coprime_writes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
coprime_writes) wrote2025-07-22 04:12 pm
coprime_writes) wrote2025-07-22 04:12 pm
Entry tags:
Daredevil (Comics): Jealousy's Opposite (Foggy/Matt/Kirsten)
Title: Jealousy's Opposite
Author:coprime
Fandom: Daredevil
Relationship: Foggy/Matt/Kirsten
Rating / Word Count: PG-13 / 7,824 words
Warnings: Some talk of Foggy's canon cancer arc, though he is in recovery in this fic.
Disclaimer: Daredevil belongs to Marvel Comics.
Summary: With Foggy moving into the same building where Matt and Kirsten share an apartment, Matt is happy. Ecstatic to have his friend so nearby. But when Matt visits Foggy for the first time after moving in, his housewarming gift perhaps says more than he intended.
Notes: Many thanks to![[archiveofourown.org profile]](https://p2.dreamwidth.org/b164c54b26e4/-/archiveofourown.org/favicon.ico)
94BottlesOfSnapple and torrential for the beta.
Please right click and choose "Save As".
Length: 49:25
~Jealousy's Opposite~
Matt stood in the hallway outside Foggy's apartment, shifting nervously on his feet. Tonight was the first time he was formally visiting Foggy's newest apartment in San Francisco—the day he'd spent carrying boxes helping Foggy move didn't count—and he'd brought a housewarming gift for his friend. This new apartment was only two floors down from Matt's, or more accurately, Matt and Kirsten's apartment now that they'd moved in together following that final confrontation with Fisk, and having Foggy so near at night was doing something for Matt.
Kirsten's sleepy heartbeat next to him was a balm on nights he struggled to sleep, but adding Foggy's heartbeat to hers? His strong, healthy heartbeat now that his cancer was in remission?
Matt wasn't sure there were words enough to describe the feeling of peace those sounds combined gave him. Hence the gift he was holding in his left hand. The cardboard box was neatly wrapped and inside was a clay sculpture of two people sitting on a sofa with tissue paper for padding. It didn't sound like much, but Matt had sculpted his gift with his own two hands and believed Foggy would appreciate it. Tonight would be the first time Foggy saw anything Matt had made, a thought which made Matt's heart flutter nervously, but Matt wanted to give Foggy something personal to mark the occasion of Foggy's move.
While he knew Foggy would never mock or belittle his art, Matt desperately wished for Foggy to treat it with the same amount of gravitas Matt had put into making it.
He could hear Foggy rummaging around on the other side of the door, happily humming to himself, so he took a deep breath, tucked his white cane in his elbow to free his other hand, and knocked.
Form inside the humming stopped, and a "One sec," at speaking volume drifted over to Matt.
Foggy opened the door with an enthusiastic "Matty!" and enveloped Matt in a tight hug, leaving Matt to return it one-armed as he tried not to drop the gift.
"Hey, Fogs," Matt said when Foggy let go. "How's the apartment shaping up? Have you unpacked all the kitchen gear for a home-cooked meal tonight?" Matt could smell a variety of smells, and they weren't bad per se but they were a unique combination.
Foggy laughed, and Matt followed him into the apartment.
"I remember what you said the last time I made something home-cooked for us, so no, I'm not subjecting your delicate sensibilities to that even though, yes, the kitchen is open for business. We've got takeout."
Foggy had an array of bags on the kitchen counter, and he started taking out boxes and plastic containers one by one and moving them to the small, round table that served as his dining table.
Matt carefully set his package on a nearby end table and asked, "Dishes?" to which Foggy replied, "Cupboard left of the fridge, and the silverware's in the drawer below."
They set up in silence, with Matt easily finding the fridge from its loud humming. As he pulled down bowls and plates, Matt enjoyed the return of Foggy's natural smells and sounds now that he wasn't regularly being pumped full of chemicals as his doctors worked to save him. His hair had grown back enough for him to ditch the toupees, and it seemed like he was gaining back the weight he'd lost while sick. Matt knew he'd been critical of Foggy's size in the past, but the terror he'd felt as his friend's body sloughed off pounds in its desperate fight....
Foggy didn't feel like Foggy to Matt's senses at his lower weight, and Matt appreciated every sign of Foggy's gradual return to his proper measurements.
Foggy had gotten takeout from five different restaurants nearby, some Matt had already visited with Kirsten and some new to him. Everything was tasty, Foggy knowing Matt's preferences well by now. They made small talk for a bit about their cases, what they could do to regain people's trust in their ability to keep things private, and about how well Matt's autobiography was doing at the stores.
And then Foggy asked, "How's the art going, by the by? No pressure, but I know I'm curious to see something you've made," and Matt's nerves, which had dissipated as he'd soaked in Foggy's presence, ratcheted back up.
It was good that Foggy was curious, yes? It meant Matt had no reason to be nervous about what he was about to do.
Matt had taken up sculpting with clay as a hobby recently, something constructive to do with his hands a couple times a week that gave him an outlet. He made shapes which pleased him to hold and had learned how to make human figures with advice from the other artists who worked out of the same small studio he did. He'd gotten compliments on his pieces from those other artists, but he hadn't yet shown Foggy or Kirsten anything he'd made. It felt personal, like he was putting the secrets of his soul on display. And that was okay when the person looking was someone who didn't know him or only knew him in a small capacity—someone who didn't know how to fit what they were looking at into the shape of his soul—and whose opinion didn't matter to him.
Foggy and Kirsten were different, were important.
But Foggy moving closer to him was also important, hence Matt's choice of housewarming present. Matt retrieved his present and held it out to Foggy.
He said, "About that...here." Foggy gingerly lifted the gift out of Matt's hands and set it next to his plate. "I appreciate you moving closer to me—me and Kirsten—and I want to show you that. We've, you've been through so much recently, and words can't convey how much it means to me that you're still here. By my side. I can only hope my art speaks to a fraction of the depth of my feelings."
Foggy slid his fingers along the seams of the wrapping paper, carefully taking it apart, his focus on Matt and his stumbling speech.
"It's not supposed to be anyone in particular, more of an emotion than anything specific."
Opening the box, he drew out the sculpture of two people embracing while seated together on a plush couch.
"I was thinking of peace and contentment and—love, shared between people, when I made it."
Foggy rotated his gift this way and that as he examined it. Matt couldn't get a read on Foggy. Foggy was feeling—something strongly and trying not to, his heartbeat an insistent bass drum to Matt's ears but the song it played was a patchwork medley that refused to settle. Matt had glazed the gift with an abstract pattern of blue and pink and purple, colors he'd picked out from the descriptions others at the studio had given him. He knew it was a solid weight, comfortably heavy in his hands, and he'd created the two unknown people with pleasant curves to his fingers. He felt peace and contentment and love when he contemplated the small scene he'd created, but that didn't mean Foggy would.
"Matt," Foggy said slowly, "you do realize this is Kirsten and me cuddling on the sofa here?"
"What?" Matt startled. He reached toward the figure, and Foggy gave it to him. "No, they're not."
But as his hands traced over the female figure, as he took in the proportions of her legs to her torso, the curves of her arms and feet, he realized Foggy was correct. This was Kirsten; he loved the splay of his fingers over every part of her, so how had he missed whom he was modeling the figure after? He moved to the male figure, who was plump. Fat. The male figure was a contrast to the female figure—short, cute fingers to thin, elegant ones; a soft, round belly to a smooth, taut one. He was different but equally as beautiful as his female companion. But this couldn't be Foggy because he wasn't intimately familiar with Foggy like he was Kirsten.
Matt gaped even as he kept reflexively stroking the figure.
"I don't—" he said.
Foggy bit his lip, the scrape of his teeth against his tender flesh like a storm in Matt's ears. Cacophonous but compelling.
"That's me, Matty. Before I...." Foggy mumbled his next words. "Before I lost weight."
Oh. It was true Matt's senses didn't allow him to pick up details the same way other people did, but he had spent so long with Foggy by his side that he might have subconsciously. And—Matt examined the male figure with near reverence—maybe he had leaned into that subconscious knowledge in his art. Certainly the thought of Foggy being this large again filled him with joy, especially when compared to Foggy skinny and sick.
"And..." Foggy's heartbeat sped up further, its rhythm reminding Matt of all the worst times of their relationship. He ran a finger across the miniature Kirsten and Foggy Matt had unwittingly formed. "...this, along with your speech, feels like a love confession."
Matt wanted to deny Foggy's words. He couldn't be in love with Foggy; he loved Kirsten! He loved Foggy certainly, but he wasn't interested in his best friend romantically. ...Right?
Matt's protestation died before it reached his mouth as he took in Foggy, scared and hunched over and still recovering. How could he not be smitten by the man in front of him. The revelation felt simultaneously like something that had been a long time coming and like a bolt out of the blue.
"I don't know exactly what part of that idea is so shocking to you, but I don't need you stay and tell me how wrong I was. You can go. Take your statuette with you when you do."
Matt had a choice to make. He could walk out of here now and pretend he hadn't accidentally confessed his love for his best friend. Deny what was happening here, and break Foggy's heart. It wouldn't even be the first or second or third time he'd been callous towards the misery he'd caused Foggy. And like all those other times, Matt was sure, Foggy would avoid him for a time, long enough for Foggy to wrest his emotions back into his control and then a little bit longer till he was willing to see Matt again. They'd go back to how they were before this night, or maybe they'd regress to how they were before San Francisco, before Shadowland, before Milla and Elektra and Karen—back to when they were young and green and their feelings weren't as deep-rooted as they were now.
