#Murdock for President | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sesamestreep · 9 days ago

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said i'm a good man in a storm

(read on ao3)

(read the whole series here)

SUMMARY: The White House brings Matt in to help with polling after the State of the Union address. Foggy suffers as only Christ before him has. [AKA - more of the Daredevil/West Wing AU] A/N: full tags and warnings via the AO3 link but this one's a pretty chill time for once.

“When am I going to have numbers, Murdock?”

Matt’s head pops up from behind a computer monitor, where he was presumably talking to one of the callers about something that Foggy prays was important enough to warrant distracting them from their goal. “What did I tell you last time?” he calls back across the room.

“15 minutes,” Foggy shouts.

“How long ago was that?”

Foggy checks his watch. “Ten minutes or so.”

“So…five minutes,” Matt says, with an innocent grin that says he’s shocked Foggy can’t do the math himself.

“You’re sure it won’t be sooner?”

“I’m certain it won’t be sooner, but if you keep bugging me, it will sure as hell be later than that,” Matt replies breezily, and goes back to his conversation.

Before Foggy can make what he’s sure will end up being an equally clever retort, he feels a hand on his elbow. Turning, he finds Karen glaring at him, which is just great. Apparently he’s on everyone’s nerves tonight.

“What?” he snaps.

Karen’s glare intensifies. “Try that again.”

Foggy sighs, and then tries to relax and unclench every muscle in his body. “What do you need, Karen?” he asks, more gently this time.

“I need a cup of coffee,” she says, “by which I mean, you need a cup of coffee, or a doughnut, or a handful of Twizzlers from the kitchen. Anything that will keep your mouth occupied so you don’t bother Matt to death before we’re done with polling!”

“I don’t need any of that stuff,” Foggy grumbles. “I need numbers!”

Karen winces, which must mean he shouted that last part. He can’t honestly tell anymore, because he’s been running on fumes all week, but especially tonight, now that the President has given the State of the Union address and, in Foggy’s completely biased opinion, it was a remarkable tour de force of statecraft that left him buzzing with adrenaline. He just needs numbers that tell him other people in the country feel the same way, which is why he’s stuck at a downtown office listening to several dozen people make phone calls and wearing holes into the linoleum in his anxiety. The person standing between him and those numbers is none other than Matt Murdock.

When Jeri had talked about hiring a pollster to do some targeted polling after the State of the Union, Foggy had suggested Matt without hesitation. He’d done polling and strategy for a lot of campaigns around the country now, and everyone who worked with him recommended him. Honestly, Foggy might have tried too hard to sell him as a logical choice for the job, because Jeri had just given him a shrewd and unimpressed look and told him to put Matt into contact with the communications team to set it up. In his defense, Foggy was only worried about the whole thing reeking of favoritism on his part, though Karen is the only one who’s aware of his tragic, unrequited crush on Matt. Well, at least, he hopes she’s the only one. Marci, of course, knows him frighteningly well and Jeri is one of the most brilliant political minds in the country, so there’s every chance both of them are aware of it and just waiting for the right moment to use it against him. He’s pretty sure Ben doesn’t know, at least, but Ben is aware of Foggy’s general haplessness, so it’s possible he has his suspicions too. Matt goes a long way in allaying these suspicions by being so blissfully heterosexual and thus clueless about his effect on Foggy and also unerringly competent at his job, which makes any potential claims of favoritism seem unjustifiable.

He is, however, ruining his professional reputation right now by resolutely refusing to give Foggy the information he needs. And the fact that he doesn’t have that information to give in the first place is not an excuse. If Matt was really good at his job, he’d develop temporary psychic abilities and be able to predict the polling numbers, and also influence them to be exactly what Foggy wants to hear. But he hasn’t, presumably because he hates Foggy specifically and American democracy in general. The asshole.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re insufferable to work with?” Matt asks brightly, appearing at Foggy’s elbow without warning and making him jump clear out of his skin.

“I’m insufferable at home too,” Foggy quips when he recovers.

“Well, normally I’d demand to ask your significant other for confirmation, but I happen to know you’re single, so…”

“This is a lot of tough talk for someone who doesn’t have any polling numbers to speak of!”

“I have numbers,” Matt replies, offended. “They won’t tell you anything yet, though, so they’re not particularly useful.”

“I’d like to be the judge of that,” Foggy says, petulantly.

“I’m sure you would,” Matt says with another of his insufferable little smiles. “But unfortunately, I’m the expert here.”

Foggy sighs theatrically. “I hate this!”

“I know. You’re used to being the smartest person in the room.”

“Oh, it’s so cute that you think that’s an actual problem I have in this business,” Foggy laughs. “I meant the waiting. I hate waiting.”

“Patience is a virtue,” Matt says, sincerely.

“Next you’re going to tell me to do five Hail Mary’s.”

Matt shrugs. “Hey, it couldn’t hurt.”

“This is the political strategy and insight they pay you the big bucks for?” Foggy asks, unimpressed.

“Well, have you tried praying on it?”

“This is America, Matthew. Of course we’ve tried it! If thoughts and prayers could get it done, it’d be done already!”

“Maybe it is,” Matt says, walking away from him without turning his back. He shouldn’t be able to do cool moves like that gracefully, but he somehow does. It’s one of many things Foggy finds infuriating about him. “We’ll know in five minutes, won’t we?”

“You said five minutes three minutes ago!” Foggy calls after him, offended.

“This time I mean it,” Matt replies, over his shoulder, as he goes to check in with his assistant, an efficient grad student-type who Foggy has not seen sit or stand still for a single second since they started working together. Foggy has spent the few days Matt and his team have been in town trying to figure out if Matt’s also sleeping with her, or if they’re strictly colleagues, with no conclusive evidence on either side and it’s definitely not making him crazy at all. Not with all the other stuff taking precedence to make him crazy.

“Motherfucker,” Foggy mutters under his breath, to and about no one and nothing in particular.

Next to him, Karen shakes her head. “I like having Matt in town,” she says, mildly. “It saves me money on theater tickets.”

Foggy looks at her out of the corner of his eye. “You go to the theater often, do you?” he asks, dubious.

She glares at him again. “I’m saying, I don’t have to. Not with that kind of Noel Coward-esque wit on display two feet in front of me.”

“You’ve never seen a Noel Coward play in your life!”

“Maybe I would, if you didn’t make me work late all the time,” Karen replies, airily.

“Have I fired you yet today?” Foggy asks, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Only three times so far.”

“That’s nowhere near my record.”

“I know,” Karen tuts, unimpressed. “Should we go get you a snack?”

“But Matt said—!”

“He’s a smart boy! I trust him to find us when he has something.”

“Fine! I guess I’m overruled.”

“Yes, you are,” she says, sunnily, as she loops her arm through his and drags him bodily to the kitchen. When she deposits him at the cheap rickety plastic table set up for a break area (not that anyone has dared to take a break under Foggy’s watchful eye so far) and starts the process of boiling water for tea (because she’d never let him drink actual caffeine this late), she keeps their conversations going by asking, “So what are we polling people for?”

Foggy gives her a baleful look. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“No, I mean, I know we’re polling to see how the State of the Union address went over. I get that part. But lots of people poll for that. All the major news networks, the big papers, our party, the other guys' party. We can’t just use their polling data when it’s complete?”

“Well, I have a vested interest in Matt being able to pay his rent, so I figured I’d throw some work his way.”

“I’m serious,” Karen says, as she settles in across from him at the table. “Impart to me your political wisdom and acumen! Teach me, Svengali.”

