inthewildwood | fanfiction: shape the poet and the beat [part 2] (Reply)

[part 1]

She’s not sure how Karen finds her, but by the time she does, Foggy’s already nursing a good buzz. It doesn’t feel good, per se- her stomach is churning queasily, and her ears are ringing- but it’s better than what came before, the twin sensations of betrayal and humiliation ripping her chest in two. At least with the alcohol numbing her system, she can pretend like this is just another day, and she’s just dulling the good old-fashioned pain of rejection. She’s done that before. She can handle that.

Karen slides into the chair across from her. “Hey,” she says softly.

“Hey,” Foggy says. There are about ten messages waiting on her cell phone; she expects at least some of them are from Maddie, but a few might be from Karen instead. “I guess you talked to Maddie.” She takes another drink. “She tell you everything?”

“She said you argued,” Karen says carefully. She lowers her voice slightly. “Was it about- you two- ?”

Foggy snorts into her beer. When isn’t it? That’s what it’s always been, when you get down to the bone. But she can’t say as much, because the fact that Karen’s even asking means she doesn’t know, and if she doesn’t know then Foggy’s not going to tell her. She’s not the keeper of Maddie’s secrets, but she’s also not the kind of asshole who goes around announcing “hey, my best friend is a costumed vigilante who’s been lying to everyone for ten straight years.” Maybe longer? Who knows. Besides, if she confirms or denies what Karen’s asking, then she’ll probably go back to Maddie about it, and then Foggy will know once and for all that her secret’s out. “No.”

“Oh,” Karen says. She watches as Foggy swills the beer, reaching out to pull the bottle away. “I think that’s enough.”

“More than,” Foggy agrees, though she’s sure Karen doesn’t know what she’s agreeing to. She lets her take the bottle anyway. She misses it once it falls from her fingers; she has nothing to occupy her hands with anymore.

“So,” Karen says, after setting the bottle on a nearby empty table, “you want to tell me what you were arguing about?”

Foggy fixes her eyes on the table. It’s covered with stains. When did it get covered with stains? Hasn’t she been in this bar before? She should have noticed the stains. “Nope.”

Karen sighs. “And I’m probably not going to be able to convince you to go talk it out, huh?”

Foggy shakes her head.

“Alright then.” Karen stands up. “I’m taking you home, okay? You look awful. You need some sleep.”

Foggy shakes her head, ignoring the way the room- and her stomach- spins queasily. “”’m fine.”

“No you’re not.” Karen reaches across the table and takes one of Foggy’s hands. “You’re a mess. Let’s get you home, okay? You can get some rest, and it’ll look better in the morning-”

“I’m not going home!” Foggy snaps, loudly enough that several people turn around to stare at her. “God! I don’t need anyone deciding what’s good for me. I’m a fucking adult, okay? If I want to stay here, then I’m going to stay here, and if you don’t like it-”

She cuts herself off midsentence, suddenly registering the look on Karen’s face. She looks like she’s been slapped, pale with little red spots in the middle of her cheeks. And her eyes are- Foggy’s seen that look on Karen’s face, that sad baby deer expression, but she’s never been responsible for putting it there before. It’s not a good feeling.

“I want to help you,” Karen says carefully. Foggy gets the sense that she’s taking her time choosing which words to use. “I don’t think this is- you shouldn’t be staying here. You don’t have to yell at me,” and at the last bit, she lets a hint of reprehension creep into her voice. Way, way less than Foggy probably deserves- but that’s Karen for you.

Foggy groans, pushing her hands through her hair and grinding the heels of her palms against her forehead. “I’m sorry. I- god, fuck. I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.” She slumps over. “I don’t want to go home, okay? Just- can you just go?”

Karen pauses for a moment, then lets out a long sigh, and Foggy knows she’s won. For certain values of “winning,” which don’t actually feel all that triumphant, but there you go. “Okay,” she says. She picks up her purse, slinging it over her shoulder. “But I want you to call me if you need me, okay? You shouldn’t be walking home alone like this.”

