Every time Foggy tries to start a conversation Matt blushes and stutters and clings desperately to his excuse of studying, and the first time Foggy convinces him to come for drinks after classes instead of holing up in their dorm Foggy throws both hands up in the air in victory, and when he tells Matt that he does it Matt giggles and Matt is a giggler and Foggy just about clutches at his heart with how adorable he is, how much Matt needs to smile and giggle more. It's ridiculous, actually, how much time Foggy devotes to Matt after that. He keeps every other friendship and relationship casual, but he wants to learn everything about Matt, wants to sit up with him for hours talking, wants to tell him every thought and secret he's ever had. And he wants Matt to do the same for him, to feel so comfortable as to do so. Because Foggy notices things. He may seem light and carefree, but he sees the way Matt curls in on himself, the way he locks people out with crisp words and sharp smiles and broods in a way that makes Foggy worried, and Foggy wants him to smile soft and honest and every time he does it's like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

Foggy looks after people, even when he wants to pretend that he's self-interested. He always makes himself available whenever Marci needs to let off steam in just the way he knows she likes, and he brings her coffee whenever she asks for it because she works harder than anyone he knows and doesn't have time for petty concerns like food and sleep. And Matt he takes out to bars and parties and movies sometimes if they know the screening is going to be small so no one will be bothered by Foggy's running commentary. He tries to introduce him to everyone he knows, and while Matt seems reluctant to expand his social circle, Foggy can't deny he has game when he finally convinces him to talk, blushes in all the right places, grins at the floor, and then smiles right at them when they lean in subconsciously. It's amazing to watch, actually, Matt knows all the right moves, knows exactly how to get people to respond to him, but Foggy is pretty sure that Matt wouldn't even leave their dorm room except for classes if Foggy didn't ask him to.

Regardless, Matt is also fiercely independent, tries to hold everyone at arm's length, and gets around so smoothly on his own that Foggy might think there was something funky about his blindness were it not for the fact that he doesn't know any other blind people, so all he can compare Matt to are media stereotypes, and he hates it when people do that to him. It's pretty crappy of him to assume like that anyway, but Matt never even seems to stop to get his bearings, and Foggy's never seen another person get around like Matt does. But for all that Matt walks into rooms like he owns them, cane swinging in confident arcs, he can't pick up on non-verbal cues from other people. Every time someone nods or sticks out their hand or rolls their eyes, it's up to Foggy to let Matt know what they're doing. And he doesn't mind it at all, it's fun to give ridiculous descriptions of what is happening and seeing how Matt reacts, but it also means that Matt's understanding of the people around him relies in some small way on Foggy's judgement and interpretation. At the beginning he had tried just not saying anything and hoping that Matt's conversational partner would fill in the blanks themselves, but most people just never thought about the kinds of offhanded gestures they made, let alone remembered that they were not useful in their current situation. So Foggy takes it upon himself to make sure that Matt doesn't feel left out of conversations.

And then there's the reading. Because the thing is that Matt got through high school well enough on his own. He studied hard, and well, in a way that Foggy can only dream of, and he manages to come up with a brail copy of every compulsory textbook as if he can sniff them out. Even without that, he has the refreshable brail display for his laptop, and if worst comes to worst, he an always use the text-to-talk feature. It's not the best for names and half the time mispronounces words over three syllables long, but it will do the job in a pinch. So Matt is perfectly capable of studying the way that he prefers. And about two months in, Foggy discovers that Matt's favoured method is apparently to have Foggy read aloud from the textbooks to him. The first time Matt claims that he simply can not bare to hear that little animated voice for another second, and Foggy understands that he must be more pleasant to listen to than the automated laptop voice, but when he asks why he doesn't just use the brail reader, Matt only shrugs one shoulder and says that the two of them are studying the same thing so it would be more efficient. Foggy's sigh of relief that he tries to play off as one of inauthentic exasperation is not quite enough to cover Matt's second almost-whispered reason, which is simply that he likes the sound of Foggy's voice, and that is almost too much. It was bad enough when Matt only relied on him to convey the non-verbal cues of others, but now his education is being bought into it and the last time Foggy had managed to get him drunk, Matt had tearfully confessed that all his father had wanted for him was to study and get a better job than he ever could have.

