There's a second set of foreboding raps on the door before Claire finally answers, swinging the entryway open to reveal a rather frazzled looking Foggy.
The man barely gave her a cursory glance and thankful nod before he whipped his gaze to over her shoulder, eyes immediately zeroing in on Matt.
"Matt," he breathed, thumping a hand against his chest and letting out an audible sigh of relief. "Give me a heart attack, will you?" he rebuked, rolling his eyes heavenwards as he stepped in through the entrance, Claire closing the door behind him.
"Sorry," Matt immediately apologized, and Foggy froze, eyebrows shooting to his hairline at the completely out of character response. His gaze darted to the side, and he did a subtle double-take at seeing Frank that quickly turned into something resembling resignation, and then his gaze landed on Peter.
"Peter?!" he blurted, taking a hasty series of steps forward and rushing to crouch down at the teen's side, eyes wide and stuck on the large bandage covering the teen's abdomen and the dried streaks of blood still around it and coating his hoodie.
"Heyyyyy Mr. Nnn - Foggyyyy," Peter greeted, managing to shift to what he referred to the man by at the last second, snapping his fingers at him.
"Hey?" Foggy repeated incredulously, snapping his head up to gaze at Peter's somewhat sheepish expression and coming back to himself. "Hey?" he said again, standing up and turning to look at the adults of the room, Claire and Frank standing by each other at the foot of the couch and Matt having distanced himself so he was halfway to the door. The former two, rather incongruently to their usual selves, looked like reprimanding parents, with their arms crossed and their faces set with an expression that was intensely reminiscent to the looks of caretakers who knew their younglings had committed a rather scold-worthy wrongdoing.
Meanwhile, Matt was practically radiating guilt with how hard he seemed to be trying to keep a straightlaced appearance, arms casually at his sides despite how his fingers twitched and lips pursed slightly from the level expression he held.
Foggy clearly decided to confront the first and most apparent issue, however: "Why isn't he at a hospital?!" he accused in a somewhat hysterical pitch towards the room at large, gesturing sharply at Peter, who opened his mouth as if to respond but snapped it shut almost immediately, eyes alighting and a smirk twitching at his lips as he stared towards Matt with wide, deceptively innocent eyes. He had no doubt the man felt his gaze.
"It's… complicated," Matt grit out, finally seeming to give into the urge and crossing his arms defensively. Peter snorted.
"Complicated my ass," Frank barked out with a scoff, raising an eyebrow towards Peter, and, upon seeing no refusal, the man gave a blasé, one shouldered shrug and bit out, "he's the Spider-Kid."
"Hey!" Peter cried out, attempting to sit up only to reluctantly lay back down at the look Frank shot him. "It's Spider -Man," he grumbled mulishly.
Foggy blinked. Then blinked again. He turned to Peter, very clearly decided against acknowledging him directly, and decided to confront Matt instead. "And you knew this?" he accused, jabbing a finger at his partner.
"I didn't get him into this stuff!" Matt retorted, side-stepping the accusation as he raised his hands defensively.
"Matthew Murdock," Foggy seethed, taking a few rather threatening steps forward for being the least threatening person in the room. "You better tell me you didn't bring a literal child into this," he menaced.
"Not a child!" Peter cut in, "and I mean…"
"Seriously!" Matt yelped, cutting Peter off and backpedaling further towards the door. "I didn't bring him into the whole… thing," Matt ended up getting out, gesturing towards himself and then towards the room at large.
Foggy narrowed his eyes. "But you got him into it this time," he deduced.
Matt winced, but Peter joined into the conversation again, Claire and Frank clearly finding themselves well enough as bystanders for the moment. "I mean, that part was kinda my fault," he admitted, shrugging a bit when Foggy turned so he could see both Matt and the teen at the same time.
The man didn't look particularly impressed. "Matt is a grown adult-"
Frank snorted.
"-no matter how much he doesn't act like one," Foggy continued on as if there hadn't been an interruption, inadvertently agreeing with Frank in doing so. "He is more than capable of making his own decisions. Including who he gets into… problems with him," he settled on rather diplomatically.
"Have you met me?" Peter questioned dryly, giving a second's pause in which Foggy's eyebrows raised slightly before he continued forwards. "You know what, let's talk about that, then. When you met me, I mean," Peter clarified. "That was, like, seven-ish months ago, right?" he checked, progressing after receiving a somewhat bemused nod from Foggy. "Right. So. How'd we meet?" he asked.
Foggy gave him a bit of a look but relented. "You came over to the office to give Matt some coffee," he responded easily enough, tilting his head slightly.
Peter nodded along. "That I did. Except you didn't want me to," he pointed out.
A bit of heat actually crept up Foggy's neck at the memory. "I didn't know who you were!" he defended.
"Tis true," Peter agreed. "Why you thought a random teenager was more likely to be trying to poison your co-partner than actually knowing him is beyond me -" he paused, tilting his head. "Was beyond me," he corrected, ignoring Foggy's minorly alarmed look as he pressed forward, "But! Anyways, what next?" he prompted.
"You knocked on the door for what was probably at least another good ten minutes until you finally left," Foggy admitted, clearly still not seeing where this was going though obviously feeling a tad guilty at his more-than-a-little paranoid response to the young stranger. In his defense, Matt had gotten shot - thrice - the night before, so Foggy wasn't in a very welcoming mood.
"Nope!" Peter said brightly, exaggeratedly wagging his finger from side to side. "I pulled up my hoodie and climbed up the side of the building and found Matt's window, pulled it open, and left the coffee there for him on his desk to drink when he woke up!" he announced.