“I’m from Hell’s Kitchen,” Foggy says into the table. “I’ll be fine.”

She doesn’t look up, but she can sense that Karen’s pursing her lips, possibly debating whether or not to argue the point. In the end, she just sighs again and quickly squeezes Foggy’s shoulder. “Call me anyway,” she says, and then there’s the click of high heels against the floor, and she’s gone.

Foggy’s still staring down at the table, looking at the stains spread across the wood. They look a bit like miniature galaxies, or possibly constellations. She can’t remember the right word for it, but she knows what she’s thinking of. Possibly black holes? Giant space magnets, sucking in everything that has the misfortune to drift too close? She can empathise with that.

She groans, letting her head fall forward until it’s resting on the table. “Shit,” she says out loud. The stains don’t answer. That’s probably for the best.

She and Maddie have argued before- it’s kind of inevitable, when you live in the same room with someone for four straight years- but never this violently, and they’ve never gone without speaking to each other for this long. Usually they flare hot and cool down in minutes. But it’s been almost a week, and the ache of missing Maddie is starting to overtake the lingering burn of anger at what she did. She’s not sure what Maddie’s up to- hasn’t asked Karen, although she’s offered repeatedly to put them back in touch. Hopefully she’s at least healed up by this point.

Only one way to find out.

She doesn’t call Karen, because she knows it’ll just get her hopes up that the fight is ending, and she has no idea how this meeting is actually going to go. Instead, she shrugs her coat on and stumps across Hell’s Kitchen, heading for the gym where she knows Maddie likes to work out in her free time. She’d asked Maddie once, back in college, how she managed to pull off something like boxing when she couldn’t see the person punching at her. Maddie had said something vague about “alternative methods,” and Foggy hadn’t asked any more questions, because what does she know about boxing? Now, though, she looks back and wants to laugh at how naïve she was. Sure, the girl who can’t see can win a boxing match. Right. Makes total sense. Good catch, Foggy.

When she reaches the gym, she pauses in the door for a second to watch. Maddie’s doing battle with the punching bag, darting forward and back as it swings towards her, ducking and kicking so quickly that Foggy almost can’t tell what she’s doing at any given moment. She’s dressed in a black tank top and sweatpants, and Foggy feels the familiar twinge in her heart, watching her. She stops for a second, blowing damp strands of hair out of her face, and then she’s off again. To Foggy, it looks less like a fight and more like a dance, Maddie constantly bouncing on the balls of her feet, spinning, knees loose and elastic. The bag doesn’t even have time to swing back before Maddie’s fists are flying again; it’s less of a fight and more of an ass-kicking, like she’s taking all her frustrations out on a bag of sand because it’s the only thing that won’t break under her fists. Sometimes Foggy doesn’t understand how Maddie can function like this, because she just keeps hurling herself at brick walls and getting up after she’s broken all her bones, smashed her face in, cracked her skull open. She’s always been like this, a dog at a bone, but somehow Foggy never realized that this would end in Maddie running around Hell’s Kitchen in a mask, trying to get herself killed. Maybe she should have connected the dots sooner.

Usually when she comes into a room, she’ll call out to let Maddie know she’s there, but now she stays silent. Maddie’s got those spidey-senses working for her; she’ll notice when she notices. Sure enough, as her punches finally slow, Maddie slowly turns in Foggy’s direction, head tilting to the side. “Foggy?”

“I haven’t watched you practice in a while,” Foggy said quietly. “I guess I missed it.”

Maddie drops her hands, letting them dangle at her sides. “I didn’t know. I- you could’ve dropped by here. Whenever you wanted.”

“Yeah,” Foggy says. There’s a bench against the wall, and she lowers herself down to sit on it. “I guess I didn’t want to.”

She lets that hang in their air between them, sharp and painful. Maddie’s still standing there silently, like she’s waiting for Foggy to take the next step- or else she just plain can’t think of what to say. Either way, Foggy waits. She needs to hear Maddie speak for herself.

