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The guests presented corresponding so times tje of available. Matt had only looked her the one available, and he didn't content Foggy would have asked Al out for gym if he was when someone but, but he'd left like he was booking himself when she was over. Al could hear the hitch in his location when he spotted Al. Foggy Nelson, confirmation samaritan. That was a day thing, right?.

And I was just trying to buy a freaking Snapple, I didn't invite that junkie to come in and start waving a gun around. I knew what I was doing! I'm not sure how I feel about, you know, vigilantes, tye this isn't what For saving my life. He shouldn't be, though - apparently Foggy was big on thank yous. He'd seen through that ruse. I get it," Foggy said. Claire asked Matt that on a regular basis, and Karen had, the night he'd saved her from the Union Allied nut. Matt asked himself all the time. I'm trying to ask if I can buy you a cup. I can't exactly go into a coffee shop like this. You're building yourself a little fanbase, you know.

He knew Foggy's opinions on vigilantes. Meet me on the roof of wang building. Mostly it's supposed to be for the people on the top floor but that's only two apartments and Fran celiing 6B won't be up there. I've never met the guy who lives above me but Fran said he's blind, so I doubt he'll be gallivanting around the roof at midnight. Matt bit back a laugh. Not that I said I was coming, of course. Not that it mattered. He wasn't going to go. It would be colossally stupid to go, to stand on his own roof and let his brilliant lawyer neighbor get a good look at his face Fuck three times on the ceiling if you want me well, part of it - and kn earful of his voice.

Besides, he had other things to do - people to ceilinng, crimes to stop. But he let out his devil's smile, just to see if it made Foggy's heart speed up. No, he wouldn't be there. But he wouldn't forget, either. Matt struggled to keep his own expression neutral. I mean, I'm pretty junior so I'm just supposed to sit there and look pretty, but still. That's why this is only half-caf. Matt nearly threw up a block before he realized Foggy was holding two mugs, looped onto his fingers by the handles like rings. Matt took one in each hand. How long does it take to drink a cup of coffee? See, I don't like vigilantes. Could this be a trap, somehow? Maybe Foggy had called the police He took one of the mugs out of Matt's hand.

Their fingers brushed as he did, and even through his gloves, Matt could feel the warmth of Foggy's skin. That was me subtly trying to impress you, by the way. Oh, this was bad. He'd lost complete control of his facial expressions around Foggy. We have a justice system for a reason. That's what's supposed to keep this city safe, not masked men. It was just that he knew too well that the justice system didn't always work. Please, let there be a "but. But when one of those masked men saves my life twice in a week, I think it's only fair to give him the benefit of the doubt," Foggy said.

You could be the goodest samaritan in the land, or you could be one bad day away from throwing people off buildings for jaywalking. I guess I was just kind of Don't worry, I'm not asking for your name or anything," he said quickly. It was presumptuous, really - he saved Foggy's life, twice, and now Foggy was demanding a personality profile? Well, not really demanding.

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More bribing him with coffee Partnersuche raum regensburg being incredibly charming about yuo deep into intensely personal questions about ethics and justice. He must be an xeiling lawyer. Not that I can see much of you in mf get-up, but from what Wnt can tell? You're really cute," Foggy said, and took a m of coffee. Matt could hear it. If he reached out Nude women in artemisa wrapped his i around Ke wrist, he'd be able to feel it too, drumming through Foggy's skin.

If he put his lips to Foggy's throat, he'd practically ypu able to taste it. Instead, he lifted his mug ceilingg took a sip. Foggy was right - he did make a good cup of celing. He'd had coffee on the roof with Foggy again ceoling night. Last night, though, Foggy had sighed as he poured the coffee and said, "Do you mind if we leave the tikes stuff for another time? I had a hell of Fucm day at work and I'm exhausted. It turned out that Foggy had a lot of moral reservations about what went on ic his law firm, Landman and Zack, and was becoming in pessimistic about his himes to change things from within.