He could keep Kirsten oblivious to how much of his center she shared with Foggy. She knew he loved Foggy; she loved Foggy as well and only had encouragement for the two of them. But she didn't know he was in love with Foggy, and he didn't know how she would react.
The easy route would be to walk away, keep the status quo. His life was already messy and complicated. He didn't need to add complications.
But, at the same time...he did. Going public as Daredevil had been one of the messiest complications in his life, and finding a new equilibrium had been made more difficult by how very unlike the choice to go public was to his previous choices. It had been worth it though, every single complication, because this was the happiest—the freest—he'd been in a long, long while. He didn't want to hide anymore, not who he was or what he could or couldn't do.
Really, the only part of his life that had been hidden this past year...was Foggy. And that hiding had been for Foggy's safety, so his cancer treatment wouldn't be interrupted, so his doctors didn't need to fear their lives or their other patients' lives becoming collateral damage when one of Daredevil's foes targeted a vulnerable Foggy.
Foggy pushed away from the table roughly.
He said, "Okay, well, you can go now, Matt. This hasn't been fun, let's not do this again."
Matt didn't want to hide Foggy though. He didn't want his friend—his love?—to be hidden away as if Foggy were less important than Kirsten to him. He didn't want to relegate Foggy and his love for Foggy to being an added complication he didn't want to deal with.
"You're right," Matt said.
"Yes, I know, your silence these past minutes has been very eloquent."
Foggy was hurt, yes, but now he was also angry; heat radiated off him.
"No, I mean...I mean that was a love confession. I'm in love with you, Foggy Nelson. Romantically." Matt jutted his chin out as Foggy thumped back into his chair. "And I don't want that to be a secret anymore."
"Matt...." Foggy's heartbeat stuttered, and salt filled the air. "I love you too, but...what about Kirsten?"
Matt shrugged, trying for casual, and said, "I also love her." He reached across the table for Foggy, who clasped his hand. "I want both of you."
Foggy scrubbed the tears from his eyes. Matt longed to kiss away the salt on his cheeks but held himself still. He couldn't; he wasn't allowed to take such intimacies with Foggy, not yet at least. But oh, how he longed to sweetly comfort Foggy.
"I won't be the person to get between you and Kirsten. She's good for you, she makes you happy."
Matt squeezed Foggy's hand, a comfort he was able to give his friend.
"You won't be. There has to be a way we can make you and me and her work. People have all sorts of relationship arrangements nowadays, and we can do the same."
"I don't...." Foggy sighed. "This has been a lot to take in today. I want something like that, I do, but you need to talk with Kirsten first. Then...then we can talk. The three of us."
Matt bit the inside of his cheek. As much as he wanted to hash something out with Foggy right now, riding high on the euphoria of the realization of his own feelings and Foggy's confirmation of their reciprocity, Foggy was correct. He needed to talk to Kirsten.
Matt hugged Foggy tightly before he left, his friend's form still too bony in his embrace. But Matt drank in Foggy's natural scent, untainted by chemicals, and let it bolster him for his upcoming chat.
He hoped Kirsten was as understanding about his feelings as he thought she would be.
~
When she entered her apartment, Kirsten kicked off her shoes, sending them flying, for the joy of having them off. Then she grabbed them and placed them on the shoe rack next to the front door so they wouldn't become a trip hazard for her blind boyfriend whenever he came home tonight from his date with his best friend.
She flopped onto the sofa and threw her arm over her eyes. Dinner with Foggy would have been much more enjoyable than the, in turns, tensely silent and awkwardly chatty meal she'd just shared with her dad and his wife, but it was important to give the boys some time together just the two of them. She knew Matt was planning to give Foggy a special housewarming gift, and she didn't want to be the third wheel to the pair of them tonight.
The deadbolt scraping against the wood of the door as it was turned back startled her, and she raised her arm to peer at Matt stepping into their apartment with a worried look on his face. Uh-oh.
Matt had been so excited about Foggy moving into the same building as them and so earnest in his desire to show Foggy how much this meant to him, Kirsten wondered how had things gone wrong enough to put that pinch on Matt's brow. Especially with how close Matt and Foggy were nowadays after everything they'd been through.
"Matt?"
"Oh, uh. Hi, Kirsten." He came over and dropped a sweet kiss on the crown of her head then took her hand. "How was dinner with your father?"
Kirsten knew this was deflection, Matt preemptively asking a question so Kirsten wouldn't be able to ask him one, but she let him get away with it.
For now.
She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. She tilted her head back and let out a heart-felt groan.
"Dinner is over, which is my favorite part of the evening so far. My dad made sure to tell me how well your 'biography' is doing, and he's planning to ask you for a tell-all book next. Kept saying he needs a follow-up to Man Without Fear: The Autobiography of Matthew Murdock and pretending he didn't mean superhero gossip." Kirsten watched Matt twist his features in disgust. "Yeah, that's how I feel about it too. We can tackle him together at a later time. Let me finish changing out of these dinner clothes, and you can tell me all about Foggy's new place and how your date night went."
Matt jerked, his hand almost slipping out of Kirsten's, but she held firm to him.
"Matt?" she asked. She knew something had happened tonight, but she hadn't expected the mere mention of Foggy to cause Matt to startle that badly.
"What do you mean, date night? I'm not dating Foggy, Foggy's not dating me, there's no dating currently between us."
Currently, Kirsten noted. A curious word choice. That...maybe answered some questions of hers she'd wondered about when she'd started flirting with Matt, but then again maybe not. Better to get the facts than assume she knew what was going on.
"No," she drew out. "I know you're not dating Foggy. Because you would have told me if you were." Kirsten sat up, eyeing Matt. Was that a guilty look on Matt's face? Had something happened between the two of them tonight? "Is there something you need to tell me?"
"Go get changed first."
Kirsten gave Matt's hand a final squeeze before heading into their bedroom. Matt stayed in the living room, sitting down on the sofa and folding his hands together, thoughtful. Kirsten left the bedroom door open as she changed, watching Matt. Before she'd even started dating Matt, she'd known that Nelson & Murdock were a pair for the ages—heck, it had been Foggy who'd initially set the two of them up and Foggy whom she'd asked for Matt's number. She'd thought, well, she didn't know exactly what she'd thought at the time, she tried not to make assumptions about people's dating lives. But there were many possibilities she wouldn't have been surprised by.
In her comfortable pajamas now, Kirsten sat down next to Matt and gave him a sideways hug, looping her arm around his shoulders and bringing them close. He leaned into her. She stretched up, and he bent so she could reach his cheek to kiss.
Kirsten covered his clenched fists with her own, smaller hand and asked, "What happened, sweetheart?"
"I...I love you. You know that, right?"
"I do. And I love you too. Now, what happened? Ninjas didn't attack your dinner, did they?"
"No, nothing like that. I.... That is, I also.... There is, or may be...," Matt trailed off. He swallowed convulsively. He shook off Kirsten's hand covering his own so he could grind his palms into his eyes, his glasses shoved up into his hair, still short from when he'd shaved it but growing back out to his normal coif. "This seemed so simple in Foggy's apartment," he muttered.
Kirsten waited.
"I love Foggy too."
Kirsten clarified, "As a friend or...?"
"Romantically," Matt whispered. "I'm in love with Foggy like I'm in love with you. While I'm in love with you."
Kirsten kept her arm around Matt. She chose her words carefully, not wanting to give censure to her boyfriend for what others would call a perfidious heart. This wasn't Kirsten's first rodeo, not with her boyfriend's tendency to struggle to accept good things in his life and not with a polyamorous partner either.
"Foggy's a good man, a good person to love. Does he know what you just told me?"
Matt finally raised his head and faced her. "Yes," he said with unguarded earnestness.
Kirsten squeezed Matt. She loved him, and, simply put, that meant including his love for his best friend.
"Why don't you tell me what exactly happened tonight at Foggy's apartment."
He summarized his evening with Foggy, his words and voice impartial and removed like he was outlining the events for a jury, but there was no jury to eventually pass judgement here in their apartment, only Kirsten. She listened attentively, both to what he said and to his unconscious body language as he gestured expansively.
(It really was like one of his opening statements, which made her smile. Her dramatically cute and cutely dramatic boyfriend.)
He closed his statement saying, "And I—in Foggy's apartment, I thought we could work something out. I love him, and I love you. It's not him replacing you or you competing with him, just...the both of you. For me.
I don't want to hurt you though, at least not more than I probably already have by telling you all this, so please be honest with me. Kirsten, do you think that's something we can successfully do? You and me and Foggy, a polyamorous threesome?"
Matt's brow was furrowed, but he looked earnest. His blue eyes, aimed an inch or two off from hers, begged for her understanding.
"Well," she said, plucking his glasses off his head setting them aside then smoothing her hands over his short strands, "it wouldn't be a threesome because I'm not interested in an intimate relationship like that with him. But a vee with you as the hinge and he and I as metamours? That has potential, I think."
Matt gaped—a little bit, only wide enough to drive a small coupe through his mouth, not an entire bus.
Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Kirsten felt a little smug at so thoroughly surprising him.
She pushed his jaw up with one delicate finger. "Seriously though. I love you, and that means I love all the parts of you, including the part that loves Foggy."
"You're not offended by my loving someone else romantically?"
