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The key fit. Foggy had expected it. Still, he was relieved, as breaking down the door would have been counterproductive to what he was trying to achieve. He slipped into the old house and locked up behind himself again.
Inside, it smelled of dust and the air was stuffy. Save for the main door, all points of entry were boarded up, only small streams of the late afternoon sun falling through the narrow gaps. They painted the corridor in a strange half-light which added unpleasantly to the spooky atmosphere. The wooden floor creaked underneath Foggy’s steps, mingling with the wind that whistled through the cracks in the door and window frames.
Not far from the entrance, a stairwell led into the upper level, but an undisturbed layer of dust suggested that nobody had been up there for quite some time.
So Foggy followed the corridor. Peeking into every room, he found them all bare of any furniture. So he walked by them, until he reached the door at the far end. It was closed. However, underneath the door gap, he saw the floor was covered with a gray carpet, hastily so, the tiles underneath still visible at the edge. This might have been a kitchen or laundry room once.
Foggy stepped inside. He wasn’t surprised when something clicked next to his ear. Slowly, he lifted his hands. At the opposite wall, his shadow did the same, next to the tall muscular silhouette of a man, pointing a gun.
“Nelson?” asked a surprised voice, and the hand with the weapon sank. “What are you doing here?”
Foggy dropped his arms. Turning his face to the man, he gestured behind himself towards his backpack.
“Supplies,” he said curtly.
“How’d you find this? And get in?”
Foggy shrugged. “Asked around to find the safehouse. And he left only one key on our… my keyboard holder I couldn’t identify.”
Foggy took a look around. Whatever the room was before, it was now a spartanic lair. The radiator behind the worn mattress under the boarded window did not do its work and the place was cold. There was one old cupboard, a table, an ugly couch, and a chest of drawers which did not match the rest of the furniture at all. A well-used coffee machine with dark residue on the glass of the pot stood on top of it, right next to a microwave and a camping stove.
Now almost certain Castle wouldn’t shoot him, Foggy walked towards the table, putting the bag down.
“Some bandaids, painkillers, wound disinfectants,” Foggy listed as he emptied the backpack.
“We sure can use those,” Castle said. “And I can’t walk the city freely at the moment. And his priorities are… different.”
“Yes, I figured,” Foggy answered. “I also brought some chocolate bars he likes a lot. Maybe you could eat one or two while he’s around. He probably wouldn’t be able to resist.”
“Soooo…”
“Like tricking a cat into taking his medicine, yes.”
“I’m more of a dog person,” Castle said.
“And yet, you’re with him.” Foggy tried keeping the emotions out of his tone, despite the bile rising in his throat. But of course, the heartbreak and jealousy found their way into his voice.
“Nelson, listen…”
“It’s fine,” Foggy lied. “Just… make sure he eats and takes proper care of injuries. And please let me come back regularly to bring more. I’ll come when I know he’s in court.”
“I… fine.” Castle gave a defeated sigh.
Foggy nodded as acknowledgement and goodbye in one. Then he left without a word.
*
“Does he know I come here?” Foggy asked while he stocked up Castle’s canned food.
“Never said anything,” Castle replied. “Wonder why. Thought he could smell everyone.”
“I always shower before coming here and wear clothes I never wear otherwise.”
“Ookay,” Castle said. “Guess a lover with super smelling does make one paranoid.”
“Ex-lover,” Foggy corrected. “But yeah, it does.”
*
“Hello?”
No answer. Foggy immediately got a bad feeling. While he knew that Matt was out, Castle should have been home. He was a wanted man. Daylight was not his friend, and the sun had risen an hour ago. Foggy saw no sign of forced entry, but he was no expert in things like that so one of the many many enemies Matt and Frank had made between them still might have found a way in.
Taking a steadying breath, Foggy ventured deeper into the corridor. After a few steps, he halted. It was hard to see on the dark wooden floor boards, but now that his eyes had adjusted to the dim light, he spotted dark red stains on the ground.
