He knows something's up from the moment Matt walks stiffly into the office that morning, depositing his cane by the door in its customary spot. Karen greets Matt and he says his hellos back politely but doesn't seem to want to converse more than is necessary. Foggy watches Matt cross the room towards his office and yeah, there's definitely something going on in the way he moves that's not right. He probably wouldn't have noticed it had he not been looking. Foggy wonders just how many things have gone unnoticed recently.
But once they hit court in the afternoon Matt easily finds his stride. All confidence and the right words. In the courtroom is where he shines and Foggy is more than willing to let Matt lead for this particular segment because he's plenty aware this is not his forte. He CAN do it … probably … is thankful he doesn't have to, knows his skills are more in prep work and lining up the facts so Matt can knock them down in court.
Their client is, obviously, thrilled they've won, hugs Foggy and then Matt exuberantly before they have a chance to even walk out of the courtroom. Foggy watches as Matt returns the unsolicited hug to be polite but doesn't miss how the stiffness of this morning seems to be creeping back into his friend's frame. He's not sure if the bear hug hurt him or he's just tired now that the case is over and most of the room has quickly cleared. Either way, they exchange a few pleasantries before their excited (and most importantly proven innocent) client takes off.
Matt's leaning on the table in front of him with one hand, gathering up his things with the other. As Foggy gathers up his own paperwork and shoves it back inside his bag he peeks over at Matt and notices the dark shadows under his friends eyes. They're reasonably well hidden behind his dark red glasses but looking from the side its more noticeable.
"Ready to head out?" he asks and Matt nods. He hasn't bothered to unfold his cane and shifts himself next to Foggy in a silent request for sighted guide. That's uncommon for Matt to do this in court but its not totally unheard of either. Foggy offers his elbow and they join the last few stragglers still exiting the courtroom. Matt's silent beside him and Foggy wants to ask if he's okay but isn't sure the question will be well received. Its like his friend has just deflated in the last five minutes. He'd been animated and sharp and clever when he needed to be but the moment court was dismissed Matt's been like a leaky balloon, slowly deflating. As they pass trough the doorway, Matt clips his shoulder slightly. Usually Matt's amazing at maneuvering around in space. And, now that Foggy knows the whole 'World on Fire' thing its only slightly less impressive. But Foggy is starting to realize more and more Matt needs to be concentrating to "see" in his way. Its not the first time he's recognized this either.
"Oops," Foggy says lightly as Matt quickly recovers from bumping the doorway. Its more than wide enough to accommodate them walking side by side. "You okay?" he asks, silently glad for a good excuse to finally ask.
"Tired," is all Matt offers.
"Tell me you're not heroically bleeding out under that jacket," Foggy says. He's 90% joking cause he's pretty sure that's not the case but is super aware its actually possible nowadays.
"No, just tried," Matt says with a sigh. He sounds it too.
They make their way out front and Foggy hails a cab quickly. Matt climbs in after him.
"Since today went well, its Friday AND you've said no all week I know you're going to come for drinks at Josie's, right?" his tone indicating he expects an answer in the affirmative.
"Ah Foggy…" Matt starts.
"No!" Foggy insists, the plan quickly coming together in his mind. "Matt you've been 'working the night gig' too often," he says, selecting his words carefully given there's a random cabbie up front. "Besides," he continues, "Karen's gonna think you don't like her if you keep saying no."
"Foggy, I spent all morning in the office with Karen. She knows I like her fine."
There's something slightly defensive in his tone but Foggy lets it go.
"Then I'm gonna think you don't like me," he says with a sad smile. "Come on man, you need to chill out a bit, take a night off. Blow off some steam. Pretend you remember how to have fun."
"I blow off plenty of steam," Matt says darkly. Foggy doesn't miss the way Matt rubs absently at his slightly bruised knuckles. Foggy's not sure how to address that given that he's very much conflicted about Matt's "night gig".
"Josie asked if you died last night."
"What?" Matt sounds totally confused.
"You haven't been showing up man. She's worried about you." It's a stretch, Josie generally seems like she sooner throw patrons out in the street than inquire about their absence.
"Or maybe she's just worried I'm running out on my tab," Matt says, ghost of a smile on his face.
Foggy knows he's won. Matt hasn't agreed to anything verbally but the shift it tone tells him his friend is at least trying to lighten up. Matt has been slowly unwinding during the ride and their conversation. Those little lines of pain around his eyes that had been noticeable in the courtroom are absent now. He's a sitting back, relaxed comfortably in his seat which is a definite improvement to how stiffly he'd gotten in and settled into the cab initially.