"No." Kirsten thought of Matt writing to Milla, his former wife, at the institute where she lived each week like clockwork. She would never be the sole person Matt loved, and she didn't want to be: she could never ask him to love less. Taking Matt's hands in hers, she said, "Matt, you haven't done anything wrong. You're here, talking to me, including me, and that's what's important. Communication is the key in this sort of situation, and hey! Look at us, communicating like bosses."
Matt snorted and thumped his head down on Kirsten's shoulder, awkwardly bending his torso to reach that low.
"You'll have to do the looking for me," he said.
Kirsten huffed a laugh. She should have expected that one.
"There's a term, compersion, that's popular within the poly community," she said, and as she spoke, she scratched lightly at his scalp. "It's about finding joy in someone else's joy. The opposite of jealousy, basically. Instead of being upset or angry at someone having a happiness that you don't have, you feel happy because they're happy."
Matt untensed under her touch. Like a cat getting scritches, Kirsten mused.
"And...that's how you feel about all this? Not jealousy, but compersion?" he asked, sounding out the word with its unfamiliar syllables.
"Yes," Kirsten said firmly. "You said Foggy seemed open to working something out? I can call him, set up a time for the three of us to talk, lay out some ground rules, that sort of thing—"
Matt caught her up in a kiss, his strong arms wrapped around her with one hand cradling and supporting the back of her head as he somehow managed to dip her while they were seated on the sofa. Kirsten returned his enthusiasm with glee, warm heat spreading through her under Matt's expert touch. When they broke apart, he held her in place, her torso nearly horizontal and only not lying on the sofa by the virtue of the strength of her boyfriend's muscles.
"You are amazing," he said. "How'd I get so lucky to have you as my girlfriend?"
"Mm, takes one to know one," Kirsten said, winding her arms around Matt's neck and trying to tug him back to continuing that kiss. "Why don't you show me how amazing I am some more?"
Matt grinned a shark's grin that made Kirsten's toes curl in anticipation. "Gladly."
She'd message Foggy in the morning.
~
When Foggy woke the next morning after his revelatory but maybe disastrous housewarming dinner with Matt, he still felt tired despite having slept deeply. His oncologist said being fatigued was normal, even with chemotherapy behind him, and anxiety of what would happen now had kept him up after Matt had left. He'd fallen asleep telling himself that no phone call from an incensed Kirsten meant that Matt had chickened out about talking to his girlfriend.
He ignored the way his heart hurt at the idea.
He wanted things to work out somehow with the three of them all happy, really, he did! But it seemed like too much of a miracle to ask that Kirsten be okay with him also dating Matt after the miracle that was being declared cancer-free and getting to live again. Life was ups and downs, and he'd gotten his up so now it was time for a down, his pessimistic side argued. He should probably call Matt and learn his fate, but even as he doubted any good news was coming, he wanted to delay popping this bubble where there was a possibility of it working out yet.
He dragged himself out of bed and brushed his teeth and was pleasantly surprised to find himself hungry. At least his appetite was returning to him, along with his hair, even if his pep lagged behind.
He'd been prescribed exercise to help combat his fatigue, and he eyed the stack of aerobic dance workouts on DVD he'd bought in a fit of can-do attitude, debating the merits of doing what his doctor recommended versus skipping straight to a delicious breakfast. Eventually, it was the thought of Matt that made the decision for him. Not because Matt liked to harp on his diet and usual lack of exercise when he got bees in his bonnet, and not because Matt and Kirsten were gorgeous where he was at best cuddly. (And he wasn't even that at the moment.)
No, he needed to get his energy back because, knowing Matt, sooner or later he'd be chasing down his best friend (maybe boyfriend soon, and wasn't that a kettle of fish) and needing to keep up. Kirsten could probably keep up with Matt better than he, truth be told, but, well. He wanted to be in Matt's life, an active participant and not just someone skulking about the side of it like he had been since the three of them had moved to California.
So he picked a DVD at random, shoved his coffee table over, and stood in the newly cleared space, ready to huff and puff and sweat.
And then the phone rang, the landline in the kitchen that he insisted on having because cell phones could be unreliable—and he'd been right, look at what had happened when the Owl had tapped anything electronic of theirs. He hit stop on the remote so fast it was a wonder the DVD player didn't spit the DVD out at him for his enthusiasm.
He answered the phone expecting Matt's voice but was greeted by Kirsten instead.
"Hello, Foggy!" she said brightly. "I'm glad I caught you."
"Hi, Kirsten." Somehow, he was no longer hungry.
"Matt and I talked last night after you and he talked, and I know what he wants, but I want to ask what you want because your happiness is important too."
Foggy sputtered, his eyes drawn to the small clay sculpture of him and Kirsten that Matt had so carefully, unwittingly rendered and which was still sitting on his kitchen table. Matt had even glazed the thing in the colors of the bisexual pride flag. "My happiness? What about yours? You're the one getting left out if Matt and I do start...dating. Or something."
"I am quite confident in my ability to speak up if I feel I'm being ignored in favor of you two playing hide the banana." Foggy choked on air—he hadn't gotten that far in his imaginings of what things might be like—but Kirsten continued on, her voice softening. "But really, Foggy. I want Matt to be happy because I love him, and I want you to be happy because I love you too. You're important to Matt, and I went into this relationship knowing that. This will simply be a new a new iteration of McDuffie, Nelson, and Murdock."
"If you're sure," Foggy said because he needed at least one of them to be sure that complicating an already complicated—but working and happy—relationship was the right thing to do.
"I'm sure."
They made arrangements to meet up for lunch at a nearby café, and Foggy hung up.
He was relieved, mostly, the heavy weight of worrying that everything had been ruined by last night gone. He loved Matt, was in love with Matt, and Matt returned those feelings. And Kirsten didn't mind! More than that, she was encouraging them.
This was a dream—a fantasy, too good to be true—except also somehow real.
Foggy thumped down in his kitchen chair, the same one he'd sat in half a day ago while Matt had accidentally confessed his feelings via statuette and then purposefully confessed them five minutes later. He picked up the pair of figures and turned them over in his hands, studying himself. How had Matt created so intimate of a likeness of him? With Kirsten, Matt had hands-on experience, so to speak, but not with him.
And yet, there he was. Not his face, Matt hadn't bothered with those particular fine details, but the rest of him, his usual fat self of whom he had decades of memories, was there, having been lovingly rendered out of soft clay, glazed, and fired.
Matt was no virtuoso, and this figurine would never be displayed in a fine art gallery for sale, but it was precious. There was love and care put into the molding of both people, Kirsten and him, neither more important than the other. He had been made beautiful under Matt's hands, in a way he didn't see himself.
The kiln-hardened clay under his hands warmed the longer he held Matt's art. The first piece Matt had been willing to show someone who knew him, and it was this piece—intimate in its subject and intimate in its sharing.
He was nervous about what was ahead for him, Matt, and Kirsten. If things blew up between them, it would make a spectacular mess, and Foggy was well familiar with the spectacular mess his life could sometimes be. It'd be easy to blame that on Matt, on the convoluted secrecy he historically kept wrapped around himself and his doings, but Foggy recognized that would be unfair. He'd tossed Matt out on his ear plenty of times, left his best friend without anyone in his corner, and those choices were on him.
With his thumb rubbing against the miniature point that represented Kirsten's toes, though, hopefulness bubbled up from under all his nerves. Matt was trying, honestly trying, and succeeding. This figurine showed that, Matt gifting his art to Foggy showed that. And he wouldn't discount Kirsten in any situation she played a part in. Her zeal for life and her empathy were something he marveled at, cynical as he knew he tended to be. They'd become closer here in California, friends in their own right rather than friends through Matt. He could trust her when she said she was happy for him.
It was an odd mix, jubilance and jitters warring within his belly. Certainly put him off the idea of breakfast, unfortunately. He eyed his TV and the DVD logo bouncing around on its screen. He supposed he needed something to occupy his time before he met with Kirsten and Matt, but maybe he'd do an activity a bit less enthusiastic given his skipping of breakfast.
His gaze drew back to the statuette. It needed someplace to live in his apartment, where he could see it but it wouldn't be in the face of any visitors. (He did not need delivery people getting a small eyeful of the nude version of him in addition to the properly-clothed-for-answering-the-door version.)
In the end, he settled on the top of his dresser, clearing off the clutter on top so there was room. He took a step back and eyed the figurine speculatively. Maybe he'd better get a curio cabinet for his bedroom, something with cubbies and a glass door to lessen the chance of it getting knocked off and shattering. He put it on his mental to-do list.
Emboldened by his minor spate of decluttering, Foggy moved on to puttering about his apartment tidying and cleaning, which took him to when he needed to start getting ready to leave. He'd been forced into dressing more casually than was his wont as he'd lost weight and his suits no longer fit him. His shirts didn't either, to be fair, but it was more acceptable to wear an overly large shirt than comically large suit.
His lips twisted in half a smile that was more wry than genuine. He'd made his peace with his extreme weight loss, as much peace as there was to be had, and was already (thankfully) beginning to gain back his lost pounds. He picked a green button-down with a fun check pattern to it as well as his favorite green bowtie and was pleased with what he saw in his mirror. He looked dapper, no longer like a kid playing dress-up in borrowed clothes. And if he couldn't pair his smart shirt with an equally smart jacket, well, California went for the easy breezy casual look more than New York did anyway.