Blood. A lot and fresh. It left a foreboding trail to the room Matt and Frank used as their lair.
Cursing under his breath, Foggy scurried towards the closed door. Matt had left the firm. So even though Matt should be in court, nobody would inform Foggy if he didn’t show up for some reason. And that reason may very well be that he was instead bleeding out on a crappy couch in an abandoned house.
Without any courtesy knock, Foggy pushed the door open. He stormed inside and gasped. Bloody handprints littered the cupboard. Next to it, on the wall, a path of smeared crimson led downwards towards the slumped form of an unconscious man.
It wasn’t Matt. Frank Castle lay on the ground, blood leaking out of a wound in his stomach.
“Fuck!” Foggy raced towards him, throwing off his jacket on the way. Carefully, but quickly, he turned Castle onto his back and ripped his shirt. As he had expected, he found the origin of the dark red flood underneath.
Damn it. Claire was out of town and a hospital was not an option. Foggy pulled his sweatshirt over his head. It was cold in the room in only his t-shirt, but he barely noticed while he pressed the fabric of the sweater on Castle’s wound. After a while, enough blood had been soaked up for him to examine the injury.
It must’ve been caused by a blade of some sort. Which was still bad. But at least he wouldn’t have to remove a bullet. Sighing, Foggy got the first aid kit from the cupboard and went to work. This wasn’t his first vigilante with a stab wound.
It seemed like an eternity. But in fact, it took about an hour for Castle to wake up. Groaning, he came to and blinked confusedly while processing his whereabouts and surroundings. Finally, his eyes fell on Foggy.
“Nelson?” Castle asked hoarsely.
Instinctively, Foggy’s hand landed on Castle’s chest when the wounded vigilante tried to sit up.
“So what was the plan here?” Foggy wanted to know. “Walk it off?”
A weak chuckle, followed by a pained moan, escaped Castle.
“I hoped I’d stay conscious long enough to take care of it myself,” he explained.
“That worked well,” Foggy deadpanned.
“Thanks for patching me up,” Castle said.
Releasing a sharp breath, Foggy remained silent for a moment.
“You’re just like him,” he finally said, examining the stitches on Castle’s stomach. “Guess you two make sense after all.”
Foggy gasped in surprise when Castle caught his wrist.
“You always ran off before I could clarify,” Castle said. “Red and I - we’re not an item.”
Foggy scoffed. “Right. Him, moving in with the handsome muscle man right after leaving me is just a huge coincidence.”
“Nelson,” Castle said with a pointed look.
“So, nothing?” Foggy asked. “You never touched? Kissed? Made out? Not once?” When Castle looked away at that, Foggy scoffed. “Thought so.”
He tried wrenching away his hand, but Castle held on.
“It gets lonely sometimes and we do have, sort of, a connection,” he admitted. “But I swear I’m not the reason he left you.”
“What is it then?” Foggy asked, his eyes growing wet despite his best efforts. “What is the reason?”
“I don’t know,” Castle answered, still holding on to Foggy’s wrist. “But my guess is he’s just an idiot.”
“Well,” Foggy said on a teary laugh, “he’s been one before without leaving me.”
“He…” Castle hesitated, “He’s not in a good place right now. You know how he is. One failed rescue attempt and he… thinks he doesn’t deserve to have anything good. And you are. Something good.”
“And you’re not?”
“Maybe not. Or maybe he doesn’t feel like he really has me.”
“Does he?” Foggy asked. “Have you?”
Again, Castle averted his gaze.
“I don’t have the answers you want,” Castle said. “But I know it’s not my name he says in his sleep.”
*
Foggy was almost done unpacking and storing away the supplies he’d brought. So he pulled out the lunchbox and opened it.
“Don’t you think he’ll recognise your sandwiches?” Castle asked as he spotted the contents.
“It’s for you,” Foggy mumbled.
“What was that?”