It wouldn't be a problem with anyone else. Foggy likes to help people. He likes to make life easier for everyone around him, likes to make them smile and lift every weight from their shoulders. And he especially likes to do that for Matt, wants to take every painful memory from his past and cover them, wants to brighten everything else. Except that he knows

Matt likes him. Not as a friend, although when they're not entirely sober Matt will sometimes slur out that Foggy is his best friend, so clearly he likes him that way too. But romantically. Or at the very least, sexually. It's not a knowledge that Foggy gradually became aware of, either, didn't have the chance to discourage any burgeoning feelings. One day there had been nothing, and the next Matt was awkwardly asking if he could touch Foggy's face, and Foggy had said yes even though he knew it was a bad idea because he has such a hard time saying no to Matt, especially when he blushes and wrings his hands like he did when he asked, not used to wanting things for himself and then following through; shy, nervous in a way that most people wouldn't expect from the quiet, detached Matt Murdock.

Because the thing is, Foggy is pretty sure the face-touching thing doesn't actually do anything. It may give a very general understanding of where things are, but Foggy doesn't think Matt can really create a picture in his mind of what people look like just from the most basic arrangements of their facial features. And even if he somehow can, it's only when they're holding deliberately still, so Matt has no idea how they look when they talk or smile or any other of the subtle or not-subtle shifts that give a person's face character. Again, Foggy doesn't like to assume, but he actually thinks this one is a pretty safe assumption to make, given that the only people he tries it on are the ones he goes home with after a few drinks; beautiful people (beautiful girls, by and large) who seem to hold their breath when Matt runs long, sure fingers over their face and always blush spectacularly to whatever it is that Matt says to them when he's finished.

So when Matt asks Foggy if he can touch his face, both of them tipsy and Matt's fingers shaking like they don't with anyone else, he can't say no. And Matt's fingers run over his cheeks and jaw, along his hairline and down his nose, and when they brush over his lips and come to rest against his neck, thumb pressed up under his ear, Matt leans forward slightly, and Foggy jerks back so fast he almost overbalances and falls on his back. When he looks at Matt he doesn't look hurt, or even shocked really, just slightly concerned, and Foggy is quick to allay his worry as best he can. "Well that was weird. Can't see why all the girls go for it. Let's have another drink to forget."

Matt scoffs "seems to work just fine for them" and fumbles only slightly for the beer Foggy pushes towards him. And that's that, really. Because truthfully, Foggy thinks the two of them are already too wrapped up together in their friendship. The thought of living without Matt already pains him. He already wants to give Matt the world. He can't imagine what it would be like if he gave him his heart. What it would do to him if they fell apart after that.

-00000-

Despite everything, it is never awkward between them. Whatever Matt feels for him, he doesn't seem to indulge in it; pick at it like a scab or pine for him or any of that crap that's always happening on TV. Or if he does, it's a quiet sort of pining, the kind that never gets in the way of the rest of their lives. Nothing changes. They still spend just as much time together, still study together, still go out and get so drunk that they have to support each other to stumble back to their dorm room. And if Matt does sometimes grope for him when they're walking next to each other, hold onto his arm for longer than he needs to, Foggy knows it's something Matt's always done, seems stupid to say anything about it now. And besides, afterwards he'll come back from the bathroom to see Matt chatting with some girl at the bar, leaning in in a way that shows obvious interest, and Foggy will call out for him to not "do anything I wouldn't do, Murdock" as he leaves.

Sometimes he'll just go to the room, then, but other times he'll ask Marci what she's doing and he'll go to her's instead. It's so easy to be with Marci, fun and simple and neither one of them wants to give a part of themselves to the other and the best part is that even Matt likes her, in a weird way. Perhaps "likes" is the wrong word; Foggy thinks it's more accurate to say that Matt appreciates her, appreciates the fact that she too, like Foggy, doesn't treat him like glass, but a real human being who can take anything the world throws at him without sugar coating it. In Marci's case, it's the fact that she doesn't particularly like him, and Matt throws that dislike back at her with a kind of gleeful abandon that Foggy suspects hints at the fact that he enjoys their conversations. He knows they even talk without his mediation, he's gone back to one after being with the other to find them laughing at apparently nothing to know that they must have told each other about something embarrassing that he did.