Foggy pushed away thoughts wondering if Matt and Kirsten knew what they were getting into with him and took several deep breaths. They did, he had to trust that they did.
As ready as he could be, he headed over.
~
~
Matt and Kirsten were already seated when he approached, and together they looked a smart couple with Matt forgoing his all-red suit in favor of civvies and Kirsten wearing a sundress with a cheerful lemon print. Foggy was glad he'd put some effort into his own outfit so he didn't look too out of place next to them.
Kirsten waved, and Matt joined in a second later. The bright smiles on their faces were reassuring, and he gave a little wave in reply. Kirsten wrapped him in a hug as soon as he was near enough to do so. Matt shoved his chair back to stand at Kirsten's shoulder and wait his turn to hug Foggy.
"Foggy! You made it, I'm so excited you're here. You look good, I love the bowtie is finally making its return. Matt"—she turned to address the man, leaning her head back to look up at him—"Foggy's bowtie is back and spectacular."
"Yeah?" Matt had an indulgent smile though whether it was for Kirsten or him, Foggy wasn't sure. "Which one is it?"
"The avocado green one," Kirsten informed him.
"A classic," Matt replied, and Foggy blushed under the attention.
Kirsten stepped back as he thanked them, and then Matt enveloped him in a hug of his own, his strong arms folding around Foggy. Unlike Kirsten's effervescent enthusiasm, Matt was silent, but his nose was buried in what short hairs Foggy'd managed to grow back so far. Foggy would bet dollars to doughnuts Matt was sniffing him, but that was okay because the familiar, subtle scent of Matt's aftershave was a comfort to him as well.
When the hug ended—when Matt finally let him go, not that Foggy had been trying to escape Matt's hold—Foggy felt braced. Matt, for all that he historically liked to play his cards close to his chest, also didn't have a poker face to speak of: if he were nervous or had misgivings, Foggy liked to think he knew his best friend (and new boyfriend? was that going to be the term for them going forward?) well enough he'd be able to tell. And Kirsten was a square shooter through and through, someone he could trust wouldn't dissemble to him.
Foggy smiled. This was going to work, the three of them together. And as he sat, he grabbed one of the menus on their little table just big enough for three. He found he was hungry. Ravenous really, after skipping breakfast.
They waited until after their food arrived to talk of anything of consequence. Matt said their waiter recognized him but, going by the chatter he could hear at the back of the restaurant, the man was the only person on staff not enamored by the thrill (vicarious for the rest of the staff) of serving orange juice to the superhero Daredevil.
Foggy took a bite of his pancake and said, "I'm not really sure where to start."
Matt raised a finger to ask for silence and cocked his head as he listened to the rest of the café.
"None of diners are paying attention to us," he said, "and the staff are all too intimidated to come over."
"Good, I prefer not to be the subject of gawking if I can avoid it."
Kirsten looked between Foggy and Matt. "I have an idea for where to start." She paused and waited for them to nod before continuing. "The situation as I see it is that you, one Franklin Nelson, would like to start dating one Matthew Murdock while I"—she gestured to each of them in turn and then to herself—"one Kirsten McDuffie, continue to date the aforementioned Matthew Murdock. Does that sound like an accurate summary of the situation at hand? And are all involved parties agreed that is an acceptable situation? Desirable even."
Foggy glanced over at Matt, who was biting the corner of his lip and had the beginnings of a telltale blush gracing his features. He looked almost...shy, which was not a look Foggy usually associated with Matt and his bravado charm. It reconfirmed for Foggy that this was what he wanted, and he knocked his foot affectionately against Matt's leg.
"Very desirable," he said, with Matt concurring a mere half second behind him.
"Well, then. As far as the big picture goes, we're in accordance, so all we're doing here is hashing out the details for how we want that big picture to work. For example, Matt, if you wanted to spend the night at Foggy's apartment rather than ours, all I ask is that you let me know so I don't worry that something happening with Daredevil is what's keeping you away." Kirsten leaned back, a teasing smirk playing about her lips. "Agreed or no?"
This wasn't a formal court and there would be no legally-binding contract at the end of this discussion, but Kirsten's approach gave Foggy a path to follow in this confusing landscape of dating your best friend while he also continued to date his girlfriend. He had no idea how polyamorous relationships were supposed to go, but he knew contract negotiations. He was good at negotiations and making sure his clients' interests were protected, but today his client was himself and his interest was his own happiness, which was also in part contingent on the happiness of the other two people sharing this meal with him.
He could do this.
And maybe he was a fool for being his own lawyer, but he'd been a fool for Matt for years, and he'd gladly be a fool for Kirsten too.
He put down his fork and leaned forward. "Agreed, but with an amendment that Matt lets me know when he's home safe for the night at your place. I worry too, you know."
Kirsten tapped her lips thoughtfully then said, "What if we amended it to a general stipulation that Matt let both of us know where he ends up for the night?"
Matt sputtered, though he grinned even as he protested. "What about me, do I get a say in this rule? What if I want you two to message me so I don't worry, hmm?"
"Satisfactory," Foggy and Kirsten chorused then shared a smile.
The negotiations continued on, back and forth. They worked out logistics and boundaries and lines of communication, Kirsten stressing that the most important thing was that this relationship worked for all of them and if something wasn't working then they could revisit this discussion and change whatever was off. It would only succeed if all three of them were in this together and were honest about their own feelings and needs.
Matt insisted he wanted them as a trio to do something together at least once a week—something fun, not work- or superhero-related, something just for them—to which Foggy and Kirsten readily agreed.
By the end of their discussion, they had, Foggy thought, created a solid foundation for the three of them. He knew that what was agreed upon today would get amended further down the line because they'd forgotten something initially or circumstances changed or just because they were three lawyers who enjoyed the thrill of arguing. But they were in this together, and they cared, and those two points were why this venture would thrive.
They would thrive.
Their brunch plates long cleared away, they sat sipping coffee (green tea for Matt) and relaxing into this time together on a gorgeous day. A light breeze ruffled Kirsten's hair, and she eyed Foggy over the rim of her cup.
"You don't have to share if you don't want to," she said, addressing both Foggy and Matt, "but I'm curious: what happened last night? I know Matt didn't go over with the intention of confessing anything, so how...?"
"Oh, well, er, the sculpture I made...that is, Foggy's housewarming gift— Foggy, help?" Matt asked as he turned a pleading expression towards Foggy.
Matt was cute, flustered as he was; Foggy was allowed to think that now and mean it in a way that sopped his heart in the romantic soup. And he got why Matt was having such trouble answering. It wasn't every day someone accidentally made a statuette starring his girlfriend and his best friend cuddling together naked. Kirsten would back down if he told her what had spurred on Matt's confession was private, even if asking her to do so would only stoke her curiosity. She wasn't the type to pry—or, well, she was exactly the type to pry if she thought something needed to be said.
But this was something harmless and even sweet when Foggy remembered how earnest Matt had been confessing. He could lay to rest how, at that past moment, his own heart had broken at Matt's words because it turned out he could be with Matt without forcing Kirsten out of their lives.
He leaned over and impulsively kissed Matt on the cheek. "It was the statuette he made for me. Helped us put a few pieces together."
Matt, not content with one smooch, cupped Foggy's cheek and gave him a proper, undeniably romantic kiss. Foggy froze for a brief second before reminding himself that they'd talked about this—Matt refused to hide Foggy when he didn't hide his affection for Kirsten—and kissed Matt back.
When they parted, Kirsten indulged in a short wolf whistle. "Quite the loquacious statuette. What does it look like?"
"Are you okay with—? It's your art," Foggy asked, while Matt said, "You're the one who's—" before Foggy concluded, "I'm okay with it if you are. After all, it's only fair Kirsten also knows given the subject."
"Oh? Color me even more curious now."
"You want to tell the story, or do you want me to, Matty?"
Matt thought for a moment, then, "You. I want to hear your version of the tale."
Foggy smiled at that, at Matt's implied vote of confidence. Matt had asked him write that darned "auto"biography, but that particular task had been as appealing as pulling teeth for Matt—worse than. This now was simply because Matt wanted to listen to him. Matt had his chin in his hand and a besotted smile on his face, waiting for Foggy.
Foggy sat up straighter and began his yarn. He didn't know what exactly was in store for him in the future—villains, most likely, but hopefully also some good food and maybe a juicy tax case—but he knew the company he'd be keeping, and that was all he needed.
~
One of the perks to this new relationship situation of his, Foggy discovered, was how easy it was to rile Matt up. And he had a perfect co-conspirator in Kirsten, who seemed to enjoy the exercise as much as Foggy.
He wasn't in love with Kirsten, not romantically, but he did love her and she him, which made it easy to tease Matt.
The key, really, had been given to him by Matt with that housewarming statuette he'd gifted Foggy. The heart of Matt's id there in the small but lovingly sculpted pair of him and Kirsten cuddled together.
A kiss to Kirsten's cheek, and Matt turned red as soon as he parsed out what was the smacking noise he'd just heard. A ruffle of Foggy's hair now that it was once again long enough to ruffle, and Matt fumbled anything he'd been holding as the co-mingled scents of Foggy's shampoo and Kirsten's hand lotion hit him. A traded pair of hand massages, and Matt had nearly combusted trying to decide which of them he had wanted to drag away first.