Foggy sighs mostly to disguise his laughter. “We’re asking different questions than other polls are, is the short answer.”

“Like what?”

“There are certain topics and planned initiatives and legislation that get brought up during the State of the Union, as a sort of weather balloon, and now we need to gauge the reaction to those ideas from potential voters, to help guide our strategy going forward.”

“So, it’s about re-election?” Karen asks, eyebrows raised.

“What else?” Foggy laughs.

“I didn’t know we were running for re-election yet.”

“Well, that’s the several million dollar question, isn’t it?” he replies. “But we’re governing as if we are. Because whether it’s this President or not, we’ll want a Democrat in office, and they’ll find this polling data valuable either way.”

“Seems a little ass backwards to me, all the same,” Karen says as she fidgets with the carton of Twizzlers on the table.

“A statement that can apply to a lot of things we do on a daily basis.”

“I assume we’re not just polling everybody though,” she adds. “It must be targeted, right?”

“What do you think?” Foggy asks, making a big show of perusing his doughnut options from the box on the table.

“Districts in swing states, I imagine, that could reasonably go blue in the next election,” she ventures, slightly uncertain.

“I’m starting to think you’re a ringer. You don’t really need me to teach you anything,” Foggy says, approvingly.

Karen opens her mouth to say something—or, more likely, make fun of him—but she’s interrupted by Matt entering the room.

“Dear God, please tell me you have numbers for me,” Foggy exclaims.

“42,” Matt says, simply.

“42…what?” Foggy asks, urgently. “Percent? Is that the response rate? The number of calls they’ve made so far? The number of respondents who’ve just cursed us out for calling so late? What?!”

“It’s the number of times you’ve asked me for preliminary results since polling started an hour ago,” Matt says, looking mighty pleased with himself. “I promise when I have the numbers you want, you will be able to see it on my face.”

“How?! What would that even look like?!”

“I don’t know. I’m blind. But I trust you’ll know it when you see it.”

“Like pornography,” Karen replies, and Foggy kicks her under the table.

“And with a similar effect on Foggy’s heart rate, no doubt,” Matt replies, smoothly.

“Alright, I’m glad we’re all having a great time at my expense, but you must have come in here for an actual reason,” Foggy interjects, fighting a blush. “Or is that too much to hope?”

“I’m getting some Twizzlers for Amber,” Matt says, grinning. “She snacks when she’s nervous and you’re really stressing her out.”

“Is this Amber talking? Or is it you?”

“You don’t stress me out, Foggy. Your antics amuse me.”

“I’m so glad to hear it, Matt,” Foggy responds snottily. “Good to know I can join the circus if this whole career in politics doesn’t work out.”

“You’d make an excellent clown, it must be said.”

“Yes, but where can I get more pies to the face than good ol’ Washington D.C.?”

“True enough,” Matt admits cheerfully, before clearing his throat. “I actually came in to say—and don’t freak out—we’ve had a bit of a dip in the response rate—”

“What?!”

Matt glares in his direction. “I said, don’t freak out. It’s not a big deal.”

“You came in here specifically to tell me it wasn’t a big deal?!”

“No, I came in here to get Twizzlers. Having this conversation is an unavoidable downside of that errand.”

“Why aren’t you more worried about this?” Foggy demands.

“Because the East Coast is going to bed. It’s a predictable event. We figured there could be a dip at this time and we were right.”

“Matt!”

“Relax, Foggy,” Matt says, rolling his eyes. “There’s three other timezones still awake.”

“How long until—?”

“You have numbers?” Matt finishes for him, brightly. “I’m so glad you asked! Fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen?!”

“Twenty if you really want to try me.”

“I swear to God, Matt, I’ve had so little sleep this week that fighting you is starting to seem like a good plan.”

“Is this what he’s really like to work with?” Matt asks, turning his attention to Karen. “Because I had this idea of him as a charming and open-minded collaborator, and I feel like it’s been entirely shattered by these goblin-esque, numbers-obsessed antics.”

“He’s in rare form tonight,” Karen replies, giving Foggy a canny look. “Probably because you’re here. It’s like letting a kid have too much sugar at a birthday party. They just go nuts.”

“I’m literally right here,” Foggy interrupts, “and I hate both of you.”

“Fifteen minutes and I really mean it,” Matt says, still smiling.

Before Foggy can reply to that with something simultaneously witty and devastating, there’s a noise like a TV set turning off, staticky and warm, before all the lights and the appliances go off at once. There’s a moment of eerie silence—the kind that always follows the electricity going out and the hum of it being noticeably and shockingly absent—and then everyone in the next room starts murmuring in concern.

“Did…did the power just go out?” Matt asks, listening intently.

“Yep,” Foggy mutters into his hands, which are now covering his face.

“Okay, so probably a little longer than fifteen minutes,” Matt replies, easily, like this happens all the time.

“Maybe I should join the circus,” Foggy says, to no one in particular. “Because God is obviously a Republican and He fucking hates me!”

“I’ll get on the phone with the power company,” Karen says, quietly pulling out her cell phone and slipping out of the room.

“I’m going to go check in with Amber,” Matt says, hesitantly. After a split second of consideration, he puts a hand on Foggy’s shoulder. “God doesn’t hate you, Foggy. He just has a really, really dark sense of humor.”

Foggy looks up at Matt through his fingers. “Was that a pun?” he asks, miserably.

“Not an intentional one.”

Foggy buries his face in his hands once more but he can’t stop himself from laughing. “We’re so fucked!”

“We’ll be fine,” Matt replies, patting Foggy’s shoulder again. “Don’t panic.”

“Right,” Foggy says, slumping back into his seat rather than do what he wants, which is to take Matt’s hand on his shoulder into his own and squeeze it like it’s one of those rubber stress toys. “You’re right.”

“I know I am. I gotta go talk to everybody, okay?”

“Sure.”

“You’ll be alright on your own?”

“I’m not bleeding out, Matt. Go do your job. I’m fine.”

Matt doesn’t look convinced, but he nods and heads off anyway. Right after he disappears through the doorway, Karen returns, with her flip phone pressed to her ear, looking harried.

“Is that the power company?” Foggy asks, urgently.

“Yes.”

“What do they say? When are we getting power back?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to a person yet,” she says, rolling her eyes. “But Jeri called me first.”

“How did she hear about the outage so fast?”

“She didn’t. She needs you back at the West Wing as soon as possible.”

“Is something wrong?”

“She didn’t say, but she and the President are calling a meeting with all of senior staff, so…”

“Something’s wrong,” Foggy supplies. He checks his watch, and swears quietly to himself. “Alright, I’ll head back there now.”

“Do you want me to come with? Or stay here and keep you posted?”

“You’d better stay. I trust you to ride herd on everybody once the power is back up. And on the electric company, if it isn’t.”

“Okay,” Karen nods solemnly. “I have my phone if you need me, obviously.”

“Good. I’ll check in.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” she says, wryly, and Foggy mimes puckering up to give her a big kiss, making her wrinkle her nose in distaste.

“Don’t miss me too much,” he says as he heads out, and realizes belatedly that she’s genuinely made him smile for the first time in hours.

“Foggy, do you have a minute?” Ben asks, just as senior staff is beginning to make their way out of the Oval Office. The meeting Jeri called turned out to be apprising them all of a hostage situation in Colombia that the President and the Joint Chiefs are currently monitoring, and which no one on staff seems to be able to agree what constitutes a good solution. Foggy’s strong suit has always been domestic policy, not foreign, but they need everyone’s best ideas tonight, it seems. If only anyone had some left after the State of the Union.

