Chapter Text
No one should be able so pretty with blood in their mouth, but if anyone could pull it off then it’d be the Devil. He made it look effortless, with his legs spread open, warm and inviting as he flashed a cherry red smile in Foggy’s direction.
For weeks, ever since the incident in the alley, The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had been following Foggy around like a lost puppy. At first, it made him feel safer like no one would think about touching him with his guardian angel decked in red up on the rooftops but things slowly started to feel less and less like a gift.
“You took the long way home.” The Devil said with a knowing grin and Foggy stood there unable to drag his eyes away from the blood staining his teeth, he wondered if it all belonged to the Devil.
He also wondered how the living fuck he managed to get into his apartment. It wasn't as though he'd left his windows unlocked as some kind of calling card, the very point of locking them was to keep strangers out (and to keep his apartment warm obviously, the heating was too damn expensive to waste.) Then again, it wasn't like the Devil abided by people's rules, Foggy's stomach dropped as he thought how stupid he'd been to think he'd treat him any different.
"Scenic route," Foggy replied with a touch of hysteria in his voice. Not only was there a stranger currently in his apartment, sprawled out in his armchair like the cat who got the cream but that stranger was a known criminal. That stranger was dressed up in red leather with a stupid mask on with horns and had blood in his mouth and Foggy thought he might faint.
The Devil, who at any point Foggy thought might start purring, tilted his head up ever so slightly. His smile faltered just enough for Foggy to notice it and for a second he thought his stranger was finally going to snap, his neck, probably.
"Come sit with me." He chose to say instead of wringing his hands around Foggy's throat, which he was grateful for thank you very much. However, his feet remained planted exactly where they were and didn't move any closer to the Devil as he let out a bark of laughter.
"This is my apartment! You can't just break in and ask me to sit down like we're going to have a tea party." Foggy realized his voice was getting higher but that was probably at the bottom of his worries, there were more pressing matters like how the Devil had started smiling again.
"Are you offering tea?" He asked with a voice like honeyed milk, a smooth contrast to his rough appearance. Granted, Foggy had never seen his face before but his bloody mouth and bruised knuckles spoke novels. It was almost a pity that he'd chosen to go out and play god, with a voice that nice he easily could have talked anyone into anything— He'd be a good lawyer, Foggy thought to himself before snapping out of it.
After giving him a brief look over, Foggy couldn't spot any weapons on the Devil at that moment. It wasn't like he needed them, but it was good to know. The bottoms of his boots were caked in mud, said mud had also been tracked into Foggy's apartment through the window and it was an effort not to sigh at the thought of having to clean it up. There was no blood apart what was in the Devil's mouth and while Foggy would have appreciated no blood at all, at least he didn't have to clean that up too.
"Do you...want tea?" The Devil didn't look surprised by Foggy's question, he just smiled wider and nodded his head. "Okay." Dropping his bag with little regard on the floor, Foggy made a beeline for the kitchen while keeping an eye on his intruder. He just got more comfortable in his seat, snuggling down and resting his arms down either side of the chair. If he didn't have the stupid mask on, Foggy would be certain he had his eyes closed.
Foggy was all for self-defense if the time called for it but after seeing the Devil in action, he knew it wouldn't be wise to try to attack him. He'd only ever punched one person in his life (Roland Clark, he'd tried to pull down Marci's shirt at a party and Foggy had been told he punched him square in his nose. He had to be told this because he was knocked out not seconds later but his fist hurt for days after so he was pretty sure it wasn't some fever dream.)
"Your apartment's smaller than I expected." The Devil called out over the whine of the kettle playing in the background, he leaned his head over the back of the armchair so that Foggy could see him. "Are they not paying you enough?"
"Are you gonna go rough them up for me?" Foggy chose to ignore how the Devil seemed to know where he worked. It wasn't a secret by any means, he worked closely alongside Jeri Hogarth and her team and while they weren't the most friendly bunch, it gave him enough to live and feel like he was making a difference.
The Devil hummed softly in response and leaned his head forwards again. Foggy had been joking but he didn't know if the Devil knew that— it felt stupid referring him to the Devil but what else could he say? Spandex boy? Wannabe Lucifer? He'd taken the name the city gave him and ran with it, and to be fair to him, in the dead of night his outfit did look pretty menacing.
"That was a joke, please don't do that," Foggy said after the Devil responded with nothing. At that point, he'd shoveled a few teaspoons of sugar into two mugs, added some milk and had poured the water in. Instead of looking over at his uninvited guest, Foggy continued to stare down at the mugs as the water turned a muddy colour, the teabags expanding then sinking down because of their own weight.
"I would if you asked me." The Devil replied as Foggy walked back into the living room, his heart hammering in his chest still but not nearly as much as it had been when he'd first spotted him. He hesitated to put the tea down in front of the Devil, but after a few seconds his bravery came back in a small burst and he hurriedly put in down on the coaster before sitting down on the edge of his couch, as far away from the Devil as he could be.
The sentiment was almost...nice? Take out the context of the fact he was offering to beat up his boss, and it wouldn't have been out of place in a romance novel. Foggy didn't know if he liked that, so he pretended like he hadn't made that connection and instead took a sip of his tea.
They stayed silently drinking their tea for a couple of minutes, every now and then Foggy would look over to the Devil and watch him. It was odd seeing him be so human, maybe not the Devil but rather just a man. The thought was comforting although not helpful. Foggy did not believe in the actual Devil but there was no denying man and how cruel they could be.
The longer the Devil sat there, the more comfortable he seemed to be. He slunk lower in Foggy's chair, his thighs spread wider all while sipping casually at the cup of tea that Foggy had willingly made him.
"What else would you do?" Staring down at the now empty bottom of his mug, Foggy felt the air in the room go thick. It was a ballsy question but so far, The Devil hadn't shown any intent to hurt him. He'd seen him in action, all frenzy fists and a savage smile, if he wanted him dead for whatever reason then he'd already be bleeding out on the nice rug his mom had got him. "Would you tell me who you are?"
The Devil didn't seem surprised by the question, his mask really kept for a lot of his expressions being disguised however so Foggy couldn't really tell. He didn't answer right away, he took his time in finishing his cup of tea then gently placing it back on the coffee table, a little right of the coaster.
"If you want." He replied casually and Foggy realized how different he sounded to when he was out on the streets. His voice then was all rough, like he'd swallowed shards of glass and wanted to cut the throats of anyone who dare mess with his city with them. "Do you?"
"I don't know." Foggy responded before the Devil had even a chance to finish his question because he didn't know. It wasn't even because he was scared of what would happen if he did know, whether that meant he'd have to be killed or something worse. It made it more intimate, he didn't want to keep the Devil's secret— he didn't want to be in his pocket.
His answer seemed to satisfy the Devil enough because after giving a curt nod, he was standing up out of his seat and walking over to Foggy. For whatever reason, Foggy didn't flinch when the Devil extended his gloved hand and rested it on his shoulder, he didn't nuzzle into it either but staying completely still was an okay response.
"I won't hurt you, Foggy." The Devil smiled, teeth bared. "I'll tell you when you're ready."
Foggy only realized after the Devil had left the way he came that all the blood in his mouth was gone, rinsed away by the tea he'd given him. His smile was pretty bloody or not, Foggy wasn't sure however which way he preferred.