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paracosmic-murdock · 14 days ago

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the lips i used to call home

you used to live a very different life before you ended up in that gala, wearing a dress almost as scandalous as your date: congressman james b. barnes. you used to be one of the little guys when half of everything disappeared and you were forced to move on, leaving all of that behind... leaving matt murdock behind. when he came back, life pulled you apart and you found yourself being a part of a world that wasn't very much like you—a world matt is now drowning into as he set foot in that gala because of his stupid jealousy, because of the news of your engagement to congressman barnes.

pairing: congressman!bucky barnes x attorney general!reader x ex!matt murdock

warnings/tags: mediatic scandal damage control, angst, love triangle kinda but not really?, NO cheating, jealous!matt, what to do when your ex appears in an event you attended to hard launch your current partner wikihow, possessive!bucky, it hurt to write this tbh, we all know matt is a huge red flag guys, so i'm not apologizing, bucky x reader endgame, daredevil: born again (2025) SPOILERS, a relevant death from the first episode is mentioned multiple times, reader was friends with matt and foggy since law school, reader is a VERY up there politician, i'm not from the usa or know much ab politics so i googled this, but then got bored, idk, everything i do is for the plot, in conclusion: BOOMSHAKALAKA MY TWO HUSBANDS

4.5K words

✰ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

After the Red Hulk incident, your job as Attorney General of the United States has become more difficult by the second.

The vice-president's transition to president wasn't being nearly as smooth as the Office hoped for it to be, so everyone has been having a harder time than anticipated. God, if you weren't a woman, you know you would've been asked to do it yourself, and you say it with enough confidence because you have heard it.

As you took a pill for the headache and got ready to finish drafting the speech you would give the following morning, Spencer, your personal assistant, knocked on your door.

“Do you need anything else, Madam?”

You shook your head. “No, it's okay. I'm heading home in five minutes anyway. See you tomorrow.”

“Alright, have a good night,”

“You, too.”

Sighing, you continued the concluding sentences of your speech when you heard knocks on your door.

Knock, knock, pause, knock, knock, knock.

“Come in,”

Bucky joined you in your office, giving you a tired smile that mirrored yours. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you replied, driving your attention to him entirely.

He took a seat on your desk and leaned down to give you a quick kiss. “How was your day, baby?”

“For starters, you didn't come see me, so… awful,” You pouted, then left your hand on his thigh. “And yours?”

“I was swamped in work and couldn't come see you,” He exhaled, tired, and intertwined your hands. “So… awful.”

“How was your meeting with Gary?”

“We talked for four whole hours,” Bucks groaned. “And we have that thing tomorrow. God.”

“Do you know what you're going to say?”

“Do you know what they'll ask me?”

“Maybe about something that will require you to look for synonyms of worrying on WordReference. Like, concerning, upsetting, or alarming.”

He rolled his eyes. “I'm gonna kiss that little joke out of you, you know?”

“Oh, I very much hope so,” You winked. “God knows I need to relieve some… stress.”

Bucky smirked and leaned down again to kiss you, this time for longer, still full of care and affection.

Soon, he made you sit on your desk and stood between your legs, unbuttoning your deep aquamarine vest, mouth never leaving yours.

Your situationship with Congressman James B. Barnes started casually. You were introduced by former President Thaddeus Ross, who wasn't very pleased with his involvement in politics. He was expecting you to be against Bucky and scare him away, to intimidate him even, but it was the complete opposite.

You were polite. Maybe too polite. Kind. Welcoming. Wishing him the best on his campaign. Offering help in case he ever needed it.

Back then, you were still dating Matt Murdock, who was too busy pushing you away to attend these events by your side as he was supposed to. Which, ultimately, was what allowed you to spend the entire evening talking to Bucky.

Eventually, when Matt's purpose to push everyone away after the incident succeeded, Bucky was there. He got the job, he got an office close to yours, he attended the same events as you, he accepted your help, late hours were spent working, and things went further without either of you planning on it.

Not catching feelings would have been nearly impossible, but you never deprived yourselves of it. Instead, you started talking more and visited each other's offices after everyone was gone, or sneaked out during galas and other events, leading to those trysts nobody was supposed to find out about—at least not until you had figured everything out and got serious enough to maintain credibility.

So, right when you had discarded Bucky's white shirt and he was throwing your black, lace bra that left absolutely nothing to the imagination carelessly, Spencer opened the door to it landing on his face. And you knew you were absolutely doomed.

The horror in his eyes was unmatched, looking like a deer in the headlights.

The problem wasn't really that you and Congressman Barnes were involved. Well, it's not a particularly ideal pairing, but that wasn't the issue; the issue was that you were caught.

Fooling around looks everything but good in a person in your world, especially when it happens to a woman who comes from a more-than-modest law firm in Hell's Kitchen and was accused of fucking her way into the Office.

Therefore, the next thing you knew, everyone around was talking about your rendezvous with Congressman Barnes. Other colleagues you had kept your distance from were making advances, supposing you were one to get involved with people from work, and now they had a shot. You heard the whispers through the walls—rumor has it, you and Bucky fuck thrice a week in your office and twice in his, you were the one who got him that job, you spend your paycheck on expensive lingerie for him, he is a pleaser, and you look good on your knees.

Needless to say, you sent Spencer home ‘for the day’, and, the same day, your team programmed an emergency meeting.

You and Bucky sat on opposite sides of the table.

“So, uh… as damage control, we found a possible solution you might not be into,” Bahar, the head of your team, said. “Before saying anything, I need you two to know that everyone in the Office, from the security guards to the President himself, knows about this. About whatever is going on between you.”

“Okay, what are we supposed to do to get this over with?” Bucky sighed.

Bahar pursed her lips. “You have to announce your engagement.”

“What?” You and Bucky looked at each other with eyes wide open.

