Befuddled, blushes, business

Foggy Nelson was many things, witty, sharp-tongued, eternal procrastinator, loyal to a fault, but above all that, at his core value, the thing many overlooked in him but became his sharpest and most used weapon was one simple thing. His observational skills. And boy, did it come in handy with his line of work. He was a holy man of sorts. This small, old office that still had no air con no matter the number of times he had ringed the repair man, was his monastery. His suit and satchel were his cowl and monk robes. His mind was his alter. His documents and law cases his holy water and sceptre, his faith was the law. A new age monk that lived in a concrete jungle. So, as the leading monk of law, it was his job, or so he told himself just, to lead the stray sheep back to the riotous path. And who was said stray sheep that had wandered away from its heavenly duties? None other than his long-time friend, confidant, and brother in all but blood, Matthew Murdock.

Foggy had first noticed the distraction present in his friend about a week ago. Nothing big at first, no blaring sign above his head that bedazzled and shined in neon lights, shouting to the world that his mind was elsewhere, but a plain stuttering here and there, a repeat of what? When Foggy had asked a question or spoke about the latest case that had flown upon them in a scattering of paper and a belligerent stubborn old lady who wore way too much paisley.

He also took on the case of Karen Paige, which they had the odds stacked against them from the very beginning, paid barely enough attention at the interview, and while, like always, the hot girl, a total ten Karen was Foggy would admit, leaned and subconsciously flirted with Matt, this time, Matt was already out the door muttering about how he should have gotten a number from something or someone that sounded like Harmon, or Harold, or something beginning with an H. The day after that, Foggy had seen Matt read the same line of Braille sixteen times... Sixteen! That was just not at all like Matt, let alone productive for their fledgling of a law firm and a case that seemed impossible to win. The one time for Matt to lose his mind, he sure as hell picked the wrong month.

It only got worse with each tick of the clock, the dazed shakes of head, the hand running through Matt's hair, his mindlessness, god damn it, Matt had taken to bringing an apple into work every day. Foggy had never even seen him buy an apple before, not once! Now he had a draw full of them, Foggy knew, he had seen him dump the plump little things in there at the end of the day and had artfully... Okay, bumbled his way into Matt's office while the other man was in the toilet and had proceeded to yank said draw open and stare bewilderedly at the mounting pile of granny smiths. But could you blame him? Who had a draw full of apples? Psychopaths and sociopaths did, that's who.

Well, maybe he was exaggerating again, but it definitely was not normal! Matt was the epitome of normal, if you excluded the blind factor. Dammit, Foggy was sure Matt even ironed his socks. His socks! Something was terribly, terribly wrong and it was up to Foggy to sort this mess out and save the day. Maybe, if they won the case, even scoring a date with Karen. Now that would be reward for all his built up Karma, if you could cash in Karma like Amazon points that is.

So what did monks do when confronting their lost sheep? Well, Foggy didn't rightly know, having never stepped foot in a church before, but he had seen one old black and white movie where a monk had ambushed a ninja and beaten the word of god into them with a bible of all things. So, he decided to go the same route, hiding behind Matt's office door, laying in wait for him to come tumbling in at half eight, his normal arrival time. However, just like the last week, his normal, routine-ridden friend ventured out of his schedule and ended up making Foggy wait in his office an hour longer as Matt came strolling in at half nine. As Foggy had said before and would continue to do so, something horrid was amiss.

Matt finally walked into his office, Foggy already seated at Matt's desk, legs kicked up and relaxing against the wood, hands folded upon his lap, staring straight at Matt as the brunette man yanked his scarf off, jumping slightly when Foggy gave a dramatic cough. See? Another sign that this was either an imposter, the real Matt being locked in a dank basement, or he was suffering from early onset of Dementia. No matter the inane point that Matt was blind, not once had he ever jumped when Foggy had tried to sneak up on him or was already in a room he had entered. Never. And trust him, Foggy had tried for years to reach that end. The climax of successfully startling Matt wasn't as great or as satisfying as Foggy had originally believed it to be. No, in fact, it left quite the bitter after-taste in his mouth.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? Another apple? Well, you can add that to the... Oh, what was it now? Two hundred more you have in your draw."

One for dramatic flare, Foggy blamed that streak from those summer classes he took as a freshman to get close to head cheerleader Daisy, Foggy kicked his feet off from the desk, bent down and yanked the door open, delved his hand into the abyss of the desk draw, plucked out an apple and proceeded to chuck it at Matt, watching amusedly as it bounced off the one in Matt's hands and both went tumbling to the floor with a muted bang and swoosh. In all fairness, Matt didn't flounder, nor try and run for it, instead, the taller man stood his ground, even going as far as to cross his arms over his broad chest, dawning a petulant look as if he was the one being put out. It was a silent way of telling Foggy one simple thing. Game on.