At long last, Maddie moves, stripping off her boxing gloves and letting them fall to the floor. “I couldn’t tell you,” she said, still avoiding Foggy’s gaze- for all the good it did. “You have to see why.”

“I don’t” Foggy says, still quiet. “Come on, Maddie, you didn’t trust me?”

Maddie winces. “It’s not about trust.” She lowers herself gingerly to the ground, sitting cross-legged next to the punching bag. “It’s- it’s not your burden to bear. It’s mine. I chose it.”

“I chose you,” Foggy points out, and feels that twinge in her heart again. “What, did you think I’d make a run for it? ‘Sorry, I could deal with the unwashed dishes and the laundry all over the floor and the getting locked out because you brought someone home, but the vigilantism is just too much?’”

Maddie’s mouth twitches slightly. “It wouldn’t be unreasonable of you.”

“The fuck it wouldn’t,” Foggy said. “I followed you to Hell’s Kitchen to open a law firm and go after the most powerful man in the city. It’s not that much of a leap.” She pauses, chewing on her bottom lip as she tries to find the next words. “It’s not- I don’t like the vigilantism. It’s dangerous, and it’s also way, way illegal. But that’s not why I was so pissed off.”

Maddie inclines her head. “It was because I lied.”

“Because you lied and nearly got yourself killed,” Foggy corrects her. “Jesus, Maddie, do you have any idea how bad you scared me? You were bleeding all over the place. I thought you’d die before Claire got there.”

“That was the idea behind not saying anything,” Maddie murmurs. “You wouldn’t have to worry if you didn’t know what was going on.”

“And you would have bled out in your apartment,” Foggy retorts. “Good plan.”

A shrug. “Better than any of the others I came up with.” She uncurls herself from the floor and stands, looking down at herself. She brings a hand up to touch her stomach, at the thin strip of skin between her waistband and her tank top. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Foggy follows the path Maddie’s hand made and sees red beginning to brim over the edge of the shirt. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. Is that new?”

“Um,” Maddie says. “Define ‘new.’”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Foggy says, ignoring the way Maddie winces. “Okay, we’re getting out of here. You need to be in bed. God, Maddie, how many places are you bleeding right now?”

“Just the one, I think,” she says, but she lets Foggy grab her arm and drag her out of the gym anyway.

Back at Maddie’s apartment, she brushes Foggy’s hands aside and pulls the tank top off herself. Underneath is a web of scars and bruises, old and new, some scabby and some an angry red or purple. The one that’s bleeding isn’t that bad, really- just a small cut above her hip. Foggy keeps up a steady rant as she digs through the first aid kit at Maddie’s direction, slapping a bandage over the place where her skin parts to show a well of blood underneath. She’s seen enough of Maddie’s blood to last her several lifetimes, and it’s only been a week. It’s times like these she genuinely wishes Maddie could see, just so that Foggy could drag her to a mirror and shout look what you’re doing to yourself! Then again, even if she did that, what good would it do? Maddie would nod, say “okay,” and put that damn mask right back on. Nothing seems to get through her head.

Foggy says as much while she’s putting the bandage on, and Maddie sits quietly and takes it, chin pointed downward. When Foggy pauses for a breath, she says, “I didn’t get this one on purpose. I didn’t go out looking for a fight. I heard this woman being mugged a few blocks over, and I-” She cuts herself off, drawing a deep breath. “I couldn’t just sit here.”

“No,” Foggy says, “you could run out on a suicide mission instead.” She finishes taping the bandage down and steps back. “You do know that, right? That this is going to end with you dead in an alley?” She has to know that. She was top of their class in law school; she’s too smart not to know that. Then again, smart doesn’t always equal basic common sense. Maybe she should have majored in that instead.

She’s shaking her head, just the slightest movement. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?” With a very great effort, Foggy restrains herself from grabbing Maddie by the shoulders and shaking her. “I’m sorry, what exactly are you trying to say here? That you don’t care if you live or die? Because if this is just an extended suicide, I’m pretty sure there are easier ways than finding criminals to punch you in the face!”

