Chapter Text
"Did I ever tell you that I thought about becoming a dominatrix?" Karen asks.
They are sitting on the sofa in her apartment, dinner and two drinks into a nice, quiet evening.
Foggy fakes a cough and says, "I'm sorry, what?"
Matt shakes his head and lifts his glass of whiskey to his lips. To all appearances, his response is more understated. Silently, he reminds himself that Foggy and Karen can't hear his heart beat a little faster at the memories and associations she's just triggered.
"That's hard to imagine," Matt says.
And it is. There's steel in her, buried deep within an optimistic outlook that he respects but doesn't understand, enclosed within sunny cheerfulness, like a knife concealed in a bright pink lipstick tube. Privately, he still wonders what she's been hiding from them, but he won't ask. He supposes it's fair enough to let Karen have secrets of her own.
"Very hard to imagine," Foggy says. "Like, what's the story behind this? Did you just decide one day that you wanted to smack dudes around for a living?"
She ducks her head, and the temperature of her skin rises a little. How can she simultaneously be so cute and so unknowable?
"I was in college. It seemed like a good way to make money, no sex required..."
Foggy's mouth hangs open a little.
"Why, Ms Page, you are full of surprises."
"I didn't end up doing it," she adds quickly.
"Why not?" Matt asks. "Too weird?"
She shakes her head and sends a little whiff of her perfume and hair products his way.
"High start-up costs. Do you know how much a rubber catsuit costs?"
Once again, Foggy has a beer bottle to his mouth when she says this, and while Matt can tell he's exaggerating his near-spit-take for comic effect, his pulse definitely quickens a little. Whether it's out of discomfort or interest is unclear. Matt homes in on it and listens carefully.
"Not to mention all that leather," Matt says. "Equipment, dungeon rental..."
Karen is looking at him, possibly amused, possibly curious, definitely tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Foggy nudges him with an elbow.
"Matt gets a weekly spanking at Madame DeVille's House of Pain. 'S a Catholic thing."
He shrugs, and Matt elbows him back. For a moment, no one says anything.
"Sorry--" she starts. "I didn't mean to cause an awkward moment. So, um, how 'bout that local sports team?"
"No awkward moment," Foggy says. The warmth in his face says otherwise. "I try not to judge. Unless you're into goats. You're not, are you?"
She laughs, head tipped back.
"No, I am not. To be honest, I don't really think I could have pulled it off. It takes a certain kind of..."
"Control," Matt says, and both their heads swivel to look at him. "What? You think they don't print dirty books in Braille?"
"You would be the expert," Foggy admits. "But wait, wouldn't that make it kind of difficult..."
He simulates reading with one hand and tries to mime jerking off with the other, only his hand moves completely the wrong way, and Karen laughs again.
"I hope that's not how you jerk off," Matt jokes.
He fits the rim of his glass to the smile curving his lips and takes a moment to revel in the moment of surprise he's incited. He shouldn't be doing this, not with Karen, not with Foggy, not with both of them, but Foggy will change the subject soon enough. It takes a moment for Matt to remember, for him to catch on that maybe the reason Foggy's gone silent is because he remembers how good Matt's hearing is and is recounting all the times he jerked off in college while Matt was in the room. (Quite a few, but Matt knows when to mind his own business.)
"How 'bout we take the proportion of conversation about Foggy jerking off to about zeeeroooo?" Foggy asks. "Filthy perverts, both of you."
Matt shrugs as if to say guilty as charged. He can sense Karen looking at him, and he wonders if she's wondering the usual things.
Do you watch porn? (Not exactly.)
Have you ever been to a strip club? (Once, is his stock response. Turns out being blind doesn't mean you get to touch the girls, ha ha.)
(He's never been to a strip club.)
"Everyone masturbates, Foggy," Karen says with exaggerated nonchalance. "It's not a big deal."
This time Foggy's pulse trips up and stays in higher gear, likely because of the same thoughts that are making Matt keep his whiskey glass cradled in his hand. Karen. Masturbation. Distraction. Protection. Karen's heart is also beating a little faster, and Matt realises with a jolt that none of them have steered the conversation away from sex into safer territory.
This is bad. They're not just his friends, but his colleagues. They see each other every day. If things get weird, they will get weird.
And yet.
Karen has a thumbnail caught between her teeth. Foggy's head is down, warm-faced, too embarrassed right now to look at either of them. Matt's gaze reaches out across the room at nothing. He keeps his face unreadable.
"So... have you like, done that to a dude? Ordered him around and stuff? Sorry, that is none of my business, I'm sorry, I'm just going to stop talking now."
The lightness of laughter has given way to something heavier, and Matt knows that somewhere nearby is the point of no return. Shouldn't. Can't. Won't. Can't. Shouldn't. But the thought...
"Um, not really. I did have a boyfriend once who was into... oh god, why am I telling you this? I am also going to stop talking. No talking, for either of us."
"Well you can't just start a sentence like that and not finish it!" Foggy says.
She sighs in exasperation.
"He was into... verbal... stuff."
"What, like... dirty talk?"
She fidgets.