Rolling his eyes, Foggy stepped closer and pushed the sandwich into Castle’s hand. “It’s for you,” he repeated, louder this time.
With raised eyebrows, Castle led the sandwich to his mouth.
“Thanks.” Castle took a bite and nodded appreciatively. “Good.”
Foggy smirked at him. “Well, if my sandwiches can’t beat canned baked beans, I should be worried.”
“Hey! We also have canned pineapples and ramen noodles.”
“Oh, yes.” Foggy nodded. “Everything you need to seduce a hot date.”
Grinning, Castle bent down to Foggy. He lowered his voice as he asked, “You think it would work?”
Heat rising to his cheeks, Foggy focused on the cupboard again. He cleared his throat and faked laughter.
“I’m sure she’d be quite impressed,” he said. “Well, I gotta run. See you.”
With that, he all but fled the safe house.
*
“You alright, Blondie?” Castle asked.
“I did not approve that nickname,” Foggy gave back.
Castle chuckled. “Don’t try to distract me.”
“Just…” Foggy released a defeated breath. “Hard day in court.”
“You lost?”
“No, actually I won.”
“Doesn’t sound that bad.”
Foggy sighed. “Guess it could have been worse, but… it shouldn’t even have come to that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hard to explain.”
“Try me.”
“In short, my client almost went to jail because she is poor and the real culprit is a rich man’s son. And I hate it!” Foggy dropped his bag. He sank down onto the old couch and hid his face in his hands. “If they have enough money, assholes get away with everything.”
After a few seconds, a warm hand landed on his shoulders. Sniffling, Foggy looked up. An uncharacteristically soft expression lay on Castle’s hard features.
“In this case they didn’t, did they?”
“I guess not, but…”
“The assholes have their money and their asshole lawyers,” Castle said. “Your clients have you.”
“This one had,” Foggy admitted. “But I was reluctant to even take the case. If Karen hadn’t persuaded me…”
“But she did,” Castle interrupted. “That’s what matters. So what if it needed two good people to get things done? You did it. Had each other’s back.”
Thoughtfully, Foggy hummed. With a timid smile, he tilted his head. “Who has your back?”
“Dunno,” Castle answered and chuckled. “But someone has been restocking my supplies lately.” When Foggy opened his mouth to protest, Castle laughed. “Come on, not even Red needs that many bandages and chocolate bars.”
Blushing, Foggy averted his eyes. But Castle gently grabbed his chin and brought them face to face.
“Not complaining,” Castle said. “It’s… nice. Knowing someone cares.”
“Well,” Foggy grinned, “it’s nice knowing someone cares that I care.”
For a moment, they smiled at each other. Then, slowly, both smiles faded into something questioning and curious. Both tipped their heads sideways at the same time and their lips brushed.
Foggy sobered. What was he doing here? But when he went to jump to his feet, stammer an excuse and flee, a large hand grabbed the back of his head.
“No running this time,” Castle told him.
With gentle force, he pulled Foggy into another kiss, deeper and more demanding now. Embarrassingly fast, Foggy’s resistance melted, and soon his back hit the couch, Frank’s weight pinning him in place.
*
No word was spoken. Nothing filled the room but low moans and the sound of skin meeting skin, harshly. It was like a dam breaking and the flood just ripping Foggy away with its power.
Probably it was in bad taste to compare one’s lovers. Especially while doing the deed. But Foggy couldn’t help it happening in the back of his mind. Because they were like mirror images.
Where Matt was all sweetness and tenderness, but with hardly tamed force and fury vibrating underneath his skin, Frank was rough and demanding as if to hide his vulnerability and raw emotions behind it.
And while Matt clung to Foggy afterwards, only letting him go after a playful struggle and verbose complaints, Frank pretended to be asleep when Foggy carefully removed his arm to climb off the couch, get dressed and sneak out.
*
Great. Just great. Wonderfully done, Nelson.