Foggy checks his watch, even though it makes him feel like an asshole. “Yes, but just one,” he says, apologetically. “I need to get back to the call center at National Strategies and see what the situation is there.”

“I heard about the power outage,” Ben replies, with a sympathetic look. “That’s tough luck.”

“It’s going around tonight,” Foggy says.

“Hard to believe we were worried about the State of the Union only a few hours ago, huh?”

“Speak for yourself. Until I have those polling numbers, I’m still worried.”

Ben laughs. “Fair enough. My part’s over, at least.”

“It was a hell of a speech, Ben,” Foggy says. “You and Marci should be proud of yourselves. You should have gotten to rest on your laurels for more than twenty minutes over it, too, but that’s how it goes sometimes, I guess.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” Ben says, stuffing his hands into his pockets and leaning in the doorway of his office that they’ve just reached. “Listen, I don’t want to hold you up too much and I know it’s not the best time, but I wanted to ask about Matt.”

Foggy’s heart suddenly hammers in his chest, worse than when he heard about the hostage crisis or when he sat through the State of the Union earlier tonight. There’s something wrong with him, clearly, but he didn’t anticipate Ben of all people bringing this up.

“What about him?” he asks, fairly evenly despite the circumstances.

“How’s he doing?”

“Uh…he seems well enough to me. Why? Is something wrong?”

“No, I’m just asking how he’s handling the pressure,” Ben says, giving him a questioning look. “It’s a larger scale project than he’s done before and at a much higher level, reporting to the White House.”

“Oh, right,” Foggy responds, relieved. “I mean, he’s doing really well. Between my constant badgering and the power outage, nothing has seemed to phase him whatsoever. He’s confident. Steady. Uh…is that…what you were looking for?”

“More or less,” Ben says, still wary. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No! Of course not. Why?”

“You just seem fairly stressed at being asked to give a performance review for this consultant after you recommended him in the first place, and that seems…odd.”

Foggy runs a hand over his face. “No, no. It’s not that. I’m just worried about the power being out and the effect on the poll. I—don’t want to praise or criticize his work before it’s complete, is all. It doesn’t feel fair.”

“I hear you,” Ben says, tipping his head in acknowledgement. “But just based on what you’ve seen so far, he’s doing well?”

“Yeah,” Foggy nods. “Matt’s a complete pro. There’s a reason everybody wants to work with him.”

“That’s kind of why I was asking,” Ben replies, looking around conspiratorially. “Just between us, we’ve started talking to potential campaign managers, for the re-election bid.”

“Are we running for re-election?” Foggy asks, keeping his voice low. “Because there’s been some confusion around that.”

“We’re keeping our options open at the moment, but I think we will. And we need to start having those conversations now, even if we’re not totally ready to pull the trigger, so to speak.”

Foggy winces at the metaphor, but nods anyway. “Sure. But what does that have to do with Matt?”

“Nearly every campaign manager we’ve spoken to so far wants to bring in someone to do polling and strategy, and it’d be a huge help for us in Communications too,” Ben says. “Your boy’s name has come up more than once as the guy to hire.”

Foggy ignores that reference to Matt being ‘his boy’, because either Ben is joking, in which case his overreacting to it will only make him look bad, or Ben is trying to gauge his reaction, which means he really can’t afford to respond to it with anything more than a shrug. But it does take an embarrassing amount of effort to rein himself in.

“Yeah,” Foggy replies, nonchalant. “He’s in demand for a reason.”

“So, you think it’s a good idea? Bringing him on full time?”

Foggy has to really consider this, unfortunately. On a purely intellectual level, it’s a no-brainer. These potential campaign managers are right that they’ll need someone to do more polling on this scale regularly, and they’re right that Matt’s the guy to hire. There are other people, obviously, who could do what he does, but they already know him and trust him. It’s not just Foggy who thinks he’s great, after all.

Then again, Foggy does think he’s great. Maybe too great. And if Matt gets hired for the re-election campaign, that’s almost two years of having to work with him every day, worried about other people catching on to his stupid crush. Or worse, Matt catching on to it. Foggy will have to be on his guard at all times, and being in that kind of close contact with Matt every day, his crush will only get worse. It seems like the sort of thing that can only end in embarrassment and rejection for Foggy.

But all of that is a stupid reason to stand in the way of what’s ultimately a huge opportunity for Matt. Whatever Foggy’s hang ups might be, part of having feelings for Matt is wanting the best for him, and this job would be a huge step up in his career. And Matt’s ambitious—it’s one of many things Foggy admires about him—so he’ll definitely see the value in working with them and he’ll likely seize the chance. Foggy would have to be a monster to stand in the way of that.

“I think it’s a smart move,” he tells Ben sincerely.

“Alright,” Ben says, with a nod. “We’ll have to see how he does with this project first, but I agree. I think he’s the guy for the job.”

“Right.”

“You’ll let me know if your assessment changes over the next few days?”

Foggy knows it won’t, but he nods anyway. “Absolutely.”

“Thanks, Foggy. Oh, and keep this under your hat for now? I don’t want to approach Matt with it until it’s a done deal on our end.”

“Sure,” Foggy says. “Our secret.”

“Appreciate it,” Ben replies, pushing off the door frame. “I won’t keep you any longer. Good luck with the power company.”

“We’ll need it,” Foggy calls back, already turning towards his office so he can grab his coat and head out.

When Foggy finally gets back to National Strategies—after a cab ride from hell in the sudden downpour of freezing rain, because this night needs more exciting variables than it already has—he almost collides with Karen, who’s ducking out onto the street and fussing with an umbrella at the same time.

“Ah, Jesus, Foggy,” she yelps, and steps back, swinging the umbrella away from him, “I didn’t see you there.”

Foggy is distracted by how narrowly Karen has avoided stepping in a hideously slushy puddle with her suede heels and takes a second to refocus on the fact that she’s speaking to him. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I am,” she laughs, nervously. “I could have killed you.”

“I wish I could say with confidence that I’m tough enough to withstand an umbrella attack from you, but I know that’s not true,” Foggy jokes. “I think you’re resourceful enough to kill me with almost anything.”

“Well, you’re lucky I love you, then.”

Something about the way she says it—looking away at the umbrella like she still might open it, even though they’re completely protected by the building’s awning, and sounding less like she’s teasing him the way she usually would and more like she really means it—draws Foggy up short. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” Karen asks, whipping her head up so quickly to look at him that a silken section of her hair cascades over her shoulder dramatically, giving her the appearance of a wronged woman in a film noir. It nearly looks like she did it on purpose. She tucks the flamboyant lock of hair behind her ear nervously a second later.

“You never tell me you love me earnestly,” Foggy says. “It’s always a set up to telling me I’m an idiot or that I’ve got mustard on my tie or that I’d die without you.”

Karen smiles bleakly. “All of which are true.”

“Goddammit,” Foggy exclaims, grabbing at his tie. “I haven’t even had any mustard today!”

Karen reaches out and takes his hand. “I was kidding.”

Foggy holds her hand right back, even more tightly. “So, what is it? What’s the matter? Is it the power company?”

“No,” she replies, shaking her head. “They said we’d have power back in 30 minutes and that was twenty minutes ago, but also before this rain started.”

“So, it could be longer.”

“Yeah.”

“What is it, then?” Foggy asks. “What’s with the face?”

“I’m going to get pizza for everybody,” Karen says, gesturing back towards the building. “The outage is from a blown transformer, so it’s only a few square blocks that are affected. I found a pizza place that’s not too far and they still have power, so I’m headed there now.”