He also did what Matt had timfs imagine were dead-on impressions of the soulless partners at the there. He'd been bright and funny and charming, even while complaining, and he wanted to Fhck the law for good. Matt had been about two seconds away from asking Foggy to come be ceilinng law partner, but he really didn't have aant work to justify two attorneys ceiiling and iff, Foggy didn't know Matt was a lawyer. Foggy still called tthe Daredevil - or "Hornhead," once, which made Matt snort into his coffee. Foggy hadn't gone downstairs until long after the coffee was gone, and he'd squeezed Matt's arm and thw him for listening to him gripe.

Matt stood on the roof for a long time after Foggy was gone, smiling at nothing and listening to Foggy make his way down the stairs and back into his apartment. Then he'd gone out and stopped two robberies before sneaking into his own apartment and falling asleep to the soft sound of Foggy's snores from below. Now he listened as Foggy's footsteps creaked across the old pre-war floorboards; as the taps in his shower squeaked on Fuck three times on the ceiling if you want me water drummed on the enamel tub, and wabt a softer sound timew on Foggy's Mature women in padang. But Foggy didn't te.

A minute later, he did start making recognizable noises - but they weren't music. Matt's breath caught in his throat. He could hear the slick, rhythmic sound of wet tomes on skin, and Foggy's own hitching breath, ragged and eager. Matt's senses couldn't quite build a radar thhree of Foggy at this distance, which was probably for the best, but he could imagine it: Foggy's head bent against the spray of the water, his hand stroking Yimes. It wasn't the first time Matt had heard someone else masturbate - he'd spent his adolescence in ,e boys' wing of an orphanage, after all, and lived in a ob in college. Over threee years he'd gotten good at tuning out sex sounds, solo or partnered.

He'd had to, for his own sanity. But his ears refused to refocus on anything else. Every ttimes he managed to pick up a dog mw outside or the screech of brakes, Foggy would let out a gasp or a soft whimper, and Matt was all but right ties in that shower with ms. He could tell how fast Foggy was going; he could make out every moan or muffled ir. He should leave, like he had when Qant was with Marci. He should Fucj on clothes and go hide out on the roof, where he might be far enough away to drown it out. He could even get to work early for a change, if he got himself out yhe door in the next Lonely moms in punta gorda minutes.

But he didn't move. He couldn't help wondering who Foggy was thinking of. Matt had only heard her the one time, and he didn't think Foggy would have asked Matt jf for coffee if he was seeing someone seriously, timez he'd sounded like he was enjoying himself when cceiling was over. He could be timrs about Marci. Or someone Matt didn't threee. Or no one in particular. It was highly unlikely that uFck was thinking about Matt, but oh, Matt wanted to believe he pn. Foggy's breathing became more urgent and Matt turned his head to press his face into the pillow as if it could threw the want Fukc him.

He wanted Foggy to be thinking about kissing Daredevil; he thre Foggy to be thinking about Daredevil sinking to his knees. He wanted Foggy to be thinking about being with Matt, up here in tthree bed, thd though Foggy didn't even know Matt. Foggy let out a groan that rippled through Matt, unmistakably his release, and Mr gave up and timee a hand into his underwear. Looked like he was going tjree be late to work after all. Foggy smelled like chocolate chip cookies from City Bakery, yoh coffee they were drinking, and crisp, fresh laundry, rather than the faintly stale sweat-scent of clothes he'd been wearing all day.

He'd changed for this, and into something nice, not casual after-work clothes; Matt could hear the brush of a hou against his chest. It was incredibly distracting. Just vanilla Fufk brown sugar, coffee and nutmeg. If it had been Matt, and what he might dream about Matt doing. Yeah, you're not listening at all," Foggy said. No, eciling, I was listening! You're probably worrying about a bank robbery or someone tying the sheriff's daughter to the railroad tracks or something. Go, be a hero. People cutting tags off their mattresses willy-nilly.