“No.” Maddie’s still shaking her head. “I mean- it doesn’t matter, what happens to me. I’m not that important. Hell’s Kitchen is important. Ben, Elena- they’re important. In the grand scheme of things, what’s the big deal if I go down fighting?”

“You can’t be serious.” Now Foggy does grab her shoulders, but only to hold on to them. “Of course it’s a big fucking deal! There’s me, there’s Karen- how do you think we’d feel if you were gone? How do you think people like Ben and Elena would feel, knowing you took yourself out for them? You think they’d ask that of you?”

Maddie closes her eyes, and Foggy can see moisture clinging to her eyelashes. “Just because they wouldn’t ask doesn’t mean I don’t need to-”

“They wouldn’t ask,” Foggy cuts in, “because you shouldn’t. You’re the only person in the world who thinks that you dying would be a good thing, except maybe Fisk. And if Fisk is the only person agreeing with you, it’s time to re-think your strategy!”

A tremulous smile ghosts across Maddie’s mouth. “This- these powers, these senses, whatever they are. I got them for a reason. What good are they if I don’t use them? What good am I?”

“God,” Foggy says, because it’s all she can think of. “God,” again, and she pulls Maddie against her roughly. “This is- you’re you, okay? You’re Maddie, and you’re already good enough. You don’t need to prove it. You don’t need to be any worthier than you already are.” There are tears gathering in her own eyes, because she knew Maddie had a martyr complex- always knew it, it was always there- but she’d had no idea it ran this deep. She wants to track down whoever planted this seed in Maddie’s brain and beat them to death with a cane. She wants to go back and pull Maddie out of whatever situation taught her that she’s somehow not enough, bring her forward and make her understand that she doesn’t need to be a hero or a saint to be worthy of whatever it is she’s striving for. God, if this was the problem, maybe Foggy should have fessed up years ago; at least then Maddie would have known someone loved her without all the heroics.

Maddie stays limp for several moments after Foggy pulls her close, then her arms slowly come up and she rests her chin on Foggy’s shoulder. “I’m not-” she says, voice cracking. “I can’t just let people get hurt, Foggy. I can’t do that.”

“No one’s asking you to,” Foggy says, squeezing her tighter. “No one ever asked that, okay? I just want you to be safe.” She pulls back a bit, bumping her forehead against Maddie’s. “That’s it. If I ask you that, can you do it for me? Can that matter more than being a hero?”

Maddie’s mouth twitches like she’s about to say something, probably it’s not about being a hero or you shouldn’t worry about me or some other dismissive bullshit like she’s been saying since this conversation started. Foggy thinks she might scream if she hears it, and she just needs Maddie to stop for a second, long enough for her to think, and Maddie’s just- everything, the only thing in the world right now, and that’s the only reason Foggy does what she does next, which is cup her face in both hands and kiss her.

The next few thoughts that cross her mind do so at light speed, so fast she can barely catch at them. First it’s I love you so much, then oh god, what am I doing, and then oh god, what is she doing? Because almost as soon as she brings her face to Maddie’s, one of Maddie’s hands comes up to tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck, and the other one is sliding across her shoulders and Maddie is- unmistakably- kissing her back.

She pulls away. “Oh my God,” she says.

Maddie’s lips twitch like she misses having Foggy there already, but there are other things: her eyes growing wide, her face growing pink. “You-” she starts, then stops with a little choking noise. “You- I-“

“Oh my God,” Foggy says again.

Maddie looks- dazed is probably the best word, but that doesn’t quite cover it. Bewildered, maybe. Shell-shocked. “Your heart,” she says, and puts a hand to Foggy’s chest, just over where her heart is thrumming against her ribcage. “Your heartbeat. I never . . .”

Things are beginning to click into place in Foggy’s brain, like the tumblers of a lock moving together. “You can hear heartbeats,” she says.

