coprime_recs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
coprime_recs) wrote2024-01-21 08:36 pm
coprime_recs) wrote2024-01-21 08:36 pm
Entry tags:
Marvel Universe: Where Credit Was Due by inkforhumanhands
Where Credit Was Due (Foggy/Matt, Mike | PG13 | 9,398 words): Mike convinces Foggy to pretend to date him as a way to play a prank on Matt. This is hilarious and dramatic and sweet at turns.
Excerpt:
Matt had promised himself he'd try. But as anyone Matt Murdock had ever promised soon found out—try as he might, it didn't hold. He had yet to make it inside Foggy's apartment before the idea had already begun to slip insidiously through his fingers. As it went, like sand through an hourglass, a budding sense of dread took its place.
There were two things amiss. The first he'd clocked more than a block out. It would have been hard not to: Mike was a singular presence. If it wasn't his full-throated and seasonally inappropriate rendition of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen," then it would have been Foggy's impassioned plea to stop ogling his ass. Matt's cane caught on a crack in the sidewalk. He really should have confirmed with Foggy about the guest list.
The second realization hit in two stages, with the latter giving meaning to the first. Three brownstones down, some disturbed earth in a planter. On the other side of Foggy's door, a scraggly bouquet of flowers clinging to that same newly dug-up scent. There was only one conclusion to be drawn. Foggy's new lover was not only cheap but a scoundrel. Matt curled his lip out on the welcome mat. Whenever that lowlife returned from whatever last-minute errand Foggy'd likely had him run out to do, Matt was going to make his displeasure known.
Excerpt:
Matt had promised himself he'd try. But as anyone Matt Murdock had ever promised soon found out—try as he might, it didn't hold. He had yet to make it inside Foggy's apartment before the idea had already begun to slip insidiously through his fingers. As it went, like sand through an hourglass, a budding sense of dread took its place.
There were two things amiss. The first he'd clocked more than a block out. It would have been hard not to: Mike was a singular presence. If it wasn't his full-throated and seasonally inappropriate rendition of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen," then it would have been Foggy's impassioned plea to stop ogling his ass. Matt's cane caught on a crack in the sidewalk. He really should have confirmed with Foggy about the guest list.
The second realization hit in two stages, with the latter giving meaning to the first. Three brownstones down, some disturbed earth in a planter. On the other side of Foggy's door, a scraggly bouquet of flowers clinging to that same newly dug-up scent. There was only one conclusion to be drawn. Foggy's new lover was not only cheap but a scoundrel. Matt curled his lip out on the welcome mat. Whenever that lowlife returned from whatever last-minute errand Foggy'd likely had him run out to do, Matt was going to make his displeasure known.