Chapter Text
It started on a Tuesday night. Matt was in the middle of taking out a seven or eight Russian thugs, and somebody managed to throw out the useless question "how is he still standing up, stop fucking around and hit him this time!"
Normally Matt smiles with too many teeth and administers another couple corrective concussions, but this time his mouth opens and "they did hit me, I think that was rib, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter if you shoot me, I'm putting you all down and I'll keep hitting until you stay down."
There's dead silence in the alley, and then the five who are still standing book it at top speed. Matt is irritated. Three of them manage to get away.
**
"Foggy," he said, "something is wrong."
"Good morning to you too, sunshine," Foggy said. "What is - why - is it three-forty-seven am, this had better be good -" and Matt heard his heartbeat kick over the phone. "Oh my god, are you dead? Are you dying? Where are you?"
"I'm -" and he meant to say fine, or yeah, I'm dead, Foggy, you caught me, but what came out was "pretty bruised up and I have either a bruised rib or a broken one, not sure, also my knee has been making a weird click for a week -" and jams his own hand into his mouth, because there it went again.
"Great," Foggy said, "greatness, fantastic, this running around at night thing you do, it's a great idea, I'm glad it's going so well -"
"-but that's not why I called," Matt interrupted, desperately. "Foggy, I keep saying things."
"Huh?"
"Out loud," Matt said. "Help."
**
Foggy thought it was hysterical, at first.
"Wait, wait, why couldn't we take the last client? What kind of deep dark crime was he involved with, because I really could've used the money?"
"He was wearing cologne and I had to go to the bathroom and sneeze for three minutes after he left."
"When's the last time you ate?"
"Technically dinner, but that was eight hours ago and I broke a rib, I'm hungry, shit, I didn't want to say that."
"Right," Foggy said, sounding a little more worried, "I have leftovers - from that Thai place you eat from, don't worry -"
"I don't want to take your food because you do too much for me as is," Matt said. "Also leftovers are disgusting."
"I think I should get Claire," Foggy said. "Or. I know you and hospitals, man, but "sudden involuntary diarrhea of the mouth" seems kinda. What if it's a brain tumor?"
"Food is mostly disgusting," Matt said, mournfully. "People never wash their hands."
"...should...I...wash my hands?"
"Money smells like poop," Matt said. "Please knock me unconscious now."
**
"I don't want you to sleep on the couch," Matt said.
"Yeah, I get it," Foggy said, cheerfully, "but broken ribs beats everything else, take the bed, it'll be fine, I've had worse nights."
And wouldn't it be nice, but Matt literally couldn't stop his mouth, the words were already there waiting to be spit out: "No, I don't want you to sleep on the couch." A dead, humiliating silence. "I want you to sleep in the bed with me."
Foggy paused for way too long. It was a pregnant pause. Matt wanted to abort it. "O - kay, buddy," he said, like Matt was an insane person who needed to be gently guided off a ledge. "Matt, do you - I'm trying not to ask questions, do you want me to stop talking?"
"No," Matt said, immediately, and thought about what he was going to do to wizards. "I'm gonna break the wizard's nose when I find him. I don't want to talk, you didn't like me saying that, but I like you talking."
"I can keep talking," Foggy offered. He'd gotten very careful, suddenly, and Matt hated it.
"I hate it when you think about what you say before you say it," he said. "It feels like you're keeping secrets."
Foggy nodded; Matt heard his hair moving. "I get that, buddy," he said, "I'm worried about you. You - okay, no secrets, here it is, sorry: are you hitting on me right now?"
"No," Matt said, immediately. "No, god no, yes, I don't know, I want - you don't touch me, since you found out." He thought he was done, but apparently not, no: "I am very embarrassed right now."
"Okay," Foggy said. "Not a - not a big deal, we can - we can nap, that's fine, Matty."
"Oh thank god," Matt said, and hated wizards a little bit more.
**
"Oh my god, why are you so late," Karen hissed.
"Don't answer that," Foggy said, immediately.
It was good to know that direct questions superseded orders, Matt guessed, helplessly, even as his mouth opened and he said "criminal activity. probably wizards. Karen, what shampoo do you use, it smells the best in the whole city? Can Foggy borrow it?"
"No," Foggy said, "nope, nope, okay, you're sick, you can't go to court."
**
"I WILL FIGHT EVERYONE," Matt said, because the helpless feeling of being trapped in their office, unable to go to court or go out as Daredevil or - or anything, that was enough to make him feel angry, apparently.
"Um." Karen smelled a little nervous, at this point; oh! Foggy probably hadn't had the chance to explain things to her.
"EXCEPT FOR FOGGY," Matt added.
"Thank you, buddy," Foggy said. "Karen, I need that muffin. Yes. That one. You're a genius."
"AND KAREN."
"Don't forget Claire," Foggy said, absently. He was engrossed in muffin.
"I WILL FIGHT CLAIRE, SHE KEEPS TELLING ME TO STAY IN BED AND REST."
"Clearly a witch," Foggy said. He had no business being so amused by Matt's pain.
"NOT BRETT, THOUGH. Hi, Brett. You smell concerned."
"Oh my god, shut up," Foggy said, and attempted to shove Matt under the table. "Hi, Brett."
"I don't need to tell you how suspicious this is," Brett said, dubiously.
"Very suspicious," Matt agreed.
**
"Nelson," Brett said, because he understood who was actually in charge of the shitshow.
"Yeah," Foggy said. "It's. Um."
"I don't care what's happening," Brett said. "I want it under control in - by tomorrow."
"YOU SMELL GOOD TOO," Matt said, from under the table.
"Tomorrow might be...optimistic," Foggy said. "Quit biting, Matt."
Brett sighed.
"You're both sick today," he said, firmly.
"I'm not sick," Matt declared. "Your sergeant has the flu, though. Stop shaking hands with people at your precinct."
"NELSON. I DEMAND PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY."
**
"BRETT," Matt said.
"Ignore everything he says," Foggy said, desperately. "He's - um. Like you said. Sick."
"I am a goddamn officer of the law, Nelson, I know what marijuana is," Brett said, because you couldn't let Nelson get too comfortable.
"Bzzt," Matt said. He slid out the other side of the table, looking absurdly pleased with himself. "No. Witches. Brett, do you want to go on an adventure? I hate witches."
"NO," Nelson said. "Time to go, Matt."
"White boy like you wouldn't even spend a day in jail, don't know why you're lying," Brett said, but he caught Murdock because honestly the guy looked like he was about to tip over.