Whenever Foggy went through the supermarket, gathering supplies for the safe house these days, he scolded himself. Since that fateful night, he had to avoid Matt and Frank. Why? Because apparently, he couldn’t keep his legs closed when it came to self-destructive vigilantes. So now he always went on Fridays, late in the evening, so far successfully evading both men as they were on patrol.
Tonight was Tuesday. However, it was also Halloween, which meant more nightly trouble and that both Matt and Frank would be out, saving the city. So Foggy would sneak in, drop the supplies and leave.
After dark, Foggy approached the safe house. Of course, there was never a lamp burning, visible from the road. But when Frank was in, a small stripe of light always fell into the hallway underneath the door to the lair. As far as he knew, Matt left it on, too, to signal Frank he was home.
So since the whole house lay in darkness, Foggy assumed he was alone. Using his phone’s light, he walked towards the two vigilantes’ hideout. He opened the door and entered. Tonight, it was warmer. Somehow Frank must’ve gotten the radiator to work.
As always, Foggy unpacked the supplies on the lone table to sort them afterwards.
A bang startled him. He drove around to see that the door was now shut, a dark figure standing behind it. Directing his light towards it, he recognised Matt.
Matt was not in his Daredevil costume, so Foggy could see his face. For a stranger, Matt’s expression might have appeared neutral, but Foggy could see different emotions battling underneath the calm surface.
“Matt?” Foggy instinctively took a step towards him, but then remembered himself and stopped. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here,” Matt answered. “So what you are doing here is a better question.”
“I… I thought… I have…”
“I suspected you come here when I’m out,” Matt interrupted. “Wasn’t sure because the smell was subtle, hidden underneath the others. But after you and Frank fucked on the couch…”
Maybe it was Matt’s accusatory tone, maybe it was his own embarrassment. But Foggy snapped.
“Don’t you dare!” Foggy said. “You left me. You don’t want me anymore. That’s your decision! But then you have no business judging me for…”
“…for what? Cheap retaliation?” Matt asked. “What else is this? You don’t even like Frank. You know I live here, too. And I’m supposed to believe it’s just a coincidence you chose him as a rebound?”
Foggy bit his lip. Could he - with a hundred percent certainty - rule out it was petty revenge on his part? Probably not. But he knew for a fact that it wasn’t only revenge. A fragment of Foggy wished it was. Because then he wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that he was down bad not for one but two vigilantes by now.
And yes, Foggy’s petty side liked that Matt was notably affected by what he’d learned. Not that it would change anything. But giving even a fracture of the pain back felt morbidly good.
“What’s it to you, Matt?” he asked, his tone betraying his vulnerability. “Because if it’s anything to you, you can come home anytime.”
“I… I can’t.” Matt shook his head.
“And yet you’re here, ambushing me,” Foggy said. “Why? If you’re not happy to see, well, meet me.”
Matt’s face softened. “I… I’m happy to see you’re safe,” he said, stepping closer.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I’ve heard… rumors.”
“Rumors?” Foggy repeated.
“Something to do with an old case of ours,” Matt answered vaguely. “I need you to stay here while I look into it.”
“What?” Foggy exclaimed. “How long?”
“Not sure. Couple of days?”
“No way!” Foggy exclaimed. “I have a job, a life, stuff to do! I can’t just…”
Matt sighed into Foggy’s rant. Easily, he tackled Foggy to the mattress underneath the window and after a worryingly short struggle, Foggy found his left wrist shackled to the radiator with a pair of handcuffs.
“What the Hell, Murdock?” Foggy shouted. “You can’t…”
“Well, I just did,” Matt said, smugness dancing underneath his serious facade. Somewhat placating, he said, “Look, Foggy, just until I know it’s safe.”
“So you believe someone is out there to get me,” Foggy argued. “If that’s true, it’s not exactly smart to leave me helplessly cuffed!”
That had Matt pause. But then the door opened and a familiar gruff voice said, “I’ll keep him safe.”
