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returnsandreturns · 3 months
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a silly thing
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Foggy’s mom keeps the baby at their apartment for the first couple of weeks while Foggy tries to sort out how to manage this insane thing he’s attempting—raising a kid at the age of twenty while doing a full courseload at an Ivy League. They only drink once, a few days before Foggy’s set to move into new housing.
“Nobody’s going to judge you if you find him another home,” Matt says.
“I can’t do that,” Foggy says, immediately. “Not—I mean, you came out great, Matty, but the shit you had to go through. I can keep him safe from that.”
Matt smiles at him, feeling a little bit like crying but that’s probably the alcohol, and says, “I wish I could move with you. It would help to have two people, wouldn’t it?”
“You’d have to marry me, I think,” Foggy says, laughing then stopping abruptly when he sees the apparently very obvious look on Matt’s face. “Oh, no, Murdock. No. You’re not gonna propose out of pure Christian selflessness right now, buddy, that would be crazy.”
“It’s just paperwork,” Matt says, grinning.
“Life altering paperwork,” Foggy says, firmly, rambling, “and only one bed in the apartment and—do not get on one knee, Matt, I swear to—I can’t let you upend your life to raise a kid with me! We’re still kids, basically! Oh, Christ, you look earnest.”
“Marry me,” Matt says, very much on one knee, feeling a little bit giddy but not out of his head or anything. He’s wanted to offer this since the moment he found out Foggy would be moving out.
“You’re drunk,” Foggy says, accusingly.
“I’m tipsy at worst,” Matt says. “Marry me.”
“One bed,” Foggy says.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Matt says, dismissively.
“You can’t bring home hot girls,” Foggy says.
“I don’t do that now,” Matt says. “Marry me. We’ll figure all of it out.”
Foggy sighs loudly.
“Okay,” he says, throwing his hands up. “I’ll marry you.”
Matt grins and climbs back onto the bed to pull him into a hug.
“I promise I want this,” he says, softly, nervous when Foggy’s heart beats even faster than it has been.
“Thanks, buddy,” Foggy murmurs, holding him back tightly.
They get married at the courthouse and Matt kisses Foggy because it feels like the right thing to do for more reasons than one. Foggy just laughs and kisses him back, cupping Matt’s face in his hands, and neither of them say anything about it. They just go get lunch and break the news to Foggy’s mother who looks extremely tired but doesn’t object much and spend the day there with the baby.
Sam is, according to Foggy, the cutest baby to ever exist—blonde and giant brown eyes and chubby cheeks—and, also according to Foggy, fascinated by Matt.
“Seriously,” Foggy says, laughing. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since we got here.”
“That’s a good sign, right?” Matt asks, grinning when Sam grabs for his glasses, sliding them up higher on his head. “I mean, I’m pretty fascinated with him, too.”
“Yeah,” Foggy says, softer and a little shaky, “it’s a really good sign.”
“You okay?” Matt asks, adjusting Sam in his arms when he starts grasping at his shirt, holding him close.
“God, yeah, I’m fine,” Foggy says, laughing. “You’re just. . .you’re a really good friend, Matt. That’s all.”
“Hey, I’m just in it for the tax write-offs,” Matt says, flatly, pressing a kiss to Sam’s extremely soft head and grinning happily when Foggy laughs. He knows this is weird but he can’t imagine a world where he just let Foggy go off and struggle on his own. Not when they could be together.
Foggy’s mom teaches him how to change a diaper that night. That part’s rough. But he can deal with it.
The first day in the apartment is a mess of Nelsons helping them move in and finally just the three of them, equally exhausted, collapsed on the uncomfortable school supplied couch. Foggy puts Sam down and then they go to bed together for the first time. There’s a confusing period of about one minute before Foggy says, “I know you’re a little spoon,” and Matt says, “. . .yeah, okay,” and then it’s the most comfortable sleep that Matt’s had. . .ever. Even with the baby waking up four times and them taking turns checking on him.
“I think this is going to work,” he says, over breakfast a few weeks in.
“Yeah?” Foggy asks.
“I mean, I think Sam might like me better, which could be awkward,” Matt says, lips twitching, “since you’re his dad and all.”
“You’re kinda going to be his dad, too,” Foggy says. “Depending on how long we do this. But that’s a conversation I don’t like to think about which we probably should have already had—the how long part, at least.”
“As long as you want me,” Matt says, immediately.
“Well, a kid is. . .forever,” Foggy says.
“I have forever,” Matt says, blushing suddenly and turning away to try to hide it. Because he means it—really, really means it. “If you—if you want forever.”
“Matt, you’ll probably want to meet someone and get married eventually,” Foggy says, cautiously. “Someone you actually want, I mean.”
They already got married, moved in together and are raising a child. It’s not a leap. Matt has to remind himself of this several times, before he says, “I already did that, Foggy.”
Foggy’s heartbeat is crazy and Sam decides to start screaming at the same time.
“I’ll get him,” Matt says, quickly.
Sam is happy and cooing in his arms when Foggy comes in and asks, softly, “You were being serious, right? You have feelings for me? . . .forever feelings?”
“I don’t think I knew it until we kissed at the courthouse,” Matt says, thinking back to the feeling he had after Foggy kissed him back. How everything made sense even though they were being insane. How it felt like they should have been doing it all along. “But I do, I want you. And I want to be. . .I want to be Sam’s dad.”
It smells a little bit like tears but Foggy just carefully leans up, with Sam between them, to kiss Matt softly.
“Let’s do this,” he says.
“We’re going to lose him in a snowdrift,” Matt says.
Several months have passed and they’ve been exhausting and difficult and perfect ones and now there’s snow on the ground and a puffy baby snowsuit purchased by Marci who refused to hold Sam because she finds babies to be haunting cautionary tales but does like buying him clothes. He feels like a pillow when Matt picks him up.
“It’s bright green!” Foggy says. “We’d spot him eventually. C’mon.”
When they tramp outside onto the lawn, Matt says, grumpily, “His cheeks are getting cold.”
“Just because you hate snow and joy doesn’t mean our son has to,” Foggy says, laughing then pausing at the look on Matt’s face. “What did I say?”
“Our son,” Matt says, smiling. “I don’t think you’ve ever said it like that before.”
“This is a good weird and misty face, then?” Foggy asks.
“Yeah,” Matt says, nodding.
“Well, I bet our son will love snow,” Foggy says, warmly. “Let’s sit him down.”
As soon as Sam’s tiny hand brushes against the snow, he starts screaming and Matt looks smug.
“How does he take after you?” Foggy asks, huffing. “You’re not even blood related.”
“He’s just a very smart baby,” Matt says, hefting him back up onto his hip.
“And you’re really fucking cute together,” Foggy says. “I’m taking pictures.”
Matt’s smile is more real than its ever been.
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