“Okay…well, I know that’s not why you look so glum. Pizza has never, in the history of the world, made anyone less happy. And you could have sprang for delivery if you didn’t want to walk, you know I’m not that cheap, so…”

Karen sighs, tucking her hands under her arms and stamping her feet for warmth. “Will you walk with me?”

Foggy would normally bitch and moan and make her convince him, because that’s who they are, but Karen seems off right now and he’s a lot more interested in making her feel better and figuring out if he needs to break anyone’s kneecaps in defense of her honor (not that he’s the guy to go to for that second thing, because he’s a lover not a fighter, generally speaking, but if there was really no one else for the job, he could do it and he would do it for Karen and maybe no one else on earth) than he is in keeping up their usual banter.

So, he says, “Of course,” and holds out his arm for her to loop hers through. He also gently pries the umbrella from her hands and gallantly opens it for her. In these particular shoes, Karen is still slightly shorter than him, so it’s more convenient for him to hold the umbrella anyway. She ducks under its protection gratefully and they start walking in the direction she drags him.

“My condition for walking in the freezing rain was that you’d tell me what’s going on, you know,” Foggy says after a block or so.

Karen heaves an enormous sigh, like he’s really taxing her limitless stores of patience by caring about her feelings, but she squeezes in closer to his side under the umbrella too, so she must not be that put out. “It’s stupid,” she says, ultimately, which tells him exactly nothing.

“Well, that doesn’t narrow it down at all. Everything you deal with on a daily basis is some shade of stupid or another.”

“I don’t want you to be mad at me,” she replies, in a small voice, sounding very much unlike herself. Karen doesn’t really cower or back down from anything. She’s confident and direct almost to a fault. So, when she makes herself small like that, Foggy knows to really worry.

“Jesus, you’re making me nervous,” he exclaims, grabbing her hand where it still rests on his arm, “I won’t be mad! I promise. Just…out with it, please.”

Karen still looks nervous, but after a second, she says, “While you were off at the senior staff meeting, the rest of us were just sitting around, waiting for the power to come back on, so I was talking to Matt and Amber, trying to, you know, pass the time and get to know them better…”

“Right,” Foggy nods, still not clear on the source of her distress. “That’s not a fireable offense, you know. I didn’t expect you to fix the transformer yourself.”

“No, I know. I just…I may have been trying to figure out if there’s anything going on between them.”

“Between Matt and his assistant?”

“Yeah. I mean, you said that you thought—”

“Oh, God, I was joking,” Foggy laughs. “I mean, not that it doesn’t happen, of course. And, to be honest, I think better of Matt than that, but it also wouldn’t be the worst thing I could learn about him if he did, occasionally—”

“They’re not hooking up,” Karen interrupts, with a pitying look.

“Thank God,” Foggy replies, squeezing her arm. “I really wasn’t doing a good job acting cool about that, was I?”

“I thought you were going to pull something, honestly.”

“Me too.”

“Amber worked with him on the Bryant campaign—she was Bryant’s personal aide, in fact—and now she goes to grad school at Georgetown,” Karen supplies, back in familiar territory. “He said he didn’t know anyone else in town who’d be able to help on such short notice, and he thinks Amber’s great.”

Foggy narrows his eyes at her. “So, he wants to sleep with her, is what you’re saying.”

“I may have more or less implied that…”

“Karen!”

“I wanted intel, Foggy!”

Foggy pauses for another second to drive home how little he approves of her methods before he relents and asks, “And?”

“I said she seemed like a nice girl and very pretty—”

“Good grief! You’re worse than my nana!”

Karen shoots him a warning glare. “And Matt agreed that she was, on both counts, but said he had a policy of not dating people at work, especially subordinates after a, and I’m quoting here, ‘messy experience’.”

“Well, that’s smart,” Foggy says, now thinking about what Ben just told him about Matt potentially working for the campaign and ignoring the stab of disappointment in his chest. Not that Matt would date him anyway, but…well, that’s unfortunately all there is to it, in the end.

“I think so too,” Karen replies, still quiet in that suspicious way that makes him worry.

“None of this sounds that bad to me, you know. I don’t understand why you’re acting like you killed a mockingbird.”

Karen sighs again, and shakes some errant hair out of her face nervously. “It’s just that…this discussion paved the way for him to ask about me and you.”

Foggy nearly misses a step on the slushy sidewalk, but he catches himself in time. “What about me and you?”

“Just how we seem so close and we’re always joking around with each other and we spend so much time together…”

“Yeah…?”

“And how—Matt said this, not me—that must create opportunities for, you know, feelings to develop.”

“That sounds like a very Matt way of putting it, yes.”

“And when I said that we were close, but not like that, he sort of…didn’t believe me.”

“It is hard to believe,” Foggy replies, solemnly, just to watch Karen’s head whip around in disbelief. He tries to keep up the facade for another moment. “I mean, look at me, Karen. I’m gorgeous! It’s a miracle you’ve held back this long.”

“Foggy,” Karen groans, shaking her head.

“I know, okay? I’m just kidding. But who cares if Matt doesn’t believe you? What does his opinion matter?”

“It’s just he was so insistent!” Karen exclaims, gesturing broadly with her free hand. “Like two people couldn’t work as closely as we do and get along like we do and not be in love with each other.”

“We are in love with each other.”

“We are?”

“I mean, maybe not ��in love,’ exactly,” Foggy replies. “But we do love each other. We’re like family now.”

“So you see me as a sister?”

“God, no! You’re…you’re my best friend, except that I pay you, which does make it kind of weird. And you’re my right hand man, except that you’re a woman. And you’re just…you’re Karen! I don’t know! You defy easy categorization!”

Karen looks up thoughtfully, like she’s pondering the stars, except they can’t see them now anyway with all the clouds. “Maybe this speaks to how co-dependent and weird our bond is these days, but honestly? That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“You need better friends,” Foggy jokes, but squeezes her hand on his arm.

Karen shakes her head at him. “Matt seems to think attraction, at the very least, is inevitable, in a situation like ours.”

“Well, maybe that says more about Matt than it does about us.”

“You think?”

“I—” Foggy hesitates, but Karen does seem actually upset by this, and honesty feels like the only real solution to that. “You know I think you’re beautiful. I hope that’s okay to—I don’t want to make you uncomfortable here.”

Karen offers him a small smile. “I appreciate that, but I know you and I trust you. It’s fine.”

“So, then, to Matt’s point, I am attracted to you. You’re beautiful and smart and good at what you do and kind. These are all things that make me attracted to people normally, and you’re no exception.”

“Okay…”

“But I think, I don’t know—I think sometimes you just miss the window and things never escalate beyond a sort of objective attraction. Does that make sense?”

“I think so, yes. You’re saying we’re past the point where that could happen between us?”

“Yeah. It’s like—you notice the spark and you either nurture it and build it into a real flame or you let it smolder until it eventually goes out. And we didn’t do that. We were doing other things with our lives.”

“Like, winning a presidential election…”

“For example,” Foggy says, smiling. “I mean, that’s how I see it, at least. How do you feel?”

“Me?” Karen asks, bewildered. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re not in love with me, right? I didn’t somehow miss that?”

“Well, as you said, you are gorgeous.”

“I know,” Foggy sighs, dramatically.

“You’re right,” she says, thoughtfully. “I mean, I do love you. You’re maybe the most important person in my life—”

“We really gotta do something about that,” Foggy interjects, shaking his head sadly.