Foggy wondered how Matt would react when he came home tonight and smelled what his two partners were doing. Kirsten and Foggy were cooking dinner together—brisket with roasted vegetables, plus flourless chocolate cake for dessert—all directed by Kirsten because he knew how much stock Matt put in Foggy's culinary skills. It was a special dinner because tonight was special, after all; tonight was a celebration of their first anniversary as a throuple.
Author:
coprimeFandom: Daredevil
Relationship: Foggy/Matt/Kirsten
Rating / Word Count: PG-13 / 7,824 words
Warnings: Some talk of Foggy's canon cancer arc, though he is in recovery in this fic.
Disclaimer: Daredevil belongs to Marvel Comics.
Summary: With Foggy moving into the same building where Matt and Kirsten share an apartment, Matt is happy. Ecstatic to have his friend so nearby. But when Matt visits Foggy for the first time after moving in, his housewarming gift perhaps says more than he intended.
Notes: Many thanks to
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Length: 49:25
~Jealousy's Opposite~
~Chapter 1: Matt~
Matt stood in the hallway outside Foggy's apartment, shifting nervously on his feet. Tonight was the first time he was formally visiting Foggy's newest apartment in San Francisco—the day he'd spent carrying boxes helping Foggy move didn't count—and he'd brought a housewarming gift for his friend. This new apartment was only two floors down from Matt's, or more accurately, Matt and Kirsten's apartment now that they'd moved in together following that final confrontation with Fisk, and having Foggy so near at night was doing something for Matt.
Kirsten's sleepy heartbeat next to him was a balm on nights he struggled to sleep, but adding Foggy's heartbeat to hers? His strong, healthy heartbeat now that his cancer was in remission?
Matt wasn't sure there were words enough to describe the feeling of peace those sounds combined gave him. Hence the gift he was holding in his left hand. The cardboard box was neatly wrapped and inside was a clay sculpture of two people sitting on a sofa with tissue paper for padding. It didn't sound like much, but Matt had sculpted his gift with his own two hands and believed Foggy would appreciate it. Tonight would be the first time Foggy saw anything Matt had made, a thought which made Matt's heart flutter nervously, but Matt wanted to give Foggy something personal to mark the occasion of Foggy's move.
While he knew Foggy would never mock or belittle his art, Matt desperately wished for Foggy to treat it with the same amount of gravitas Matt had put into making it.
He could hear Foggy rummaging around on the other side of the door, happily humming to himself, so he took a deep breath, tucked his white cane in his elbow to free his other hand, and knocked.
Form inside the humming stopped, and a "One sec," at speaking volume drifted over to Matt.
Foggy opened the door with an enthusiastic "Matty!" and enveloped Matt in a tight hug, leaving Matt to return it one-armed as he tried not to drop the gift.
"Hey, Fogs," Matt said when Foggy let go. "How's the apartment shaping up? Have you unpacked all the kitchen gear for a home-cooked meal tonight?" Matt could smell a variety of smells, and they weren't bad per se but they were a unique combination.
Foggy laughed, and Matt followed him into the apartment.
"I remember what you said the last time I made something home-cooked for us, so no, I'm not subjecting your delicate sensibilities to that even though, yes, the kitchen is open for business. We've got takeout."
Foggy had an array of bags on the kitchen counter, and he started taking out boxes and plastic containers one by one and moving them to the small, round table that served as his dining table.
Matt carefully set his package on a nearby end table and asked, "Dishes?" to which Foggy replied, "Cupboard left of the fridge, and the silverware's in the drawer below."
They set up in silence, with Matt easily finding the fridge from its loud humming. As he pulled down bowls and plates, Matt enjoyed the return of Foggy's natural smells and sounds now that he wasn't regularly being pumped full of chemicals as his doctors worked to save him. His hair had grown back enough for him to ditch the toupees, and it seemed like he was gaining back the weight he'd lost while sick. Matt knew he'd been critical of Foggy's size in the past, but the terror he'd felt as his friend's body sloughed off pounds in its desperate fight....
Foggy didn't feel like Foggy to Matt's senses at his lower weight, and Matt appreciated every sign of Foggy's gradual return to his proper measurements.
Foggy had gotten takeout from five different restaurants nearby, some Matt had already visited with Kirsten and some new to him. Everything was tasty, Foggy knowing Matt's preferences well by now. They made small talk for a bit about their cases, what they could do to regain people's trust in their ability to keep things private, and about how well Matt's autobiography was doing at the stores.
And then Foggy asked, "How's the art going, by the by? No pressure, but I know I'm curious to see something you've made," and Matt's nerves, which had dissipated as he'd soaked in Foggy's presence, ratcheted back up.
It was good that Foggy was curious, yes? It meant Matt had no reason to be nervous about what he was about to do.
Matt had taken up sculpting with clay as a hobby recently, something constructive to do with his hands a couple times a week that gave him an outlet. He made shapes which pleased him to hold and had learned how to make human figures with advice from the other artists who worked out of the same small studio he did. He'd gotten compliments on his pieces from those other artists, but he hadn't yet shown Foggy or Kirsten anything he'd made. It felt personal, like he was putting the secrets of his soul on display. And that was okay when the person looking was someone who didn't know him or only knew him in a small capacity—someone who didn't know how to fit what they were looking at into the shape of his soul—and whose opinion didn't matter to him.
Foggy and Kirsten were different, were important.
But Foggy moving closer to him was also important, hence Matt's choice of housewarming present. Matt retrieved his present and held it out to Foggy.
He said, "About that...here." Foggy gingerly lifted the gift out of Matt's hands and set it next to his plate. "I appreciate you moving closer to me—me and Kirsten—and I want to show you that. We've, you've been through so much recently, and words can't convey how much it means to me that you're still here. By my side. I can only hope my art speaks to a fraction of the depth of my feelings."
Foggy slid his fingers along the seams of the wrapping paper, carefully taking it apart, his focus on Matt and his stumbling speech.
"It's not supposed to be anyone in particular, more of an emotion than anything specific."
Opening the box, he drew out the sculpture of two people embracing while seated together on a plush couch.
"I was thinking of peace and contentment and—love, shared between people, when I made it."
Foggy rotated his gift this way and that as he examined it. Matt couldn't get a read on Foggy. Foggy was feeling—something strongly and trying not to, his heartbeat an insistent bass drum to Matt's ears but the song it played was a patchwork medley that refused to settle. Matt had glazed the gift with an abstract pattern of blue and pink and purple, colors he'd picked out from the descriptions others at the studio had given him. He knew it was a solid weight, comfortably heavy in his hands, and he'd created the two unknown people with pleasant curves to his fingers. He felt peace and contentment and love when he contemplated the small scene he'd created, but that didn't mean Foggy would.
"Matt," Foggy said slowly, "you do realize this is Kirsten and me cuddling on the sofa here?"
"What?" Matt startled. He reached toward the figure, and Foggy gave it to him. "No, they're not."
But as his hands traced over the female figure, as he took in the proportions of her legs to her torso, the curves of her arms and feet, he realized Foggy was correct. This was Kirsten; he loved the splay of his fingers over every part of her, so how had he missed whom he was modeling the figure after? He moved to the male figure, who was plump. Fat. The male figure was a contrast to the female figure—short, cute fingers to thin, elegant ones; a soft, round belly to a smooth, taut one. He was different but equally as beautiful as his female companion. But this couldn't be Foggy because he wasn't intimately familiar with Foggy like he was Kirsten.
Matt gaped even as he kept reflexively stroking the figure.
"I don't—" he said.
Foggy bit his lip, the scrape of his teeth against his tender flesh like a storm in Matt's ears. Cacophonous but compelling.
"That's me, Matty. Before I...." Foggy mumbled his next words. "Before I lost weight."
Oh. It was true Matt's senses didn't allow him to pick up details the same way other people did, but he had spent so long with Foggy by his side that he might have subconsciously. And—Matt examined the male figure with near reverence—maybe he had leaned into that subconscious knowledge in his art. Certainly the thought of Foggy being this large again filled him with joy, especially when compared to Foggy skinny and sick.
"And..." Foggy's heartbeat sped up further, its rhythm reminding Matt of all the worst times of their relationship. He ran a finger across the miniature Kirsten and Foggy Matt had unwittingly formed. "...this, along with your speech, feels like a love confession."
Matt wanted to deny Foggy's words. He couldn't be in love with Foggy; he loved Kirsten! He loved Foggy certainly, but he wasn't interested in his best friend romantically. ...Right?
Matt's protestation died before it reached his mouth as he took in Foggy, scared and hunched over and still recovering. How could he not be smitten by the man in front of him. The revelation felt simultaneously like something that had been a long time coming and like a bolt out of the blue.
"I don't know exactly what part of that idea is so shocking to you, but I don't need you stay and tell me how wrong I was. You can go. Take your statuette with you when you do."
Matt had a choice to make. He could walk out of here now and pretend he hadn't accidentally confessed his love for his best friend. Deny what was happening here, and break Foggy's heart. It wouldn't even be the first or second or third time he'd been callous towards the misery he'd caused Foggy. And like all those other times, Matt was sure, Foggy would avoid him for a time, long enough for Foggy to wrest his emotions back into his control and then a little bit longer till he was willing to see Matt again. They'd go back to how they were before this night, or maybe they'd regress to how they were before San Francisco, before Shadowland, before Milla and Elektra and Karen—back to when they were young and green and their feelings weren't as deep-rooted as they were now.
He could keep Kirsten oblivious to how much of his center she shared with Foggy. She knew he loved Foggy; she loved Foggy as well and only had encouragement for the two of them. But she didn't know he was in love with Foggy, and he didn't know how she would react.