“There's no engagement to announce,”

“Well, now there is,” she replied to you. “Neither you nor Barnes can afford a scandal as such getting out of the Office. Between the questions of how qualified Y/L/N is to be where she is and the credibility of Barnes due to his… past, you probably won't be able to live down those love affair rumors. However, if you're serious, then this could be seen as a little indiscretion. You can always call it off later. Or get married, whatever works best.”

You exhaled. “Okay. Let's do this. Barnes?”

Bucky just stared at you, hesitant, but said nothing.

“Are you in or not?” you questioned.

“Okay,” He nodded.

“Perfect,” Bahar spoke in relief. “We'll have the ring here first thing tomorrow.”

“Can I- uh… choose it?”

Everyone turned to look at him, puzzled at how he was genuinely interested in doing this as right as it could get.

“Yeah,” she agreed, the faintest smirk on her lips. “You can come with us as soon as we're done here.”

“So, what are we selling here?” you asked.

“Well, you have been engaged for two months, in a relationship for a year, and this was just a heat-of-the-moment slip, alright? Nobody cares when it's something official like this. Let's just say you've been waiting until Friday's charity gala to make it public, but the rumors got in the way. We could release a statement before word leaks from this place,” Wendy from PR spoke. “And let's fire Warner for violating the contract. It covers these things, right?”

You hummed. “Everyone is prohibited from disclosing any information discussed or events occurred without explicit vocal or written consent from me and at least half plus one of the parties involved.”

“Perfect, I'll take care of it.” Bahar replied. “Well, this was very fruitful, team.”

Everyone left one by one, including Bucky—who didn't say a word to you before leaving—, and you were alone in your office.

You knew he wasn't happy, and you were sorry.

Well done, Madam Attorney. Taking care of your image for eight years just to end up like this.

You: I'm sorry about this

You: I hope this isn't your first engagement

James Barnes: Don't be sorry. It was our fault, and the both of us did it.

James Barnes: We have to face the consequences of our actions.

You: I know, but I'm sorry either way

You: It was my assistant

James Barnes: Yeah, I think you have to think twice before you hire someone.

You: That's a joke? Or a mean thing to say?

James Barnes: An honest thing to say.

You: That's too bold for a Congressman obsessed with the word “worrying”

James Barnes: You're never getting over that, are you?

You: Getting over something about you? I prefer getting under you

James Barnes: Promise?

You debated in your mind whether to do it or not but, in the end, you looked through your gallery until you found the one picture you were meaning to send him before he appeared in your office that night.

You: ① Photo

You: Encouragement to pick a nice ring, baby ;)

James Barnes: Fuck

You: Language, Sir.

James Barnes: Will I get congratulations for choosing a nice ring? A reward?

You: Most likely

James Barnes: I'll bring it tonight. Wait for me.

You: I will

You smirked and left your office.

Thursday morning came quickly for Matt Murdock at his office, catching up on the day's headlines.

His subscription to Y/N Y/L/N and Attorney General Y/L/N made the headline The unexpected engagement of Attorney General Y/L/N and Congressman Barnes: everything we know about the most politically relevant couple of the decade the first thing he heard.

Matt sat straight and selected the article.

ALT: Attorney General Y/N Y/L/N, Congressman James B. Barnes, and ex President Thaddeus Ross outside the White House

He bit his lip, feeling a hint of sweat on his skin despite the cold AC of his office.

Y/N Y/L/N used to work as an attorney at Nelson Y/L/N & Murdock back in Hell's Kitchen until the dissolution of the small law firm. Eventually, the firm reassembled as Nelson Murdock & Page, without Y/L/N, as she was then working as the District Attorney's Assistant until the Blip. During this time, she firstly got the job as New York's District Attorney. Her position lasted for two years before going the Judge route for a year. Soon after, Y/L/N became Chief Justice of the United States after Francis Holt, the former Chief Justice, passed away; all until last year when she was given the role of Attorney General of the United States. In her experience, though relatively brief, Y/L/N proved to be excellent enough to make herself a way to the highest position a lawyer can get in the government as a direct advisor to the POTUS.

James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes has a significantly different background, even outside the law for a long time. Formerly serving the country as Sergeant during World War II, Barnes was believed to be dead until he was identified as the Winter Soldier, a Super Soldier and war weapon under the manipulation of HYDRA. After being wrongfully blamed for having caused the attack on the United Nations Assembly that resulted in the death of the late King T'Chaka of Wakanda in 2016, Barnes joined the party against the Sokovia Accords led by Steve Rogers, former Captain America. Having disappeared for some time, he was reported as a part of the Avengers when fighting the extraterrestrial threats that led to the Blip. In 2023, when he along with half of the population came back, Barnes received a Presidential Pardon that allowed him to reintegrate himself to society. Earlier last year, Barnes obtained the position of Congressman, representing Brooklyn. His performance? We suppose it might be too soon to tell, giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Now, the pair had never shown themselves as anything more than colleagues. The former's endorsement on Barnes’ campaign was present, but never thought of anything further than that. Therefore, it was quite the surprise when this very morning their teams announced that they have been engaged for a month as of today and in a relationship for a year.

The couple is set to make their first official appearance on Friday's UNICEF Charity Gala.

Matt's blood boiled at the thought of you being with someone else.

While it is true that after Foggy's death he became distant and had a one hundred and eighty degrees change, the only constant part of his life was loving you since you were in Law School. It was you, him, and Foggy since day one, and now it was only him. He knows he is at fault, but he wasn't prepared to receive such a low blow on a random Thursday morning.

“Hey, Kirsten,” Matt left his office and met his partner right outside. “Are you still more than friends with the UNICEF guy?”

She sighed. “You heard the news?”

“I just-”

“Are you trying to win her back or something? Because I support that, kind of.”

“You do?” Matt asked in disbelief.

