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I.
Foggy seriously, seriously, never considered this might happen when he applied to college. He imagined classes, some good and some bad, getting drunk and maybe high. Frantic studying for exams and shitty food, a roommate he hoped he’d like - and man, did he win that one. Internships and dating, maybe a girlfriend or a boyfriend, and sex. Definitely sex.
He never imagined the honeytrap thing, though.
Samira is cute, and sweet, and she’s got this thing where she twists her hair around her fingers while looking up at Foggy from underneath her eyelashes, and yeah. He’s got a little crush. She sits down next to him in the library one day, low cut top and some perfume that makes him think nice but also gotta change before seeing Matt. They share a class, it’s easy to chat for a while; pretty girl, interesting topic, whatever, Foggy’s only human. But the thing is-
The thing is, she’s also really fucking obvious.
Foggy’s pre-law. He’s not an idiot, despite spending a lot of time putting his foot in his mouth - verbally speaking - and students are the worst kind of gossips. Which is how he knows Samira’s got a girlfriend, and also possibly a boyfriend, and that all three of them skipped the test on Friday.
“-and I was thinking, maybe you could help me study?”
“It’s kind of offensive you think I’d fall for that,” Foggy says. Sometimes he babbles, and sometimes he’s one of the best mock trial debaters in his class; a lot of people forget about the latter, they’re so busy laughing at the former thing.
“I don’t-” She leans forward a little, obviously still thinking he’s going to fall for it, and Foggy rolls his eyes. He’s got two more chapters to read, and he wants to be done so he can persuade Matt into a movie and takeout; he hasn’t got time for this.
“I mean, come on, honeytrap?” Samira blushes, straightening up; Foggy briefly misses the admittedly nice cleavage. “They only work on the premise that the mark is unaware that he’s, y’know, a mark.”
“I just thought-”
“Studying always worked for me.” Her mouth snaps shut and the blush deepens. Foggy packs up, leaving her sitting at the table, shocked silent, and walks out. The girlfriend and boyfriend are hanging around in the stacks as he leaves, and Foggy gives them a cheerful wave as he walks past; when he looks back, they’re making a beeline for Samira.
Matt agrees to the movie and pizza, although he frowns adorably until Foggy showers and changes; Foggy makes a mental note that Matt really hates patchouli-based perfumes.
II.
He thinks about it, a couple years later, when he’s in a bar and seriously considering throwing his beer over a colleague. The guy’s got good game; smooth and charming, but not too much of either to be sleazy. He’s cute too, in a scruffy blond kind of way; unluckily for him, only one of those things is Foggy’s type, these days.
“I’m a nice guy,” Foggy says thoughtfully, and Jake blinks, obviously surprised that they’re deviating from the script. “But if you don’t fuck off before Matt sits down, you’re going to be wearing my beer.”
“I just thought-”
“No,” Foggy says, leaning in and lowering his voice. “You thought you could bribe me, with a date or sex or maybe both, because for some reason you think I’m a desperate idiot. You want to steal from the firm, do the dirty work yourself.”
Jake’s eyes go comically wide for a moment, but he covers well. He downs his whiskey and nods, smooth smile back in place. “I’ll leave you to it,” he says, and stands up, walking away as Matt turns back from the bar.
“That would’ve been a waste of beer,” Matt says once he’s close enough, sitting down in the empty seat. Foggy shrugs.
“I’m shrugging. Would’ve been worth it.”
“I bought the beer,” Matt points out, tone dry but mouth quirking. Foggy grins. “How did you know? He could’ve just wanted a date.”
“I’m an expert in dodging honeytraps,” Foggy tells him loftily, and grins when Matt snorts, inhaling some of his own beer.
“Wasn’t he just hitting on you?” Matt asks, looking bemused. It’s frankly very attractive, not that Foggy’s ever told him that.
“I don’t think a standard hook-up involves the seduced party stealing confidential paperwork in order to get laid,” he says seriously, as though it’s an interesting point of law in a case. “But then, I haven’t got laid in so long, things have probably moved on.”
Several people look round when Matt laughs, open and loud and amazing.
III.
The thing is, he really is a fucking expert, and that sucks. He was enjoying the conversation, okay, so realising the smoking hot brunette has an agenda really sucks. This should have stopped when they left Landman and Zach, Foggy thinks wearily, because really, who would’ve thought they’d ever have clients important enough for anyone to bother with this again.
It’s a good one, this time. She’s nice, and pretty, clearly better prepared than the last couple because she takes her time working round to what she wants. They chat about the conference they’re at, the other lawyers in the room, commuting in New York. Safe topics, but Foggy’s got instincts about this shit, not even her careful segues and casual flirting is enough to slide under his radar.
“Is this- oh, are you a honeytrap?”
The woman blinks at him. She sets her glass down very carefully; she’s covering the shock well, but Foggy’s a lawyer, for fuck’s sake, he can read expressions better than she can flirt. “That’s very rude,” she says, but it’s got an edge to it that doesn’t sit right.
“What’s rude is that you and your bosses think you can flirt the information out of me,” Foggy tells her coldly. “If the next step is to offer me money, then you’re out of luck there as well.”
He eyes narrow. “We could make you a very good offer.”
Foggy glances over her, making it obvious. “I thought you already did.”
Matt’s hand around her wrist is the only thing that stops her throwing the glass of wine over him. A beat passes, then she smiles, frosty and brittle. “Good night, Mr Nelson. Mr Murdock.” Matt releases her wrist and she walks off, Foggy watching her until the doors of the hotel bar swing shut behind her.
“Why does that always happen to me,” Foggy says, “Why don’t they ever try to seduce the information out of you?”
“Maybe they assume you’re more susceptible to a pretty face,” Matt says, smiling and amused. Foggy sighs.