The easy route would be to walk away, keep the status quo. His life was already messy and complicated. He didn't need to add complications.
But, at the same time...he did. Going public as Daredevil had been one of the messiest complications in his life, and finding a new equilibrium had been made more difficult by how very unlike the choice to go public was to his previous choices. It had been worth it though, every single complication, because this was the happiest—the freest—he'd been in a long, long while. He didn't want to hide anymore, not who he was or what he could or couldn't do.
Really, the only part of his life that had been hidden this past year...was Foggy. And that hiding had been for Foggy's safety, so his cancer treatment wouldn't be interrupted, so his doctors didn't need to fear their lives or their other patients' lives becoming collateral damage when one of Daredevil's foes targeted a vulnerable Foggy.
Foggy pushed away from the table roughly.
He said, "Okay, well, you can go now, Matt. This hasn't been fun, let's not do this again."
Matt didn't want to hide Foggy though. He didn't want his friend—his love?—to be hidden away as if Foggy were less important than Kirsten to him. He didn't want to relegate Foggy and his love for Foggy to being an added complication he didn't want to deal with.
"You're right," Matt said.
"Yes, I know, your silence these past minutes has been very eloquent."
Foggy was hurt, yes, but now he was also angry; heat radiated off him.
"No, I mean...I mean that was a love confession. I'm in love with you, Foggy Nelson. Romantically." Matt jutted his chin out as Foggy thumped back into his chair. "And I don't want that to be a secret anymore."
"Matt...." Foggy's heartbeat stuttered, and salt filled the air. "I love you too, but...what about Kirsten?"
Matt shrugged, trying for casual, and said, "I also love her." He reached across the table for Foggy, who clasped his hand. "I want both of you."
Foggy scrubbed the tears from his eyes. Matt longed to kiss away the salt on his cheeks but held himself still. He couldn't; he wasn't allowed to take such intimacies with Foggy, not yet at least. But oh, how he longed to sweetly comfort Foggy.
"I won't be the person to get between you and Kirsten. She's good for you, she makes you happy."
Matt squeezed Foggy's hand, a comfort he was able to give his friend.
"You won't be. There has to be a way we can make you and me and her work. People have all sorts of relationship arrangements nowadays, and we can do the same."
"I don't...." Foggy sighed. "This has been a lot to take in today. I want something like that, I do, but you need to talk with Kirsten first. Then...then we can talk. The three of us."
Matt bit the inside of his cheek. As much as he wanted to hash something out with Foggy right now, riding high on the euphoria of the realization of his own feelings and Foggy's confirmation of their reciprocity, Foggy was correct. He needed to talk to Kirsten.
Matt hugged Foggy tightly before he left, his friend's form still too bony in his embrace. But Matt drank in Foggy's natural scent, untainted by chemicals, and let it bolster him for his upcoming chat.
He hoped Kirsten was as understanding about his feelings as he thought she would be.
~Chapter 2: Kirsten~
When she entered her apartment, Kirsten kicked off her shoes, sending them flying, for the joy of having them off. Then she grabbed them and placed them on the shoe rack next to the front door so they wouldn't become a trip hazard for her blind boyfriend whenever he came home tonight from his date with his best friend.
She flopped onto the sofa and threw her arm over her eyes. Dinner with Foggy would have been much more enjoyable than the, in turns, tensely silent and awkwardly chatty meal she'd just shared with her dad and his wife, but it was important to give the boys some time together just the two of them. She knew Matt was planning to give Foggy a special housewarming gift, and she didn't want to be the third wheel to the pair of them tonight.
The deadbolt scraping against the wood of the door as it was turned back startled her, and she raised her arm to peer at Matt stepping into their apartment with a worried look on his face. Uh-oh.
Matt had been so excited about Foggy moving into the same building as them and so earnest in his desire to show Foggy how much this meant to him, Kirsten wondered how had things gone wrong enough to put that pinch on Matt's brow. Especially with how close Matt and Foggy were nowadays after everything they'd been through.
"Matt?"
"Oh, uh. Hi, Kirsten." He came over and dropped a sweet kiss on the crown of her head then took her hand. "How was dinner with your father?"
Kirsten knew this was deflection, Matt preemptively asking a question so Kirsten wouldn't be able to ask him one, but she let him get away with it.
For now.
She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. She tilted her head back and let out a heart-felt groan.
"Dinner is over, which is my favorite part of the evening so far. My dad made sure to tell me how well your 'biography' is doing, and he's planning to ask you for a tell-all book next. Kept saying he needs a follow-up to Man Without Fear: The Autobiography of Matthew Murdock and pretending he didn't mean superhero gossip." Kirsten watched Matt twist his features in disgust. "Yeah, that's how I feel about it too. We can tackle him together at a later time. Let me finish changing out of these dinner clothes, and you can tell me all about Foggy's new place and how your date night went."
Matt jerked, his hand almost slipping out of Kirsten's, but she held firm to him.
"Matt?" she asked. She knew something had happened tonight, but she hadn't expected the mere mention of Foggy to cause Matt to startle that badly.
"What do you mean, date night? I'm not dating Foggy, Foggy's not dating me, there's no dating currently between us."
Currently, Kirsten noted. A curious word choice. That...maybe answered some questions of hers she'd wondered about when she'd started flirting with Matt, but then again maybe not. Better to get the facts than assume she knew what was going on.
"No," she drew out. "I know you're not dating Foggy. Because you would have told me if you were." Kirsten sat up, eyeing Matt. Was that a guilty look on Matt's face? Had something happened between the two of them tonight? "Is there something you need to tell me?"
"Go get changed first."
Kirsten gave Matt's hand a final squeeze before heading into their bedroom. Matt stayed in the living room, sitting down on the sofa and folding his hands together, thoughtful. Kirsten left the bedroom door open as she changed, watching Matt. Before she'd even started dating Matt, she'd known that Nelson & Murdock were a pair for the ages—heck, it had been Foggy who'd initially set the two of them up and Foggy whom she'd asked for Matt's number. She'd thought, well, she didn't know exactly what she'd thought at the time, she tried not to make assumptions about people's dating lives. But there were many possibilities she wouldn't have been surprised by.
In her comfortable pajamas now, Kirsten sat down next to Matt and gave him a sideways hug, looping her arm around his shoulders and bringing them close. He leaned into her. She stretched up, and he bent so she could reach his cheek to kiss.
Kirsten covered his clenched fists with her own, smaller hand and asked, "What happened, sweetheart?"
"I...I love you. You know that, right?"
"I do. And I love you too. Now, what happened? Ninjas didn't attack your dinner, did they?"
"No, nothing like that. I.... That is, I also.... There is, or may be...," Matt trailed off. He swallowed convulsively. He shook off Kirsten's hand covering his own so he could grind his palms into his eyes, his glasses shoved up into his hair, still short from when he'd shaved it but growing back out to his normal coif. "This seemed so simple in Foggy's apartment," he muttered.
Kirsten waited.
"I love Foggy too."
Kirsten clarified, "As a friend or...?"
"Romantically," Matt whispered. "I'm in love with Foggy like I'm in love with you. While I'm in love with you."
Kirsten kept her arm around Matt. She chose her words carefully, not wanting to give censure to her boyfriend for what others would call a perfidious heart. This wasn't Kirsten's first rodeo, not with her boyfriend's tendency to struggle to accept good things in his life and not with a polyamorous partner either.
"Foggy's a good man, a good person to love. Does he know what you just told me?"
Matt finally raised his head and faced her. "Yes," he said with unguarded earnestness.
Kirsten squeezed Matt. She loved him, and, simply put, that meant including his love for his best friend.
"Why don't you tell me what exactly happened tonight at Foggy's apartment."
He summarized his evening with Foggy, his words and voice impartial and removed like he was outlining the events for a jury, but there was no jury to eventually pass judgement here in their apartment, only Kirsten. She listened attentively, both to what he said and to his unconscious body language as he gestured expansively.
(It really was like one of his opening statements, which made her smile. Her dramatically cute and cutely dramatic boyfriend.)
He closed his statement saying, "And I—in Foggy's apartment, I thought we could work something out. I love him, and I love you. It's not him replacing you or you competing with him, just...the both of you. For me.
I don't want to hurt you though, at least not more than I probably already have by telling you all this, so please be honest with me. Kirsten, do you think that's something we can successfully do? You and me and Foggy, a polyamorous threesome?"
Matt's brow was furrowed, but he looked earnest. His blue eyes, aimed an inch or two off from hers, begged for her understanding.
"Well," she said, plucking his glasses off his head setting them aside then smoothing her hands over his short strands, "it wouldn't be a threesome because I'm not interested in an intimate relationship like that with him. But a vee with you as the hinge and he and I as metamours? That has potential, I think."
Matt gaped—a little bit, only wide enough to drive a small coupe through his mouth, not an entire bus.
Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Kirsten felt a little smug at so thoroughly surprising him.
She pushed his jaw up with one delicate finger. "Seriously though. I love you, and that means I love all the parts of you, including the part that loves Foggy."
"You're not offended by my loving someone else romantically?"
"No." Kirsten thought of Matt writing to Milla, his former wife, at the institute where she lived each week like clockwork. She would never be the sole person Matt loved, and she didn't want to be: she could never ask him to love less. Taking Matt's hands in hers, she said, "Matt, you haven't done anything wrong. You're here, talking to me, including me, and that's what's important. Communication is the key in this sort of situation, and hey! Look at us, communicating like bosses."