“Look, Matt, I'm not normally the kind of friend that likes when her friends get back together with their exes, but you clearly still love her. Even when you were with Heather, that day at the hospital? You said her name like an innate reflex. If you need her to be at peace with your life, proceed by all means. Damn, I'll get that invitation right now and take you myself.”

“You're an angel, did you know that?”

She shook her head and chuckled. “What would be of you without me, Murdock?”

“I'd be absolutely lost,”

“I know.”

Your dress was chosen by your team to draw attention. Silk as white as a bride and a fitted, column-style silhouette with a draped cowl neckline, and tie straps in organza at the shoulders falling as low as the floor-length dress received Bucky when he went to pick you up at your penthouse.

The bright reflection of the lights on the emerald-cut diamond in the engagement band on your ring finger, however, greeted him proudly. Surrounding the diamond at its center, a baguette-cut side stone joined it on each side. It was absolutely perfect for you, and made him wish you didn't have to call the wedding off eventually.

Maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could earn a yes.

“You look so perfect in that dress it will be almost a shame to take it off of you tonight,” Bucky commented in your ear, leaving a provocative kiss on your jawline after inhaling the scent of Chanel's Gabrielle off your skin.

You shuddered in anticipation. “Don't spoil it all that much.”

Bucky smirked and offered you his arm.

“I've never felt more scrutinized in my life.”

“I've been through lots of shit,” Bucky mentioned. “And, somehow, being interviewed by a teenage influencer for a TicTac about how well you know your partner was worse.”

“TikTok,” you corrected him. “And kudos for guessing my favorite color.”

Bucky chuckled and took a sip of his champagne. “You mentioned your favorite color once.”

“Did I?” You frowned.

“Yeah, you were bickering with your niece for stealing your favorite color. We were at your place and your friend brought her kid.”

“Oh, that's true,” You smiled softly, moved at the idea of him remembering something irrelevant like that from a subtle interaction that didn't even have to do with him.

“Excuse me, Congressman Barnes, Madam Attorney,” a reporter interrupted your conversation. “Can I take your picture?”

Bucky's expression went back to serious as he nodded, but gave a faint curve of his lips when the reporter took the pictures. Even once, when you had thought the photoshoot was over, he kissed your temple. Later, you learned that that specific shot made it to the internet.

“I'm sure everyone out there is questioning how the hell I pulled you,” Bucky commented. “Maybe they think I threatened you.”

“With what? A good time?”

He chuckled, a little dryly. “With assassination or something.”

You snorted. “Look, I knew what I was getting into that night I kissed you. You know? The grumpiest, most annoying man I have ever met; but also, the sweetest, most thoughtful, and unconditional.”

That hurt. That hurt Matt Murdock like hell, overhearing as per usual.

“How am I annoying?” Bucky feigned offense.

You got closer to him, leaving one hand on the left part of his chest. Heart beating loud and nervous. “Well, you're always sarcastic and never let an opportunity to mock me slide.”

“I guess that's my love language.” He shrugged.

“It kinda sucks, darling,” You smirked. “But I wouldn't have it any other way.”

Bucky blushed and, very publicly, stole a kiss from you. One long and scandalous.

“I wanna tell-” you started to say, but were interrupted by a loud greeting.

You felt your breath hitch once you saw them.

Terry West was one of those celebrity Ambassadors of UNICEF. A well known actor with a savior complex most likely, standing beside none other than Kirsten McDuffie and Matt Murdock.

Bucky noticed your nerves, how you were paralyzed all of the sudden, and held you tightly against him. His left hand softly caressed your arm, soothing you.

“Every time I see you, you are three steps forward than the last,” Terry smiled widely, congratulating. “Let me know if President comes next. I'll get you votes.”

“Hi, Terry,” You pressed your lips together. “Thanks, but I think this is as far as I'll get.”

“So, hey. You know each other, or so I've heard.” he noted before you said anything else.

“We do know each other,” Kirsten smiled. “It's been a long time.”

“Quite a long time,” Matt completed.

You nodded. “Yeah. Uh, darling, these are Terry West, he's an Ambassador of UNICEF. Kirsten McDuffie and Matt Murdock, we've known each other for a while now. Matt and I went to Columbia together and were partners at Nelson Y/L/N & Murdock back in the day. This is my fiancé, James-”

“James Barnes,” he completed for you, offering his hand to Terry, Kirsten, and Matt, who didn't even pretend he couldn't tell Bucky was trying to give him a handshake. The contact was rough. Aggressive, even. “But you are her friends, so you can call me Bucky.”

Bucky's arm returned to your waist, holding you protectively —possessively?— and close to him.

Kirsten smiled. “So, we're gonna take our seats. It was a pleasure seeing you again. Don't be a stranger, alright?”

“Yeah, sure,” You nodded, seeing her and Terry leave. However, Matt stayed.

“Uhm, I was wondering if we could talk. In private.”

Bucky shot him a look, one between nonchalant and surprised at his boldness—how shameless could your ex be to ask to speak to you in private right in front of him? Still, he said nothing; Bucky just stared as he always does: stern, threatening, but a glint of anxiety in his blue eyes. Dark, gloomy, uneasy.

“Matt-”

“Please,”

“Anything you wanna say to me, you can say it in front of Bucky.”

He shook his head. “Come on, just…”

“It's okay, doll,” Bucky said. “Sam said he'd be here, so I'm gonna look for him.”

You sighed, not very brave at the idea of facing Matt after so long.

“You alright?” he asked. You said nothing, hoping for your eyes to tell him no. “Hey…”

Bucky kissed your forehead and let go of your hand.

“You need this,” he whispered, not knowing Matt could hear. “I'll be right there if you need me.”

And Matt knew it couldn't be fake. He knew it in the speed of Bucky's heart, in the warmth of his skin, and in the way your shoulders relaxed when he comforted you. It was all real.

“So, you come to these events willingly now? Or was something at stake?”

