igrab
in
grabi_hands
Chicks and Lucky Stars • Matt/Foggy
Chicks and Lucky Stars
Matt Murdock/Foggy Nelson
• written for muccamukk to the palette tweet tweet
The thing about Matt Murdock was, he had this insatiable rescue complex. That much anyone could see, what with the poor-man's-lawyer thing and the superhero thing and that infuriating way he had of being cheerfully helpful while simultaneously insulting your pants off. He thrived on helping the unfortunate, which, he supposed, was why he'd never let Foggy go. He was a middle-aged gay washout who couldn't be helped, but Matt would just keep trying. Sometimes, he appreciated it.
Sometimes, it just made him want to punch the guy in the face.
"Seriously, when you said you were picking up chicks, this wasn't what I had in mind." He kept his eyes resolutely on the utter mess of his desk; he didn't need to look at him to hear the smirk that spread over the man's ridiculously handsome face. Just as Matt certainly didn't need vision to see the blush spreading over his own.
"Your misinterpretation, not mine." A soft peeping came from across the room, and Foggy had to look up, because god damnit, couldn't Matt ever leave well enough alone?
"Matt. How many times do I have to tell you? No injured animals in the office. Seriously. Take her to the vet or something, we've got work to do."
"We're a consulting firm now; we don't need to appear presentable." A soft tap of a cane signaled the blind man looking around, finding a loose washcloth over on the counter, and making a soft nest in a coffee mug. "There you go, Millie. Nice and warm."
"We need to be more presentable because of that. Did you name her already? Jesus Christ Murdock, this isn't an orphanage."
Matt twisted to look over his shoulder, as if he'd known - and he probably did, damn that stupid touch sense of his - that Foggy would be looking right at him. He didn't wear the sunglasses in the office, so it was easy to see the amused and affectionate twinkle in his blind eyes. "I dunno, Foggy, I rather thought it was."
And that was the stupid thing. Matt would win, because he always won, not just in the courtroom or on the streets or in an argument. He would always win against Foggy Nelson, because he just plain couldn't defend against the guy, not even a bit. He was handsome and sweet and loyal and dedicated, and even the qualities that made him infuriating were somehow endearing in equal amounts. Foggy could not say no to him, and he still firmly believed that Matt would get tired of a fruitless battle and leave, one of these days, but until then - until then, he'd count his lucky stars. Men like Matt Murdock had no business being with men like Foggy, and he was grateful every day that his friend just plain didn't seem to see it that way.
Matt Murdock/Foggy Nelson
• written for muccamukk to the palette tweet tweet
The thing about Matt Murdock was, he had this insatiable rescue complex. That much anyone could see, what with the poor-man's-lawyer thing and the superhero thing and that infuriating way he had of being cheerfully helpful while simultaneously insulting your pants off. He thrived on helping the unfortunate, which, he supposed, was why he'd never let Foggy go. He was a middle-aged gay washout who couldn't be helped, but Matt would just keep trying. Sometimes, he appreciated it.
Sometimes, it just made him want to punch the guy in the face.
"Seriously, when you said you were picking up chicks, this wasn't what I had in mind." He kept his eyes resolutely on the utter mess of his desk; he didn't need to look at him to hear the smirk that spread over the man's ridiculously handsome face. Just as Matt certainly didn't need vision to see the blush spreading over his own.
"Your misinterpretation, not mine." A soft peeping came from across the room, and Foggy had to look up, because god damnit, couldn't Matt ever leave well enough alone?
"Matt. How many times do I have to tell you? No injured animals in the office. Seriously. Take her to the vet or something, we've got work to do."
"We're a consulting firm now; we don't need to appear presentable." A soft tap of a cane signaled the blind man looking around, finding a loose washcloth over on the counter, and making a soft nest in a coffee mug. "There you go, Millie. Nice and warm."
"We need to be more presentable because of that. Did you name her already? Jesus Christ Murdock, this isn't an orphanage."
Matt twisted to look over his shoulder, as if he'd known - and he probably did, damn that stupid touch sense of his - that Foggy would be looking right at him. He didn't wear the sunglasses in the office, so it was easy to see the amused and affectionate twinkle in his blind eyes. "I dunno, Foggy, I rather thought it was."
And that was the stupid thing. Matt would win, because he always won, not just in the courtroom or on the streets or in an argument. He would always win against Foggy Nelson, because he just plain couldn't defend against the guy, not even a bit. He was handsome and sweet and loyal and dedicated, and even the qualities that made him infuriating were somehow endearing in equal amounts. Foggy could not say no to him, and he still firmly believed that Matt would get tired of a fruitless battle and leave, one of these days, but until then - until then, he'd count his lucky stars. Men like Matt Murdock had no business being with men like Foggy, and he was grateful every day that his friend just plain didn't seem to see it that way.