Matt snorted and thumped his head down on Kirsten's shoulder, awkwardly bending his torso to reach that low.
"You'll have to do the looking for me," he said.
Kirsten huffed a laugh. She should have expected that one.
"There's a term, compersion, that's popular within the poly community," she said, and as she spoke, she scratched lightly at his scalp. "It's about finding joy in someone else's joy. The opposite of jealousy, basically. Instead of being upset or angry at someone having a happiness that you don't have, you feel happy because they're happy."
Matt untensed under her touch. Like a cat getting scritches, Kirsten mused.
"And...that's how you feel about all this? Not jealousy, but compersion?" he asked, sounding out the word with its unfamiliar syllables.
"Yes," Kirsten said firmly. "You said Foggy seemed open to working something out? I can call him, set up a time for the three of us to talk, lay out some ground rules, that sort of thing—"
Matt caught her up in a kiss, his strong arms wrapped around her with one hand cradling and supporting the back of her head as he somehow managed to dip her while they were seated on the sofa. Kirsten returned his enthusiasm with glee, warm heat spreading through her under Matt's expert touch. When they broke apart, he held her in place, her torso nearly horizontal and only not lying on the sofa by the virtue of the strength of her boyfriend's muscles.
"You are amazing," he said. "How'd I get so lucky to have you as my girlfriend?"
"Mm, takes one to know one," Kirsten said, winding her arms around Matt's neck and trying to tug him back to continuing that kiss. "Why don't you show me how amazing I am some more?"
Matt grinned a shark's grin that made Kirsten's toes curl in anticipation. "Gladly."
She'd message Foggy in the morning.
~Chapter 3: Foggy~
When Foggy woke the next morning after his revelatory but maybe disastrous housewarming dinner with Matt, he still felt tired despite having slept deeply. His oncologist said being fatigued was normal, even with chemotherapy behind him, and anxiety of what would happen now had kept him up after Matt had left. He'd fallen asleep telling himself that no phone call from an incensed Kirsten meant that Matt had chickened out about talking to his girlfriend.
He ignored the way his heart hurt at the idea.
He wanted things to work out somehow with the three of them all happy, really, he did! But it seemed like too much of a miracle to ask that Kirsten be okay with him also dating Matt after the miracle that was being declared cancer-free and getting to live again. Life was ups and downs, and he'd gotten his up so now it was time for a down, his pessimistic side argued. He should probably call Matt and learn his fate, but even as he doubted any good news was coming, he wanted to delay popping this bubble where there was a possibility of it working out yet.
He dragged himself out of bed and brushed his teeth and was pleasantly surprised to find himself hungry. At least his appetite was returning to him, along with his hair, even if his pep lagged behind.
He'd been prescribed exercise to help combat his fatigue, and he eyed the stack of aerobic dance workouts on DVD he'd bought in a fit of can-do attitude, debating the merits of doing what his doctor recommended versus skipping straight to a delicious breakfast. Eventually, it was the thought of Matt that made the decision for him. Not because Matt liked to harp on his diet and usual lack of exercise when he got bees in his bonnet, and not because Matt and Kirsten were gorgeous where he was at best cuddly. (And he wasn't even that at the moment.)
No, he needed to get his energy back because, knowing Matt, sooner or later he'd be chasing down his best friend (maybe boyfriend soon, and wasn't that a kettle of fish) and needing to keep up. Kirsten could probably keep up with Matt better than he, truth be told, but, well. He wanted to be in Matt's life, an active participant and not just someone skulking about the side of it like he had been since the three of them had moved to California.
So he picked a DVD at random, shoved his coffee table over, and stood in the newly cleared space, ready to huff and puff and sweat.
And then the phone rang, the landline in the kitchen that he insisted on having because cell phones could be unreliable—and he'd been right, look at what had happened when the Owl had tapped anything electronic of theirs. He hit stop on the remote so fast it was a wonder the DVD player didn't spit the DVD out at him for his enthusiasm.
He answered the phone expecting Matt's voice but was greeted by Kirsten instead.
"Hello, Foggy!" she said brightly. "I'm glad I caught you."
"Hi, Kirsten." Somehow, he was no longer hungry.
"Matt and I talked last night after you and he talked, and I know what he wants, but I want to ask what you want because your happiness is important too."
Foggy sputtered, his eyes drawn to the small clay sculpture of him and Kirsten that Matt had so carefully, unwittingly rendered and which was still sitting on his kitchen table. Matt had even glazed the thing in the colors of the bisexual pride flag. "My happiness? What about yours? You're the one getting left out if Matt and I do start...dating. Or something."
"I am quite confident in my ability to speak up if I feel I'm being ignored in favor of you two playing hide the banana." Foggy choked on air—he hadn't gotten that far in his imaginings of what things might be like—but Kirsten continued on, her voice softening. "But really, Foggy. I want Matt to be happy because I love him, and I want you to be happy because I love you too. You're important to Matt, and I went into this relationship knowing that. This will simply be a new a new iteration of McDuffie, Nelson, and Murdock."
"If you're sure," Foggy said because he needed at least one of them to be sure that complicating an already complicated—but working and happy—relationship was the right thing to do.
"I'm sure."
They made arrangements to meet up for lunch at a nearby café, and Foggy hung up.
He was relieved, mostly, the heavy weight of worrying that everything had been ruined by last night gone. He loved Matt, was in love with Matt, and Matt returned those feelings. And Kirsten didn't mind! More than that, she was encouraging them.
This was a dream—a fantasy, too good to be true—except also somehow real.
Foggy thumped down in his kitchen chair, the same one he'd sat in half a day ago while Matt had accidentally confessed his feelings via statuette and then purposefully confessed them five minutes later. He picked up the pair of figures and turned them over in his hands, studying himself. How had Matt created so intimate of a likeness of him? With Kirsten, Matt had hands-on experience, so to speak, but not with him.
And yet, there he was. Not his face, Matt hadn't bothered with those particular fine details, but the rest of him, his usual fat self of whom he had decades of memories, was there, having been lovingly rendered out of soft clay, glazed, and fired.
Matt was no virtuoso, and this figurine would never be displayed in a fine art gallery for sale, but it was precious. There was love and care put into the molding of both people, Kirsten and him, neither more important than the other. He had been made beautiful under Matt's hands, in a way he didn't see himself.
The kiln-hardened clay under his hands warmed the longer he held Matt's art. The first piece Matt had been willing to show someone who knew him, and it was this piece—intimate in its subject and intimate in its sharing.
He was nervous about what was ahead for him, Matt, and Kirsten. If things blew up between them, it would make a spectacular mess, and Foggy was well familiar with the spectacular mess his life could sometimes be. It'd be easy to blame that on Matt, on the convoluted secrecy he historically kept wrapped around himself and his doings, but Foggy recognized that would be unfair. He'd tossed Matt out on his ear plenty of times, left his best friend without anyone in his corner, and those choices were on him.
With his thumb rubbing against the miniature point that represented Kirsten's toes, though, hopefulness bubbled up from under all his nerves. Matt was trying, honestly trying, and succeeding. This figurine showed that, Matt gifting his art to Foggy showed that. And he wouldn't discount Kirsten in any situation she played a part in. Her zeal for life and her empathy were something he marveled at, cynical as he knew he tended to be. They'd become closer here in California, friends in their own right rather than friends through Matt. He could trust her when she said she was happy for him.
It was an odd mix, jubilance and jitters warring within his belly. Certainly put him off the idea of breakfast, unfortunately. He eyed his TV and the DVD logo bouncing around on its screen. He supposed he needed something to occupy his time before he met with Kirsten and Matt, but maybe he'd do an activity a bit less enthusiastic given his skipping of breakfast.
His gaze drew back to the statuette. It needed someplace to live in his apartment, where he could see it but it wouldn't be in the face of any visitors. (He did not need delivery people getting a small eyeful of the nude version of him in addition to the properly-clothed-for-answering-the-door version.)
In the end, he settled on the top of his dresser, clearing off the clutter on top so there was room. He took a step back and eyed the figurine speculatively. Maybe he'd better get a curio cabinet for his bedroom, something with cubbies and a glass door to lessen the chance of it getting knocked off and shattering. He put it on his mental to-do list.
Emboldened by his minor spate of decluttering, Foggy moved on to puttering about his apartment tidying and cleaning, which took him to when he needed to start getting ready to leave. He'd been forced into dressing more casually than was his wont as he'd lost weight and his suits no longer fit him. His shirts didn't either, to be fair, but it was more acceptable to wear an overly large shirt than comically large suit.
His lips twisted in half a smile that was more wry than genuine. He'd made his peace with his extreme weight loss, as much peace as there was to be had, and was already (thankfully) beginning to gain back his lost pounds. He picked a green button-down with a fun check pattern to it as well as his favorite green bowtie and was pleased with what he saw in his mirror. He looked dapper, no longer like a kid playing dress-up in borrowed clothes. And if he couldn't pair his smart shirt with an equally smart jacket, well, California went for the easy breezy casual look more than New York did anyway.
Foggy pushed away thoughts wondering if Matt and Kirsten knew what they were getting into with him and took several deep breaths. They did, he had to trust that they did.
As ready as he could be, he headed over.