"Is it illegal to have fruit now Foggy?"

Foggy's eyes squinted as he scanned Matt, not to actually take note of his state or the slight bruise on his jawline, but to try and see into his mind, to try and figure out what had burrowed into Matt's being and was reeking havoc in his brain. Foggy was big enough, old enough to admit if he was witty, Matt was downright shrewd and cunning in his inner workings and speech when he wanted to put someone in their place or to force the unfortunate individual to back off from a certain topic. That come back spoke of how far gone his friend was gone, it lacking all form of humour, sarcasm, derision or sagacity. It was a weak rebuff, half-felt and poorer than dirt and by the grimace playing at Matt's lips, the slight increase of twitching in his cheek muscle, Matt knew that too.

"Oh, having fruit is fine Matt, absolutely fine. But apples? And so many? Surely you aren't that scared of doctors, you have enough to scare off a whole god damned hospital!"

The apples. It was one of the only things Foggy had to work with. Apart from the letter H, but that would take all day to get to the bottom of and if Foggy was right in his reasoning, the apples linked in with the letter H. Matt gave a short but aggravated huff of breath, his cheeks puffing out slightly at the influx of air being pushed out. Though Matt never looked Foggy dead on, he was blind after all, Matt did normally manage to keep his face in the general direction Foggy stood in. And when Matt's face turned further away from Foggy, over towards the window, as if the brunette man was staring out at the skyscraper landscape of Hell's Kitchen, Foggy knew this was bad.

Matt was purposely turning away from him, closed off body language, in short, Matt was trying to fruitlessly slam Foggy out with a twist of his body and fold of limbs. Matt should have known by now, when it came to Foggy Nelson, he was never so easily deterred. Not when it proved this interesting or involved his close friends, and as 'un-manly' as it was to admit, Matt, apart from his mother, was the closest human being to Foggy. His brother in all that mattered. Matt was the one to break the silence that had descended upon them like a tidal wave, cutting through it with an indignant and defensive question.

"This isn't just about the apples is it?"

Well, no shit Murdock. Foggy almost wanted to scuff the bigger man up the side of his head. Instead, Foggy chose to kick back in Matt's comfortable desk chair, placing his crossed feet back onto the wooden desk. Crossing his own arm over his chest, Foggy scrutinized Matt one last time, as if his appearance would miraculously give him the answers he so desperately sort. Unfortunately, life was never that easy and it left Foggy to play his own cards. However, unlike before, where he had tried to bulldoze the answer from Matt, Foggy tried the softer approach. A good cop, bad cop sort of deal. It worked well in the movies all the time, and after all, the movies couldn't be wrong about everything, could they?

"Oh, I don't know. How about you tell me?"

Okay, he sounded more like a therapist than a police officer in the process of interrogation, but it was a start. The wrong start apparently as Matt heartily scoffed at Foggy, finally pulling his precariously dangling scarf off with a harsh tug and twist of his wrist, chucking it on the table, the tail end flipping over Foggy's shiny shoes. Marching around the table to his seat, Matt bore down on Foggy, as if waiting for the man to abdicate his seat so he could get down to work and forget this ever happened. Now it was Foggy's turn to scoff, digging himself more deeply into the chair in retaliation. If Matt thought it was over just like this, he had another thing coming.

"It's too early for these games Foggy. Way too early. If you're not going to leave, can we skip the sarcasm and get to the point?"

Foggy's boots made contact with the linoleum flooring with a boisterous thunk, his hands braced against the armrest of the chair, the wheels squeaking as he pushed it back and away from the desk, standing to face Matt squarely. Matt didn't budge back an inch, not one toe moving away, even as Foggy took to poking him in the chest, rattling off the list he had made in his mind of things that could be the culprit for flipping his friend upside down and inside out.

"Fine then. What is it? Meth? Crack? Cocaine? Prostitution? Are you a lady of the night Matt?"

To be completely fair, it was an easy and logical conclusion to come too. Matt, always on time, smiley, friendly, unfazed and unstressed Matt, had to be on something. It was the only thing Foggy could come up with that would explain all this bizarre behaviour that Matt presented him with. That or clones were actually out there, only still in their perfecting stage. Matt's head rolled backward, as if he was staring at the ceiling, as if he could see, looking for an answer or an escape route. Once his head flopped back into place, Matt kicked the apple draw shut with a swift kick, edged around Foggy, pulled his seat closer to his desk and sagged into it, running a tired handover and down his face, the skin of his palms tugging on the stubble of his jaw.

"Lady of the night... I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer. It's apples Foggy. Apples. Why are you in such a tizzy about it?"