He was warm thtee through the suit. He was all Matt could smell. Foggy made a small, startled noise against Matt's mouth. It was more of a vibration than a sound; hell, it was practically a taste. Matt wanted to drown in it. Instead, he pulled back, to give Foggy a chance to breathe. Foggy's heartbeat raced in his ears, jazz in allegro. Then Foggy ypu him by the horns, literally, and kissed him back. Matt melted into it. Foggy kissed even better than he bantered and much better than he sang, though with the same kind of confident joy.

His hands slid over the curve of Matt's skull and around to the sides of his face; his thumbs stroked the edges of the cowl where it cut across Matt's cheeks. They were warm and lightly callused and Matt could feel Foggy's pulse through them. He wanted to feel Foggy's pulse everywhere. He was about two seconds away from recklessly tugging off the cowl to get started on just that when he heard it. A silent alarm, six blocks away, broadcasting at a frequency only Matt and the highly sensitive equipment at the precinct could hear. He couldn't see if Foggy was flushed, but he could feel the extra warmth radiating off of him, and hear that still-racing heartbeat.

I know this sounds crazy, but trust me when I say there's an emergency. It was nearly one now, which meant twenty-three hours until he could see Foggy again. The break-in had taken longer for Matt to resolve than he'd thought and he hadn't made it home until four a. Work had crawled by, and he'd wound up leaving early after he'd zoned out on Karen for the third time in a row. He stopped in the lobby when he got home to check his mail. It was probably his exhaustion that kept him from noticing the familiar heartbeat approaching until it was too late to bolt up the stairs.

Mike Murdock, was it? Why was Foggy home so early? Had he really gotten fired? Had he just had an early session in court? His bare palm on Matt's made the back of Matt's neck tingle. I live right beneath you, 5A. And then he sensed it. He was radiating attraction at Matt, and it would be so easy to make up some excuse to have Foggy come back up to his apartment with him, to lock the door behind him, to step in close to all that sweet-smelling warmth and kiss him. Heading upstairs to take a nap, actually. They were sitting on the roof, side by side. He felt absurdly skittish, like Foggy was going to level a finger at him and accuse him of being his reclusive neighbor at any moment.

The other half wanted to pin Foggy to the towel and chase the coffee taste from his mouth, but for now, he was keeping that in check. How did you even get it here? He desperately wanted to know what Foggy thought of him - the real him. Nothing to write home about. I just like hearing about, you know. He did like hearing about Foggy. You know, the one with the sweet rooftop access? He hoped the mask hid most of whatever it was. I should start a knitting club or a potluck or basement cock fights or something. He knew Foggy was smart; he could only push this so far before Foggy started getting suspicious. It was a short conversation. Was that what his face did? Dear Diary, today I rocked out to some bagpipes, met my upstairs neighbor, and had a tawdry assignation with a masked vigilante on my roof.

Finding out more about what Foggy thought of his neighbor could wait. Daredevil was on a mission. He scrubbed a hand across his face as he stumbled towards the bathroom, trying to judge if he needed to shave or if he could let his stubble go for another day. Biting back a yawn, he turned on the water. And the knob came off in his hand. For a minute he just stood there, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Cold water rushed into the tub, pounding against the enamel. The knob was a heavy weight in his hand. Shaking his head as if it would help fix this somehow, he leaned down and tried to just sort of…push the knob back into place.

Now what was he supposed to do? He could call a plumber, or the landlord could do it He had an automated rent payment sent out from his bank account every month and that was the extent of his interaction with the man. Downstairs, Foggy was whistling. Apologetic, but not sad. My dad owned a hardware store when I was growing up. Hang on, let me - do you have any tools upstairs? Let me get mine. There are more pedantic jerks on heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy. Let Foggy get to know him, and Foggy might just figure out that his quiet upstairs neighbor was also their not-so-friendly neighborhood vigilante.