Frank stepped inside. Smirking, he made a beeline to Foggy. With a happy sigh, he sat down on the mattress next to him.
“Thanks for that, Red,” he said. “This one has been avoiding me for weeks. Now he can’t run.”
With that, he circled his arms around Foggy and pulled him into a kiss.
Foggy gasped in shock. Frank’s lips were warm and dry and demanding. The feeling of them against his own mouth was splitting Foggy in two. Part of him simply wanted to close his eyes, relax in Frank’s strong arms and sink into the kiss. Another part was very aware that his ex-boyfriend, who he definitely wasn’t over yet, stood mere feet away and, while blind, was witnessing every detail of Frank lip locking with Foggy.
Matt growled. Literally. He sounded like an angry wolf. Quickly, he crossed the distance between himself and Frank. But when he reached for Frank’s shoulder to pull him away from Foggy, Frank turned around. Frank grabbed the hand that stretched out towards him and used his grip to drag Matt forward.
Surprised, Matt lost his balance. He fell forward while Frank jumped to his feet. Caught off guard, Matt had no time to use his agility and balance out Frank’s strength. Frank pinned him, produced another pair of handcuffs, and soon Matt’s wrist was shackled to the heater right next to Foggy’s.
“Now talk,” Frank said and headed for the door. Before leaving the room, he turned to Matt once more. “Don’t worry, I gave the intel you gathered to that Jones woman. She and her friends will look into any threats to you two.”
Then he left Matt and Foggy alone in the dark room. Only small slivers of moonlight crept in through the gaps between the wooden boards. The silver-white shine fell on Matt’s face, accentuating the natural sharpness of his features and deepening the lines of worry and sleep deprivation.
For a while neither man spoke. Both shifted uncomfortably on the old mattress, unable to move away from each other. It was torture. The warmth of Matt’s body, the familiar smell of him, his elated yet even breath - it called to Foggy. He was so close and just wanted to lean against Matt, but wasn’t allowed to.
In the end, it was Matt who spoke.
“It’s not you,” he said quietly. “I know it’s a silly phrase, but in this case it’s accurate. It’s not you, it’s me.”
“Let me guess,” Foggy replied, sarcasm and softness merging in his voice, “I deserve better, you just drag me down and you put me in danger?”
“Pretty much.” Matt nodded.
“Ask me how I sleep.”
“Excuse me?”
“Just ask.”
“How do you sleep, Foggy?”
“Rarely,” Foggy answered genuinely. “If I’m not worried about you, I miss you. If I’m not missing you, I’m scared.”
Matt’s brows knitted together and his head perked up. “Scared?”
“Yup.” Foggy nodded. “You’re right, you know. We made some powerful enemies, you and me. But until a few weeks ago, I had a superpowered vigilante right next to me. Now I’m alone.”
“Foggy, I…”
Chuckling, Foggy interrupted, “Now, I’m not saying you have to come back to me because I need a bodyguard. But if you think I’m better off without you, you’re sorely mistaken. I’m not. Because, guess what, Matt? Hell’s Kitchen is the same. The difference is you. It always was.”
“Foggy…”
“So, if you don’t want me anymore, don’t need me anymore, don’t,” Foggy broke off to swallow the lump in his throat, “love me anymore, I’ll accept that. It won’t stop me from coming here to bring supplies, but I won’t… bother you or make a jealous scene. However, if you do love me, need me, want me, then please believe me that I feel the same.”
Matt’s unbound hand flew into Foggy’s hair. Firmly, Matt dragged Foggy close, into a longing kiss. After the first moment of surprise, Foggy’s eyes fluttered shut as he succumbed to the force of Matt’s desperation. His free arm wrapped around Matt’s waist while their lips and tongues slid against each other as if trying to make up for lost time.
At some point Matt pushed Foggy down. Impatiently, he pulled at Foggy’s shirt, but even with Foggy’s help, they didn’t get far.