As it were, Foggy was now the one wandering over to the other side of the desk, as if he and Matt had swapped places, now him being the one in the hot seat. Although, Foggy seemed to be a more passionate hostage, his arms flinging out from his sides as he walked backward, voice louder, hands never stagnant as he ranted. Everything about him seemed to be in constant movement, in contrast to Matt, who sat stock still, seemingly unbreathing as he listened to Foggy.

"Because it's not just apples! Your head has been all over the place, you hardly keep track of time, your suit has creases in it! You never have creases in your suit! I have never seen you so befuddled before, so not... Normal! So, the only reason I can come up with is your on some sort of mind-altering drug. So which is it? Meth, it's meth isn't it! I knew it was!"

Matt sighed, leaned forward, elbows resting on his bent knees as he addressed Foggy's wild accusation and assumption. Only now choosing to move and speak once Foggy seemed to run out of steam to do much of anything but stand in Matt's office and work his brilliant mind over what other possible explanations there could hope to be. Because really, having a junkie as his best friend didn't seem all that fun, or great for business. Foggy had googled people on Meth once, the least he could say was it was not a pretty sight, and Judge's were more likely to take them seriously if Matt had all his teeth... And fingers equipped.

"I'm not on methamphetamines Foggy. And for the record, my mind has been just fine! I even finished the Ludwig case last night."

Now it was Foggy's turn to sigh forlornly as he scrubbed at his eyes with his fingertips, on hand clasped at his hip. The only outward sign of undefeated will and impatience being the tapping of his foot he seemed to be unmindful of. Just one more sign that showed Matt's head had been up in the clouds, only, this time, Foggy knew it had been longer than a week, and he had only just noticed. What had happened a month ago that could have done this to ever steadily and business savvy Matt?

"Matt, that case is over a month old. I'd already finished it three weeks ago. If it's not meth, then what the hell is wrong with you? Come on buddy, I won't judge. Of course, I might laugh, but never judge."

Foggy could practically see the walls slam up and around Matt, his answering statement only solidifying just how out of sorts the red tinted bespectacled man was.

"I Have no idea what you are on about."

Foggy's shoulders sagged but his feet began to walk him in a line, back and forth, across Matt's desk, walking a groove into the floor as he paced. He wouldn't give in, not until he got what he had come in here for, answers. So, if it weren't meth, then it had to be something else. Something beginning with an H. In Foggy's limited knowledge of street drugs, he could only come up with two that began with that fateful letter, and neither one seemed much better than meth. At this stage, Foggy was willing and wanting to reach over the large desk and shake Matt back and forth by his suit blazer. Maybe a good jiggle and wiggle to his brain would kick start it and dislodge whatever had gotten stuck in there. If only Foggy would or could be so lucky.

"Heroin! It's heroin isn't it? Or hash... Have you been eating Hash brownies? Does Hells kitchen even have a Rastafarian bakery...Wait, doesn't matter."

Foggy was cut off prematurely by a monotoned Matt, his words missing all tone, including anger, but did hold a sharp edge to them, be it either simmering agitation, or disbelief at being asked such questions, Foggy didn't know which one, but it really didn't matter in the end. Matt was going to speak, and that would be that. Even if Foggy had to drag it out from him with pliers and a screwdriver. He had seen the film hostage... He knew things.

"Foggy, for the last time, I. Am. Not. On. Drugs."

There was a stutter in Foggy's stride, a little misstep, but he carried on his valiant march all the same. So, drugs were out of the equation. Alcohol too, if Foggy thought about it. If Matt was a closet Alcoholic, surely Foggy would have smelled the hard liquor on him, or found a bottle in his desk when he had gone routing through it and found the apple draw. So... What the hell could it be? Matt seemed too young to be going through a mid-life crisis, but then again, so had uncle Fred when he had decided to become a macho-libra...

"Well, it's something beginning with an H, I've heard you muttering it all week."

From the corner of Foggy's eyes, he could see a deep pink settle over the swerve of Matt's cheeks... He was blushing! Now, and only now, did Foggy's feet stop momentum, jarring Foggy to a jolting stop as his eyes locked onto Matt, growing slightly wide at what he saw. Under his scruff, on the highest sweep of Matt's cheekbones, the skin was blossoming a red tinge, blooming out like little pink clouds over his normally pale skin. Foggy pulled back slightly, only to frantically point his finger at Matt's face, almost accusational, as he scrambled for words.

"There! See! You never blush!"

Matt shook his head slightly, scooting his chair further into his desk as his hands went down to his blazer's buttons, fiddling to get the button undone as he finally succeeded and flapped the grey material a little before letting it fall back into place, but never going to re-do the button. Foggy smiled a grin that probably looked better suited on a wolf than a human. He had him, hook line and sinker. And by god, would Foggy let him wiggle his way out of this one with his charming words, sharp barbs or easy manner.