“Both,” He exhaled. “I just… I heard about your engagement and I couldn't- it can't be like this.”

“Matt,”

“Just… don't do this. This- I've loved you from the moment I first met you and I haven't stopped since, I've loved you every second I've been beside you and every second I've been not. I've thought about you every single day of my life since I heard you fighting with Foggy about how his future roommate would hate his mixtape,” he began, taking a hesitant step forward. “Everytime I met someone, I thought that if I tried hard enough, I'd be able to make their voice sound like yours, but it never worked. When we finally got together, I felt for the first time that nothing was missing anymore. But you're now with someone else, and I- I can't take it. Don't make this mistake. Don't marry him. I know I don't deserve you, that you didn't deserve what I did, but… I can make this right, I swear I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Everything means nothing without you, sweetheart. I need you to be because I can't tolerate the idea of a life without you.”

“Matt, you did this,” you replied, as put together as you could, trying to remain strong as a tear escaped down the maroon lenses covering the eyes you once died in. “You ended it. This whole thing? This was what you wanted. I met you and you were all I wanted for the longest time. I was fine, and then you happened to me. I endured years of your mixed signals and seeing you with other girls, and, when we finally got together, I thought I was done. I thought I was finally where I was supposed to be, and even when you were gone for those five years, I never stopped waiting for you. Then, you came back. Despite everything I had built and how I almost didn't make it out alive, I went back to you because I loved you. And… Matt, when Foggy died, I died. All my life, he was my best friend, and you acted like your hurt was bigger than mine. You acted like I didn't need you, like I was a completely isolated entity, like I belonged to a different planet and had no idea about pain and grief and Foggy. I fought against you for so long, even leaving my pain aside because I wanted to be there for you, but you were never there for me. You pushed me away like I was nothing, you pushed me so hard that I fell and you broke me, Matt. I tried to justify everything in your grief, but I was grieving too, and I never treated you or anyone else like shit. I said, ‘he's gone through so much’, ‘everyone handles loss differently’, but you know what? He was there for me. He was there to tell me that grief isn't a fucking excuse for being an asshole with the one person who would've died for you. So, you did this, Matt. And today I can only thank you, because you taught me a lot. You taught me how to love and what I deserve, and especially what I don't. And even after everything, I can only wish you the best.”

He stood silent, and you knew what would follow. You knew what he would do as soon as he left the place. You knew there would be broken bones and screams, and you knew he might not get over this right now.

But there was a moment in which you couldn't handle the idea of a life without him, and he had all those months to come find you. Still, he chose to do so when you were with someone else.

He came back when you were finally happy.

Because even if the engagement wasn't real, Bucky was.

Bucky is the only real thing you have left.

“Do you want to talk about what happened with Matt?”

You looked at Bucky as you took off your earrings. “Buck.”

“Doll,”

“Let's make this real,” you proposed, sudden. He stared at you, dumbfounded. “If there's something that came out of this horrendous evening, that's that I realized how much I love you. God, I love you so much, Bucky, it's unreal. But it's real, you're real, you… you feel it, too, right? I'm not imagining this, we're not just two people who have sex and talk about our fears for the hell of it, are we? We're real, this is real.”

He stood up until he was in front of you. “You're not only saying this because of whatever Matt said, are you?”

“I'm saying this because it's what I feel. I feel it now, I'll feel it tomorrow, and I'll feel this way for always. I just need to know if you love me too.”

Bucky lifted your chin and left a peck on your lips. “Yeah, I love you, too.”

“You do?” A weight fell off your shoulders, and you felt like you could finally breathe.

He just nodded.

“I'm glad you didn't leave me for Matt, though,”

“Did you ever doubt me, James?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Well, he's a big part of your life, and I'm just me. I have so much baggage, there's so much work to do in me, and… let's be honest, I'm not very good at this whole Congressman thing, it's like I have nothing of worth to offer you.”

“You have the biggest heart,” You held his hands in yours. “And baggage is not as heavy when there's someone to carry it with you and help you unpack. This life is a journey I want to share with you, I want to be by your side and help you figure it out. You don't have to be a Congressman or anything you don't want to be. Hell, I'd provide for you and have you as my househusband just for your pretty face. The sex is great, too.”

He chuckled. “You can't just say stuff like that when we're having a moment.”

“What am I supposed to say? That I'll take you to some school's career day to see what you like?”

“That sounds like a nightmare,” Bucky rolled his eyes. “Why don't you say you'll promote me or something?”

“Maybe I'll give you a dictionary for your birthday and we can call it even,”

“Or maybe I could just fuck that attitude out of you, don't you think?”

“You're an asshole, Bucky. You know that, don't you?” you joked.

“And you still love me, so this is pretty much on you,” He shrugged.

You smacked his arm. “Shut up.”

“You love me.”

Sure you do.

Right when you thought it was all over for you, that maybe you didn't deserve love or a happy ending, Bucky was there to show you otherwise.

Accepting the idea of not being able to love and be loved ever was probably the hardest thing you had to do, especially while believing you had already lost who you thought was the love of your life. Learning to let yourself be loved by Bucky, however, came easily and unexpectedly.

And there he is. There. And he loves you just as much as you love him.

He is real.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil x reader #daredevil #matt murdock

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dao-afterdark · 2 months ago

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oubaitori (i)

tags/warnings: homophobia (from reader and his family), stereotypes against gay/queer men/people, abuse/threats of death(all in the flashback part), reader can be seen as not an entirely good person, hurt/comfort, angst, financial abuse, manipulation, queer themes.

notes: FINALLY. My god this took forever!! I really, really hope you guys like this first part! I think for sure the nsfw will start on part 2! Please understand that the reader may come off as unlikable, and that’s for a reason. Let me know if there any mistakes, I won’t let this be reblogged just yet in case I need to fix something major lol. Silly notes: Xiao’s bio is here and here’s Wei’s! I see zeno robinson’s voice being what Wei sounds like, and for Xiao’s voice, I see reagan murdock’s!

word count: 3,062

Your new roommate, Bingwei Gu, or Wei as he’s so readily and happily allowed you to call him, is interesting to say the least.