“You could let me leave the office before midnight more often,” Karen suggests.

“Alright, let’s not go crazy.”

Karen laughs, which is a good sound after all that worrying. “I just mean that when you hired me as your assistant—”

“I don’t recall having much choice in the matter, as a point of fact.”

“When you hired me,” Karen continues, “you gave me this life and I love it and I appreciate it.”

“Well, good.”

“But I’m not in love with you,” Karen admits, quietly. “Not in this universe, at least.”

Foggy knew that already, but hearing it out loud still feels bittersweet. It’s not often people feel compelled to tell you they don’t love you, after all. He’ll have to thank Matt for this dubious honor when they get back.

“So, you’re saying I still have a chance in another universe?” he jokes, instead.

“Oh, for sure,” Karen smiles. “In another universe, we’re probably, like, stupid in love with each other!”

“Probably in a couple of universes,” Foggy agrees, enjoying the warmth of her smile.

She rubs his arm like she’s trying to warm him up. “Loads of them, I imagine.”

“That was all then? Matt gave you an existential crisis because he couldn’t figure out why we weren’t dating.”

Karen’s smile dims again and she looks away. “No, that’s not it.”

“Well, then? Do I need to challenge him to a duel, or what?”

“I just might have gone too hard in denying you and I had something going on…”

“So, he doesn’t believe you?”

“No, I just—I think I did convince him eventually because he kind of…asked me out?”

“Is that a question?” Foggy asks. He’s impressed that he doesn’t trip over his own feet or sputter at her or otherwise physically embarrass himself, because it felt like he might. It felt like being smacked over the head with a mallet—or, so he imagines.

Karen winces, which means his even tone and physical calm did not fool her one bit. “He said, if I’m really not seeing anyone, we should grab a drink before he heads back to New York.”

“So, he definitely asked you out?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“What did you say?”

“That I’d have to check my calendar.”

Foggy can’t help it; he cackles at that. “Karen!”

“I know,” she says, putting a hand over her face in humiliation. “I was caught off guard, okay?!”

“I’m sure you said it in a cool way,” Foggy reassures her, “like a heroine in an old screwball comedy from the 30s. Transatlantic accent and all.”

“That’s true. I always respond to romantic overtures with my Katherine Hepburn impression.”

“I know.”

“You’re really not mad?” Karen asks, looking at him sideways.

“No. Of course not!”

“Really?”

“Matt’s not mine to feel possessive over, Karen,” Foggy says, as gently as he can manage. “I get where you’re coming from, really, and it does you credit that you care about my feelings to that extent, but I’d have to be delusional to be upset with you over this.”

“It’d be okay if you were,” Karen replies, just as gently. “I know how you feel about Matt.”

Foggy waves a hand to dismiss this. “It’s a schoolgirl crush. It’s nothing serious.”

“I don’t know…”

“I do,” Foggy insists. “Even if he were into guys, which I have no reason to suspect he is, you’ve seen him, what he’s like and how he operates. He could have anybody. I don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell with him, not in this universe or any other.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“Well, you’re very sweet to say so.”

“No, I mean, why would he ask me all those questions about how we could work so closely together and not develop feelings for each other if he wasn’t at least aware of your charms?”

“There’s a big difference between that and him wanting me, though, and you know that.”

“I just mean…yeah, maybe not this universe. But any other? I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Well, that’s something, at least,” Foggy replies, squeezing her arm again. “Do you think Matt and I are in love in the universe where we’re all squids or something?”

Karen elbows him in the stomach. “You’re a freak, you know that?”

“I’m extremely aware, yes,” he says, as she pulls him to a stop in front of an unassuming storefront with a neon light advertising hot pizza blaring out into the frigid night. It smells like garlic and warm bread and Foggy could kiss her right now for thinking to feed everyone, because he’s suddenly aware that he’s starving. “So, are you going?”

“To get the pizza? Yeah, of course, I just—”

“No, not that,” he says, pulling the door open to the sound of a bell overhead. “I meant, are you going to accept Matt’s invitation?”

“What? No! No way!”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s—and you would—it just wouldn’t be—!”

“Do you like him?” Foggy asks as they step into the restaurant and stamp slush off their shoes.

“You know I think Matt’s great,” Karen answers, frowning at him as he tries to collapse the umbrella.

“So, what’s the problem?”

“He’s your crush!”

“Yes, but I already said—”

“I know what you said but that doesn’t change anything for me.”

“You’re too loyal for your own good,” Foggy says, shaking his head at her. “But despite what I’ve got doodled in all the margins of my notebooks, I’m not Mrs. Matt Murdock. I have no claim on him.”

“Too bad,” Karen replies, stubbornly. “I’m giving you dibs.”

“Karen,” Foggy sighs, “if you really like him, you should—”

“And if I really, really liked him that way, I would,” she interjects, nonplussed. She even shrugs. “But I don’t. Not like that. He’s handsome, sure, and charming.”

“And he’s got a good job and he cares about the same issues you do. Why would you ever want to date someone like that?”

“He also lives in New York and travels for work constantly. We’d basically never see each other. And I’m not looking for something as casual as what Matt and I could manage. I could do that with someone you don’t have feelings for just as easily and I’ll sleep much better at night besides.”

Foggy hesitates again, but his conscience won’t let him lie, not even by omission. Karen gets his best, no exceptions. “And what if that wasn’t an obstacle anymore?” he asks, carefully. “Would that change anything for you?”

“What do you mean?” Karen asks, as they approach the counter. Once there, she’s distracted by a stoned-looking teenager who asks for the name on her order. After they disappear to retrieve it from the kitchen for her, Karen returns her attention to Foggy and raises an eyebrow at him, telling him she’s still waiting for an answer.

“What if Matt was going to live here?” Foggy asks, his throat feeling tight. “What if he worked here?”

Karen looks at him for a long moment, searchingly. “You mean…?”

“It’s not official yet, so if anyone asks, you know nothing,” Foggy says, even though he knows he can trust her without qualification. “But Ben wants to hire Matt to work on the campaign, assuming this trial period goes well.”

“The re-election campaign?”

“The very one.”

“So, he’d be here, and on the road with us?”

“Yes.”

“For the next…two years?” Karen clarifies, after doing the math in her head.

“Yes,” Foggy replies. “I’m asking, does that change anything?”

Karen looks like she’s still processing, but her eyes meet his at that question and her gaze hardens and her shoulders go back. “No,” she says, firmly.

“Karen…”

“It doesn’t change anything for me, Foggy. I mean it.”

“You’re sure?”

“I am,” she nods. “Besides, if that does happen, Matt and I would be colleagues and he wouldn’t want to be involved with me anyway, per his own rule.”

“I have a hunch that’s more of a flexible guideline for Matt than a hard and fast rule,” Foggy says, leaning his weight against the counter. “He might make an exception for someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” Karen asks, confused.

“Someone as great as you,” Foggy explains.

Karen’s eyes soften and she tips her head to the side, considering him. Before Foggy can ask what she’s thinking, she surges forward and pulls him into a hug. Foggy’s a little taken aback at first but once he recovers, he hugs back, letting his arms squeeze around her shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” she says, still holding him.

“For what?”

“This is going to be tough for you, I think.”

“Oh,” Foggy says, deflating a little. He feels small and pitiful in a way he doesn’t usually allow himself to feel and, while he’s safe with Karen, it still doesn’t feel nice. “I’ll live.”

Karen pulls back to consider him. “I know, but…”

“It’ll probably help,” Foggy lies, blithely, forcing a smile. “If absence makes the heart grow fonder, then constant presence probably makes the heart cold and indifferent. Right?”