"I am not blushing. It's just... Did you get the heater running? It's hot in here."

Foggy chuckled, loud, humorous and tinged with a hint of madness, he would later admit. Maybe Matt not being on top form would work out for Foggy after all, especially right now. He had Matt cornered now, all Foggy had to do was get the big bastard in the net and it was game over, he would finally know what this had all been about, and hopefully, fingers crossed, he could get his old friend back to being fully functional. Maybe a Nobel peace prize was in his future after all, god knows he needed one with putting up with Matt's antics every other week.

"Ha ha! Pull the other Matt. Now, if you aren't willing to tell me, I'll just have to figure it out myself. It begins with an H, you blush when it's mentioned, your mind has been all over the place... You mutter it under your breath and then shake your head... You daydream... Dear god..."

No... It couldn't be... Really? Now that he had said all the 'symptoms' out loud, there was only one possible thing it could be, and he had completely overlooked it. While it did include drugs, Dopamine, Serotonin and Oxytocin to name but a few, it came from something much, much more dangerous. But this was Matt, this happened to the people who went after him, not him. Never him. Not through the years Foggy had known him, and Foggy liked to think he was one of the few who knew Matt the most. However, with that look on his face, those heated cheeks, the clues all laid bare in the open, Foggy couldn't deny it, or help nearly swallowing his tongue.

"No. Just no, Foggy. You have it wrong. You've been watching too much T.V again-"

What was this dangerous, boggling, addictive, mind-altering phenomenon that had Matt in its clutches? A woman. The most complicated, mysterious and magnetic organism in the entire world. Foggy laughed heartily... Matt was well and truly fucked. It was Foggy's turn to abruptly cut off Matt this time.

"No, I have it, I know I do. You're just trying to throw me off! And yes, I may have spent a majority of last night watching a Sherlock marathon, but that was because you forgot it was bar crawl Wednesday!"

Matt seemed to sink into his chair deeply or grow shorter and smaller as he rubbed at his forehead, the hand eventually venturing into Matt's hair to run through the hazardous locks, his voice hushed and rushed as he spoke. Foggy almost wished he had a camera to record all this, not knowing when he would see a dazed and flushed Matthew Murdock again. Who was he kidding, there was no almost about it, he really did wish he had a camera.

"Wednesday... You mean it's Thursday? Shit Foggy, we have to get Karen Paige's case ready for court Monday!"

Foggy courtly wagged his finger in Matt's direction, even with full knowledge the man would not see him doing so. Strolling towards Matt's desk, opposite of him, Foggy braced his hands on the wood, fingers and arms spread, as he leaned forward and over, nearly piercing Matt's personal space bubble with his actions.

"Ah, no you don't! You don't get off that easy. I deduce from your reactions, the daydreams, blushes and hopeless sparkly eyes-"

"I do not have sparkly eyes! I'm pretty sure blind people cannot have 'sparkly' eyes."

"You, my friend, are in love!"

Matt slowly, unhurriedly and lazily crossed his arms over his chest, lips pressed into a thin line as he tensed, one single word being pressed through teeth and lips. A dire warning.

"Foggy."

Maybe not dire, but a warning all the same, to turn back and not to press this any further. When had Foggy ever taken heed before and turned his back on something so new and juicy? Never, that's when, and this was no different. When he wanted to, and the subject interested him enough, Foggy was like a dog with a bone, relentless and slobbering. Foggy idly wondered if Matt could feel the net close in around him. All the same, Foggy relented... A little.

"Well, love may be an exaggeration. But you fancy someone. And normally, when this happens, the lady is all over you and you don't pine away in the office like you have been for the last week which means-"

"I have not been pining!"

Foggy gave Matt a sharp look, hoping he could at least feel the heat of his eyes blazing on Matt's face. Being cut off repeatedly was wearing thin, especially when Foggy knew it was all a lame attempt to get him to backtrack and leave. Like the many episodes of Sherlock he had binged on last night, Foggy decided to share his conclusion, estimation and inner riddles with a growingly flustered Matt, who had suddenly taken on the form of a tomato with his red face and indignant spluttering. Oh camera, where art tho camera...

"She is either playing hard to get, or you're out of your depth and don't know how to approach her...Meaning you're nervous about this one. It means something to you, she means something to you. It's the latter right, I can see it in your face. Wow, a woman that doesn't automatically want to jump your bones, that never happens! Well, apart from Har-..."