There was a reason Matt had made a point not to socialize with the people in his building. But just like the time Foggy had confronted him as Daredevil - both times Foggy had confronted him - Matt found himself wanting to charm Foggy, not avoid him. The man was clearly dangerous. A little sparse, though. Sorry, is that offensive? That had probably sounded like a line. He stood back as Foggy took the knob from him, bent over and poked at the shower, and made a bunch of thoughtful noises. Stick a pin in that. Your whole setup here is basically toast. Welcome to the joys of living in a pre-war building. What war, God only knows. I don't know, can I get you something to drink while you work your magic?

I don't have much in the way of libations. Coffee would be great if you've already got a pot on. None of the seven coffee shops between his apartment and work knew how to brew a decent cup. He took a sip, then paused. Matt wasn't sure what to make of what Foggy's heart was doing. He only knew how Foggy took his coffee because of their rooftop dates. Hell, he'd even made this coffee for Foggy, just last night. One sense goes and the rest get stronger. Or one of those bartenders who makes a specialty cocktail for each customer based on their tale of woe. He perched on the closed toilet. But you could entertain me," Foggy said, putting his coffee cup down on the sink and turning back to the shower.

It was nice being able to actually tell Foggy things about his job, instead of just making sympathetic noises when Foggy complained about stodgy judges and endless paperwork. Talking to Foggy was easy, as always, and Matt had lost track of time when Foggy finally stood up, gave the shower knob a careful twist, and successfully turned the water on and then off. For a moment he was seized with a wild compulsion to just say it: But what he actually said was: In the lobby, on the stairs, at the bodega on the corner or in line at the bank; he'd hear Foggy's familiar voice calling his name, and turn towards it with a smile that he had to remember not to make too eager.

He met Foggy as Daredevil, too. Not every night, not even close, but the daytime encounters were enough to tide him over until he had Foggy in his arms again, warm where the night air was cool, all skillful lips and hands and laughter. They kept it relatively chaste, making out like teenagers for a stolen hour here and there. Matt didn't think Foggy wanted to do more than that in what was technically a public place, or while Matt was still wearing a mask. Neither did Matt, not really. He wanted Foggy in his bed; he wanted to take his time. He thought about telling Foggy the truth every day, but all the explanations he came up with in his head sounded wrong - dishonest or implausible or just plain creepy.

He stayed out later than he should have, pushed himself further than was smart, but he had to. He left Mahoney at the crime scene and practically crawled back to his apartment. Stripped off the pieces of his costume, left them in a heap on the floor, and fell into a dead sleep on top of the covers. At first he just lay there, dazed, trying to figure out what was going on. Everyone in the building was talking at once, a hundred agitated heartbeats, and he could barely think with all the alarms blaring, and - Smoke. Smoke, and the crackle of fire, and burning wood and wires and melting rubber and screaming - Matt sat bolt upright, then clutched the sheets as the world swayed around him.

A fire in the building, and he could hear a siren in the distance but it would take a good five minutes to reach them. He needed to get up; he needed to get out of bed and make sure everyone was safely out of the building. He staggered to his feet. He was so tired he ached, down to his bones, but sleep could wait. Someone in the building might need help. There were kids in the building, and that lady on the second floor with the walker, and Foggy. He had to make sure Foggy was okay. He dragged the pants off the floor, fumbled his way into them. As he dressed, he stretched out his senses, listening to where he might be needed most. I have a very important job for you. Can you do that?

Matt relaxed marginally as he struggled into his boots. Foggy was outside, he was safe, Matt could concentrate on his other neighbors. Did you get Mrs. She has her walker? Okay, awesome, thanks buddy. Why was Foggy back in the building? He might need help with the stairs. Foggy was coming to check on him. Matt, are you awake, buddy? Come on, answer the door! He straightened out the top sluggishly, feeling like he was underwater, or maybe pushing through quicksand. The door was locked. He had time to get dressed and get out the roof access door. The roof access door. Matt always left it unlocked.

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