He’s energetic, unapologetically himself, and can at times be unreasonable and temperamental. He’d either wear an introvert down, or save them by carrying most, if not all, social interactions. For the most part he’s cool in your book, and apparently not exactly a playboy type like you first initially pinned him as.

“So who was that..?”

“Some dude I had an arrangement with. He knew I wasn’t looking for anything serious. He showed me is freaky side— a nonsexual freakiness, mind you— and, well, that happened. Sorry again.”

“Aren’t you worried about his threat?”

“Pfft! Me, worried? I get threats often enough. I’ll be fine!” Wei replies with a confident and playful grin.

You’re not sure whether to be worried about his careless response, or admire him for his conviction.

Eh, it’s not your job to worry, especially since he’s somewhat your senior. Clearly he’s got it all covered.

Settling into your new place wasn’t hard though. It’s lavish and comfortable, showcasing your roommates wealth, and Wei was adamant about helping out despite your assurance that you’d be fine, and he hardly left your side until it was time to turn in for the day. He was also generous enough to take care of the rent entirely, understanding that you’re already tight on funds, and stated that he hardly ever had to worry about rent anyways.

It worried you at first, not fond of the idea and slightly uneasy of the thought of him asking for something in return, especially if it’s something inappropriate.

But with Wei’s sticky sweet attitude, and the fact that he’s clearly well off, you prioritize your needed necessities to survive; college books aren’t exactly cheap after all!

The blessings don’t stop there though. On your first official day of the fall semester, Wei insisted on being your tour guide and took you all over the campus, and with his presence being beside you, you caught the curious stares and saw how- unsurprisingly- popular he is. Sparks of excitement light up in your chest. With Wei being popular and you being in his circle, surely you’ll gain some attention you can benefit from.

The school is grand, and proud, the buildings portraying a mix of sophistication and contemporaneous in its design. It’s been around for some time and only accepted the best of the best while offering vault of vast knowledge.

“And here’s the cafeteria! Food’s pretty damn good here, not gonna lie. Like it’s not like the shit you got in high school.”

Judging by the smell, you can definitely agree on that. The cafeteria is spacious and cozy, it almost makes you feel like you’re on some movie set!

Your tour with Wei comes a near conclusion as you arrive at the student government office, and one of the names on the pristine plaque catches your eye and sparks a memory.

“President Bai Xiao? Wasn’t—?”

“The president meant to show you around? Yeah,” Wei replies with a gleeful little grin.

You don’t know whether to laugh or stew with worry.

“Am I to assume that you’re Mr. (L/N)?” comes a sudden deep, and authoritative voice from behind, followed with well measured clicks from his heels.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear~,” Wei grins, not bothering to hide his voice and dismissed your quick pointed look.

President Bai Xiao is a tall man standing at 6’3, and dressed sharply in crisp, grey slacks, a pristine white button up with a dark blue sweater vest and tie, and on his feet are dark, clean leather dress shoes. There’s not a single wrinkle, or stain on him; truly the image of perfection to some, and a try-hard to others.

Even his hair is meticulously well taken care of. Long, blue-black with a single strip of white, clean, and without frizz as it’s held up tightly with a hair tie.

Subconsciously, you straighten up your posture as his brown and blue eyes fall onto you after briefly stopping on Wei. Remembering that he inquired about your identity, you quickly nod your head. “Yes, that’s me! (Y/N) (L/N)!”

“Is there any specific reason why you weren’t with the rest of the new students?” he asks, his eyes never leaving yours; everywhere yours moved, he made sure to follow them.

“I was showing my new friend around,” Wei chimes in before you can answer, giving you a friendly bump.

Xiao’s eyes then cut to Wei, his eyes narrowing just a little more and his lips curling with quiet displeasure. “Gu Bingwei,” he mutters.

“President,” Wei mocks quickly in return.

“You’re meant to be in your business lecture right now,” Xiao continues, ignoring Wei’s blatant disrespect, arms crossing. The material strains just slightly you notice.

“I know, I know!” Wei carelessly replies, waving his hand as if shooing away a pesky fly. “But I can afford to skip at least once or twice!”

“Although unadvised, you’re not failing at least. But it was my job to do, so please don’t worry about it next time.”

“I’m not exactly sure why you’re getting onto me,” he starts, his lips, coated with with a little bit of shine, form into a pout full of faux innocence before he’s back to smirking. “You should be thanking me for helping you with your load~.”

What the hell!?

Your eyes practically bug out as you stiffly tick your head towards Wei, appalled and disgusted at his crude behavior, but can you say you’re surprised? You aren’t, but you are just a little, thinking Wei had a little more class than that. But from your experience and knowledge, most queers don’t have a filter or shame.

Discomfort and heat overcome you, and you give Xiao an apologetic stare. Xiao clearly is a straight man, because no queer or gay man dresses so… Sophisticated like that! Usually gay men loved to show skin and be different and or feminine. The only feminine thing about Xiao is his hair length. And besides, Xiao doesn’t look like the type to be promiscuous, unlike Wei.

Xiao’s face was like a stone, eyes clouded with tiniest hint of confusion before his handsome face twists, aghast, face flushing faintly. Finally, he schools his expression, letting out a simple sigh of disappointment before giving you his undivided attention, his face still tainted with a hint of blush.

“I welcome you to our school, (Y/N) (L/N). Don’t hesitate to come to me or my other council members for any questions or concerns that you have. And please,” he says, almost staring into your soul with those piercing eyes of his. “Abide the rules.”