So Matt flirts with other people and he does not seem at all jealous of Marci or any of the other people Foggy's slept with, and he could almost forget about the face-touching incident, write it off as an accident after too many drinks or a misread situation on Foggy's part, but when they're alone in their dorm at night without the chance of someone else barging in unannounced, Matt will take off his glasses and Foggy will be hit by it all over again. Because Matt's glasses, they aren't just some quirk for someone who liked the Matrix just a little too much (even though they make him look like one), he wears them like they're armour, like the little pieces of dark plastic can hide him from the rest of the world's stares and pity. And Foggy never sees him take them off except to sleep. Until he does. Until he comes back to their room one day and Matt has his glasses folded up next to his laptop and he must hear the door open or Foggy's greeting as he walks in because he lifts his head to the sound and Foggy sees his eyes for the first time when he's not drifting off to sleep, darting around where the thinks Foggy must be and for an absurd moment Foggy thinks Matt's trying to make eye contact, even though it doesn't mean anything it hits Foggy hard to see it and he almost turns around and leaves again, just so he doesn't have to see the way that Matt is soft without his glasses, eyes wide and his hair fluffed and a small smile that seems to say he's happy that Foggy is there and for a moment it really is too much.

Foggy gets used to it pretty quickly, though. Matt always looks more relaxed, more touchable without his glasses, lines a little less sharp and Foggy is just happy that Matt feels comfortable enough to not have to hide around him anymore.

-00000-

Foggy regularly tries to set Matt up with girls (because while he is fine either way, he does appear to have a preference), but it never seems to work. He talks about them being beautiful or nice if he knows them to be in the hopes that Matt will put himself out there and have some fun, and while he does, sometimes, it never really seems to stick. He wouldn't describe Matt as the type to "love 'em and leave 'em" because he always has nice things to say about them, and he will always talk to them when they come up and speak to him, but he doesn't seem to be looking for any kind of commitment. Foggy understands that completely in the romance department, but he worries that Matt also doesn't seem like he attempts to befriend any of them either. They're always polite and civil afterwards, but that that's not really what Foggy was hoping for him. He worries about Matt not really having connections outside of him. He doesn't want to be that for someone.

Karen is the first person to stick around. Ben comes later, but Karen is the first, and she's special. And she is beautiful and nice and all the things he usually tries to encourage Matt to go for, but she's also sweet and flirty and Foggy decides what the hell, he can't just be a wingman all his life, right. And the thing is, he genuinely thinks that he and Karen connect more as people. They spend more time together outside of work, get drunk and tell each other embarrassing and sometimes maudlin secrets, stumble outside and when Karen rests her head on his shoulder he thinks about actually asking her out on a date, but she's his employee and that niggles at him ethically and he lets the moment pass.

Then he realises that it wouldn't have mattered if he did, because Karen clearly has a crush on Matt. And he can't really disagree with her there, because frankly Matt is hot. But more than that, Matt is the one who took her in that first night, who made her feel safe when her whole world fell apart, and there's no way he can compete with that. No amount of jokes can. And he's not even really sure he wants to. Karen is a lovely woman and a great friend and she laughs at all of his jokes, and what more could he ask for than that? On top of that, she's friends with Matt, and there is nothing Foggy wants more in the world than for Matt to have friends, people to look out for him, people that he can go to when he needs support.

So when he and Karen finally manage to drag Matt out to a bar (and it hasn't been this hard to get Matt to come out with him since those first few months of college and Foggy is worried but he tries not to let it show. He thinks Matt likes being mother-henned, but he knows he doesn't like to admit it and he has been strangely vulnerable and clumsy lately and Foggy doesn't want to push unless he has to), they drink like Foggy hasn't drunk since college and stumble outside in the early hours and Matt is grabs at his wrist and swings his arm around his shoulders to keep him close when Foggy tries to dance teasingly out of his reach and Karen throws her head back and laughs at them, face bathed in the light from the streetlamp, and Foggy wants to burn this moment into his brain forever. Because it's perfect.

-00000-

It's not that Foggy doesn't think Matt is attractive, because there is literally no way that he couldn't. He sees Matt in all his glory every day, surprisingly wide shoulders and charming smile and frankly a great butt. He never quite shaves properly nowadays and while that makes Foggy worry about why Matt apparently isn't bothering to make himself presentable and professional, he can't deny that it works for him, the stubble making him look soft and sweet without the glasses and dangerous with them, and a man would have to be much, much straighter than Foggy to look at Matt and not even think "yeah, maybe".

