Think Fast

#4 - Sutures

Foggy was thankful for the early morning light as he dragged himself to Matt's place. It made him feel a little safer, even though there were very few people around at the time. The upside to that was that while he earned himself multiple worried looks from passerby's, no one stopped to ask him if he was okay. Everyone out on the streets at a time as early as 5am was bound to be in a hurry. It made it a lot easier to get to where he needed to be. His muscles ached from the trashing and the beatings and his nose and forehead were throbbing in a very distracting way, but even through the fuzzy-headedness and pain, Foggy made it to Matt's apartment building without further struggle.

Matt had left the roof access open, so Foggy could get in without kicking down any doors. To be fair, he wasn't sure he was capable of doing that even without being beaten to a pulp. Matt must've been following him closely, because it was only half a minute later that he came in, immediately taking off his helmet and lobbing it from the stairs to the couch a good few feet away. Foggy watched as it bounced on the cushions but didn't fall. Showoff.

"Sit down, Fog," He instructed, motioning at the chairs at his small kitchen table. "I'll patch you up."

Foggy sighed, and dropped himself heavily into one of the chairs, wincing.

"Can't you call Claire? Or I don't know, a hospital?" He asked, hearing his own anger and exhaustion clearly reflected in his voice. Matt shrugged, shook his head.

"She deserves a break. Besides, I can do this myself. I mean- If you really want to, we can go to the hospital, but we'd be done quicker this way, and you'd get no awkward questions." He waited. "It's up to you."

Foggy nodded gravely. "Fine, Let's just get this over with so I can sleep," He said in a long exhale.

Matt nodded and headed over to one of his cabinets, procuring from it the same medical kit Foggy watched Claire use when he first found Matt bleeding half to death. He regarded Matt, still in the suit, setting down the med kit. It was always strange to see Matt in the suit while he did everyday things. Foggy had seen and talked to Matt right when he was about to go out in the mask, and seeing him calmly have a glass of water while fully suited up felt strange, like he was no longer supposed to do regular "human" things while he was Daredevil.

Foggy himself was still dressed in his office clothes, dusty as hell, and his dark grey trousers had gone entirely to shit; the knees were scraped up, and streaks and drops of blood coated the thighs, from where his nose and mouth had bled because of the hits they'd taken and from the number of times he'd impulsively bit his tongue while the shocks rippled through him.

Matt opened up the kit and pulled up a chair to sit across from Foggy. Even though his eyes never quite met the other man's, they conveyed more guilt and worry than Foggy thought possible. Matt blinked, jutted his chin up a little.

"I'm sorry I dragged you into this," he said quietly, taking a piece of gauze and a 100ml bottle of alcoholic disinfectant. "I'm," he tried to think of something more to say; the apology felt blank to both of them. He gave up with a sigh "I'm sorry." Foggy nodded weakly.

"Yeah." He agreed. He wasn't going to say it's okay. It wasn't.

Matt looked like he wanted to say something while he took off his gloves and began carefully cleaning the shallow gash in Foggy's hairline, preceding the action with a warning of how it was going to hurt. Foggy hadn't even realised the gash was there in the midst of everything, but now that the adrenaline had subsided, he could damn well feel it. The exhaustion and the pain got him pretty pissed, and while, objectively, he knew that staying angry at Matt wasn't going to do either of them any good, the emotional part of him always got the better of him when he got as tired as he was.