Chapter Text
Foggy’s crush on Matt Murdock doesn’t start here – that’s a thing from day one, that grows with familiarity and friendship.
But it does get worse.
So much worse.
“What the fuck, Matt,” Foggy says as Matt strips out of his sweaty t-shirt.
Matt frowns. “What?”
“What do you mean, what? I mean Jesus Christ, dude,” Foggy babbles, gaping unflatteringly. He’s almost glad Matt can’t see his face right now – or, you know, ever.
“Language,” Matt corrects automatically, and Foggy for once isn’t in a mental space to roll his eyes. Matt can almost always tell when he does it, which is totally witchcraft and also motivation to do it more, but his heart is really not in it right now.
“Are you addicted to steroids? A super soldier? The world’s buffest future lawyer? Are you secretly the Hulk?” Foggy rambles.
He hates the self-satisfied grin that spreads across Matt’s face. Asshole.
“I work out,” Matt says casually, in a ‘no big deal’ sort of way. Asshole.
“No shit,” Foggy replies, trying to express how much he resents that understatement. He can tell his faint voice doesn’t quite convey the message.
“Also, I’m pretty sure the Hulk is only muscley when he’s transformed. He’s a normal guy otherwise,” Matt corrects, like it matters.
“Either you’re gonna be a shark of a lawyer one day, or you’re an obnoxious Hulk fanboy. I really really hope you’re not a fanboy,” Foggy replies.
Matt starts to respond but Foggy cuts him off. “Never mind, forget that. That is so not the point.”
Now, Foggy doesn’t just have a crush on his ridiculously smart, dryly funny, presumably heterosexual roommate. He has a crush on a man that should totally leave Columbia and become an underwear model. Or a stripper.
…Oh, he’s totally fucked.