And it's not that he doesn't love Matt, because he does. Matt is his best friend. He worries about him constantly, wonders what he's doing at all hours of the day. He tells Matt all his secrets and hopes for the future, and he trusts Matt to do the same. He would do almost anything for him, and when they get beer and pizza and sit together on Foggy's couch, Foggy just wants to be warm and near Matt forever.

Therein lies the problem. They're too much for each other. Foggy needs to be able to stand on his own two feet and Matt needs to do the same. There is only one thing that separates them from being everything to each other, and Foggy wants to keep it that way. If he thought that there was even a chance of it being healthy, he would take Matt and hold him and kiss him and he would never let him go.

But he doesn't. And so he can't.

-00000-

The funny thing about Matt lying to him ever since they've known each other, about Matt being the Devil of Hell's Kitchen is...

Well.

There are a lot of funny things about Matt lying to him ever since they've known each other, about Matt being the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

There's the calm, assured voice on the other end of the phone number that Matt gasps out for him to call, and the beautiful woman who comes along with it, who stitches up Matt's injuries with equal parts frustration and fear and fondness on her face, who talks Foggy through everything she's doing because she can tell that he's freaking out, that he's about five seconds from bolting, all the while closing a deep gash in Matt's side as he lays unconscious under her hands. Clare, who is Matt's friend and he likes her based on that fact alone, someone he knows entirely independently of Foggy, and someone who apparently knows things about Matt that he never did, who he trusted with what he couldn't trust to Foggy regardless of how little the amount of time he'd known her in comparison. And the thing is that Foggy can't even begrudge her of that, because he can't imagine what she's had to go through, knowing. Having to deal with Matt's secret all on her own. He can't imagine how terrible it must have been for her, to have to protect everything about someone and have no support system for it, to not have anyone help shoulder the load. Foggy is so glad that Matt has other friends, but he wishes that they weren't people who - like Claire - only really see him when there is pain involved.

Then there's Marci, who Foggy has only spoken to twice since she took the job at Landman and Zack. They had a falling out. He'd blamed her for it at the time, and he'd been hurt and betrayed when he had gone to her an asked why she'd taken their offer when she knew what Landman and Zack were like, but his feelings of blame were unfair, he knows. They'd both been at fault when it had ended with her shouting that she was only in this job for the money, and it was a lie, they'd both known it for a lie. Marci had told him one night while she was siphoning off his body heat that she wanted to be a lawyer so she could put the bad people behind bars, make sure no one was hurt again. It's a lie Foggy's told many times himself, joking with Matt that they could stand to drop ethics just a bit to pay the rent. But it still makes him storm out of her apartment and not speak to her again until he runs into her during Elena Cardenas' case. His fault in the matter had not only been that he had left, but the guilt that he had felt that had propelled him into anger that he rarely let show. It made him vicious and personal and he had been both those things, angry and guilty because she was the best of all of them at Columbia, worked harder than anyone else, even Matt. She never allowed anything less than perfection, and she had the killer instincts to match, a shark in the best sense of the analogy. She was everything that Matt and Foggy weren't, with their aspirations to be defence attorneys. And they were still offered full time jobs before her. It may not have been all about the money for Marci, but if anyone deserved the high paying job, it was her. She refused to let the latent sexism of their profession stop her, but she almost didn't have a choice, and it was nearly Foggy's fault.

It starts again when he wakes up in her bed hungover, with the hurt of Matt's lies and secrets somehow having more of an ache than his pounding head, and Marci leans over him only mostly dressed to kiss him and snark and tell him to lock up when he leaves. Or not leave, she really doesn't mind either way, but he can at least shower and clean if he's staying. Foggy missed this. Everything with Marci is easy and fun. They want the same thing from one another, even when they don't agree with each other. Sometimes especially then. And if that thing was love, Foggy's life would be great and simple. But it's not. It's just what he needs right now, though, and that's more than enough.

There's also what Matt said in court, their first real case together, and that brings a bad taste to his mouth for more than one reason. To think they helped anyone related to Fisk is sickening, although he supposes Matt had some Devil of Hell's Kitchen reason for doing so, and now he's wondering how many of Matt's decisions are made with his ulterior, secret motive. Regardless, it had been technically true, and worryingly appropriate for how he's feeling now: "the facts have no moral judgement". Foggy has always loved a good technicality, it's why he was drawn to the law in the first place. Finding it requires work, using it to build an iron-tight argument requires skill, and Matt can't fight his way out of the facts this time, no matter that he's apparently some kind of ninja who fights criminal syndicates and nearly gets himself killed in the process.