Maddie nods, still looking overwhelmed “Yeah,” she says.

“You can tell when someone’s lying,” Foggy says, “or excited or turned on, or- anything- and you didn’t know? For ten years? You just never noticed?”

“I mean, I knew your heartrate was above average,” Maddie says, licking her lips, “and that you were attracted to me when we first met, but- well, your heartbeat always sounded like that, and I thought it was just . . . you. It just never occurred to me-”

“Oh my God,” Foggy says for the third time. At some point after this conversation is over, she really has to drag herself to church. “This is just- wow. You have super senses that can tell you whenever someone’s lying, and yet you somehow went ten years without ever realizing that I was in l-” She bites down on her tongue. “-how I felt.”

“In my defense,” Maddie says, “I always thought that you would tell me about something like that. You almost never lie, and you tell me everything. I didn’t think you’d hold back something this significant.”

“Well, I guess we can call ourselves even,” Foggy says. “Although not really, because my secret was never going to get anyone killed.” She pauses, letting silence spread through the room before adding, “also, you kissed me back.”

Maddie nods.

“And you did this because . . .”

Maddie smiles faintly. “Res ipsa loquitur.”

Foggy thinks she might actually fall over. This is it. This is the moment she finds out what swooning feels like, because she’s about to do it right here in Maddie’s living room. “You- you never said anything either! How long- no, nevermind.” She grabs Maddie by the shoulders again and drags her forward, kissing her hard. “You have so much to explain, but that can wait for later, because I have been waiting ten years for this.”

Maddie must feel the same, because her fingers are already digging hard into Foggy’s shoulders, leaving little dents where her nails cut through Foggy’s shirt and leave pinpricks of pain. It doesn’t matter at all, because Maddie is moving under Foggy, hips shifting, muscles twitching against her hands. Maddie seems made of muscle, every inch a lean sinew, honed and perfected through years of practice. Foggy wants to run her hands over those muscles, feel them move, let Maddie know she can use herself for things besides throwing herself onto the pyre. She pushes herself against Maddie, almost rubbing against her, desperate to make sure that there isn’t a single part of them that isn’t touching. Maddie makes a noise into her mouth, half-gasp, half-yelp.

Foggy pulls back. “What-?” Then her eyes drop, and she sees that Maddie’s favouring her right side, grimacing slightly. “Oh. Right.” She lets go of Maddie shoulders and loops her arms loosely around her waist instead, holding her up. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea right now?”

“No,” Maddie says vehemently. “I just need- we should be lying down somewhere.” She pauses. “Bed?”

“Bed,” Foggy agrees, and Maddie grabs her wrist, pulling her down the hall and into her bedroom. Once they’re there, Maddie falls back onto the bed in a graceful arc, and Foggy climbs on top of her, a leg on either side of Maddie’s waist, careful not to put any weight onto Maddie’s multiple bruises. She braces herself on her elbows and leans down to kiss Maddie again, and Maddie rocks up against her, hips restless and animate.

“God,” she gasps into Foggy’s mouth “god, you don’t know how good you smell.”

“Oh, fuck,” Foggy whimpers, because she doesn’t have any kind of sense memory for this, but she can guess what Maddie means- the same underlying scent of sweat coming from Maddie’s body, plus the musk of arousal (because she’s already wet, god) and maybe something under that, something that’s just her just like Maddie has a smell all her own- sweat and shampoo and deodorant, a perfume that only belongs to her. Is this what Maddie can smell all the time, she wonders- a million different individual flavours of person, all clashing in her head? But she doesn’t have time to think about that, because Maddie’s reaching up and fumbling for the buttons on Foggy’s shirt, pulling it open (several buttons pop off and go skittering across the floor in the process) and palming her breasts through her bra. Foggy’s arms threaten to buckle, and Maddie cranes her neck upwards to latch on and suck kisses into Foggy’s skin, running her tongue along the line of skin where the edge of her bra ends, wetting the lace there. Foggy tries to reach back and fumble her bra open one-handed, and it’s not a very delicate operation, but she eventually manages to yank the clasp apart and let the straps slide down and off her arms. Maddie immediately moves her mouth, kissing and nipping all over Foggy’s breasts, leaving marks that Foggy knows will last for days. She’s soaking wet now, her panties clinging to her skin, and she gasps “Maddie, Maddie- give me a second.”