The time... The letter H... The refusal... Matt's first reaction to her and his plundering attempt at conversation... Foggy felt dizzy and giddy with the sudden revelation. How the hell had he not seen it? It was a month ago she had been in this very office, a month of Matt acting like a fish on land. The proverbial light-bulb dinged to brilliant life above Foggy's head as he rounded on Matt, grin brighter than any artificial light.

"Harry. Dear Bruce Lee all mighty, you have a crush on Harry!"

Foggy could see a down twist to Matt's lips as he waved his hand as if trying to squash something. His next rushed exclamation only cemented what Foggy had found in his mind. Matt didn't even try to deny it, the flush growing in vivacity and Foggy wanted to do a little jig through it all. Mark the day down, get the choir singing, hell, inform the queen of fucking England. Matthew Murdock was flustered and lost over a woman!

"Keep it down Foggy!"

This was gold. Solid 24 karat gold. Foggy felt like a school girl, wanting to find the nearest group of people to gossip with about this oddity that had taken place in this very office. In his very presence! God damn... He had witnessed a miracle first hand. Because, to Matt and his reactions at least, this wasn't just a hookup. No simple attraction. No wanting to plainly and easily get his jollies off. Matt actually, by the looks of it, really liked and really wanted to get close to Harry. Something Foggy had never seen take place before, not when Matt was involved. Matt was sure of himself, not arrogantly, but a quiet sense of confidence that showed he was happy in his own skin. However, now, he looked like a lost little child waiting for his mother to come and collect him from the big scary police officer. Gold. Solid fucking Gold.

"Oh my god. I've lived to see the day were Matthew Murdock doesn't know what to do to get a ladies attention. It's cute... And oddly disturbing, like watching a baby chick wonder past, only for it to smile with a beak full of sharp teeth. Ech."

Matt forlornly sighed, his form looking like a balloon someone was letting the air out of as he sagged back into his seat, letting his head loll against the cushioned back. Matt's crossed arms sinking to his sides, his hands falling uselessly into his lap. Good, Foggy thought as the tension finally left the air, Matt's guarded nature bubbling down to nothing as he let it go. After all, there was no point in trying to guard something against someone who knew what it was already.

"Can we please move past the point of humiliating me? At least for today?"

Foggy shook his head as he let his hip lean against the desk, propping him up as he looked out the window. There was still one thing that didn't make a lick of sense, one Foggy was pretty sure only Matt knew. And maybe Harry. However, Harry wasn't here for questioning, so Matt would have to do.

"I still don't get the apples."

Matt's voice was quiet when he spoke, barely a wisp in the air around them, but Foggy heard all the same.

"I may have bumped into her a week ago. I fell into a pile of apples, she helped me to the coffee house."

Foggy's eyebrows drew down and puckered in confusion. Well, that explained the added dazedness Matt had portrayed over the last week... Sort of. If Matt had gotten her to the coffee house, then why had he been all over the place this last week, and looking so put out right now?

"Well, if she went with you to the coffee house, why so glum? You're half way there already."

Matt reached up and scratched at the stubble on his cheek with blunt fingernails, just above the yellowing bruise on his jaw, likely from another fall due to his... Well, blindness. It was a tick of his Foggy had noticed years back. He had done something underhanded and was currently trying to word it in the least guilty way he could possibly find. Sometimes, in these moments, if you knew Matt as well as Foggy did, the man was an open book for any passer-by to read.

"I may have had to... Seem a bit more dazed and accident prone than I really am."

Foggy broke, laughing joyously as he spoke, the words broken up between chuckles and a knee slap. Only, for the longer Foggy spoke, the quicker it died down and turned to outright confusion and disbelief as he figured out what had taken place from his own understanding of Matt and his limited understanding of Harry's personality.

"You... You played the blind card! And I bet you knocked some of that fruit over on purpose too! Well, why didn't you ask her on a date when you got to the coffee house, grab her number? Schedule a date?... Did you do anything at all?"

Matt pushed out from his chair, standing precipitously and pacing four steps to the right, swivel, four steps again, only to carry on the process as he ran a hand through his hair, making one lock comically stand straight up like a lightening rod. Foggy had the motherly urge to grab him by the shoulders and brush the hair back into place with an affectionate shake of his head. This side of Matt, the one Foggy was only now after all this time seeing, was as funny as it was heart warming to see.

"We got to the coffee house and she had a phone call from... Someone named Wesley. Anyway, it was urgent and she had to leave. I... I didn't think to get her number. Damn it Foggy, I've been going back to the coffee house before and after work for the last week, just in case, and she still hasn't shown. If you were a woman like Harry, where would you go?"

Foggy shook his head, and really, true and honest, couldn't help what came out of his mouth next.

"Well, that's slightly pathetic."

Matt suddenly stopped in his movement to swerve and face Foggy's general direction, his voice an octave higher than what it normally was and dusted with exasperation.