The facts are that vigilantism is illegal. Morally there may be some ambiguities, some arguments to make, but factually there is no question. It's very existence requires illegality - a civilian undertaking law enforcement without legal authority. Foggy has had to argue against it more than once in mock-trials, has read countless articles on the justification for vigilante acts; the legal mechanisms are too inefficient or non-existent to deal with criminal actions, the government and police can not or will not enforce the law, the community wants, no, needs, what the vigilante can supply, criminals are escaping the law, getting away with their crimes even after due process. Foggy knows it all. And he wants to believe the best of people, the best of Matt, but the facts are that more often than not vigilantism doesn't ultimately come from a desire to lurk in the gaps that the legal system can not or will not fill. Instead it is an action of a deeply personal nature, bread from individual vendettas and one's own sense of self-righteousness and place above the law and Foggy wants to believe that Matt isn't like that, that he's one of the few that are doing it for the right reasons, to truly protect the community, but it's so rare and Foggy had thought Matt to be one in a million, honest and true if slightly closed-off, and he's having trouble reconciling what he thought he knew with the truth, and Matt isn't what he thought he was.

And God, Matt told him and Karen not to pursue Union Allied and Fisk without the legal system. Thinking about it in context, he supposes that it's because Matt knew what they were really like, what they were really capable of, and he didn't want them to get hurt, but still, Foggy does not appreciate the moralising from him now. He'd been thankful for it at the time, Matt was always there to remind him to appeal to his better nature, but now it just seems hypocritical at best. Matt probably thought he was protecting them, keeping them in the dark from what he knew, but frankly, that's just stupid. How were they supposed to keep and eye out, how were they supposed to keep safe, when they didn't know what to look for. They're lucky nothing worse happened because he and Karen and Ben stumbled blindly into situations that only Matt knew how truly dangerous they were, and he didn't warn them because he couldn't tell them where he got the information.

And there are more facts, the whole listening to people's heartbeat thing. So illegal, Foggy doesn't even know where to start. There's no precedent, obviously, but regardless that it's not actually enshrined in law that you're not allowed to go around polygraphing people every second of the day without their knowledge, he's certain that it's implied. It's clearly spying, if nothing else. Also morally wrong, weird and invasive and Foggy desperately wants to tell Karen what's going on so she's not secretly being spied on every time she's near Matt. Probably sometimes when she's not near him. Matt said he can't turn it off and Foggy gets that, it's a part of him and he can't do anything about it and he doesn't blame him for the way that he is, that would be awful and probably slightly evil of him, but he thinks that at least he and Karen have the right to know that they don't and can't have any privacy or secrets.

The superpowers. Those are also funny. Mostly because in any other circumstances Foggy would actually be grateful for them because they actually make Matt's vigilantism less illegal. There's a neat little precedence there established by Tony Stark in relation to super heroism, and no one has actually tried it in court yet but Foggy thinks he could make it stick. Private citizen acting outside of the law, saving the world with the aid of a super suit. Matt may not have the suit, he may have enchanted hearing and smell and whatever else he has, but the idea is similar enough that he thinks he could probably keep the Devil of Hell's Kitchen out of prison with it. But it's not the Devil, it's Matt, and Matt is a lawyer, specifically sworn not to take the law into his own hands. At the very least he'd be disbarred. And it makes Foggy wonder how much promises mean to Matt, how easily he can break his sworn word, even if it hadn't actually been easy, even if he had struggled with it for years, listened to people being hurt and the law not helping and doing nothing about it even though he knew he could, how agonising it must have been for him to lie there and listen to the pain of the world every day and not take action because of the law and the legal system he swore to uphold. And Foggy knows he's being harsh, knows that Matt must struggle with what he does every day, but the pain and the hurt at Matt's deception are too fresh, and he can't help but wonder at how much anything Matt says can be trusted.