“Right,” Karen replies, gamely but with obvious uncertainty. “You’ll probably figure out that you hate the way he chews and that he’s a bad tipper and, um…”

“Thinks the Earth is flat,” Foggy finishes for her.

“Exactly! Things that will only come up with routine, daily contact!”

“For two years,” Foggy says, bleakly.

“He might say no!” Karen offers, changing tack.

“He won’t, though.”

Karen shakes her head, sadly. “No, but it never hurts to hope, right?”

Foggy pats her shoulders and steps out of her arms. “I have a lot of anecdotal evidence to the contrary, unfortunately.”

Karen regards him sadly and puts a hand lightly on his sleeve. “I really am sorry.”

“No need,” he replies, gently removing her hand. “This is how it goes sometimes.”

“Still.”

“It’s not like we’re soulmates or something, Karen. He’s just a guy I know!”

Karen looks at him with even more pity now, which he wasn’t aware was possible a second ago. “Still,” she says, quietly.

“Yeah,” Foggy says, softly. “Thanks.”

“If I can be a complete traitor for one second,” Karen adds, leaning her hip against the counter, “I am glad to hear Ben wants to bring him on.”

“So am I, aside from all the personal reservations,” Foggy replies, “and those are largely stupid, anyway.”

“I get where you’re coming from, though.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I should stand in the way of Matt’s career. If I’m really his friend, I should be happy for him!”

“And aren’t you?”

Foggy pauses to consider and finds, somewhere deep in his heart, past the surface level disappointment and worry, there is a vein of excitement and genuine pleasure at the idea of Matt moving up in the world and getting something that Foggy knows he wants. “Yes,” he says, fiddling with the buttons on his coat.

“Really?”

“Yes. Completely. It’s—he deserves it! He works hard and he’s great at what he does! I want every success imaginable for him!”

Karen nods, as if she’s proven something just now. “Well, there you go!”

“There I go…what?”

“There’s your proof that you’re really Matt’s friend and you’re a good person and you’re not selfish, or whatever else it is you’re worried about.”

“I was—” Foggy stops and shakes his head. “Thank you, Karen.”

“No problem.”

“I’m going to grab us a cab, because I’m not walking all the way back in this weather, not with you in those heels and us both having to smell pizza the whole time.”

“Good idea,” Karen replies. “I’ll meet you outside when I’ve got everything.”

It takes both of them and the teenager behind the counter (not to mention the extreme patience of the cab driver who probably could have picked up a more convenient fare anywhere in this weather) to get everything from their order into the cab, which means that both the teenager and the driver get considerable tips. They get back to the National Strategies office in one piece and in relatively short order, though, and Foggy and Karen are working to distribute pizza boxes evenly between them without impairing their field of vision when Amber appears in order to help them.

“If you just grab the door, that’ll help a lot, I think,” Foggy says, as she reaches to take some of the boxes from him.

“Well, I just thought,” she starts, and then shakes her head. “Matt wants to talk to you, when you have a second, so I thought I’d free you up to go see him.”

Foggy exchanges a look with Karen, before handing a bag to Amber. “This will only take a minute. I’m sure he’ll manage.”

“Okay,” Amber replies, uncertainly, but she goes to prop the door open with her hip. Once Karen and Foggy are past her and through the door, she lets it close behind her, and adds, “I cleaned off a table up front so there’d be room for the food.”

“Good thinking,” Karen says, with a nod.

“Well, we haven’t had much else to do with the power out,” she says, tucking a curly strand of hair behind her ear.

“It’s back now, though,” Karen notes, approvingly.

“Yeah, just,” Amber says, sounding tired. “That’s why Matt needs to talk to you, Mr. Nelson.”

“Oh, God,” Foggy says, as he deposits the pizza boxes on the empty table. “Amber, please! Don’t make me make the ‘Mr. Nelson is my father’ joke with you!”

Amber frowns at him, clearly puzzled. “The what?”

Foggy sticks his hand out to her, like he’s introducing himself. “Mr. Nelson’s my father, call me Foggy.”

Amber throws a desperate look at Karen before taking his hand and shaking it dubiously. “Right. Foggy.”

“Unless you’d rather make me feel old and out of touch?”

She finally cracks a smile at that. “No. Sorry.”

“Good,” he says, taking his hand back and turning his attention to Karen as she begins arranging the pizza boxes on the table with ruthless efficiency according to some system only she’s privy to. “Uh, what else can I do to help?”

“Go talk to Matt,” Karen replies, without even looking over her shoulder at him. “We’re good here.”

“Are you sure? I can—”

She does turn towards him then, but only to shoot him a less-than-impressed look. “Are you implying that between myself and Amber we can’t figure out how to open a few pizza boxes?”

Foggy looks over at Amber, who’s wearing a reluctantly amused expression that she turns on him a second later. Foggy mimes loosening his collar to really solidify himself as a weird old man in Amber’s mind, corny sitcom sight gags and all, and then holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright. You got me there. I’ll go bug Matt.”

“He’s in the back office,” Amber puts in helpfully, as she goes to arrange some paper plates and napkins on the table alongside the food.

“Thank you,” Foggy replies, and heads in that direction. Once he gets to the office, separated from the open bullpen area the callers have been working from by a partially windowed wall, he knocks on the doorframe to announce himself.

“Yeah?” Matt calls back, barely pivoting his attention from whatever it is he’s doing—which, as near as Foggy can tell, mostly involves sitting in the dark. Clearly, no one told him the power had come back on. Then again, what should Matt care about the lights being on or off?

“It’s Foggy. Amber said you wanted me.”

“Desperately,” Matt says, cracking a smile.

“She said you wanted to speak to me, you menace,” Foggy replies, rolling his eyes even as his face heats. Something about the conversation he just had with Karen has sapped the fun out of flirting with Matt. He’s never really had any hope anything would come from it, of course; he’s not that delusional. But now it’s like he has the feeling of participating in a joke at his own expense and it doesn’t feel good at all.

“Of course. What did you think I meant?” Matt asks, innocently as he rises and comes around to sit on the front corner of the desk.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this instead of eating pizza.”

Matt crosses his arms over his chest and his smile evaporates as he tips his chin downward. “I’m sorry. I joke when I’m nervous.”

“You? Nervous?” Foggy asks, astonished. “That’s something new and different.”

Matt frowns at him suddenly. “Hey, I think I’ve kept it together pretty well so far and I don’t—”

“No, exactly,” Foggy interjects. “I was being literal. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you nervous before.”

That, for some reason, makes Matt laugh. “Oh, yes, you have.”

“I’m pretty sure I haven’t. You’re a very cool customer normally.”

“Then I’m an extremely talented faker, which was always what the nuns said about me in school, so…”

“Okay, I feel like you probably have something important to tell me right now, so I’m not going to take that obvious bait for a side track, but we are absolutely coming back around to that insane bit of backstory you just casually dropped right there.”

“Appreciated.”

“Yeah, so what’s going on, then? And make it quick, because you being nervous is making me nervous.”

Matt chews on his lip in a very distracting manner, which does nothing to help Foggy’s nerves. “I think we should suspend polling for the night.”

“Alright.”

“Now, look, I know what you’re going to say and it’s—sorry…‘alright’?” Matt blinks at him, baffled and betrayed at once. “You’ve been hounding me all night about how important these numbers are and you’re ready to call off polling that quickly?! With no arguments whatsoever?!”