"Well, sometimes, but more like... being called names. You know. That kind of thing."
There's a moment of excruciating quiet before Foggy, bless him, takes things back around to humour.
"Well. He did find the right person for the job."
"Foggy!" she chastises.
"For real, though! This girl's got a potty mouth-- I don't know why I'm telling him, Matt's heard you. He said so. You know he's got really sensitive hearing, right? He said we should fire you, but I was like, no, she's a good secretary, so what if she lets an F-bomb fly once in a while? As long as it's not in front of a client."
"You are a lying sack of shit," Matt says with a laugh, mostly just to throw into the ante of carefully constructed jocularity.
"You're terrible!"
He recognises the tone in their voices, the half-hearted protracted flirting of people who are all waiting for someone else to make a move, hoping, maybe fearing, but definitely anticipating something. Nerves tweak at his stomach.
"Just for that, I should tell her some h--horror stories," he says. "What was her name? Mel-- Melanie? Melinda?"
"Melody!" Foggy wails. "God, I'm never gonna live that down. She was..."
If Foggy recognises what he's doing, he knows why Matt is doing it, and if he doesn't abruptly change the subject, Matt knows what that means. He knows already, really. He gets up, and for a second Matt thinks he's making a run for it.
"I need another beer. Anyone want one?"
"Yeah, get me one," Matt says.
"Noooo, I'm good," Karen says. "I haven't finished this one yet."
He walks to the fridge, the soft sound of the door opening, clink of bottles, and then he returns to sit between them. His heart rate is still up, but steadied. He hands Matt a beer, and when their fingers touch, Matt hears him swallow hard.
"She was what," Karen teases. "'You can't just start a sentence like that and not finish it!'"
Foggy shakes his head.
"It was so awkward. Quite possibly the most awkward thing I've ever experienced. Hell, I'm having an awkward flashback just thinking about it."
He takes a drink of his beer. He's buying some time, Matt thinks. Deciding whether or not to bring this piece of information into play.
"Come onnnnn."
"Right, so, we're in my room, right? And we're gettin' friendly-- Matt's at the library, like the frickin' nerd he is, so we've got the room all to ourselves. Things are getting kinda hot and heavy, and of course, of course that's when Matt 'King Cockblock' Murdock decides to come back to the room."
Karen laughs, and Matt laughs. Foggy continues shaking his head. Again, Matt wonders if he's re-examining that particular anecdote in light of what he now knows about Matt.
"At least I had the decency to knock," Matt says.
"That's true, I will give you that. Matt's like, Foggy, are you busy? And I'm like, yeah? Kinda!? So I tell Melody that my roommate's back, like, maybe we can go to her place now or something. And she just turns to me and says, 'That's okay, he can join in too!'"
There's a muffled breathy sound as Karen claps her hand over her open mouth. She clears her throat and then asks, all innocence and shock, "And did you?"
"No!" Foggy says. "And Matt must've heard her, because I can hear him in the hallway, cracking up, which totally ruins the mood. So she gets dressed and leaves--"
"And Foggy says, 'Call me!' which made me lose it again."
"You were practically on the floor, crying. I was so mad. I swear to god you used to do that on purpose."
Matt says nothing but smiles impishly. At least, he hopes that's what it looks like. He drinks his beer to give his hands and mouth something to do.
"I hope you made him sleep in the hallway," Karen says.
"Nah, it was okay in the end."
On the verge of it, Foggy chickens out.
"Did you at least apologise?" she asks. "That's pretty impressive, seducing his lady friend through a door."
"I said I was sorry, and he threw pencils at me until I tackled him."
Matt pulls the pin.
"And then I blew him."
He takes a drink from his beer bottle as the grenade drops. Karen makes a breathy noise that could be a gasp or could be an aborted laugh, her mouth partially covered by her hand. She's probably trying to decide whether Matt's joking, and-- if he's not-- how to respond.
"Um. So, do you guys do that sort of thing a lot?"
Foggy shrugs. "Once in a blue moon. Mostly it was a college thing."
"I thought you were both... well... straight."
"Oh, we are. Mostly." Matt considers it for a moment. "It's like... peanut butter and chocolate."
Foggy snorts into his beer, and Matt, smiling, casually lifts his middle finger, still looking in Karen's direction.
"Most of the time I don't really think about it. But every once in a while, I get a craving."
This time Karen does laugh, and rightly so. It's a pretty silly simile.
"What kind of chocolate?" she asks, and there's mischief in her voice.
Matt smiles again.
"Dark chocolate."
"I'm... really not sure I'm comfortable with where this is going," Foggy says. "And now I want chocolate. Thanks, assholes."
"I might have some dark chocolate gelato in the freezer," Matt offers, and he hears something that is definitely the sound of Foggy mockingly saying gelaaaaato under his breath. "Shut up, it tastes better."
"I hate when he does that," Foggy mutters.
There's a moment of pause that any of the three of them could use to change the subject, but there's also a frisson of intrigue. Matt wonders if Karen thinks it's sexy. Certainly he's met women who do. He wonders if she'd want to watch, and then he reins in his imagination. He can hear her nails picking at the label of the beer bottle. Fidgeting. Not going anywhere, though. Waiting for something to happen. He thinks about how to proceed.