"Probably yeah," Foggy agrees. "I don't even want to know what kind of astronomical amount that's gotten to. But I think there's definitely space for tonight to add to it," he says in the most enticing voice he can manage.
"Alright, alright," Matt concedes, with a chuckle. "But you're responsible for getting us home tonight."
Bingo.
Foggy internally cheers knowing its mission accomplished. Matt is not only going to join him and Karen but he's giving silent permission for Foggy to get him drunk. He'd probably never do it to himself but he'll let Foggy guide him into some level of drunkenness. The "us" in 'get us home' isn't a mistake – Matt's giving Foggy responsibility over himself and that doesn't happen often, especially after college and never since they formed Nelson and Murdock. Foggy's not sure if he won by being persuasive or because Matt's tired and not willing to put up a fight, but he doesn't much care about the 'why' of the situation. He knows his friend and knows that Matt both needs a night off of Daredeviling AND his day job. They've had a successful, if long day and its totally reasonable they celebrate tonight.
"I'm gonna calling Karen to meet us there," Foggy narrates as he pokes at his cell phone, still on silent from court. Matt nods then puts his head back on the headrest, closes his eyes.
…
Josie's is fairly busy when they arrive but there's still some empty tables so they grab one and Karen heads up to the bar for their drinks. Foggy notices Matt plop down with a lot less grace than usual. His expression is neutral and essentially unreadable and Foggy suddenly starts rethinking his plan to help Matt take a night off. It seemed like a good idea – get him drunk, get him to relax and sleep tonight rather than going out doing god knows what to god knows who until almost sunrise. But he thinks Matt wants to be somewhere else right now, notices the slight tilting of his head like he's listening to something Foggy can't hear, and that's probably exactly what's happening. Before he has a chance to ask Karen returns with a borrowed tray covered in shots and well drinks. Its excessive and exactly what Foggy wants. Matt perks up, probably more from Karen's presence than a real interest getting loaded.
"To Nelson and Murdock," Foggy says, holding up a shot. "And a successful case!"
Karen seconds it with her own drink and Matt just smiles somewhat unconvincingly, "To Nelson and Murdock."
…
Though they're pretty well matched for drinks consumed Matt's at a distinct disadvantage. Or advantage depending on how you look at it, Foggy thinks. Foggy slept a full seven hours last night and Karen appears well rested. Foggy and Karen ate lunch while Matt had locked himself in his office dictating, recording and replaying his remarks. So while Foggy and Karen aren't exactly totally sober they're only tipsy at best. Foggy knows Matt's really feeling it when he gets up to hit the washroom and catches his foot on the leg of the chair, stumbling slightly. He recovers quickly, almost gracefully, and turns around, gets two steps and returns for his cane, goes to leave and catches his foot on the same chair leg with exactly the same result. For a moment Foggy is sure Matt will say he's had enough and leave right then. On a normal night, well one of the few when he can still convince Matt to actually come to Josie's that is, Matt would have stopped way before this, would have switched from shots to beer several drinks ago. He hears Matt mutter, "Jesus," before more successfully leaving the table, weaving through the patrons towards the washroom. The religious curse is somewhat unusual for him.
"Oh my god Foggy, is he okay?" Karen asks when Matt is out of earshot. Well, Foggy corrects himself, when she 'thinks' he's out of earshot at any rate. "I thought you said this was a good idea. He doesn't look good," she says watching Matt make his way across the bar.
Foggy reassures Karen that A) Matt is tired and B) Foggy has got this. "Trust me," he finishes. "A few more drinks and he'll be better." Foggy knows Matt's alcohol tolerance. Knows how far to push it, knows the difference between tipsy Matt (who Karen has seen) and drunk Matt (who Karen has most definitely not seen). Matt is neither a violent drunk (and thank god for that cause it would be downright dangerous) nor a maudlin one. They did (more than) enough drinking in school that he knows Matt generally falls into the adorable, bumbling drunk territory when he's sufficiently loaded. Make that happy, adorable and bumbling drunk, he thinks as Matt rejoins them at the table. Rather than plop onto his chair again Matt's just a little bit hesitant when he takes his seat, as if he's not 100% sure the chair will be there. But that's not what has Foggy's attention. It's the little smile on his friend's face that tells him yup, Matt's getting there.
