Hello there! This is my first published fic for Daredevil. If you couldn't tell, this is basically just going to be a series full of hurt/comfort stories. Mostly longer than this first chapter, but it's kinda two parts. Anyway, Imma stop wasting your time here so you can read what you came for. Enjoy! Love to you all!
The first time that Foggy watched Claire stitch Matt up, he was too angry to be horrified. The second time, Matt's cuts weren't very extensive or deep and he was mostly unconscious, so Foggy just watched with a sort of curiosity, wincing and looking away occasionally. But the third time was different. Matt assured both Foggy and Claire that it wasn't really that bad, but Foggy knew him well enough to see the tension in his shoulders and the way his hands curled up into fists to know that he was in pain. Foggy didn't have to listen to his heartbeat to know that he was lying through his teeth when he said he was fine.
"It's fine," Matt said yet again as he strained to keep his entire body from jerking away from Claire's needle. The vigilante's hands, forearms, chest, and knees were covered in small, deep cuts from where he had fallen into a pile of broken glass and had thrown his hands in front of his face to protect it. Normally, this wouldn't have been a problem for him with his nearly impenetrable suit and mask, but the suit in question was currently being repaired where the red material over the thigh had torn, and he had reverted back to his plain black clothes for a few days despite promising Foggy that he wouldn't go back out on the streets until he had his armor back.
"It is not fine!" Foggy protested. "It is not. Look at yourself, Matt!" Matt twitched, irritated. Or maybe that was just in reaction to Claire making another stitch. Either way, Foggy apologized. "Sorry. You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I do. And I'm telling you, I'm fine. I've had worse." Foggy wondered if Matt knew that he could see when Matt opened his mouth to cry out silently after every pause in his speech.
"He has," Claire added conversationally. "Listen, Matt, most of these don't even really need stitches, just time and bandages. You good with that?"
Matt nodded and winced. "Of course," he said.
"Then I'm going home. Let me know if those open back up or start bleeding or get infected...you know the drill." Claire touched his hair affectionately. "I've got an early morning shift at the hospital tomorrow, so I really do need some sleep tonight."
"Of course," Matt repeated. "Goodnight, Claire. And thank you. As always."
"Anytime." Claire pulled herself up using the arm of the couch where Matt was sitting. "Make sure he takes care of himself," she told Foggy.
"I try," sighed the lawyer.
Claire smiled sympathetically. "Good luck." She clapped him on the shoulder as she left, the sound of the door closing reverberating in Matt's bare apartment.
Foggy glared at Matt for a second and was about to say something when Matt interrupted him. "You're angry at me."
"Well, yeah!" Foggy burst out. "I mean, Matt, it's bad enough when you go out there with your Devil clothes and all. At least then I know that no matter what kind of bruises and broken bones you get, you won't get cut open. But now you insist on going out there even without your armor-you're gonna get hurt!"
"I did," Matt pointed out.
"You're not helping your case here." Foggy took a deep breath. "And, I mean, falling on broken glass? That's...that's just unnecessarily awful."
"You're telling me." Matt shifted slightly and gasped with pain.
"And you won't even take any pain meds!" exclaimed Foggy.
"They mess with my senses," complained Matt.
"Well, you wouldn't need your super special senses if you just took a couple days off. I mean, you heard Claire. You need time and bandages-and we're wasting time arguing, you need to put those on," realized Foggy. "Did Claire leave any…?"
"In the cupboard. Left of the microwave, bottom shelf. Could you…" Matt left the request trailing off in the air as he realized that Foggy was already walking over to get them. "Thanks."
"I'm just saying, I wish you'd be more careful." Done with his tirade, Foggy handed the package of butterfly band aids to Matt, who paused awkwardly.
"Foggy...I...uh. I'd kinda appreciate some help with these," he requested hesitantly.
"What? Oh! Oh. Uh…" Foggy took the package back. "Um. How...do I…?"
"There should be a tube of Neosporin cream in that box, you put a tiny bit of that on the part of the band aid that is going to touch the cut," Matt explained.