"Foggy, you are not helping!"

Foggy kicked off from the desk, grinning widely as he recanted with a shrug of his shoulders, a cheeky remark and a plan forming in his mind. When Harry had first entered his office months ago, Foggy would be lying if he said he hadn't tried to date the woman himself. He would dare anyone to get to know the warm woman, who was anything but an eyesore, and not do the same. But this was Matt, his brother, and looking through his meetings with Harry, what he knew of her, they fit extremely well in retrospect. Almost too well know that he had come to think of it. How had he not seen the possibility and chemistry before? It didn't matter, he did now. So, like a fairy godmother, sans dress and glitter, Foggy would wave his magical wand and preform a wish.

"What I meant to say was romantic. The type of story to tell your grandchildren. Now, let Papa Foggy help you out."

Foggy delved his hand into his own blazers inner pocket, but Matt was too busy pacing once more to pay attention to what Foggy had pulled out from the depths and was currently searching through. Maybe if the law thing fell through, he could try and get a job as a professional match-maker.

"Don't ever call yourself Papa Foggy again. You sound like a smirf stripper."

Finally finding Harry's number on his list of contacts on his phone, Foggy pressed it and hit dial. He had obtained it under the pretence of needing to get in touch with her if her case had any hiccups, when in reality he was planning on using it to grab a date with her himself. Now, however, he would be using it for the same hidden agenda, just not for the same recipient. Matt really owed him for this one, Harry was above a ten, an Eleven, twelve even and god knows they didn't come by often. Nobel peace prize, here Foggy comes.

"Is that how you repay and talk to the person who is going to score you a date with a smoking hot English rose? I think not! Still, being the outstanding citizen I am, it is my soul duty to help the pitiful and downtrodden. Be quiet a second."

Foggy held the phone up to his ear, waving Matt off with a few flicks of his wrist's as if the brunette man was nothing but an annoying fly to bat away. Unfortunately, Foggy had left the volume on his phone up and the dial tone of ringing was loud and obnoxious as it buzzed through the office, inadvertently alerting Matt to what he was up to. The ringing of the phone stilled Matt into place as if cement and ice had been poured over him in the gallons.

"Foggy... What are you doing... No... Don't! How do you even have her number!"

One second Matt was on the other side of the desk, far enough away, the next Matt was upon him like a plague sent down from Zeus... Or some godly shit. Matt scrambled for the phone, nearly clasping it and pulling it away before Foggy managed to pull it out of his reach. So, later, much later, both would deny had ever happened, the two men fought over the phone with dodges, shooting hands and a weird sort of dance.

"Too late, It's ringing. And that's what adults do Matty, they exchange numbers! Now shush and let go!... Oh hello Harry, it's Foggy."

Despite Harry actually being on the other end of the line now, it didn't deter Matt or Foggy over their mini-battle for the phone, Foggy having to resort to pulling Matt's tie like a leash to have enough time to speak to Harry before Matt was back with retaliation after breaking free from the silk noose. For a blind man, Matt was quick and precise, forcing Foggy to juggle the phone between hands, talk to Harry as fast as possible and keep an eye on Matt throughout the whole exchange simultaneously.

"Yeah, I was just wondering if you wanted to pop over to the law firm... Me and Matt have some spare time and we were wondering if you wanted to come see... Ow, my balls!"

In a years time, when asked over beers between the four of them, Harry, Foggy, Matt and Karen, Matt would adamantly state it was purely an accident, where Foggy would scoff and swear Matt had done it on purpose with vicious intent. Although, the outcome was the same, in one sleek movement, in a tangle of limbs and punches between Foggy and Matt, Matt's knee collided with a part no man wanted to ever be hit in. Foggy crumbled like a stack of cards, the end of his voice hitting a pitch even choir boys would envy as he doubled over and huffed out. Still, like the soldier he was, and more determined than ever, Foggy carried on speaking through the phone, even if his voice sounded like it belonged on a pre-teen girl than it did a fully grown man.

"No! No, we weren't wondering if you wanted to come see my balls... Matt, I swear to god! You're Elbows feel like daggers!... No not your's Harry... Jesus quit it!... We wanted to know if you fancied popping over and going to this great little Mexican take-out down the road... Matt, for fuck sake, I am not above poking a blind man in the eye!... No, we're not busy either... No, were not fighting at all... Oh, you're in the neighbourhood?... Passing by now... Good, how far-... Oomph"

Somehow, some-way the two men had ended up sprawled on the desk, Foggy in front of it, looking like he was sitting on the edge with his neck in a headlock, Matt actually kneeling on the desk with said man's neck between his elbow and arm, red glassed skewed heavily on his face. Papers were scattered around them in a flurry of white square panels, Matt's paper weight was rolling towards the door, the office land line was dangling off the edge, wire caught on the corner of the desk, Matt's chair was overturned, upside down with the wheels still spinning in the air. In short, in that little office in the middle of Hells kitchen, there was complete chaos. Still, Foggy wanted to laugh but ended up squeaking out a giggle instead with the pressure around his neck. Playing wingman was fun, why hadn't he done this before?