But the funniest thing is this: it actually becomes much easier to deal with Matt's feelings for him once everything falls apart. Because all of it, all the betrayal and the hurt, all the secrets and lies, it all means that if things did go wrong between them, Foggy wouldn't be the only one to have other people to fall back on. It means that Matt has at least one person completely separate to Foggy that cares about him, that could look after him if Foggy wasn't in his life anymore. And yeah that's about to be tested because Foggy is pissed and he can't stand to look at him right now without it feeling like his heart is being crushed, but he knows he'll forgive him because he saw the real reason why Matt didn't tell him about everything, heard it in his voice and he called, begged, for Foggy to come back, to not walk out that door. Matt was scared of what would happen if he told him, scared that Foggy wouldn't want to know him anymore and maybe Foggy confirmed his worst fears but he knows he'll get over his anger and go back to Matt, because he was only trying to protect himself, and that's probably behaviour Foggy should be encouraging, especially given recent revelations.

He'll be back if for no other reason than because he's scared, too. Matt could die out there. Very nearly did. And he'd die thinking that his feelings were unrequited, not knowing how Foggy felt for him. Because God help him, but he does. Always has. Ever since Matt giggled and all his college plans to go everywhere and do everything fell to the wayside in favour of getting his dorky roommate to smile more. But it's never seemed feasible until now, until their friendship is falling apart at the seems, toppling off the pedestal of lies it was built upon. Matt has other people, other plans, other ways to occupy his time. If they do this, he would be a lot to Matt, but not everything.

Matt could die out there, and Foggy would never have given him a chance.

-00000-

Foggy tells himself that it's Matt's religion that stops him from just going to him and confessing everything. The Catholic factor. Because Matt is big on the religious guilt thing, punishes himself for every mistake, goes to confession more often than Foggy thought actual human beings ever did. But he knows he's just blatantly lying to himself, now, because Matt isn't a bigot. More than that, he's seen Matt hook up with guys, he's helped him hook up with guys, and he knows that one of the few things Matt never punishes himself for is whatever feelings he has for Foggy. He actually indulges in them, laughs that they sound like they're going to kiss, or get married, and Foggy is almost sick with it because Matt never says he wants anything, always pretends that he's happy with the way things are and Foggy has been denying him something he actually wants and isn't shy about wanting for years. And not for any good reason.

No, not true. Foggy doesn't think he was wrong in not wanting the two of them to be so completely wrapped up in each other, still doesn't think it's healthy to be entirely dependent on the actions of another, but the thing is he wasn't working with all the facts. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen. When he finds out he takes comfort in the fact that if Matt can deal with being called the Devil then he can pretty much deal with anything. But he also feels bad about it, too; how much it must have hurt him to hear it, how much he must have beat himself up about it, wondering if he was doing the right thing. The regular visits to the confessional make sense, in hindsight.

Marci said once that Foggy's afraid of commitment, but that's wrong. He has no problems with commitment. He's been committed to Matt basically since the day he met him, gave up a very lucrative job offer for a tiny little office with no free bagels, he'd probably follow him anywhere, with a lot of complaining, obviously, but he'd do it. He's committed. But Marci wasn't completely off. He's not afraid of commitment, but he is afraid of other things. He's afraid of giving his heart away. He's afraid of what might happen if someone decides they don't want it once they have it. Foggy went through fifteen years of his life without any friends. He likes to tell himself he's okay with it, that it doesn't bother him. No one was mean to him, after all, just generally indifferent, he has no reason to have been hurt by it. But he's realising now that it might have had more of an effect on him then he's been allowing himself to acknowledge.

He thinks he can trust Matt with it, though. Even though he broke it. Even then. He trusts Matt with everything else. Even now.

So he decides to do something about it, to make some kind of move and he doesn't even really notice that he walks into the gym where Matt goes, sometimes. He's known about it for years, but never gone along to see it. He'd always thought that it was a place just for Matt, somewhere where he could connect with his father. And maybe that it true, Foggy's sure that it has at least something to do with that, but maybe it's also to do with the way that the muscles on Matt's back tighten and flex, his weight bounces on the balls of his feet as he lays into the punching bag next to the ring and Foggy leans up against the raised platform and just watches Matt move until he stops punching and sighs and turns to face him.

