Think Fast

#2 - Bleeding Out

AN: If you were hoping for a happy fic, I'm sorry to say you'll have to live through a few more hurt/comfort-y chapters. Two more after this one. Great, right? I'm sorry, these nerds just lend themselves to angst so well.

Matt listened to Foggy pacing his apartment, heard the heavy, tired beat of his shoes on the wooden floor and the similar beat of his heart. He was pretending to be asleep to avoid the conversation he knew was coming. He had gotten stabbed a number of times trying to take apart a new gang forming in Hell's Kitchen, and it was by pure luck that Foggy had knocked on his apartment door not two minutes after Matt had stumbled in through the roof access, saying something about their latest client's lease records while Matt was bleeding out on the floor, with only just enough strength left to call out to Foggy and tell him to phone Claire.

"Matt?" Foggy asked when he noticed Matt shift slightly to find a less painful position. "Matt. I know you're awake." He murmured. Matt took a moment to focus on Foggy. Everything about him felt tired and heavy, not at all like the last time he found Matt like this. His breathing was more sighs than real breaths, and Matt noted at the sound of Foggy's stomach and the sharp tang of ammonia in the air that he hadn't eaten since he got to Matt's apartment. The last thing he ate had been an orange, about five hours ago. The citrussy smell still clung to his fingers. He made a mental note to get Foggy to eat something soon.

"What is it?" Matt mumbled. Speaking hurt his chest, and he shifted again, ignoring the crackling of his ribs.

"You gotta ease up." Foggy admitted. He suddenly sounded very small, but no less determined. Matt turned his head to the sound of his sofa chair creaking, signaling his friend had sat down. That wasn't a good sign. He braced himself for what was coming.

"Foggy, I know you don't like what I do," Matt began, but Foggy cut him off.

"It's not about that, Matt. I can live with what you do in the mask. I understand that what you do is important, I've come to terms with all that." Foggy went silent for a short second.

"It's you, your safety. It's- Every time I know you're out, it's all I can do not to wait at your apartment until you're back, to make sure you're okay." Foggy paused a moment to compose himself, took a deep breath. "What if next time I'm not here to find you bleeding to death in your apartment?" The crack in Foggy's voice resonated deep within Matt's bones, who flinched at the words.

"This isn't the first time I found you like this, and if you don't ease up, it won't be the last. Matt-- I'm not sure if I can keep doing this. I want you to be safe."

"Foggy, I've already got better armor, I am safe like this." He countered. Foggy laughed humourlessly.

"Matt." Was all he said. There was no need to say more than that; Matt understood even without seeing Foggy's gaze run over the bandages on his abdomen.

After a pained sigh, Matt began to explain. "You heard about that new gang forming in Hell's Kitchen, right?" Foggy nodded. "Just a bunch of kids, trying to get my attention, trying to, to lure me to them, 'cause they were sure they could take me on."

"And they almost could, look how close they got!"

"They were just kids, Foggy. They weren't even close to big shots like Fisk, or, or Nobu. They got lucky, is all. The suit has great protection, it just depends on the angle."

"I trust you, Matt." Foggy sighed. "For some reason, after all this, you've still got my trust, but I'm having a hard time trusting you with your own safety. You have to be more careful. Please." He pleaded, sounding tired. "You can't rely on people to keep finding you when you're half-dead all the time."

"I know, I'll try."

The air in the apartment was chilly on Matt's bare skin, and paired with the blood loss, it made him shiver. Foggy must have noticed, because the next thing he knew, a piece of soft fabric was flying his way. He put his hands in his lap- raising his arms would have tugged his stitches too much- and let the item drop onto them. He ran his fingers over it. A fleece-lined hoodie. With a soft 'Thanks, Foggy' and a small, painful noise, he pulled it on and zipped it up.

"Claire told me to keep you away from fights for a while, until your wounds heal enough. Think you can do that?" Foggy asked with a slightly incredulous tone. Matt just nodded silently.

"You should get back to the office." Matt said with a small hand wave. "See if you can find anything that'll help Miller confirm his story, I'll be back tomorrow, probably."

Foggy shook his head. "No, you need to rest. Two days at least. Claire's orders. I'll-" He hesitated, sighed. "I'll cover for you at the office. And keep your phone on you. If you tear through your stitches, I need you to be able to call Claire right away. No more dying, okay?"

Matt nodded and softly uttered a 'thank you', knowing how much Foggy hates lying. He tilted his head down, trying to locate his phone, but to no avail. "Where is it?"

"Uhh," Foggy's hair whipped around as he scanned the rooms for the phone. The tiny breeze from the movement hit Matt's face moments later. "Ah. It's on your bed. No, I'll get it." He said as soon as he saw Matt begin to get off the couch with a number of quiet, painful sounds.

Matt listened to Foggy's footsteps while he retrieved the small device, focusing on anything other than the stitches he could feel pulling at his skin whenever he shifted. He was never really bothered by the pain, but his heightened senses meant he was always hyper-aware of the sutures holding his skin together. The hoodie scraping along his abdomen didn't help, either.

"Here," Foggy leaned over and tucked the phone into Matt's hoodie pocket, before heading to the kitchen, grabbing Matt a bottle of water and a Vicodin. Matt was thankful for the gesture, even though he wasn't going to take the painkillers. He did take a gulp of the water right away.

"I'll be headed to the office, then." Foggy said after a moment, and went to grab his coat. He seemed to linger at the door a moment too long after saying goodbye, as if wanting to say something else, but in the end, simply thumped his fist softly against the doorframe as a final note, and closed the door behind him with a click.

When Matt finished meditating, he ended up calling Claire. She sounded worried, but he reassured her that he was just calling to inform her he was okay, and wanted to ask if she could come over and keep him company.

He didn't mention the fact he needed someone around, because he didn't entirely trust himself to keep himself safe, either.

Claire couldn't come. She had already used up all her sick days.

Matt understood.