Karen pats Matt's arm as she slips out of her seat to grab more drinks for them. Foggy watches as Matt's head follows her, it's a pretty good approximation of if his gaze was following her. Foggy thinks he missed something, or there's something here he's not catching but its forgotten soon enough.
"How you doing there buddy?" he asks, watching as Matt leans just a little too far to the left in his seat.
"M' good," he says, smiling. "Thanks Foggy." It sounds decidedly sincere and probably refers to more than just Foggy's polite inquiry.
"See I told you you just needed a night off." Foggy is decidedly pleased with himself at this point.
….
They end up staying at their table until last call, shooting the shit and laughing. Matt has gotten more and more involved in the conversation (finally!) and laughs. Foggy gets the distinct impression that Matt is concentrating exclusively on their table. A minor near bar brawl breaks out across the room but Matt is the last to take notice and even then its clearly because of Karen and Foggy's reaction to the ruckus. But its fine because WHEN Matt learns forward and gives you his full attention its all you can do not to tell him everything you know. The reflective glasses draw a person in, whether it's a client or a lady or even Foggy himself. Its like you're just talking to yourself in a mirror, its that easy. Matt can be a very good listener and he's easy to open up to. Foggy knows Matt might be actually focused to ten different things most of the time. Or it could be ten thousand, who knows, Foggy's still not that clear on how Matt really functions with those super senses. But when he turns to you, leans forward and draws out what you need to say its hard to deny. And that superpower is exactly how Matt wins drinking games.
Josie's barking cry of last call startles Matt who covers it with a laugh at nothing or maybe just at himself, its hard to tell. He's hanging onto the side of the table in front of him, fingers gripping it hard.
…..
Foggy steers Matt towards the washroom as the bar begins to empty. At the courthouse earlier Matt had gently taken Foggy's elbow and (mostly) successfully navigated his way around. Foggy was now literally pushing Matt from behind with his hands on his shoulders. Its easier and faster given that Matt is now unsteady as hell. Foggy lines his friend up in front of the urinal and steps away to deal with his own business.
"Its going to take forever to get a cab, we should have taken off a half hour ago instead," Foggy say, already planning their way home. He's sobered up quite a bit over the last hour, switching to beer had been a good choice. Foggy knows he's got his work cut out for him getting Matt home in this state. He watches his friend lose balance, thrusting a hand forward to grip the tile in front of him. Matt laughs softly.
"Hey, do not pee on your shoes, " Foggy says as he passes by on his way to the sink. He claps Matt on the shoulder as he brushes by. Matt starts laughing in earnest. "I'm serious, those are your work shoes buddy."
Matt finishes up, makes his way over to the sink, in what is not exactly a straight line. Foggy is pretty sure Matt wouldn't even consider trailing his fingers along the walls in this dive. He's suddenly thankful Matt can't see what a shithole this bathroom is – cracked and mildew covered ceiling, floor that probably hadn't seen a mop in a decade and single fluorescent light above them, flickering like it's on its last legs. When Matt sidles up to him he's only slightly surprised to feel a bump against his side then see his wobbly friend move back and fumble for the ancient tap. Matt washes his hands but his head is turned Foggy's way giving him a small smile. Its unclear if the bump was some kind of affection nudge or an accident, Foggy isn't too concerned one way or another.
"So, today went well. Tonight was good, right?" he asks, hoping for confirmation that dragging his reluctant partner was the right plan. Matt seemed to enjoy himself once he'd had enough to drink, once he actually became engaged with his friends.
"Yeah," Matt replies with a hesitation just long enough for Foggy to confirm the response was either a lie or a half lie. He may not be able to hear a heartbeat but Foggy can read Matt just fine. He would bet $100 that pause had nothing to do with alcohol. "Yeah, it wasss good." Matt smiles at him again before dangerously listing to the side. Foggy grabs his tippy friend by the lapels and straightens him up. Matt looks quite the mess. For a guy who never has a hair out of place at work (how does he even manage that anyway?) its bordering on bed head by now. Matt's tie is loosened, his top button having been undone many hours ago. Though it wasn't the intension, Foggy has managed to further rumple Matt's shirt and half untuck it in his effort to get his rather wobbly friend properly upright. He looks like someone who's spent all night in Josie's and possibly all day before that as well. Taking in the rumpled and scruffy look of his friend, Foggy wonders if anybody from court today would even recognize Matt right now – the chasm between clean cut, professional, stone sober and dead serious lawyer and the weaving, giggle prone man before him is staggering. Still, Matt seems happy if unfocused, more loose around the edges than Foggy has seen him in a very long time. And he looks impossibly young. Not that Matt usually looks aged, its just the last few months have really been taking it out of him. He's taken on too much, is working all hours at either his legit job or his 'side gig' and its not had the best look on his health. The lines around his sightless eyes have noticeably deepened over the past few months, the tension and exhaustion is usually just below the surface but still there. Matt can put on a good show but Foggy's decided to be a lot more observant these days and he's catching what he'd dismissed before. But right now Matt looks like a rumpled puppy and Foggy thinks he'd better keep a good hold on him when they walk out of the bar lest he get scooped up by some cougar who wants to take him home and take him to bed.