Foggy notices the blankness of his face first. After the reveal, Foggy had thought he didn't know Matt at all, that Matt Murdock was just a mask worn by the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, but he knows that look, he knows what it means because he knows Matt, he knows that Matt is hardening himself up for a fall, and he's suddenly hit with the sickening realisation that Matt didn't think Foggy would forgive him. And it hurts, in his heart, for what the world has done to Matt, how it took everything from a little boy and left him with nothing but some abusive father figure who wanted nothing to do with him except as a weapon and a guilt complex that fed all his worst thoughts about himself, and a best friend who was apparently so bad at being one that Matt would think that their friendship was so conditional that some lies and secrets would tear it apart without him fighting for it. It hurts, because he's pretty sure he only has himself to blame that Matt would think that what they have would mean so little to Foggy, that he could be so insecure as to think Foggy would just walk away.

Because ok, Foggy still doesn't agree with the Devil thing, still thinks vigilantism is wrong, but he can see where Matt is coming from. And when he eventually gets arrested for it, Foggy will defend him in court, will let himself get arrested before he lets anything happen to Matt. Matt assures him he's never killed anyone, and both times someone died in front of him because of something he did he'd been sick for days, had considered quitting afterwards. He still got pale when he was telling Foggy about it. Which makes the vigilantism more bearable, but also makes him want to hug Matt and never let him go, tell him he's a good person.

The weirdest thing is that this whole thing - Matt's superpowers, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, the fact that Matt doesn't actually need him for any of the stuff that Foggy does to help him - is that it just makes Foggy feel protective. And he didn't think that Matt needed protecting before the Devil, always thought that Matt can look after himself, can get around and work and study and live all on his own even if he sometimes seems dead-set on proving that he can't or won't. He certainly doesn't think he needs it now, now that he knows just how well Matt can do all those things and more, but he wants to, in a way he never really wanted to before. He had wanted Matt to experience everything, the good and the bad, to live his life without being surrounded by people who tried to shelter him from everything and treated him like he couldn't do the things that other people could. But now he wants to protect him, to take Matt away from everyone who ever hurt him and ever could.

In the end, all that Matt's lies and secrets make him want to do is work harder so that the city won't need someone like the Devil. So Matt can be Matt, and happy.

-00000-

It occurs to him three days later that he never stopped leading Matt around by the arm. The think is, he mostly just did it for fun, never thought Matt actually needed it seeing as he got around perfectly well on his own, even when Foggy was being annoying and deliberately getting in his way, but he did think that he helped in some way, made it so Matt had one less thing that he had to focus on. But he doesn't, not really, and Matt runs around flipping and jumping across roofs and doing crap that Foggy would never dream of even attempting and every time his hand slipped into the crook of Foggy's elbow it was never because he needed it. Every time he reached for Foggy, grabbed at his arm or slung his own around Foggy's shoulders, it was never because it actually helped him at all.

And that's the thing, isn't it? That's what it comes down to in the end - Matt doesn't need Foggy, but he wants him anyway. He wants to walk next to him on the street, arms brushing against each other even when they're not purposefully touching. He can hear people's heartbeats, tell how they're feeling better than Foggy by the way that they smell, the subtle shifts in body language, but he still smiles and laughs along when Foggy narrates people's actions to him. The reading admittedly is not something his senses can really help him with, but he got into Columbia law school without any assistance from Foggy, and he gets Foggy to read aloud to him just because he likes it. He wants Foggy to be close and friendly, has never told him that he's too much, is just as invested in their friendship.

Because he likes Foggy.

And Foggy stops suddenly just inside the doorway of their law office as he lets that realisation wash over him and Karen isn't in yet and Matt is next to him making questioning noises and there's really nothing stopping him now, no reason to not go for it except for his own fears, and Foggy has never let those stop him.

Matt's already pressed up against his side, his hand wrapped around Foggy's bicep, and it's so easy to reach around with his spare hand and grab Matt high on the shoulder, spin him around and kiss him.

He's kind of glad for the superpowers, because Matt's beaming when he meets him half way.

A/N: I wanted to slip some Fisk/Vanessa in here but there wasn't really a place for it and also I don't think I could do either of their characters or their relationship justice. It just hits me in all the right places. Like, fetal-position-whiny-mess places.

Honestly I do feel like Foggy would be the one uncomfortable with the idea of a relationship like Matt's all "it sounds like we're getting married" and Foggy's like "how about those girls, huh?" so I think he would be the one who has to overcome some stuff first, despite his glaringly obvious blushy-crush throughout the whole show (I've never read the comics shh).