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Apartment 6A	By : Prentice Category: Marvel Verse TV > no category yet Views: 1076 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Title: Apartment 6A
Author: Prentice
Fandom: Daredevil
Rating: ADULT+
Warning: None
Pairing: Matt/Foggy (Pre-slash)
Author's Note: I'm slowly updating this so please be patient and enjoy!
Summary: Five times Foggy Nelson met Matt Murdock during completely ordinary but surprisingly awkward circumstances and the one time he met him during a completely extraordinary but no less awkward circumstance.
The first time Foggy met the guy living in the apartment above him, he punched him in the face with a lukewarm cup of coffee. It was totally by accident – of course, it was by accident; he was a lawyer for god’s sake, he didn’t go around throwing punches at potentially litigious persons – but it was still really embarrassing. Especially once he saw how incredibly hot – and blind; god, he’d punched a blind guy, Jesus, way to go Nelson– the guy was, what with his playfully tousled hair, scruffy chin, and now totally skewed glasses.
“Oh, shit! Fuck, I’m sorry! I – god, shit, um – are you okay, man? I so did not mean for that to happen. I was just – I mean, um, here, let me,” with a hasty step, Foggy dropped his now-empty coffee cup onto the ground with a mental note to pick it up later – screw that swill anyway; it was way overpriced and had a shitty to-go cup – and leaned down to pick up the guy’s white cane. It was heavier than he expected, the weight surprisingly balanced despite its tapered end, but really, what did he know about blind people’s canes other than that they used them?
Carefully pressing the end of said cane into one of the guy’s hands, he grimaced, the flush of embarrassment still staining his skin. “I really am sorry. I didn’t – uh, see – you behind me.”
For a moment, an awkward silence descended between them as the other man righted his glasses, smoothed a hand over his reddened and coffee splattered cheek – oh man, that looked bad – and adjusted his loose grip on his cane. The collar of his white button down was soggy, a brownish coffee stain blaringly obvious next to his maroon necktie and light gray suit jacket. That wasn’t even to mention the coffee dribbling down his stubble covered cheek and right ear lobe.
Flushing again, Foggy couldn’t help but hope a hole would open up beneath him – or above him, considering what had happened a few months back – because why did shit like this keep happening to him lately?
Last week it had been Marci and her shitty attitude, the crappy settlement in the Martinez case, and the fiery indigestion from the curry place two blocks over. Then this week the dry cleaners had “misplaced” one of his better suits, he’d lost a client to Hardman & Ross, the new defense attorneys who’d set up shop a few blocks away from where Foggy bought his coffee, and now –
He’d punched a smokin’ hot blind guy. With his coffee. In the face.
He really was living the dream right now...
“It’s okay,” blind guy said, hand once again smoothing over his marked and damp cheek before dropping to his side. He smiled faintly, lips pulling crookedly to one side, as he gazed sightlessly over Foggy’s shoulder. It was – kind of adorable. “No harm done.”
“Uh, yeah,” Foggy said, hand making a vague gesture to the man’s already-starting-to-bruise cheek before mentally scolding himself. Hot blindguy couldn’t exactly see him or his hand gestures. “Harm definitely done, dude. You’re gonna look like a caffeine drenched prize fighter if that thing starts to swell.”
Huffing a laugh, the man shook his head. “It won’t. I’ll put some ice on it when I get to my place.”
“Your place – you live here?” Foggy asked startled, because he might not have lived here long – four months next Thursday, not that he was counting – but he would have noticed someone this hot. Probably wouldn’t have introduced himself but he definitely would have noticed.
“Yeah, I – uh, I actually think I live above you? You’re Nelson, right? Franklin Nelson?”
Blinking, Foggy nodded. Because that was a smart thing to do. Shit. He’d get the hang of this talking to someone who couldn’t see you thing eventually. “Um, yeah, but only my mom and clients call me that. I usually go by Foggy.”
“Foggy,” hot guy repeated, smile deepening and becoming, if possible, even more crooked. It was so freaking adorable. “I’m Matt. Matt Murdock.”
“Nice to meet you, Matt Murdock. I’m – um, did I mention I was sorry for the whole punching you in the face thing?”
Another huff of laughter and the guy – Matt – grinned. “You might have mentioned something about that, yeah, and it’s nice to meet you too Foggy. Even if you did punch me.”
Blushing, Foggy couldn’t help but chuckle. God, this was ridiculous. It almost sounded like a punchline to a joke you told in a bar, him punching some blind dude in the face.
“Look,” Foggy started hesitantly once their laughter petered out and they were once again standing in a somewhat awkward silence. “I’ve got to head back to the office soon – I was just swinging by here to pick up some paperwork I forgot this morning – but if you’re free this evening, I’d really like to take you for a drink.” Blush deepening, Foggy added hastily, “I mean, because I owe you. For the punching and the,” he gestured vaguely, again, shit, “the caffeine shower.”
Crooked smile still in place, Matt shook his head, hand lifting to prod gently at his bruised cheek. It was somewhat dry now, though the coffee on his shirt was still wet and clinging. “It was an accident, Foggy. You don’t owe me anything but,” head tilting slightly, he shifted on his feet, cane tapping softly against the sidewalk. “As long as you promise not to punch me with it, I wouldn’t say no to a drink.”
“Awesome,” Foggy blurted, stomach clenching as he rocked slightly on his heels. “That’s awesome. I’ll pick you up at eight or, well, you live here so I’ll just– “
“Apartment 6A,” Matt cut in smoothly, lips twitching. “I’ll see you at eight, Foggy.”
“Yeah – um, until eight,” Foggy replied, stooping to pick-up his discarded coffee cup. It, much like his companion, was still damp. “I’ll see you then.”
“See you,” Matt agreed.
Swallowing, Foggy nodded and turned, the soft scratch of Matt’s cane dragging against pavement making his stomach clench in giddy anticipation as he hailed a cab. Eight o’clock really couldn’t come soon enough. He just had to get through the rest of the day, somehow. Had to focus on work and –
Foggy cursed.
Goddammit.
He’d completely forgotten his paperwork again!
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Apartment 6A