They head outside just in time to wish Karen a good night as she climbs into the last cab.
Foggy tells Matt they're no more cabs and asks whether he'd rather wait and call an Uber or just walk home. Matt seems confused by the question, head cocked to the side.
"You wanna walk home?" he asks, trying to phrase it differently. "CAN you walk home?" he asks noticing Matt's swaying slightly, his head turned as though he's looking at the alley to their left. Finally he faces Foggy and seems understand what he's being asked.
"Yeah, let'sss walk," he slurs out.
Foggy nudge's Matt's arm gently (last thing he needs to do is knock him over). Matt clamps onto Foggy's elbow and they head off towards Matt's apartment.
Within half a block Foggy realizes while he himself may have mostly sobered up, Matt's plastered and getting more drunk by the minute. Probably should have slowed him down on the whiskey at the end cause it seems like he's just absorbing more alcohol into his bloodstream. Maybe he should have made sure Matt ate dinner first.
"Where'sss m' cane?" Matt asks for the third time this block. Foggy's got it folded up, has been hanging onto it for him since they left their table at the bar.
"Still got it. You want to use it?" He's surprised Matt would want to try to maneuver himself around the neighbourhood on his own the way the man is leaning into him. "I thought you didn't even really need it," thinking how someone who can (while sober) flip and climb and run across the god damned roof tops can't really be dependant on such a simple and limiting device.
"Helps," Matt says without further explanation.
Foggy pauses, unfolds Matt's cane and hands it over. When they begin walking again Matt's still glued to Foggy's side but now his cane is pushing in front of him. Not the quiet, precise, rhythmic taps Foggy's use to. Its just scraping along the ground in a weaved line in front of them that doesn't seem even remotely useful.
"How does it help, Matt?"
"Easssier. Don' need to concentrate so mushhh."
Foggy doesn't really understand the answer entirely but he lets it go. "You don't need to concentrate on anything but putting one foot in front of the other, buddy." He hears and feels Matt bark out a loud, disbelieving laugh at that, like it's the most unreasonable thing he's ever said. "I'll concentrate for the both of us."
Apparently that was either the wrong thing to say or the most right cause Matt stops dead in his tracks, drops his cane.
"Matt?" he asks, not sure where this is going and really, really hoping it doesn't end in puke. Matt hasn't seemed like he was going to throw up so far but the more Foggy thinks about it it was really stupid not to grab dinner before drinks. But he'd been afraid if they did Matt would find an excuse to slip away for the night before they even made it to Josie's. However all that alcohol on an empty stomach was just asking for trouble.
But it isn't a sick stomach that made Matt stop so abruptly. Foggy is suddenly enveloped in a crushing hug. And now he's slightly worried cause this isn't typical of either sober Matt or drunk Matt either.
"Please concentrate for me. Its so hard. You have no idea, Foggy. Please .. please…" For a moment Matt doesn't sound drunk at all. He sounds desperate in a way that's Foggy's never heard. And tired. Very, very tired.
Foggy squeezes the hug back, more than a little concerned. None of this is within Matt's usual behaviour. Not what he knows anyway, and its been a lot of years so Foggy likes to think he had a good idea what to expect from his friend. Or he did anyway, before the Daredeviling began. Now he's less and less sure he's ever really known Matt at all.
"Okay Matt, I got his. I'm gonna get us home," pretending Matt's referring to nothing more than their walk. Foggy can feel through the body against him that this goes deeper.
They resume their trek across Hell's Kitchen, Matt leaning ever more against Foggy, cane pushing along the sidewalk guiding their way.