Matt and Kirsten were already seated when he approached, and together they looked a smart couple with Matt forgoing his all-red suit in favor of civvies and Kirsten wearing a sundress with a cheerful lemon print. Foggy was glad he'd put some effort into his own outfit so he didn't look too out of place next to them.
Kirsten waved, and Matt joined in a second later. The bright smiles on their faces were reassuring, and he gave a little wave in reply. Kirsten wrapped him in a hug as soon as he was near enough to do so. Matt shoved his chair back to stand at Kirsten's shoulder and wait his turn to hug Foggy.
"Foggy! You made it, I'm so excited you're here. You look good, I love the bowtie is finally making its return. Matt"—she turned to address the man, leaning her head back to look up at him—"Foggy's bowtie is back and spectacular."
"Yeah?" Matt had an indulgent smile though whether it was for Kirsten or him, Foggy wasn't sure. "Which one is it?"
"The avocado green one," Kirsten informed him.
"A classic," Matt replied, and Foggy blushed under the attention.
Kirsten stepped back as he thanked them, and then Matt enveloped him in a hug of his own, his strong arms folding around Foggy. Unlike Kirsten's effervescent enthusiasm, Matt was silent, but his nose was buried in what short hairs Foggy'd managed to grow back so far. Foggy would bet dollars to doughnuts Matt was sniffing him, but that was okay because the familiar, subtle scent of Matt's aftershave was a comfort to him as well.
When the hug ended—when Matt finally let him go, not that Foggy had been trying to escape Matt's hold—Foggy felt braced. Matt, for all that he historically liked to play his cards close to his chest, also didn't have a poker face to speak of: if he were nervous or had misgivings, Foggy liked to think he knew his best friend (and new boyfriend? was that going to be the term for them going forward?) well enough he'd be able to tell. And Kirsten was a square shooter through and through, someone he could trust wouldn't dissemble to him.
Foggy smiled. This was going to work, the three of them together. And as he sat, he grabbed one of the menus on their little table just big enough for three. He found he was hungry. Ravenous really, after skipping breakfast.
They waited until after their food arrived to talk of anything of consequence. Matt said their waiter recognized him but, going by the chatter he could hear at the back of the restaurant, the man was the only person on staff not enamored by the thrill (vicarious for the rest of the staff) of serving orange juice to the superhero Daredevil.
Foggy took a bite of his pancake and said, "I'm not really sure where to start."
Matt raised a finger to ask for silence and cocked his head as he listened to the rest of the café.
"None of diners are paying attention to us," he said, "and the staff are all too intimidated to come over."
"Good, I prefer not to be the subject of gawking if I can avoid it."
Kirsten looked between Foggy and Matt. "I have an idea for where to start." She paused and waited for them to nod before continuing. "The situation as I see it is that you, one Franklin Nelson, would like to start dating one Matthew Murdock while I"—she gestured to each of them in turn and then to herself—"one Kirsten McDuffie, continue to date the aforementioned Matthew Murdock. Does that sound like an accurate summary of the situation at hand? And are all involved parties agreed that is an acceptable situation? Desirable even."
Foggy glanced over at Matt, who was biting the corner of his lip and had the beginnings of a telltale blush gracing his features. He looked almost...shy, which was not a look Foggy usually associated with Matt and his bravado charm. It reconfirmed for Foggy that this was what he wanted, and he knocked his foot affectionately against Matt's leg.
"Very desirable," he said, with Matt concurring a mere half second behind him.
"Well, then. As far as the big picture goes, we're in accordance, so all we're doing here is hashing out the details for how we want that big picture to work. For example, Matt, if you wanted to spend the night at Foggy's apartment rather than ours, all I ask is that you let me know so I don't worry that something happening with Daredevil is what's keeping you away." Kirsten leaned back, a teasing smirk playing about her lips. "Agreed or no?"
This wasn't a formal court and there would be no legally-binding contract at the end of this discussion, but Kirsten's approach gave Foggy a path to follow in this confusing landscape of dating your best friend while he also continued to date his girlfriend. He had no idea how polyamorous relationships were supposed to go, but he knew contract negotiations. He was good at negotiations and making sure his clients' interests were protected, but today his client was himself and his interest was his own happiness, which was also in part contingent on the happiness of the other two people sharing this meal with him.
He could do this.
And maybe he was a fool for being his own lawyer, but he'd been a fool for Matt for years, and he'd gladly be a fool for Kirsten too.
He put down his fork and leaned forward. "Agreed, but with an amendment that Matt lets me know when he's home safe for the night at your place. I worry too, you know."
Kirsten tapped her lips thoughtfully then said, "What if we amended it to a general stipulation that Matt let both of us know where he ends up for the night?"
Matt sputtered, though he grinned even as he protested. "What about me, do I get a say in this rule? What if I want you two to message me so I don't worry, hmm?"
"Satisfactory," Foggy and Kirsten chorused then shared a smile.
The negotiations continued on, back and forth. They worked out logistics and boundaries and lines of communication, Kirsten stressing that the most important thing was that this relationship worked for all of them and if something wasn't working then they could revisit this discussion and change whatever was off. It would only succeed if all three of them were in this together and were honest about their own feelings and needs.
Matt insisted he wanted them as a trio to do something together at least once a week—something fun, not work- or superhero-related, something just for them—to which Foggy and Kirsten readily agreed.
By the end of their discussion, they had, Foggy thought, created a solid foundation for the three of them. He knew that what was agreed upon today would get amended further down the line because they'd forgotten something initially or circumstances changed or just because they were three lawyers who enjoyed the thrill of arguing. But they were in this together, and they cared, and those two points were why this venture would thrive.
They would thrive.
Their brunch plates long cleared away, they sat sipping coffee (green tea for Matt) and relaxing into this time together on a gorgeous day. A light breeze ruffled Kirsten's hair, and she eyed Foggy over the rim of her cup.
"You don't have to share if you don't want to," she said, addressing both Foggy and Matt, "but I'm curious: what happened last night? I know Matt didn't go over with the intention of confessing anything, so how...?"
"Oh, well, er, the sculpture I made...that is, Foggy's housewarming gift— Foggy, help?" Matt asked as he turned a pleading expression towards Foggy.
Matt was cute, flustered as he was; Foggy was allowed to think that now and mean it in a way that sopped his heart in the romantic soup. And he got why Matt was having such trouble answering. It wasn't every day someone accidentally made a statuette starring his girlfriend and his best friend cuddling together naked. Kirsten would back down if he told her what had spurred on Matt's confession was private, even if asking her to do so would only stoke her curiosity. She wasn't the type to pry—or, well, she was exactly the type to pry if she thought something needed to be said.
But this was something harmless and even sweet when Foggy remembered how earnest Matt had been confessing. He could lay to rest how, at that past moment, his own heart had broken at Matt's words because it turned out he could be with Matt without forcing Kirsten out of their lives.
He leaned over and impulsively kissed Matt on the cheek. "It was the statuette he made for me. Helped us put a few pieces together."
Matt, not content with one smooch, cupped Foggy's cheek and gave him a proper, undeniably romantic kiss. Foggy froze for a brief second before reminding himself that they'd talked about this—Matt refused to hide Foggy when he didn't hide his affection for Kirsten—and kissed Matt back.
When they parted, Kirsten indulged in a short wolf whistle. "Quite the loquacious statuette. What does it look like?"
"Are you okay with—? It's your art," Foggy asked, while Matt said, "You're the one who's—" before Foggy concluded, "I'm okay with it if you are. After all, it's only fair Kirsten also knows given the subject."
"Oh? Color me even more curious now."
"You want to tell the story, or do you want me to, Matty?"
Matt thought for a moment, then, "You. I want to hear your version of the tale."
Foggy smiled at that, at Matt's implied vote of confidence. Matt had asked him write that darned "auto"biography, but that particular task had been as appealing as pulling teeth for Matt—worse than. This now was simply because Matt wanted to listen to him. Matt had his chin in his hand and a besotted smile on his face, waiting for Foggy.
Foggy sat up straighter and began his yarn. He didn't know what exactly was in store for him in the future—villains, most likely, but hopefully also some good food and maybe a juicy tax case—but he knew the company he'd be keeping, and that was all he needed.
~Chapter 4: Coda~
One of the perks to this new relationship situation of his, Foggy discovered, was how easy it was to rile Matt up. And he had a perfect co-conspirator in Kirsten, who seemed to enjoy the exercise as much as Foggy.
He wasn't in love with Kirsten, not romantically, but he did love her and she him, which made it easy to tease Matt.
The key, really, had been given to him by Matt with that housewarming statuette he'd gifted Foggy. The heart of Matt's id there in the small but lovingly sculpted pair of him and Kirsten cuddled together.
A kiss to Kirsten's cheek, and Matt turned red as soon as he parsed out what was the smacking noise he'd just heard. A ruffle of Foggy's hair now that it was once again long enough to ruffle, and Matt fumbled anything he'd been holding as the co-mingled scents of Foggy's shampoo and Kirsten's hand lotion hit him. A traded pair of hand massages, and Matt had nearly combusted trying to decide which of them he had wanted to drag away first.
Foggy wondered how Matt would react when he came home tonight and smelled what his two partners were doing. Kirsten and Foggy were cooking dinner together—brisket with roasted vegetables, plus flourless chocolate cake for dessert—all directed by Kirsten because he knew how much stock Matt put in Foggy's culinary skills. It was a special dinner because tonight was special, after all; tonight was a celebration of their first anniversary as a throuple.