A/N: This takes place during Matt and Foggy's college days. I'm breaking out of some writer's block.

Walking home with Foggy at the end of the night was always an adventure. The bar they frequented wasn't far from campus, but trouble always seemed to find them. The things they'd seen (or not, in Matt's case, but rather sensed) always made for reminiscing the next day. On spring days, especially, like this one, there was nothing the two liked better than to go out, get drunk, and stumble home.

Tonight, they were headed back to their dorm after a few hours of hard drinking, and Foggy was as much leaning against Matt as guiding him. These were the nights Matt liked best. Foggy was a solid weight against him, and as Matt's hand brushed his, he could feel Foggy's pulse race. Matt could feel the warmth of Foggy's cheeks as he blushed.

On most nights, Matt had to stop himself from walking too quickly, from giving himself away. But on these nights, Foggy wasn't paying any attention to Matt's feet. He could feel Foggy's gaze, as thick and heavy as the phenomenon after which he'd named himself.

Matt sensed an alley on his right, and started letting Foggy push him closer and closer, until Foggy noticed it. "Hey, hey, there's a right, up here, just a little, yeah," Foggy slurred, halfheartedly guiding Matt into the alleyway.

Matt had often thought that if he didn't have his senses, the gifts he'd been given by the accident, if he were well and truly blind, Foggy would probably make things worse. He felt the soft scratch of brick against his coat as Foggy began to push him against a wall.

"Let's...let's just rest here a sec," Foggy muttered, more dizzy than winded. He guided Matt's hand to the wall before releasing him to fall unceremoniously to the ground. Matt slid down the brick wall to join Foggy in the cool grass. "How'd you know I fell?" Foggy asked, his speech still leaving something to be desired.

Matt grinned. "I heard you."

"Sometimes," Foggy stuttered, looking up into the night, "I forget you're blind. I was about to talk to you about the stars."

Matt felt the bottom of his stomach drop. He'd been living in a world of flames for most of his life. He hadn't seen starts since he was a kid, and he'd never taken the time to look at them. He had no real frame of reference for what Foggy was trying to share with him, and for the first time in months, he felt handicapped.

"I guess that's a move you can't use," Foggy continued, oblivious to Matt's pain.

"What?" Matt asked, stirring from self-pity.

Foggy smiled. "You know, oh, aren't the stars so beautiful tonight, and when she goes to look up, you surprise her with a kiss."

"Hey, Foggy-" Matt started, but Foggy interrupted, perhaps recognizing his mistake.

He was laughing as he spoke. "I'm smiling. I always forget to tell you stuff like that."

"Foggy, why were you-" But Foggy interrupted again.

"I guess you don't really miss it, though. The move, not the stars." Foggy wasn't looking up anymore.

"What do you mean?" Matt asked.

There was a sad edge to Foggy's voice when he spoke again that pierced Matt's heart. "I mean I bet you miss the stars all the time. I know I would."

Matt shook his head, taking Foggy's arm again as they sat there, leaning against the wall. "No, the other part. About not missing the move."

"Well, you're somehow always surrounded by hot chicks, so you've gotta be doing something right." Foggy shifted, and Matt's fingers brushed against his hand once more. Foggy's heart pounded in Matt's ears.

Matt gave a small grin. "And it never seems to last, so I've gotta be doing something wrong." As he spoke, he shifted closer to Foggy.

Foggy grinned, his cheeks a burning pink. "What are you doing?"

"Your pulse is racing," Matt whispered.

"How can you tell?" Foggy asked, confused.

Matt thought for a long moment before answering. "Mine is too." Leaning in, he took Foggy's lips with his own, claiming him harshly.

The kiss gave heat to the world of fire in which Matt lived. His senses exploded with Foggy. He tasted like the crappy beer he'd been swilling all night, and beneath that, like the pizza they'd shared earlier in the night. He reeked of the awful cologne the girl from Punjabi had liked. He must've wanted to be rid of it. Foggy's skin was warm and wonderful, but the feeling was all overpowered by the hammering of hearts in Matt's ears.

Matt could feel the devil rising inside him, and before he knew what was happening, he was on top of Foggy, taking what he wanted. Foggy was all too happy to be along for the ride.

Matt and Foggy awoke the next morning in their respective beds. Foggy held his head between his hands, covering his ears. "What the hell happened to us last night?" he asked, his eyes clouded over and his voice a husky whisper.

Matt grinned. He had known this was a possibility, and he had actually hoped for it. "We both got a little too drunk last night. But it seems like we both made it home okay." Matt paused for a moment, looking for a way to sell his story. "Did anyone write on my face?" he asked, grabbing at his scrub-covered face, only to hear Foggy laughing heartily.

"You're okay, Murdock."

It's been a while, but I'm trying to get back into it. Reviews are appreciated, positive or negative. That's how I get better, people.