There's a hot dog vendor on the corner ahead and Foggy thinks its late but super convenient as he really needs to get some food into his partner to soak up some of the booze. He's also ravenous himself and knows there's not likely to be much in the way of food at Matt's place.
"You wanna get some street meat, Matt?"
Matt pulls himself a bit away from Foggy, less leaned into him and more upright. He overcorrects and swerves a bit but gets it together okay. He pauses, Foggy stops too. Matt takes a noticeable sniff of the air, all the subtlety of someone who's drunk.
"Noooooo," he says, nose wrinkling up in disgust.
Foggy knows a battle he can't win when he sees one and decides hotdogs are off the menu. Damn.
"Okay," he says as they pass the vendor and his hot dog cart. "Well, we've gotta find food somewhere. I need to eat and you definitely need to eat before bed."
"Finger in the hotdogs," Matt mumbles into Foggy' shoulder. Foggy hopes he's not serious. He really hopes Matt just doesn't want food touched by a greasy guy on the street and there's not actually a human digit floating in the hotdog water.
"You wanna order pizza when we get back to your place?"
He feels Matt nod against him.
"You're not gonna puke are you?" maybe it's the hotdog water thing but Foggy feels vaguely nauseous, wonders if Matt feels the same.
With no warning Matt pulls away from Foggy, turns on his heel and quickly heads down a random alley. Foggy follows, keeping a distance in case there's splash zone for the vomit he's sure is coming. But Matt just stops and stands stock still, not wavering or listing for the moment, clearly focused on … something. Its an empty alley as far a Foggy can tell. If Matt didn't come here to puke Foggy has no idea what's up.
"What're you doing?"
"Lissstening," Matt says.
"What're we listening for?"
A pause. "Nevermind its gone." He sounds terribly disappointed.
"OOOkay," Foggy throws an arm around Matt's shoulder's a steers him back toward the street. "Remember the only thing you need to concentrate on is putting on foot in front of the other, right? Remember: I got this. For both of us."
"Yes," Matt sounds extremely relieved. "Where's my cane?"
Foggy's lost count of how many times Matt's asked this since they left the bar. "Still in your hand where you left it."
Matt starts at this, apparently just now noticing what's in his hand. "Wasn' makin' the right sound."
"Its not very talkative on account of being an inanimate object," Foggy says lightly. But he realizes Matt is more likely referring to the dragging scrape that's been happening tonight rather than the neat and precise taps that usually accompany Matt.
Matt starts laughing, in a hiccoughing, drunken way that's less joyful and more impaired reaction. He's always been a giggly drunk but tonight the playful, relaxed laugh from earlier has started to morph into something unsettling. The sound gives Foggy the creeps. That hollow laugh has an edge to it like Matt's haunted and Foggy doesn't recognize it from any time before.
…..
Stairs seem to present more of an issue than he anticipated. Matt trips up them no less than four times before they get up to his floor. Whatever coordination he possessed on their walk home has devolved rapidly the closer they got to the apartment. It would be almost funny watching Matt trip over his own feet if it wasn't so so far off from his usual grace. Foggy has always been impressed with the way Matt moves smoothly and confidently despite not seeing any number of obstacles he deftly avoids. And those shaky phone vids of Daredevil leaping and fighting have shown Foggy that his friend is not just graceful in his general movements – he's capable of moving like across between a ninja and circe de solei performer under the cover of night. Foggy feels a twinge of regret for getting Matt so drunk that he can barely stumble home. He really thought it would help, knew Matt had been going full tilt lawyering during the day and serious vigilantism during the night. Surely one night off to relax had to be good for him. Right?
Foggy slips his hand into Matt's suit jacket and retrieves his keys and gets the door to the apartment open for them. Matt all but falls inside, stumbling down the hallway to his couch. He half sits, half falls onto it with a small oof. Foggy looks at him for a moment, the slumped posture reminding him sharply of The Day (cause forever its going to be capitalized in his mind) he spent with Matt not that long ago. 'The Worst God Damed Day in Our Friendship,' he thinks. He's not sure anything will top his nightmare fuel more than the memory of Matt half dead on that sofa, trying to weakly defend himself against Foggy's rage of betrayal.
Matt's fumbling with his tie and looks like he's not going anywhere or about to pass out so Foggy ducks into the washroom, memories from The Day top of mind, he needs an escape from his friend for a moment.