"So... and you can tell me this is none of my business, because it so is... have you guys, like..."
"Fucked?" Matt finishes.
"No way!" Foggy says. "That would be gay."
Matt cracks up. It's an old joke between the two of them, partly to address the tension of what exactly it means to be an ostensibly hetero guy sucking off his ostensibly hetero best friend, and partly just because it makes them laugh like 14-year-olds. Karen laughs with them, but it's a laugh that's not entirely present.
"When did all this start?" she asks, and god, she manages to sound so innocent. It's like she's asking about the weather or how long Foggy's collected comic books.
"College," they answer in unison.
She laughs. "Of course. I can see you two getting dared to do something and just..."
"This guy comes up to Matt--"
"He was an asshole," Matt interjects.
"This is a fact," Foggy says. "But anyway, he sidles up to Matt and says--"
***
"You could do so much better. I know you're blind, but."
"I'm sorry?" Matt says, frowning.
He's not sure what the guy is talking about, but his blood's already rising to the tone of his voice and the scent of his shitty Abercrombie and Fitch cologne. Then it hits him: he means Foggy. They've been mistaken for a couple before-- they find it pretty funny most of the time-- but this may be the first time anyone's had the gall to say something so rude to Matt's face. Serves them right for coming to an undergrad party.
"What did you just say?"
He resists the urge to just punch the guy, although the hand not holding a drink clenches into a fist.
"What did you just say!" Foggy echoes-- loudly, in his I'm mocking Matt Murdock voice, so he must not have heard. "What're you outraged about now, Murdock?"
"Hold this," he says, pressing his bottle into Foggy's free hand.
"Okay..."
The guy takes a step back, hands up. Much as Matt would like to hit him, there are many reasons why that's a bad idea. He's not sure this is a better one, but he can always blame it on drunkenness if he has to. He homes in on the sound of Foggy's voice. He turns and puts his hands on either side of Foggy's face, flushed warm from drink, and kisses him. Decisively.
To his surprise, Foggy doesn't push away, though there is a vibration as he attempts to say something into Matt's mouth. The pliancy makes Matt wonder suddenly if he's done something awful, if he's misjudged the dynamic of their relationship. It wouldn't surprise him-- he is Matt Murdock, king of bad decisions, after all.
When Matt's sure the point is made and the guy slinks away, he removes his tongue from Foggy's mouth and lets go. Foggy says nothing. He holds out Matt's bottle, slosh of beer inside, and Matt takes it back. Both their hearts are hammering.
"Wow. I know I'm a sex machine, but try to control yourself!" Foggy says.
Just like that, the moment breaks. He raps the back of his hand against Matt's chest, grins, and returns to his other conversation. Blood is still pounding in Matt's temples. He retrieves his cane from a corner and makes a swift exit, finds the door to the back porch and sits down in the cool night air. It clears his head a little.
A couple of minutes later he hears Foggy's Doc Martens in the hallway, approaching with what to Matt feels like wariness. He pushes the screen door open and then sits down.
"I'm-- sorry about that," he stammers.
A pause. "I just shrugged."
"That guy p-- pissed me off."
"Oh, is that how you manage your anger?" Foggy jokes. "Guess it's better than breaking stuff..."
He gives Matt a nudge that nearly knocks him off the steps. His heart is still beating a little too fast, but it slows as he sits there.
"Sorry, that wasn't cool."
"Well, I trust that scoundrel learned his lesson. That'll show him."
There's a brief repetitive sound-- Foggy shaking his fist-- and Matt grins. The feeling of being a clenched fist passes, and he manages a smile.
"I'm never gonna live that down, am I."
"Nope! Hope you're okay with that."
Matt shrugs. "It's hardly the most embarrassing thing I've ever done in front of you."
"No, I think the fountain incident forever holds that honour."
Foggy's heartbeat still hasn't gone all the way back to resting. He takes a breath, the way he does when he's about to ask something awkward.
"What did he do, anyway? You practically sucked my tongue off. Was he hitting on you?"
Matt considers. "Yeah."
"Douchebag." Another heavy pause. "So, not to be awkward or anything, but... if you're into dudes, I have some non-douchebag friends who think you're really hot. I just assumed you were into ladies exclusively, what with the Catholic thing and all-- not that it's any of my business-- god, Nelson, shut up."
Matt puts a hand on his shoulder, smiling.
"It's okay, Foggy. I'm... not, really, but. Not all of us are stuck in the 14th century."
Foggy nods. His beer bottle is empty, but he lifts it to his lips anyway. It's quiet except for the crickets in the corners of the yard and party noises drifting out of windows.
"So wait. What does 'not really' mean? I mean, you can tell me to fuck off, it's cool."
Matt shrugs. "Like, I've never... but you never know."
"Fair enough." Foggy is going to ask him something-- his heart's going full throttle, and he's holding his breath. "So you've never fooled around with a dude."
"Can't say I have."
"Do you want to?"