"Will that sting?" Foggy asked, unsure if he even wanted to know the answer.
Matt laughed softly. "A bit, but only at first. It's supposed to help, actually. Not so much when you can feel every particle against the cut skin, but still, it keeps it clean."
"You can feel that? Sorry, stupid question." Then Foggy paused in the middle of opening one of the band aids as he realized something horrible. "Wait. Does that mean that all of these injuries and stitches and everything...you can feel it way more than the average person does? It hurts that much more?"
"I suppose," Matt said nonchalantly.
Foggy was stricken. "You suppose? Oh, my God, Matt."
"It's okay," Matt tried to reassure him. "Really. I've learned how to not feel it as much."
"Oh, yeah, that makes me feel lots better," muttered Foggy. He couldn't help hesitating as his hand hovered over one of the cuts on Matt's chest, holding the band aid.
"Foggy. Really. It's okay. Stop hesitating, I'm fine." Foggy could have sworn that Matt was almost smiling.
"I wasn't hesitating," he tried to protest, and put the band aid down, pressing the corners of the x-shaped bandage that were designed to pull the sides of a cut together. Foggy couldn't help noticing the slight tensing of Matt's hands, the slight wince. He hurried through the rest of his task anxiously, knowing that he should try to just get it over with.
Matt told him that he shouldn't try to put bandages on his hands, because it was just some scrapes anyway and he didn't want it to be noticeable tomorrow. "Besides, you seem more uncomfortable with this whole me being in pain thing than I am," he joked.
"Well, you're used to it. I'm not."
"And I'm not used to being taken care of," Matt said quietly. "So...thanks."
Taken aback, Foggy nodded. "I just nodded," he said immediately, out of habit. "Wait. No. You probably knew that."
"I could tell, but I wasn't really focusing, so, again, thanks." Matt sighed. "Sorry about making you come all the way out here in the middle of the night."
"Anytime," Foggy said quickly. "And I mean that, Matty."
"I think Claire just wanted someone to come and make sure I didn't go back out tonight," Matt speculated without acknowledging Foggy's statement.
"And she was right to call me. I'm being serious. Any time that you need me to come over here, I don't care if it's because you're bleeding out or you've stubbed your toe or had a nightmare or nothing at all, I will be here. Matt, if you can say that you're not used to being taken care of, that just means I've failed as my role as your best friend. Tell me you understand that."
Matt was quiet for a second. "I understand," he said eventually. "Thanks. Seriously. Now, it's really late. You should go home and get some sleep."
"Are you kidding?" Foggy scoffed. "I'm staying here."
"Foggy…"
"Yep. Come on, Murdock, you get to go to bed, and I will sleep on your couch." Not listening to Matt's protests, Foggy helped him up and led him to his bed. "I'm so tired, I couldn't care less about the stupid billboard. Also, if you don't have any decent breakfast food, which is probably the case, I'm going to get bagels in the morning. Well, it is the morning, it's like two in the morning."
"Foggy, you-"
"I'm staying." Foggy's tone left no room for negotiations. "Now lie down and get some sleep, Matt. I don't care if I have to stay every day for a week, you are not going back out there until you are recovered and well rested and have your armor back. No, don't even try to argue with me. Lie down."
Defeated, Matt sank down onto the bed. He let out a quiet laugh as Foggy pulled the blankets up over him. "Are you seriously tucking me in?" he asked.
"I have failed in my best friend duties!" Foggy reiterated dramatically. "You are never going to be able to say that you're not used to being taken care of again."
"It's no big-"
"Shh. Go to sleep."
"Okay," Matt gave in. "Good night, Foggy."
"Good night, Matt." There was no light for Foggy to turn off, so he just left the room softly and, finding an extra set of sheets in a cupboard, settled down on the couch. He remained comfortably half-awake, half-asleep for a while, his mind wandering in almost-dreams until morning.
Tell me what you thought? Reviews are the best, and I need all the encouragement I can get since I'm actually kinda nervous about posting this. I'm putting both the first and second chapters up tonight because it's kind of a two-parter. Hope you enjoyed! Many thanks and much love! ~Clare