By the time he gets out Matt's managed to free himself of his tie and is struggling to get his jacket off unsuccessfully. His glasses are gone and his eyes look extra unfocussed if that's a thing. Like sometimes Matt can aim his gaze right and its really unnerving being on the end of that dead eyed stare. It took Foggy awhile to get use to it in the beginning. He was thankful Matt's eyes where still in his head, of course, but he didn't care much for the rare times Matt's aim was true and they connected with him. It gave him the sensation his friend was peering into his soul, and not in any good kind of way. Right now though they're roving around more than usual. Its mildly unsettling but he's seen it before, usually under these same circumstances where he's been the reason Matt was wasted. He wonders idly if Matt purposely keeps his eyes steady normally for others benefit when there's no lenses to hide behind.
"You want a hand?" he asks seeing as Matt is not having any success with getting his jacket off, possibly because he's seated and leaning against the back of the couch.
Matt sighs but its more relief than irritation. "Yes."
Foggy walks over, brushes Matt's hands aside and relatively easily manhandles him out of his jacket. Its not the first time he's done this but any other time the movements did not come along with memories of helping Claire maneuver a half dead Daredevil out of his clothing. This is easier. And, unfortunately comes with very similar results. Matt has a noticeable amount of blood on his shirt. Nothing like the Nobu night but still.
"Oh shit," Foggy reacts. "Matt what happened? There's blood on you?" Its mostly dried to reddish brown stains on his shirt. But its in three separate places that Foggy can see, and that's just the front of him. "Did you get hurt last night?"
"Huh?" Matt asks, sounding not sure what Foggy's talking about. "Oh yeah, forgot, doesssn't hurt now." He smiles and that's disconcerting to Foggy given the subject matter.
"Jeez Matt. Take your shirt off, I want to see if you're still bleeding."
Matt tries to comply but is fumbling with the buttons, normally deft fingers unable to coordinate enough to deal with the row of tiny fasteners. Foggy nudges his hands away and Matt leans back, lets Foggy deal with it without a fuss.
There's a number of cuts, most held together with strip strips but two are full of neat, small dark stitches. Nothing is actively bleeding thankfully but there's dried blood on his skin around several cuts. Foggy sighs, gets up to get a towel. "Stay there," he says probably unnecessarily given the fact that Matt looks like he's slowly becoming one with his couch, sagging further and further into it. He finds a dark coloured face cloth (though he wonders why he even worries about it since Matt wouldn't see the stains anyway) brings it back dampened so he can help Matt get cleaned up.
"Couldn't take m' jacket off."
"Yeah we got it off," Foggy says dismissively, looking down and planning his attack on the blood crusted chest before him.
"All. Day," Matt says in a way that sounds like it supposed to be meaningful. "Hadda keep it on ALL DAY."
"The bleeding happened this morning?" Foggy asks. He hates the thought of Matt having hidden yet another thing from him despite being in his company pretty much continuously since nine o'clock this morning.
"Yeah," Matt confirms, head bobbing drunkenly.
Foggy's not sure Matt's going to be okay with him cleaning off his chest. It's different than that night when he was bleeding out on the floor six feet away. Matt's awake and more or less aware this time.
Matt must be aware of his internal struggle, or he's just good at predicting how Foggy's going to help him because he reaches his open hand up for Foggy to deposit the dampened cloth in. Foggy hesitantly hands it over not sure if Matt's got this given his total inability to deal with clothing. Unsurprisingly, Matt is less than able to effectively clean up the dried blood and looks like he's actually doing a better job of pulling up the edges of the steri strips. It probably doesn't help that he can't actually see where the old blood is clinging to himself so he's just sort of trying to get everywhere. Before he can disturb one of the stitched cuts Foggy stops his hand and gently pulls the cloth from Matt's numb fingers. "Lean back, I've got this." Matt does, letting his head flop back against the couch.
"Where's my cane?" Matt asks distractedly as Foggy carefully wipes away the old, crusty blood from his friend's chest.
Foggy holds in the sigh of irritation cause he's pretty sure for whatever reason Matt is more concerned with the location of his cane tonight than himself. "It's by the door where it belongs."
"Okay." Matt seems satisfied with the answer.
"Does this hurt?" Foggy asks. He can't tell if he's hurting Matt. The cuts look like they hurt and he tried to get the cloth close to the but not right over them.
"Not now. Claire said to leave them be and to not stretch them for a few days," he says over a yawn. "If I pop them she says I have to re-stitch them myself."
