oh, we're just bugs here.

     John snorted softly, somehow managing not to respond with the clear and obvious answer. Ollie was a brilliant shag. Dirty and mean but still bothered with aftercare. You just didn’t take a bloke like that for granted. Of course it was more than that but it wasn’t something they so much as articulated, so John tried not to think about it. Much.

     “Sweet’eart, I ain’t held down a job in me life. I wouldn’t call business and pleasure intricately tied,” John drawled, entirely too addicted by the way Ollie looked at him, as though he were like nothing he’d ever seen in his life. It seemed patently absurd to him, yet Ollie made it seem absolutely believable, if only in the moment. “Don’t let me choose,” John laughed quietly as he put down the wine glass, half drained and stepped into Ollie’s space, gripping the collar of the man’s suit jacket as he pulled his closer. “You know where that ends ups.”

Oliver’s brow quirked as his lips thinned in subtle warning. God forbid a single thread of his suit was out of place. John’s hands made fists on his collars and he was dragged closer to his limit. Oh, he was already thinking about the punishment and pleasure he could bring down upon him.

     He must look like absolute shit if Foggy was being so nice to him. Matt leaned forward and rubbed his eyes, wincing at the sensation of bruised skin behind his glasses.

     The thing about crime was that it wasn’t something that could be eradicated with enough work, whether it be by the police, an army of well-meaning lawyers, or the diligence of the many, many vigilantes  They were all working with every resource they had. What made it difficult were the systems of control that perpetuated criminality. He wasn’t naive as to think that a safe and sanitized world was possible, but he did think that one was possible where he wasn’t lying awake at night, conflicted over nabbing some kid over a purse snatching.

     Since Fisk had been successfully put behind bars, his night shift had become an absolute nightmare. It was an all-out war, with no end in sight. He feared the only way it was going to end was when Fisk re-established control from the inside. It was only a matter of time, and Matt worried that whatever reputation his alter ego had garnered was fairly moot at this point.

     “I plead the fifth, counselor,” Matt replied, and it might have been a joke to lighten to the mood if he’d managed to express mirth. Even smiling made his face ache. “Seriously, though, I haven’t decided yet.”

     “I am rolling my eyes,” Foggy narrated dryly as he piled the papers scattered across their desk in an attempt of productivity. Matt’s lack of his usual easy grin didn’t escape his notice. It wouldn’t be the first time he felt like he could have done more for his friend, but if he wasn’t going to learn martial arts and put on some skimpy spandex Foggy thought keeping him around was the next best thing. “I changed my mind. I think you should stay. Be miserable with us. There is no space left on your face for another bruise but you probably already know that.”

     “Here, drink something.” He tossed Matt a bottled water from their old office fridge—an opportunity he never missed ever since he found out about his friend’s abilities. It’s kind of awesome and he thought they could use a change of mood. Foggy settled back down and began to pore over the document they would need for their next hearing, occasionally reading it out loud for Matt’s convenience since they haven’t managed to make a braille copy.