Foggy sighs and leans against the door jamb. “I assumed you were going to give me your reasoning next and I also figured, given how you’re an expert and all and I trust you, that your reasoning would be sound. Am I wrong?”

“Are you—? No! Of course not, I’m just surprised.”

“So. Why suspend the poll?”

“Everybody except the West coast is asleep now and we’re quickly approaching the point where we’d have to stop calling altogether,” Matt explains. “By the time we get everyone back online and calling again, we’d have maybe 20 minutes left before the West coast goes to bed. We’ve lost the momentum. We pick back up tomorrow night, refreshed, and we’ll still get good data. It won’t be the same pure reactions we were anticipating to the speech, but people will have the benefit of the news cycle, talking to their co-workers about the State of the Union, forming a real opinion.”

“They could also forget what the President actually said by tomorrow,” Foggy says. “Our results could be skewed.”

“We’ll have to do polling tomorrow anyway, to capture the time zones we missed tonight. For morale and for practicality’s sake, I say we come back fresh tomorrow.”

“And if I got the President on the line and asked you to defend this decision, that’s what you’d say?”

Something stubborn comes into the set of Matt’s jaw then. Stubborn and attractive, but that last part is no surprise anymore. “Yes. I’d say this to anybody.”

“And if our results tomorrow are inconclusive or unhelpful on the issues we’re worried about?”

“That’s on me,” Matt says with a defiant shrug. “But I don’t see a better way to play the cards we’ve been dealt.”

“Me neither,” Foggy says, with another sigh. “Consider your decision co-signed.”

Matt deflates a little, as his defiance is no longer needed. “Thank you, Foggy.”

“Don’t thank me. I’ll still throw you to the wolves if this breaks bad.”

“You won’t,” Matt says, cheerfully, because he has no idea what’s at stake and Foggy can’t even tell him.

“This impression you have of me as Mr. Softee, who’s a sweetheart to everyone, is misguided, you know,” Foggy replies, because it’s never too soon to put distance between them if Matt’s going to end up working for the campaign. It will suck right now, but it might be better for everyone in the long run. “Nobody makes it to where I am by being a nice guy. Your earlier assessment that I’m a pain in the ass to work for and with was correct. I am not being kind by taking your advice, I am trusting your professional judgment.”

Matt cocks his head to the side, considering him. “So, you showing up at Sunday Mass after our terrible first meeting to apologize and encourage me despite my campaign’s dismal prospects was…what? Some Machiavellian ploy beyond my ken? Because I think it was probably just something a nice person would do, personally.”

“I can feel guilt on occasion and still be a fucking nightmare to work for, Matt. Please. Be serious.”

“I am serious,” Matt replies with an easy smile. “I don’t know why you’re trying to act tough with me now—”

“I didn’t say I was tough, I just meant—”

“But it’s not going to work,” Matt interjects, pushing off the desk in a way that has to be intentionally sultry because there’s just no way anyone can look that hot by only standing up, “Mr. Softee.”

Foggy swallows, because Matt stepped closer to say that last part. “If that nickname catches on, I’ll know who to blame…”

“See? You can’t even threaten me properly! Some nightmare you are!”

“Alright, well, this conversation is officially way less fun than pizza, so I’m leaving,” Foggy says, and turns to do just that. He’s stopped by Matt’s hand on his elbow.

“I am sorry for teasing you,” Matt says, looking at least halfway contrite, which is pretty good for him, all things considered. “It’s just that the one thing you’re never going to be able to convince me of is that you’re some kind of opportunist asshole. I know better.”

Foggy swallows hard. This is exactly what they need to avoid if they're going to be working together. “You really don’t know me that well, Matt. Not enough to be saying anything that definitively.”

Matt smiles at him indulgently. “And you really have seen me nervous before. At our first meeting. I was terrified.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Foggy says, and Matt’s beautiful, long eyelashes splay across his cheek as he directs his gaze towards the floor. “Did fool me, I guess.”

“You put me at ease.”

“I pissed you off pretty instantly, from what I remember.”

“Yeah, well,” Matt says, with a dangerous smile that does support the veracity of him having a long history of infuriating nuns, “I’m pretty comfortable with anger, as an emotion.”

“You’d have to be, in our line of work.”

“People don’t stay terrified in your presence, is what I’m saying, Foggy. You’re one of the good ones.”

“God, you sound like my mother,” Foggy laughs, “next you’re going to ask how I’m still single!”

“I have been wondering…”

“Oh, yeah? How much?”

Matt gives him a light shove. “Go get pizza,” he says, with a laugh. “I’m sorry I tried to express gratitude for you backing me up. That was clearly a mistake.”

“One I hope you’ll learn from,” Foggy replies. He pauses in the doorway, though. He just can't help himself. “You’ve got good instincts, Matt, and you’re smart.”

Matt looks confused for a moment, not following the change in subject. “Alright…”

“Makes it very easy to be nice to you,” Foggy adds, and watches the words land as Matt’s expression clears into a brilliant smile.

“God, you were right,” Matt replies. “You’re an absolute monster. How does anyone work with you?”

You’re about to find out, Foggy thinks but can't say as he leaves the office and puts on the bravest face he can muster. Two years. This is going to be brutal.

#god i hate putting the full text on here but i want it to match the formatting of my other fic posts IM SORRY #you are better off reading on ao3 though because the formatting is better #anyway #[jazz hands]#mattfoggy #mattfoggy fic #foggy nelson #matt murdock #karen page #the west wing au #daredevil #daredevil fic #not ddba compliant because i am not watching that but also it's an au so who gives a fuck #it's not anything compliant honestly #homelywenchsociety #that's my writing tag! don't worry about it!#series: a more perfect union

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dinosaurwithablog · 9 months ago

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Howling Mad Murdock for President!!! That's my write in vote. I think that he'd do a better job. He couldn't do any worse, and he's a good guy, and his party is the A Team. They'd whoop everyone's ass into shape.

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kelseyjunemartin · 3 months ago

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Daredevil TV Show Intro Analysis

youtube

The intro depicts a red liquid, presumably blood, pouring over a figure of Daredevil, Lady Justice, and over images of New York City. New York is figuratively bled by crime. And Daredevil both causes bloodshed and bleeds for his city.

The red isn't just blood, it also is the color of passion and fury, two defining characteristics of Matt Murdock. As Daredevil he is at once painting the town red as he spreads justice, and seeing red as he lets stress and violence overtake him.

There is also a pairing of opposites taking place. Lady Justice is connected to Matt's persona as a good-willed attorney that fights for justice with the law. This is contrasted to his Daredevil persona which fights against injustice extra-judiciously.

Another opposite present is the contrast between Daredevil and the angel outside the church. Matt embodies both demonic and angelic qualities. He uses violence to perform good works. Also, he must lie and manipulate to protect himself and those he cares about.

The very first shot in the intro is a close-up of the cloth over Blind Lady Justice's eyes. A sense of blindness presides over the intro because the images are hidden until revealed by the blood. This emphasizes the themes of blindness in the show. Justice is blind. Love is blind. Blind rage.

#daredevil #daredevil tv #matt murdock #marvel #marvel's defenders #tv show analysis #tv shows #marvel mcu #Youtube

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handeaux · 1 month ago

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Do You Hate Daylight Saving Time? You Can Blame Cincinnati Busybody E.H. Murdock

It’s that dreaded week following the annual “spring forward” as we turn our timepieces toward Daylight Saving Time. Having lost an hour, our weary brains endeavor to recalibrate our circadian rhythms while our biological clocks wail in agony. Who is the idiot who devised this semiannual torture? Cincinnatians have one of our own to blame. His name was Edward H. Murdock.