Foggy's not sure if Claire would make good on that promise but he certainly doesn't want to see Matt try his hand at stitching so he is even more careful in his cleaning so as not to disturb the stitched areas. "Okay, well I don't want to see that so let's make sure they don't pop." He pauses and adds, "I've seen your attempts at handwriting, let me tell you there is no way you could manage something this small and exact."
"You'd be surprised," Matt comments, sounding somewhat more sober.
"Lean forward," Foggy instructs and is pleased that when he checks there's no cuts on his back. He gives Matt shoulders a slight push and Matt flops bonelessly back against the couch. Foggy studies the stitched up wounds and wonders if Claire's threat about the stitches is what kept Matt from his regularly scheduled programming tonight more than anything Foggy's done. He decides he doesn't really want the answer.
"You want me to order pizza?"
When Matt starts shaking his head no he adds, "Cause we both know if you don't eat before laying down you're definitely going to puke."
Matt waves in a dismissive way but Foggy can tell he gets the point.
By the time the pizza arrives Matt's a bit less drunk. He's still slumped on the sofa in a way that says he has zero interest in getting up right now. But he's awake, if obviously tired. Foggy forces two glasses of water on him, reminding him he doesn't want a worse hangover tomorrow for getting dehydrated.
Matt warns Foggy when the pizza guy gets up the stairs and onto their floor so Foggy can get the door. They throw the open pizza box onto the coffee table and dive in. For a few minutes there's nothing but munching. Foggy sneaks a glance at Matt to see him somewhat robotically eating, eyes half closed. He gives Matt ten minutes before he's passed out. Which is fine since the dark smudges under his eyes speak to just how badly he needs to get some rest. As he's watching Matt's head nods forward only to jerk back up. He resumes chewing and Foggy is now kinda worried he'll nod off mid chew and choke.
"You done?"
He wordlessly nods and Foggy grabs the mostly eaten slice from him just in time for Matt to keel over from sitting to half laying on his couch, feet still on the floor.
"Bedtime," Foggy announces in a sign song voice. "You wanna sleep here or actually go to bed?" He hopes Matt chooses the couch because he doesn't really want to help his drowsy friend all the way to the bedroom and doubts Matt can get there under his own power right now. Plus, its easier to wedge Matt into a safe recovery position on the less squishy couch.
Matt answers by rolling himself over and more effectively laying on the couch. His eyes are closed and Foggy can tell he's barely aware of what's going on anymore. He retrieves a blanket and pillow and gets Matt arranged properly on the couch, take off his shoes and pushes them under the furniture so he doesn't trip over them later.
He gives Matt's shoulder a gentle shake and Matt's eyes flutter open, narrowed and unseeingly aimed at his shoulder. "If you wake up in the night and want to go out Daredeviling just don't. Not tonight. Please?" He's pretty sure Matt's just going to pass out for the night but he's not taking any chances. "I really don't want you stumbling off a rooftop tonight." 'Tonight or any other,' he adds in his head.
"Okay Foggy," Matt answers thickly. "You going home?"
"Hell no, I'm crashing in your comfy bed." Foggy has no interest in hauling his ass across Hell's Kitchen at stupid o'clock in the morning. Plus, he's definitely sure he should keep an eye on Matt just in case his still half drunk ass decides to get up before he's balanced and sure footed again.
Matt huffs a laugh, snuggles deeper into the cushions and says, "If you're gonna stay could you keep concentrating for the both of us?"
"Sure buddy," Foggy says reassuringly, not to sure what Matt's getting at given that they're not trying to navigate their way home now and Matt's cuddled up safe and secure on his sofa. "I got this."
Matt smiles sleepily and thanks him before nodding off almost immediately. Foggy goes to the kitchen and grabs another glass of water to leave on the coffee table in case Matt wakes up thirsty. Then he goes back and grabs six more glasses. He places them in a pyramid along the edge to the living room closet doors so it can't be opened without disturbing them. Its not the first time he's set a trap in case he needs to catch a wayward Matt, just hasn't needed to do so since college.
Fairly pleased with his makeshift alarm Foggy heads for Matt's bedroom. Sober Matt might detect those glasses in his way, between him and The Suit, but Foggy is willing to bet half drunk Matt will knock them over and break them should he get the idea to get up to his regular nighttime shenanigans. Foggy leaves the bedroom door open so he can hear if Matt needs help and flops into the bed without even bothering to take off his clothes.