“Y-Yeah, sure…”

And with that, and without a word to Wei, he heads into his office, closing the door sharply that it made you flinch, secondhand embarrassment squeezing your gut. “What was that??”

Wei shrugs, his grin wolfish and shameless. “What? I love getting under his skin!”

“Dude!” you stress, gritting your teeth slightly. “That’s the student council president!”

Wei is still amused and he rolls his eyes in an exaggerated manner. “Doesn’t matter to me, and it shouldn’t matter what he thinks about you,” he tells you, beginning to take languid steps away from the office, hands in his pocket.

“…Do you guys have history or something?” you asks after debating whether or not to keep hanging around him or not, planting yourself at his side.

“We do. Been fucking around with him since we were young.”

Wei didn’t elaborate, quickly jumping into the next topic, curious about your thoughts on the school and everything else. Fortunately for you though, you find out the history between your roommate and President Bai.

In short, they’re academic rivals from affluential families, but at first it the rivalry seemed one sided, Xiao not caring about anyone but his own progress and achievements, and Wei who was here to live life to the fullest in his own way. The moment when Wei, a mostly carefree individual, suddenly knocked Xiao from his pedestal as the top student, it was like a switch went off.

It was almost like a war zone, especially when it came time for selecting who would be the president of the student council. They were neck and neck, and the moment when Wei received more votes than Xiao, he dropped out of the race, claiming he really didn’t want all that troublesome work, and he just wanted to get under Xiao’s skin, to get him to see that he’s not perfect as the man thinks he is.

You can’t say you’re too surprised to hear how petty Wei is… Although, it was funny, you can’t lie about it.

And, you’re not sure why this thought even appeared in your mind in the first place, but you wondered if they happened to have fallen in bed with each other…

But there’s no way that’s possible. President Bai would never entertain such an idea, and you’re a 100% sure he’s straight as a bean pole.

One things for certain though, there’s layers to Wei and you’re sure he’s gonna keep your college life busy and entertaining.

—

The home you were born and raised in wasn’t really a home.

The definition of home is a place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household. But there’s more to it than just a vessel living in a furnished shell, or having clothes on your back.

Everyone’s definition of a home is different, to some it’s a person, but the principles are all the same. You’re meant to be safe, and happy; where you’re meant to thrive.

The place you grew up in was nothing but a turbulent prison. To everyone looking at you and your parents, they didn’t see the cracks, or maybe they did. But many seemingly believed the honeyed smiles and lies that you tried so hard to keep up.

Your father, the main patriarch of the household, was a star quarterback in his glory days, until he got injured and was forced to quit. Football was all he had, all he was, so he became nothing but a miserable drunk to nurse the pain and wallow in his failures.

Then there’s your mother… The main homemaker until she had to work when your father wouldn’t. In old photos you’ve seen of her, there was a noticeable spark in her eyes, her smile vibrant and wide, but now the spark is absent, sorrow and hollowness taking it’s place.

As her son, you’re one of her only sources of joy in her rotten, unlucky life, and she clings onto you like a starved creature in the wild.

Unfortunately, your mother poked the drunk bear and it changed everything…

At the age of 12, your mother was exposed for having an affair with the next door neighbor, Ms. Jackson. She was a very kind woman who baked delicious things she’d share with your family.

Your father raised hell when he found out. He dragged you out of your room by the back of your shirt and made you watch as he battered your mother black and blue, and she took it despite her pleadings for forgiveness. If you moved an inch, protested in any way, you caught a beating as well.

“Boy, if I ever catch you being gay, I’ll make sure they never find your body; do you understand me?!”

That threat never left you, it being permanently branded into the wrinkly folds of your brain. Not that it should matter.. You’re not into men.

From then on, your life grew into something more violent, suffocating, and lonely.

Ms. Jackson soon fled the small town you lived at, her reputation crumbling, and your mother not defending her. Your mother became even more of a shell of herself and did everything she could to fix what she couldn’t fix. She pleaded for forgiveness and sought out affection from you when your father didn’t want to be bothered by her, content with his poison of choice.

You didn’t want to deal with her either. Because of her, you barely had privacy, because of her, your father had forced her to stay at home so he can keep an “eye on her”, that meant you had to work more and he pocketed most, if not all your money for himself, and your mother trying to pacify your rightful anger by telling you “he’s your father and he needs it. I promise you’ll get it back”.

Of course you’re hardly did get it back.

Because of the situation you got into bad habits. You didn’t allow much touch, unless it was strictly from your girlfriends, but even then you wouldn’t let them coddle you too much, and you kept it brief when it was your sports-mates. You started having sex early to prove your masculinity and to assure your sexuality. You repressed emotions you deemed weak, and did anything else to prove that you’re a man, waiting for the chance to escape your dreadful parents.

Now, you can’t say that you hate your mother, but you know you can’t rely or save her when she’s so adamant about sticking by your father despite how pathetic he is.

As for him, you wish nothing but the worst for him. He wanted you to be a man, but he himself isn’t one since he chose to wallow in his own self pity rather than adjust to the bad hand left dealt him.

He could drop dead and you wouldn’t care.

And to this day you still believe it.

—

[Mother]: Hi, baby! Mom misses you so much! I hope school has been good… We miss you here at the house!

[Mother]: The holidays are coming up and we’d love it if you could come home for them! It’d be hard on us to not see you, you know..? We’ve always spent holidays together after all.. Anyways! I love you, honey, please don’t go silent on me, okay..?🥺🤗❤️

Your phone trembles in your hold, your knuckles cracking quietly as your grip gradually becomes unforgiving. By now, the screen has long since gone black when you were lost in your haze of depressing and infuriating memories.

It’s as if a stitched up wound was split open again, your vulnerability that you try so hard to bury and forget flooding back and staining you all over again.

Why couldn’t she just get the hint?