Mr. Murdock was the president of the Queen City Printing Ink Company, known as “The Oldest and Largest Printing Ink Works in The West,” with branches in Chicago, Boston and Philadelphia. Around 1907, he vacationed in England and was impressed by the long summer days enjoyed by inhabitants of that sceptered isle. According to the Cincinnati Post [20 May 1909]:

“‘That set me to thinking,’ says Murdock. ‘And it came to me all at once that what we lacked geographically we could make up by freedom from the slavery of the clock. I thought of all the objections to the idea I could think of, and found that they wouldn’t hold water.’”

Although Murdock claimed credit for the idea, he had vacationed in England just about the time that nation was debating Daylight Saving at the instigation of prominent builder and outdoorsman William Willett. Without mention of Willett, Murdock had some circulars printed up extolling his idea – essentially to adjust clocks by two hours from May through September – and plopped them onto the lobby desk of the Business Men’s Club. Murdock’s name appeared nowhere on the document, and he bided his time as discussion flowed out of the clubrooms and into the newspapers. After a week or so of speculation about the origin of the circulars, Murdock stepped out from behind the curtain to form the National Daylight Association. Within a month, his organization sent a delegation to Washington where they got the support of President William Howard Taft. The Cincinnati Post was enthusiastic:

“In two weeks an Idea that started in the brain of a Cincinnati man has grown into the biggest single national thought of the moment; it is gaining more popular discussion than the tariff; newspapers are writing up and making funny pictures of the Idea; the President and his Cabinet are thinking about the Idea very seriously; knockers are trying to find flaws in the Idea and find themselves on a futile job, and nearly everybody else is wondering why nobody in the United States ever before thought about turning the clock back two hours and getting two more hours of daylight out of a summers day.”

To be honest, other people had thought about something very close to Murdock’s idea. As early as 1784, Ben Franklin satirically proposed a system along the same lines. He didn’t take the idea seriously and neither did anyone at the time. None of Murdock’s predecessors had inspired a national debate on the matter.

Once Murdock’s idea got national traction, the response was far from universally positive. The Catholic Columbian, diocesan newspaper of Columbus, Ohio, deplored the entire concept [23 July 1909]:

“This is an absurd piece of legislation, which is certain to fail for want of observance on the part of the people. The daylight-saving movement is a fad and a fallacy. It is bound to come to an untimely end.”

According to the Catholic Columbian, the measure was unnecessary, confusing, useless and – most notoriously – an importation, and the Catholic Columbian would have nothing to do with a plan that originated in England.

Likewise, Watson’s Jeffersonian Magazine [September 1909], after eviscerating the English Daylight plan, went after Cincinnati’s initiative:

“The ludicrous imitators in America, styling themselves the National Daylight Association of Cincinnati, would do well to agree among themselves to get up before day, but to let the American public have its breakfast at just about the same time it has been accustomed to for some several hundred years.”

There were some heavy-duty supporters of the Daylight Saving idea, including the esteemed Journal of the American Medical Association:

“In a word, we have very probably in this movement for prolonging the usefulness of daylight one of the most important hygienic ameliorations that can now be made for all classes of people. Doubtless the working classes would benefit even more than most others because, while their fatigue requires them to go to bed early, the activity of life around them often seriously disturbs their sleep during the hours before midnight which should be so precious. Let us hope that so simple and efficient a means of lessening one of the unhygienic tendencies of our day will receive the consideration it deserves.”

The Kansas City Star congratulated Cincinnati on a useful and easily effected benefit, noting that, if adopted nationally, the new time system would require no major alterations to railroad or factory schedules. The St. Louis Post-Dispatch suggested, because Cincinnati had so recently installed the first lighting system in the nation for its major-league ballpark, the Daylight Saving plan was just a ploy to get more fans into the stands for night games.

Despite the national attention, Mr. Murdock’s idea never got more than local traction and wasn’t adopted for quite some time. Among the reasons for ignoring Daylight Saving Time was the chaotic nature of time itself in the United States. For decades, the only official time was “sun time,” which meant that every city and town in the country had its own local time. Noon in Cincinnati was several minutes later than noon in Cleveland, which was quite a bit later than noon in New York and so on.

A huge innovation arrived in November 1883, when almost all North American railroads adopted a standard time system. Under this system, Cincinnati was placed in the Central Time Zone. "Railroad Time" was 22 minutes slower than "Cincinnati Time." Detroit was 28 minutes fast while Indianapolis was 10 minutes slow. Louisville was 18 minutes fast and St. Louis was one minute slow.

If you had anything to do with the railroads, you might have adopted “Railroad Time,” but most Cincinnatians stuck with “Cincinnati Time.” Hotels, in particular, scheduled employees on “City Time” and served guests on “Railroad Time.” The switch to Daylight Saving Time, then, did not require federal approval; Cincinnati City Council adopted the idea in 1909, but declined to actually implement the measure. It took World War I and efforts to conserve candles and coal that led to a wartime national adoption of Daylight Saving Time. National (mostly) implementation of Daylight Saving Time did not occur until 1966.

#daylight saving time #national daylight association #E.H. Murdock

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a-leg-without-fear · 8 months ago

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HI. HAVE I MENTIONED I LOVE YOU

this is a lovely coffee shop and i would like to order a (white) mocha for Mr. Matthew Murdock, please (i know that’s not technically on the menu but every time i go get coffee irl i get a white mocha so i thought i would toss it in)

i love you TOO oml hi Vi welcome to my establishment. lucky for you, we have a special deal on white chocolate mochas!! for the low, low price of free, i'll whip up your drink, AND make it a large for ya :)

Your eyes traced over the lines of Matt's features while you sketched on your drawing pad. Deep graphite coated the grey paper in the peaks and valleys of your lover's face.

Dark brown eyes set under a pronounced brow bone, sloped nose that curved in just the right way, high cheekbones, plump lips that looked awfully kissable, wavy hair falling over his forehead and tangling in his full brows, peppering of stubble along his sharp chin.

You couldn't believe how lucky you were. This absolute stunner sitting next to you was yours. Irrevocably and entirely. You were who he fell asleep with every night, legs tangled together and arms wrapped around each other. You were who he had coffee with every morning, the rejuvenating beverage brewed specially by him. And you were who he would go to when in need, whether it be to stitch him up or to comfort him after a particularly bad day.

"How's it looking?" his low voice rumbled. Matt had been sitting perfectly still for you while you were sketching him. Eyes relaxed as they stared off into space, light smile stretched across his mouth, dimples only slightly digging into his cheeks.

"I would ask your opinion, but I don't think we'd get very far," you replied. He met the comment with a quiet laugh, chest bouncing against the side of your knee. You were leaning on the arm of the couch with your legs draped over his lap.

"I'll trust your judgement," he said softly. His warm hand continued in its lazy pattern of rubbing up and down your leg. You hummed contentedly.

"Then it's looking great. Just like you."

i luv u vi i would die for you

#charlie cox #daredevil #matt murdock #charlie cox fanart #daredevil fanart #matt murdock fanart #charlie cox sketch #daredevil sketch #matt murdock sketch #daredevil fanfic #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x reader #200 followers celebration #writing prompt #drawing prompt #request fulfillment #murdock tuna team #this request is from the VICE PRESIDENT HERSELF so it NEEDS to be good

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ephiesoul · 9 months ago

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⭐️Choose your President⭐️

❤️🤍💙 Markiplier Edition ❤️🤍💙