Drunk!texting fic request from the other day in tumblr form as requested! "Foggy playing Video games--mario kart or something-- and grunting amd sweating amd sounding like porn. Ruins Matt's concentration"
You are the best shark ever.
It was a quiet night in Hell’s Kitchen, and Matt should have been pleased. The wind cut like a knife and stung his nostrils. It was a good thing he’d given up the fabric mask, because it would have been blown out to Staten Island by now. It was a brutally cold December in New York, and none of the criminals were out. Even Turk was at home, muttering frustratedly in a kitchen that smelled like badly burned chicken.
Under his boot, the gravel of the roof crunched icily. He tilted his head and let the wall of sound separate into individually discernable voices.
“–saying, you could take my side over your father’s just once–”
“–dare you to kiss her in homeroom tomorrow–”
“–this binder’s pinching the hell out of–”
And then Matt heard something that made his foot nearly slip off the ledge.
“That’s it baby, bend over for me,” Foggy said, his voice full of dark promise.