"Well, come quick... Matt's starving... Nothing wrong with my voice... No, it's normally this high..."

When the pressure around his neck became too much, Foggy pulled the phone away and sent his elbow flying backward, crashing into Matt's ribs. To be fair to the man, he bent slightly and huffed, but that was all he did even as Foggy repeated the process. Whatever gym Matt was going to, he needed to fucking join with abs that hurt his elbow more than his elbow hurt them. Then, yes, in true Matt and Foggy luck, the worst happened. A voice rang out from the open door neither had spotted in their struggle. A voice both knew, a voice that froze them in a tangled mess upon Matt's desk.

"The door was open and I heard fighting, I got worried... Do I even want to know?"

Harry in all her wonder, dressed in easy white washed jeans, beige jumper and suede boots, curly hair rolled into a bun and held by this long wooden bumpy chopstick, Foggy theorized, stood at the door, her own mobile still up to her ear before she slowly pulled it away and hung up. Then, the two men jumped into action. Both pushed away from each other, scrambling to stand and straighten out their half destroyed clothes, their excuses spilling from their lips simultaneously.

"Macho things."

"Law case."

Both slowly turned to eye each other up, Matt with his eyebrows high on his forehead as he mouthed Macho at him. Foggy, though, seeing the blush still staining Matt's cheeks and how twittered he looked, could only grin widely, shrug his shoulders and turn to face Harry who still stood in the doorway, trying to be as charming as possible as he tried to salvage the situation.

"A very macho law case."

No one spoke, even as Matt shuffled his feet and set his glasses straight on the bridge of his nose and through it all, Foggy lapped up every second. Watching Matt squirm was like Christmas had come early. If he knew it would be this easy, he would invite Harry to move into the office so he could play witness every day. Atlas, he couldn't, and as Matt's temporary fairy godmother, his new found calling... Well, called. With one last tug on his suit jacket, Foggy strolled towards Harry, hands held out at his side, an apologetic smile gracing his face.

"Ow, damn me and my sieve-like mind. I just remembered, I have to go to... Town and pick up... Loads of... Paper. For the... Printer? Yes, the printer. You can never have too much paper in a law firm. Don't fret Harry, Matt will show you the way to the Mexican take out, won't you Matt?"

This time Foggy swore black and blue he could see Matt squirm like a worm on a hook. Fucking gold! He really had scored today, god was looking down upon him and smiling, all was well in the world. When Matt spoke, stalling over his first word, Foggy wanted to sigh and giggle and take a photo like some sports mom on their kids first day at soccer practice.

"Yeah... Yeah of course. That is, if you still want to go."

Harry, bless her soul, smiled brightly, little rays of sunbeams lighting up the small office in her presence. Despite what she had walked in on, in her shoes Foggy would have run away like the place was on fire, she simply laughed spoke. Foggy didn't miss the way her eyes stayed on Matt, not straying from him once. Once again, Foggy asked himself how the hell he had missed it in the first place.

"Are you sure I'm not interrupting, what was it? A big macho law case?"

Matt opened his mouth but being the best wingman in Hells Kitchen it seemed, Foggy wasn't done having his fun or giving Matt the chance to fuck everything up.

"Nope. None at all. In fact, it's all sorted now. Matt has the whole day off. So, go on now!"

Foggy sidestepped to Matt, wrapping a hand around his prone friend's bicep, leaning back to pick up his scarf and hand it to him as he pushed and hustled him to the door, and subsequently a very amused looking Harry. Just as he passed the wall, on instinct that came from years of friendship, Foggy plucked up Matt's walking aid and handed it over, nearly laughing when the poor dazed man nearly dropped it. As they reached Harry, the woman in question raised one eyebrow high as she finally turned to face Foggy, dimple prominent as she prodded him and his lame excuse.

"But... I thought you have to go town, for paper?"

Foggy grinned wider at Harry's bewildered but teasing face, none too gently pushing them both out the door and marching the two to the entrance to the office. In all fairness, neither fought off the hand on their backs.

"Oh did I say go to town? I meant stay in the office and wait for the paper... Delivery. Now chop chop, go have fun!"