There’s a light, warm nudge against your knee that brings you back into the present. Wei’s gaze is full of concern and confusion, the corners of his smooth lips inched downward by a thread, and his well maintained brows are pinched. The TV screen is still stuck on the pause menu when you finally moved your gaze from his face.

Christ, how long where you just sat there staring and brooding??

“You good? You just sorta went quiet. What’s wrong?”

It’s easy to tell that he’s trying not to work himself, or you up. You can see the cogs behind his eyes working into overdrive as he tries to figure out what’s possibly causing you stress.

Words are caught in your throat as you weigh your choices. It’s been 1 1/2 months since you moved in with Wei, and your relationship has grown.

Wei, despite being an arrogant hypocrite, is an overall nice guy to have in life. He’s different than your usual type of friend since you’ve never really had a queer friend before.. He’s affectionate and touch was one of his main ways of expressing it, but thankfully he knows the limits.

Talking about your turmoil could help, but why would you need to talk about it..? You’ve been doing fine before, why this time are you feeling as though you’re about to burst at the seems?

Wei continued to watch you and soon lets out a sigh, smiling with reluctance. “Hey, you don’t gotta tell me everything or anything at all. I just wanna make sure you’re alright. I’m here for you in anyway you need me.”

The cracks expand in your resolve, and your mouth movies before you can stop it. “It’s family stuff… My mother is asking about me coming down for the holidays…”

“Oohh. So family drama, I see. Why don’t you block them? Actually, never mind, silly question.”

You reply with a weak laugh.

Wei raised up from the couch, adjusting his clothes while speaking. “Like I said, I’m here for you if you need advice, to bitch, a shoulder to cry on, anything, dude.”

Your heart aches as it’s squeezed tight, a knot forming in your throat, but you steel yourself as best as you could, swallowing it all like bitter medicine.

Wei then turns the game off and puts the controllers on their port since clearly you’re in no shape to continue your pvp match. ‘How embarrassing… Do something..’

“Do you want a hug?”

A hug?? You don’t need a hug. Does he like you or something…? No, that’s not nice, but-.

“Look,” Wei cuts through your tangled mess of thoughts. He slowly turns to look at you, a knowing expression on his face. “It’s nothing complicated, alright? I’m asking because I think you need one, but it’s up to you. I’m just being a good friend.”

A twinge of guilt eats away at you, but you can’t bring yourself to face it right now. “Right. Of course.. Sure!”

To late to back track.

Wei’s smile grows softer, his shoulders easing just faintly. He returns over to your side and plops down, closer than he was originally when you both were gaming. Your heart beats like a race horse, but you maintain an easy breath.

You wonder who will make the first move, but Wei answers that for you by wrapping his arms around you.

And oh… Oh you feel yourself shatter like fine china. His hold is comforting, warm, and safe. His curls are soft against your cheek and fragrant, making you melt into him further.

“I don’t know the full story, but it’s gonna be okay, alright? Even if it doesn’t feel that way right now. I’m here for you.”

You’re ashamed to admit that you cried your eyes out like an unhealed child.

᭄᭡ decor credits to: @/ribbonrabbitdaycare, velaazuretail, caecusmedicus, adornedwithlight

for those who may have skipped the flashback: to summarize, it’s shows how the reader grew up in a heavily traditional environment that was surrounded by violence. Reader’s mother cheated on her husband with a woman, and it kick started the bigger problems. Reader’s father also threatens to kill him if he ever finds out he’s gay, further traumatizing him.

#𝐎𝐂 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤꒰ 🧸 ꒱#—𝐠𝐮𖧷𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐞𝐢 #oc x reader #oc x male reader #male oc #male original character #oc #ocs #original characters #original male character #original character #bottom male reader #top male reader #male reader #x male reader #oc x

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dinosaurwithablog · 1 year 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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friends-of-humanity · 2 months ago

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To All of Our Supporters

Dear Fellow Humans,

We are writing to you after a long and arduous battle. After we have been attacked by vigilantes like Arachknight, Daredevil, Deadpool, and The Punisher. After we have had our cases rejected by lawyers like Matthew Murdock, Foggy Nelson, and William Holden. After the Police Department made fun of us. After we were scorned by both Mayor Fisk and President Barnes.

We have had enough.

We are no longer peacefully protecting. We have to take action. Action that will make a difference in the lives of everyday people. Real people. We have to act as the last line of defense for our rights. Human rights.

To all of our fellow human supporters, we ask you to join us.

We are going to go through the entire city and find every single one of those muties. All of those evil muties who's number are so high that it will take forever to list them will be dragged into the light. And we are going to bring them to justice, real justice. We won't rest until every single one of them is brought to heel.

If you are a mutie or a mutie supporter reading this. Know that we have been taking names and pictures and we are coming for you, because we are going mutie hunting.

// Tags in Order of People Who Were Mentioned, but everyone can interact.

@arachknight-rising @the-cute-deadpool @theyneedtobepunished @verygoodlawyer @foggy-nelson-real @your-local-lawyer @policedepartment-ny @wilsonfisk-thekingpin @official-buckybarnes

#x men 97 #x men comics #marvel roleplay

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highfantasy-soul · 3 months ago

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Let's talk about Heather and willful ignorance

Fisk has been in the public eye of NYC for at least 10 years at this point.

He has been very publicly prosecuted twice by none other than Matthew Murdock and his now-deceased best friend and law partner Foggy Nelson where Fisk was found guilty and punished.

Even if you missed Fisk's criminal behavior (buying the FBI and police on SEPARATE occasions), all that 100% came out and was drug through the public eye again when he ran for mayor.

Heather HAS to know about Fisk and what Matthew - HER BOYFRIEND - thinks about him/his history with the man. So does she not care, or is she still feigning ignorance?

When she agreed to take him and Vanessa as clients, it's normal for therapists of high-profile people to look into them to understand their struggles that are public knowledge, so she SHOULD have done her due diligence on their past so she could actually help them in the present - did she or did she not do this?

