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what we make of the people we love

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“There’s only one bed,” Matt says, frowning. “Why would we want to live somewhere with one bed if we aren’t actually together?” 

There’s a small crowd gathered around him in the middle of this party that he went to without Foggy despite his best instincts. It took people about a beer and a half before they decided to try to get him to admit that he’s part of a wacky sitcom plot to get better housing.

“There’s nothing wrong with two heterosexual men cuddling,” Diane says. “Don’t be homophobic.” 

“I’m not. . .I’m literally married to a man ,” Matt says, laughing. “Who I sleep in the same bed with. Because we’re married.” 

“Nobody’s doubting that you’re married,” Will, a guy who lived on their floor last year and one Matt has spoken to once in his goddamn life, says. “We just don’t think you’re fucking.

“I would invite you to join us to prove it but we’re monogamous,” Matt says, dryly, lifting his head when he hears a familiar laugh. “Marci? You want to give me some help here?”

“Only if you invite me to join,” she says, like she’s enjoying herself too much.

“We had sex all the time in this dorm,” Matt says, accusingly, to the room at large. He has always considered himself to be a very private person but his relationship with Foggy is the best thing that he’s ever had and he doesn’t like that people are running around besmirching it. “There’s no way that none of you didn’t hear something.”

“We assumed you were just laying the groundwork for your scheme,” Diane says. 

“Long con,” Marci agrees, wickedly. 

Matt takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. 

“I’m going to go have loving sex with my husband, who I love,” he says, calmly, and walks away.

“I did hear them,” somebody says, after the door has shut behind him and he’s standing in the hallway. “But there’s no way that Nelson’s that good in bed. Totally fake.” 

Matt’s fists clench and he considers going back in to tell them exactly how good Foggy is in bed before he realizes quickly that it would be a crazy thing to do at about the same time that Marci says, “Excuse me? Did you just say Foggy Nelson isn’t good in bed? As someone who has slept with both of you, Brian , I’d like to have an open discussion about this. Who else in this room has slept with Brian and left disappointed? I want to see hands.” 

Matt smiles at the wall and leaves her to it.

*

“Did you have fun?” Foggy asks, as soon as Matt lets himself into their apartment, with a pencil between his teeth and papers shifting under his fingers. He’s sitting at the desk they share shoved in a corner of the tiny living room, barely turning in his chair.

Matt responds by shucking off his jacket and leaving it on the floor before he climbs into Foggy’s lap, plucking the pencil out of his mouth and tossing it aside to kiss him deeply. Foggy makes a low, happy noise and kisses him back, slides warm hands under Matt’s shirt and up his back. The chair creaks ominously under their weight but it’s worth the risk.

“Wow,” Foggy murmurs, when they pull away eventually, lingering close. “Did you miss me that much, baby?” 

“Yeah,” Matt says, smiling down at him. “Want to take a break?” 

“I shouldn’t. . .” Foggy starts, hesitating for long enough that Matt lets out a shocked laugh when Foggy lifts him enough that he’s sitting on the desk and stands up to tug him into another kiss, pulling Matt closer by his legs when Matt opens them for him to stand between.

“People are still saying that we’re not actually a couple,” he says, moaning and tipping his head back when Foggy presses wet kisses to his neck. “Which is ridiculous because. . . look at us.” 

“We’re not normally being hot and insatiable in the presence of others,” Foggy says, laughing. 

“Maybe we should do more public displays of affection,” Matt says, wrapping his legs around Foggy a little tighter. “I’m tired of hearing it.” 

“Are you really upset about it?” Foggy asks, lifting his head and cupping Matt’s cheek to kiss him once on the mouth and watch his face. 

“I’m. . .really proud that you married me,” Matt says, mouth twisting a little, no idea why he suddenly feels embarrassed to be sappy with someone he’s sappy with a lot . “And I. . .I want people to know you’re mine.” 

“Oh,” Foggy breathes, sounding overwhelmed before he’s kissing Matt again, sweet and close-mouthed a few times. “God, I love you. And I’ll admit, I wouldn’t mind if less people hit on you in front of me because they think you’re too hot to actually be with me.” 

“. . .are people saying that?” Matt asks, going deadly still.

“A few,” Foggy says, warmly. “Who cares?” 

Brian said he didn’t think you were good in bed,” Matt says, letting his legs slide down so they’re hanging on either side of Foggy before he slides both of his hands into Foggy’s hair just because he likes to feel it, “and I wanted to punch him.” 

“No punching,” Foggy says, immediately. “Also, who the fuck is Brian?” 

“I. . .don’t know,” Matt says, choking on a laugh. “It was a weird night. I just wanted to come home and see if you wanted to. . .” 

“Blow your mind?” Foggy suggests, solemnly, when Matt draws off. 

Matt grins and uses his grip in Foggy’s hair to pull him down into another kiss, murmuring, “Yeah, honey.” 

They make out on the desk for a while before Foggy says, panting, “Okay, all of my homework shit is still on the desk. Let’s move this to the bed and. . .how about you tell me exactly what you want me to do to you, Matty?”

“. . .hickies,” Matt says, after a second, letting Foggy pull him to his feet and toward their bedroom.

“Can do,” Foggy says. 

“Any bruises, really,” Matt says, “and I want you to fuck me so hard that I can’t walk straight tomorrow.” 

“Wow, that’s-- wait ,” Foggy says, dropping Matt’s hand to turn and stare at him. “Are you trying to get proof?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Matt says, innocently. 

“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone,” Foggy says, stepping in to kiss him. “I know that you love me. You know that I love you. Nobody else even matters.” 

Matt wraps his arms around him to hold him close, feeling several emotions at once, and Foggy holds on tight. 

“You’re right,” he says, softly, burying his face in Foggy’s neck before he adds, “I still want you to fuck me so hard that I can’t walk straight tomorrow, though.” 

Foggy’s laugh is big and loud and perfect, the way their bodies press together when he holds him even tighter before pressing a kiss to his temple and dragging him toward the bed again, saying, “As long as it’s for the right reasons.”