He finally let go to reach between them and swing the door open dramatically... Damn drama classes, and despite all his effort, he didn't really want them to go. He wanted to see, wanted to watch, wanted to wear that hat Steve Erwin did and have a little notebook as he wrote frantically like a nature documentarist. But, all good things come to an end, and who knew? If Matt actually manned up and got more than one word out, Harry would come back and he would have more fun at their expense. It was all in the waiting game. Foggy played for the long run, never the short.

"But-"

"No buts! Shoo! I have very important paper business to conduct!"

And then, seeing neither of them moving, Foggy huffed and rolled his eyes, roughly shoving both out the door when not one single foot was moved. Once the two had stumbled out, Foggy smiled brightly as they swiveled to face him, tauntingly waved... And slammed the door shut in their faces. Harry was the first to recover, landing on the only thing she could think of in face of what had just happened. Laughter. When her chuckles died down, she slowly turned to face the man that was still chuckling beside her, looking up at him.

"Is he always so..."

"Crazy?"

Harry shook her head, her grin widening so far it felt like it could split her cheek if stretched any further.

"I was going to say grandmotherly, but crazy seems to fit fine too."

They both laughed once more and the tension seemed to die a little, giving away to easy banter and a friendly atmosphere. Matt reached up and fixed the scarf hazardly thrown over his shoulder, having to try twice to get the knot right.

"Foggy has a... Complex mind. One I haven't figured the majority out off, and I've known him since Uni. Well, shall we? If you still want to that is, and not just get away from the pair of crazy lawyers..."

Matt fidgeted, his fingers tugging at a frayed thread of his scarf but then he felt Harry grab his hand and gently pull it away from the imminent destruction of his precious scarf. Just as she was about to let go of his hand and pull away, Matt turned his hand around, so it was palm to palm and interlocked his fingers against hers, capturing it in a soft prison. He didn't dare to take off his tinted glasses, even if he wished most to, but the least he could offer himself in consolation prize was the feel of her skin. And when Harry didn't pull away, his smile blazed back to glorious life. Harry's voice was husky and warm and everything in between he had missed as she spoke.

"You know what? I would love too."

And in true Matt style, around Harry at least, he floundered once more, wincing hard when he finished his rambling.

"Love! I mean... fantastic... I mean great... I should just give up."

Harry chuckled, the sound bouncing off the thin and frail hallway walls.

"I think Foggy isn't the only one with a complex mind."

Matt shrugged, but his hold on her hand tightened, his thumb slotting back into place at the skin of her wrist, once again stroking as he turned his back on the office door and began walking with Harry down the hallway to the elevator, the thump, thump, thump of his walking stick setting the tempo of their easy steps. Maybe... Just maybe, he should get Foggy a present that befits his service... He should be able to buy a Lamborghini within the next oh, fifty years. If he didn't die first that is.

"You have no Idea. Do you like rice drinks?"

"Actually yes, I do."

"Great, they do this awesome Horchata at the take-out. Cinnamon, almonds and some spice I can't name..."

As the two walked off, speaking quietly but excitedly between them, forms growing closer and closer, fitting together like two jigsaw pieces with each step, neither noticed the crack of Nelson and Murdock's office door creak open, one eye peeking out, watching, only for the door to quietly click shut as the two's voices and complementing forms disappeared from view as the elevator doors dinged shut. Foggy pulled away from the door, smile nearly splitting ear from ear.

"Ah, young love. Damn, I'm a good wingman. I call dibs on the name of their first-born. Michaelangelo Megatron Murdock has a ring to it."

Prompts filled this chapter: Can we get some Foggy pov? With Foggy being entertained by how clumsy/dazed/twitter patted Matt becomes around Harry, but ultimately being willing to play wingman because he's never seen Matt like this before and he thinks it's good for him.

Can we see Matt maybe taking a shine to apples, as that's what led to Harry popping back up in this chapter? And when Foggy notices and asks after it he has a big 'oh no, really Matt? Really?' And just generally giving Matt a good natured bitching?

Foggy realizing that Harry isn't for him decides to give them a little nudge and sets Matt up on a 'blind date' and it's with Harry.

Harry owns a piece of property that is actively pursued by the kingpin or some other nefarious character. She's not giving it up. (Will become more prominent in later parts of the story, but the hint was there.)

NEXT CHAPTER: We've had a Matt and Harry meeting... It's time for Harry to meet his alter ego, Daredevil...

A.N: Thank you all so much for all the lovely reviews, they honestly warm my heart. I hope this chapter lived up to expectations and you all enjoyed it. And subsequently, the ones to come.

As before, drop a prompt for next chapter, or a chapter you want to see and I will try my best to add them all in! The more, the merrier, they really inspire me and make me want to continue this.

Please, if you have a spare moment, leave a review. It's nice to see and read how well, or badly, this is being taken.

Until next time, stay beautiful- AlwaysEatTheRude21