“Which is a complete lie,” Foggy says, and Matt laughs. “Also no one actually uses ‘susceptible’ in sentences, come on.”
IV.
The next time Foggy almost wishes for the days when people were offering him sex in return for cheating on an exam or some stolen paperwork. Now it’s Matt he’s being set up for, and it’s really kinda shitty. She’s hot, though, in an obviously mob kind of way; the tattoos would tell Foggy more, depressingly, but he’s got no intention of seeing them.
They’re on the street, for fuck’s sake.
“Be worth it,” the woman says, in what Foggy’s sure would be a nice voice, if it wasn’t being used to seduce him in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Don’t try that with me.” She leans in, lush curves and red hair, and he’s almost tempted for a moment, because it’s been a while, but then her perfume washes over him, and nope. Patchouli still has very strong memories attached to it. “Why is this my life.”
“I could show you- what?”
“Look, I’m sure you’re lovely, whatever your name is-”
“Maja.”
“Maja, I’m sure you’re lovely, and hot, and I’m equally sure you could show me things in bed that I’ve never experienced before. I’m just not interested in the whole, sex for information thing.”
She takes a step back, and gives him a long look. “Okay,” she says eventually, shrugging one shoulder with a smile. “That’s fair. I get paid either way, so I don’t really mind.”
As far as Foggy’s experiences go, it’s the politest ending to a failed honeytrap he’s had. She even gives him her card - she’s a professional - and tells him to call her if they ever need help on a case.
V.
“Either I’m getting worse,” Foggy says, suddenly, “or you’re getting better.”
His date slows down, looks at him with a perfectly believable expression of confusion. It’d work, if it weren’t for Foggy being smarter than people always fucking expect, and also if the guy had been more subtle in his questioning.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Gerard says, and Foggy almost believes him. But- yeah, no, he doesn’t. His instincts are damn good, and Matt’s little secret comes with a lot of baggage that’s sharpened them even more.
“That was a really nice date,” Foggy tells him seriously, because it was. “But it wasn’t nice enough for me to start spilling the secrets you think I know about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.”
He’s gotta hand it to Gerard, he keeps the game up for longer than most of the others - and man is it weird that he can think that - so they go round in circles for a while. It’s verbal sparring, and Foggy’s really good at it, even when the guy is distractingly hot. That’s probably why it took so long for him to figure it out this time; someone’s done their homework, which is the most embarrassing thing ever when he realises, because Gerard looks a lot like Matt.
Suddenly Foggy’s annoyed enough about that, that someone figured that fact out and tried to use it against him, that he tells the guy to shut the fuck up and trying something else. Which Gerard promptly does.
“You could do a lot better than working in a shitty law firm with a glorified secretary and a blind man, and I can make that happen. ”
“You’re meant to seduce me,” Foggy says tartly, because he shouldn’t have to explain how a honeytrap works to someone trying to work one. “Not offend me by insulting my friends, what the fuck.”
When the guy pulls a knife instead, Foggy ends that conversation with the taser he’s started keeping in his briefcase.
1.
They agreed, when they started working together again, to keep their cases separate. That way, Foggy had argued, if Matt’s nighttime hobby got them into trouble - the legal kind - only half of their cases would be up for review, instead of all of them. Matt had pouted, but Foggy’s persuasive, and in the end he’d agreed.
Usually, they don’t ask, but for some reason, tonight Matt wants to know everything about one of Foggy’s current cases, sitting on Foggy’s desk and gradually sliding closer to where Foggy’s sitting trying to work, asking questions. Foggy leans his elbows on the desk and answers.
“And what about witness statements,” Matt asks, still far too close. It’s late, and just like with Samira in the library, Foggy’s only human. Matt is gorgeous and scruffy and leaning just close enough that Foggy can feel his body heat, and it’s distracting him from anything resembling work.
“Here, you should take a look,” Foggy says, and Matt freaking grins, which is an over reaction, it’s just a file. Except then Matt’s leaning down slowly, pushing the file out of the way, until Foggy leans up and closes the gap and they’re kissing. None of Foggy’s usual alarm bells go off until he pulls away, and sees the look on Matt’s face. It’s bemused shock, lips open in surprise, and Foggy’s face scrunches up as the pieces fall into place.
“Did you just set yourself up as a freaking honeytrap, Murdock, I swear to god-”
“You said you always know, I wanted to test it!”
Foggy resists the urge to hit his head against something hard. Like Matt’s head. “I do,” he says, as patiently as he can manage, “when they’re not my best friend. Who I’ve wanted for years.”
Matt’s mouth quirks the way it does when he wants to smile, but keeps it in. “Yeah?”
“I’m going to go hit my head against something solid,” Foggy tells him, but when he stands up Matt’s hands lift too, coming up to frame his face. One slides down to his neck, warm and solid, fingers curling round to thread into Foggy’s hair. They’re not still; Foggy can feel the tiny movements as Matt rubs his fingertips over the skin he’s touching, sending a shiver down his spine.
“I’m sorry,” Matt says, sounding anything but. “I thought you’d know, and it’d be funny. I wanted-” he swallows, gets the earnest look he uses when he’s about to try really hard to persuade Foggy into something Matt knows he doesn’t want to do. “I wanted to flirt with you, with an escape route.”
“I’m not even going to explain why that’s the most stupid thing I’ve heard all week.”
“Yeah,” Matt says, small and sheepish. His hands haven’t moved though. “Worst honeytrap ever?”
“No,” Foggy tells him, and steps in close. “Best, because it’s you, and it worked. Well done, Murdock.”
“Foggy, you- oh.” Whatever Matt starts to say fades off into a moan when Foggy leans in and kisses him again, carefully, thoroughly.
♥