“Not saying I never thought of tying you up,” Matt grumbled, “but in those scenarios I usually had both hands free.”
Foggy chuckled. “Complain to your… um… roommate?”
As he said that, Foggy smiled. However, Matt’s face was at once pained, brows in a frown, the pretty mouth’s corners pointing downward.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I was… and I never… when you and I were…”
“I know,” Foggy said quickly and kissed Matt’s cheek. “And he’s not that bad of a guy, actually.”
“I should hope so,” Matt said. “My boyfriend had sex with him.”
Snorting, Foggy pushed weakly against Matt’s chest. But then, he sombered and asked, “So, I’m your boyfriend again?”
“If you’ll have me.”
Instead of answering, Foggy kissed Matt.
“We can talk later. First, let’s see what we can do with those two free hands.”
*
A selfish part of Frank scolded himself for pushing Matt and Blon… Foggy back together. But Frank was not a selfish man. Despite that, he couldn’t even tell which of the two men, right now cuffed up in his safe house, he wanted for himself.
When Frank returned late at night, everything was dark and quiet. He opened the door to the lair and sighed. Matt and Foggy were huddled together, their clothes suspiciously rumpled and their expressions peaceful and content. Yet another part of Frank wanted to keep the cuffs where they were to make sure neither of them got in danger. Ever again.
To no surprise, Matt stirred first. And as soon as Frank switched on the small desk lamp Foggy had gifted them, Matt sat upright.
“Hey,” he said, fortunately not sounding too mad.
“Hey,” Frank gave back and tried for a smile, pointing at Foggy. “You guys worked it out?”
“Yeah.” Blushing, Matt scratched his head with his free hand, and - as soon as the other wrist was uncuffed - rubbed the sore spot.
Foggy woke when Frank removed the cuffs from him as well.
“Ugh,” he said. “What time is it?”
“‘round 2 am,” Frank estimated.
“Time flies when you’re having fun,” Foggy quipped and Frank faked a chuckle.
“Sorry about that,” Frank said when Foggy, too, massaged his reddened wrist, “but I had to because all that mutual pining made me nauseous.”
He turned away. Already contemplating a reason to leave again, he was surprised when a warm hand caught his. With a raised brow, he doubled back to find Foggy smiling and tugging at him. Confused, Frank used his hold to pull Foggy onto his feet.
But instead of just standing in front of him, Foggy all but dropped against him. Making a surprised noise, Frank caught him, convinced Foggy had experienced a dizzy spell. But Foggy only grinned up at him, circled his arms around Frank’s neck and linked his hands at his nape.
“Don’t apologize,” he said. “Matt started the cuffing business, after all. And it worked out.”
With that, he stood on his toes to press his lips against Frank’s. Frank’s eyes widened. But before he had really processed what was happening, his body already reacted on its own account. His arms slung around Foggy, pulling him closer, and he deepened the kiss which earned him a delighted moan.
It wouldn’t last long. Or so he thought. After all, Matt was right there while Frank snogged his lover. But… nothing. No punch came. No firm hand pulled Frank away from Foggy. Not even a verbal complaint reached his ear.
Foggy broke the kiss after a while. He was still smiling. When Frank cast a questioning look in Matt’s direction, Matt did not look upset. His facial expression matched the happy one on Foggy’s face. Matt’s hand wound into Foggy’s hair as he stepped closer. But it was Frank who he kissed, gently, just to the corner of his mouth.
“Foggy asked if he could stay the night,” Matt said, “and since it’s late and we haven’t heard from Jess, I don’t think it would be good to send him away.”
“Not good at all,” Foggy said with an exaggeratedly serious mien. “Rude and dangerous, actually. It’s much safer here, with you two.”
“He promised to be good,” Matt added, his expression matching Foggy’s.
Incredulous, Frank let his eyes flick between Matt and Foggy. After a while, he shook his head and chuckled.
“Of course,” he said. “For safety reasons.”