Then, she's concerned that Vanessa is in a dangerous situation with Fisk - due to her own observations of Fisk's behavior. Why is she now annoyed Matt isn't comfortable with Fisk??

ADD TO THAT Fisk's man showed up at MATT'S apartment - a location Heather, we assume, has not given to Fisk as to where she stays - and she's not concerned about this?? Knowing Matt's history with the man, her own misgivings about Fisk's violent nature, AND the task force that she HAS to know has been coming under a lot of scrutiny and litigation from the ACLU??

Either she's being willfully ignorant, she thinks nothing can harm her and 'well, I don't like his past, but vigilantes are an issue, so I'll let everything slide', OR she knows exactly what's going on and she's choosing to act maliciously in the series.

The GALL to be upset at Matt not liking that her client is the man who made his life hell and now is THREATENING them by showing he knows EXACTLY where she is without her telling him pushes the bounds of belief.....if we weren't living in a President Trump America.

Unfortunately, Heather's actions aren't 'unrealistic'. They're very, very real and apparent to all Americans who have been paying attention.

Willful ignorance and claiming 'I'm still a good person' while stepping aside to let people like Fisk and Trump run roughshod over everyone else in their pursuit of more power - that's a very real and very insidious viewpoint a LOT of Americans hold.

Heather is depressingly realistic and Matt needs to get out of that relationship FAST.

You do not have to baby people who choose to be willfully ignorant and refuse to stand against harm - ESPECIALLY if the person/group has DIRECTLY harmed you, THEIR PARTNER!!!!!

---

This isn't even getting into how Heather handled Pointdexter's request to meet with Matt (being hired and groomed by Fisk in the past - and the person who KILLED Foggy), or her vocal views on Daredevil, knowing his involvement at Foggy's death as he tried to SAVE people from the person who murdered Foggy - MATTHEW, HER BOYFRIEND'S, BEST FRIEND!!!!!!

Either this is really bad writing on Heather's character, or it is depressingly accurate to how a LOT of people are.

Either way, I wouldn't mind seeing a bullet through her skull

#ddba #ddba spoilers #daredevil born again #daredevil born again spoilers #ddba heather critical #idk if that's even a tag but if there are any heather stans out there who don't want to see this then I guess there's the warning

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a-leg-without-fear · 11 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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angellnicolee · 2 months ago

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delta omega phi house

SAM WILSON — Social Chair. Junior. Social Work Major. 3.7 GPA. Member of Peer Support Network. Member of the Men’s Track and Field team. Leader of the Outdoor Adventures Club. Member of Wade’s unofficial Prank Society.

MATT MURDOCK — Ethics Chair. Junior. Pre-Law. 4.0 GPA. Leads a Campus Study Group. President of the Pre-Law Society. Member of the Debate Team. Runs the Catholic Student Organisation. Member of the Disability Advocacy Group.

FRANK CASTLE — House Enforcer. Senior. Forensic Psychology Major. 3.2 GPA. Coaches Mixed Martial Arts Club. Captain of the Rugby team. Member of the Gamma Sigma honours society.

WADE WILSON — Rush Chair. Sophomore. Theatre major. 2.9 GPA. Member of the Stand-Up Comedy Club. Founder of the unofficial Prank Society. Member of the Mental Health Advocacy Group. Member of the MMA Club.

CLINT BARTON — Brotherhood. Junior. Mechanical Engineering Major. 3.0 GPA. Captain of the Archery Club. Stage Crew in the Theatre Department. Member of the Big Brothers Program. Member of the Fitness Club.

PIETRO MAXIMOFF — Secretary. Sophomore. Computer Science Major. 3.2 GPA. Captain of the Men’s Track and Field team. Member of the Speed-running Gaming Club. Member of the International Student Union.

#sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #frank castle #frank castle x reader #wade wilson #wade wilson x reader #clint barton #clint barton x reader #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #anthony mackie #charlie cox #jon bernthal #ryan reynolds #jeremy renner #aaron taylor johnson #marvel

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todaysdocument · 2 months ago

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Letter from Peter Peterson to Secretary of War Edwin Stanton Requesting the Back Pay of His Invalid Brother, Samuel Peterson, to Help Pay the Medical Bills Due After His Return from Andersonville Prison

Record Group 94: Records of the Adjutant General's OfficeSeries: Letters ReceivedFile Unit: File for Samuel Peterson, 8th USCT Infantry Regiment

New York May the 24th 1865.

To the Hon. E M Stanton Secretary of War

I take the liberty to address myself to your Honor, stating that my brother [underline] Samuel Peterson [/underline], coloured, has been drafted and served in Comp. H. Eight U. S. Regt. Infantry since 1863. He was wounded and taken prisoner at the battle of McAllister Florida, and was send from there to Andersonville as a prisoner, where he was kept from that time until the fourth of March last. He reached the Union lines on the 15th of March as a paroled prisoner and reached his home at Perth Amboy N. Jersey on the 18th last. All his expenses did fall upon me, being a servant myself. I have been employed for more that 12 years in the service of Mr. U. A. Murdock President of the Continental Bank N. Y. which gentleman advised me to address your Honor direct. I was obliged to hire a nurse for 58 days at the rate of $1.50 and board. The doctor's bill will be very heavy on me. So I do not know what to do to help myself. Several leading merchants in this city besides Mr. Murdock my employer and Colonel Cannon assure me that they are confident your Honor will do something in my behalf. In the last place I suggest that my brother [underline] Samuel Peterson [/underline] has never received more than two months pay since he entered the Service of the United States.

Respectfully

Your Obedient Servant

Peter Peterson

313 Fifth Avenue N. Y.

#archivesgov #may24 #1865 #19th century #us civil war #andersonville prison #pow

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sesamestreep · 3 months 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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