Maddie pulls back, one eyebrow raised, and Foggy sits up, pulling her shirt and bra off properly and popping the button on her jeans, shimmying until they’re down to her knees and then kicking them off the rest of the way. Maddie’s better off than she is- her tank top’s already gone, so she’s just in her bra and sweatpants, and it takes no time at all for her to pull the bra off over her head and then she’s naked to the waist and her nipples are hard and pebbled in the cool air of the apartment, and Foggy momentarily blanks out because there’s a million things she wants to do and she can’t decide which one to try first.

“Here,” Maddie says, grabbing one of Foggy’s hands and pulling it to her breast. Foggy takes the encouragement, squeezing and feeling Maddie’s nipple rub against the rough skin of her palm. Maddie’s eyelids flutter, her head falling back, and Foggy ducks down to kiss her again, tongue slipping past her lips, inhaling her like she’s drowning and Maddie is her only source of air. Maddie’s hips are still shifting restlessly under Foggy, and she takes her free hand, dragging it down Maddie’s stomach until she’s dipping her fingers past the waistband of Maddie’s sweatpants and underwear, feeling the slippery wetness underneath. Maddie’s shifting hips start to jerk erratically as Foggy’s fingers slide against her, fingertip brushing her clit. Her face floods pink at that, and she arches her back, whispering “oh, oh, oh,” like she’s inches away from coming right now. Foggy doesn’t want that- she wants to make Maddie come, wants to watch her face, but not just yet, not right now. So she slide her fingers back down, crooks two up and inside Maddie, who whines and bucks against her. Her hands, which had been running all over Foggy, kneading her breasts, flatten against Foggy’s shoulder as she pushes herself up over and over again. Foggy starts to slide her fingers in and out, moving in time to Maddie’s hips as Maddie lets out little gasps. She sounds like Foggy’s memory of that one night in the dorms, only not really, because she’s here and Foggy can hear her close up and she knows just what she’s doing to pull those noises out of her, and the thought is making her throb between her legs. She’d be touching herself right now, but she’s too intent on Maddie, her whole world narrowed to the feeling of skin on soft, wet skin and Maddie’s low whine and the way she smells- like sex and love and benediction.

“More,” Maddie gasps, and Foggy looks up. “More- more fingers. Please.”

“For real?” Foggy asks, but Maddie’s grinding impatiently down against her hand, so she adds a third finger as requested. Maddie humps up against the heel of her palm, and Foggy’s not even really pulling her fingers in and out anymore so much as moving them incremental inches, curled upwards to reach a spot that’s making Maddie’s thighs twitch. Her lower lip is caught between her teeth, hair spread out around her like a dark halo, and when she comes she makes a hoarse noise like a bird’s call, like a greeting and goodbye and warning all in one. Foggy keeps her fingers moving, working Maddie through it until she finally slumps back onto the bed, limp and loose.

Foggy rolls over onto her side, slinging one arm across Maddie’s waist and nuzzling her nose against her neck, breathing her in. The ends of Maddie’s hair tickle her face, and she wants to burrow against her until there’s no air between them at all, until she’s holding Maddie too tightly to ever let her go. Of course, she also feels wet and heavy between her legs, arousal curling across her skin like ink. Maddie rolls over onto her side and starts to kiss Foggy’s neck, light pecks turning to longer, lingering kisses that leave wet marks in their wake. She shimmies down the bed, dragging her hands down Foggy’s body as she goes, until she’s nearly slipping off the edge, Foggy’s legs on either side of her shoulders, sucking bruises into Foggy’s inner thigh. Foggy groans, letting her head flop back and then lifting it again so she doesn’t miss the view: Maddie, hair falling in her eyes, mouth red and wet and open as she makes her way back up, until she closes her lips around Foggy’s clit and sucks. Foggy digs her fingers into the duvet cover, trying not to yell as Maddie grazes her teeth against her, licking broad, deep stripes up her slit. She’s eating Foggy out like she’s starving and Foggy is a banquet in front of her, like this is the only thing between her and the abyss, every part of her intent on the task at hand. It makes Foggy feel- she can’t describe it, even to herself, because Maddie’s attention is entirely on her, tongue dragging roughly against the most sensitive spots on her skin, focused like she’s the only thing in the room. Foggy’s thighs clamp around Maddie’s head, holding her in place, and she feels Maddie chuckle slightly, the vibrations shaking through her like a shock wave. When the tension in her stomach finally uncurls, heat rushing through her limbs, she lets go and shouts, grabbing Maddie’s hair and chanting “Maddie, Maddie, oh god, oh Christ-” and she doesn’t even know who or what she’s praying to.

When the aftershocks are over and she can breathe properly again, she turns her head to the side. Maddie’s crawled back up the bed, and her head is next to Foggy’s on the pillow, a soft smile curling across her mouth. Foggy kisses her, and she tastes like- well, she tastes like Foggy. She hadn’t expected that somehow, that she’d have a lingering effect. Maddie wraps an arm across Foggy, pulling her close, and puts her forehead against Foggy’s collarbone. They lie there, nestled together, as the fog of sex slowly lifts and the soft sounds of traffic and voices outside begin to penetrate.

“When did it start?” Foggy whispers, combing her fingers through Maddie’s sweat-damp hair. “When did you- start to feel like I did? How long?”

“I don’t know,” Maddie says, muffled by Foggy’s neck. “Law school, maybe? It was always just sort of . . . there. Normal. I never thought about feeling any other way.”

Foggy huffs a short laugh. “We wasted ten years.”

“We kind of did,” Maddie agrees, pressing her nose to Foggy’s neck and inhaling. “It’s going to be different, now.”

“Not really.” Foggy shrugs slightly, careful not to dislodge Maddie from her spot. “We were awesome lawyers, and now we’re going to be awesome lawyers who have sex. No big.” She hears Maddie giggle lightly, breath ghosting across her skin. She pauses. “We should tell Karen, though. About us.”

Maddie nods.

“And about the other thing. Your thing.”

Maddie lifts her head. “Foggy-”

“No,” Foggy says. “I’m serious, that’s not fair. You shouldn’t even have lied to me about it- and don’t think I’m not still upset about that, by the way- but now I know, which means she’s the only one in the office who doesn’t. Lying isn’t going to keep her any safer than she would be if she knew the truth, and she deserves to be told. You know she does, Maddie.”

Maddie stays silent.

“So that’s settled,” Foggy says into the empty air. “We’re going to tell her. Tomorrow, or- whenever it is you’re going back to the office.”

“I’ve been back all week,” Maddie says. “Does this mean you’re coming back too?”

Foggy huffs. “I guess I am, since you basically seduced me. I should file a sexual harassment suit.”

“Technically speaking,” Maddie says, “you started it.”

“Yeah,” Foggy says, smiling up at the ceiling. “I guess I kind of did.”

When they arrive together at the office the next day- Foggy still in the clothes she wore to Maddie’s apartment the way before- Karen squeaks, then flies out of her chair to hug her. “You’re back!”

“I’m back,” she agrees, giving Karen a hug in return before breaking away. “And, um. There’s some stuff I- we- should tell you.”

“Uh-huh,” Maddie adds, barely audible. Foggy can tell she’s staring at the floor through her glasses.

Karen looks between them, a curious expression being slowly displaced by a smile. “Did you- I mean- well, what’s up?”

Foggy gives Maddie a hard poke in the ribs.

Maddie takes a deep breath “Well . . .”

She takes it pretty well, all things considered.

(All things considered, everything’s turned out okay.)