"You what?" Foggy and Matt wheezed simultaneously.
Peter frowned at them. "What?"
"You just - broke and entered our office in front of Matt and he didn't - notice?" Foggy emphasized.
"No?" Peter responded, still sounding somewhat confused. "And I didn't break anything, so it was just entering," he refuted.
"Peter," Matt said, sounding a bit pained. "You - I - how?"
"How what, Matt?" Peter questioned, sounding somewhat exasperated.
"Matt has super senses," Foggy said instead.
Peter nodded slowly, looking between Matt and Foggy with an expression that practically oozed worry over the state of their mental well beings.
"And you broke - came in, without him waking," Foggy surmised again, correcting his wording for the sake of not bringing them over to another further tangent.
"Yes?" Peter dragged out, head tilting slightly. "Matt's basically always asleep in the office in the morning, and I figured he could use a pick-me-up. I do it all the time," he pointed out.
"You what." Matt said.
Peter shrugged. "I know sometimes you don't have time to meet up in the mornings for coffee, so I bring you a cup when I'm free," he explained.
"And we've just - never seen you?" Foggy asked, sounding like he was trying to be pointed but instead coming off as just a bit strained.
Peter's slight smile turned sheepish. "I mean, I figured if I just kept bringing it through the window, it'd be easier," he admitted, somewhat abashed.
"You just-" Foggy cut himself off.
"And I just never noticed?" Matt said instead, voice sounding like it was coming through a squeaky tube.
"How'd you think the coffee got there?" Peter questioned exasperatedly, throwing his hands up a bit. He felt sort of like he was doing a stereotypical therapist conversation, splayed out on the couch as he was.
Matt, looking lost, opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before shrugging helplessly.
"How are you not dead yet," Frank deadpanned from where he'd been watching avidly from the sidelines, Claire nodding along.
This seemed to snap Foggy at least somewhat out of it, the man giving a quick shake of his head and confronting Peter. "What was the point of this, though? That Matt's self preservation skills were even lower than any of us realized?" he questioned with an air of impatience as if the realization didn't matter - likely because he'd expected to find out as much anyways.
"Hear hear," Claire muttered, then more lowly, "and you don't even know the half of it," she added with a dark tinge of amusement. Foggy side eyed her warily.
Peter gestured at him placatingly, then frowned. "I had a point," he iterated, head tilting slightly before his expression brightened and he smacked his fist into his palm. "Ah! Yes! So the point was that I'm stubborn."
Foggy stared at him.
Peter rolled his eyes. "You were all like, 'Matt how could you get this child shot!'" he echoed, pitching his voice up as if he was mimicking Foggy - to the obvious offense of the man - who crossed his arms in a way that was likely an attempt to come off as intimidating but seemed more defensive in reality. Peter kept on obliviously, dropping back into his own crackly, teenage voice. "Except it wasn't his fault because I basically said 'I'm joining you and you can't do anything about it' because I was the one who heard about the assassination attempt" - Foggy made a strangled noise, the sound mixing oddly with a snort from Frank - "and it wasn't like I'd just leave Matt to deal with that on his own! And it's totally fine anyways! It wasn't Matt's fault I got shot! And I've been shot multiple times on my own anyways, thank you very much!" Peter exclaimed.
Matt made a wounded noise in the back of his throat, Claire sighed a sound that was an interesting mixture of horror and resignation, and Frank muttered something indiscernible under his breath.
Foggy's mouth gaped open as he stared at the child in front of him that apparently had even less preservation instincts than Matt, who had practically zilch. He brought a hand up to rub at his forehead harshly, letting out a terse breath. "We are… coming back to… most of that, but, for now, clarify one thing for me."
Peter nodded eagerly.
"'Assassination attempt?'" Foggy repeated, a bit strained.
"Oh, yeah!" Peter affirmed instantly, nodding his head. "I overheard this gang talking about it yesterday - they're after Matt because of the trial today - oh!" Peter sat up abruptly, then winced audibly and lowered himself back down with the added pressure of Claire and Frank's combined glares upon him. "Matt! You gotta get ready for the trial soon, don't you? What time is it?" Peter questioned rapidly.
Claire checked her phone. "12:00PM," she announced.
Peter gaped at her. "That early?"
"Peter," Foggy cut in, clearly struggling to keep his voice even. "Can we get back to the…" he trailed off.
Peter made a noise of recognition. "Yeah - my bad. I was just worried because we made this whole big deal about, like, making sure Matt didn't die cause of the trial, so it'd be pretty sucky if he missed it anyways - but, yeah alright yep. So. Ummm… the goonies said they'd be on Matt at noon, which, obviously that didn't happen, cause they got there right after me and Matt left the coffee place so we had to run and then I'm pretty sure there was more than one sniper but I know there was at least one because they shot at us after we got in the car-"
"The car?" Foggy interrupted incredulously, Frank and Claire forming wicked smirks as Matt grimaced and gave a final, pleading look towards Peter.
He found no mercy.
"Yup!" Peter exclaimed, smile widening so far out that nearly all his teeth were visible. It looked strangely predatory, and Foggy felt a shiver of unease creep up his spine. He wasn't let down. "Danny Rand's!" Peter announced exuberantly.
Foggy raised an eyebrow. "Danny Rand just happened to be nearby enough to give you two a lift?" he questioned somewhat dubiously.
Peter let out a bright bark of laughter, shaking his head as if Foggy was a particularly thick but endearing child. "No, no. He and Matt and some other people - I think - hung out last night and Matt was entrusted with the keys because - completely unbelievable as it is - he apparently is against unsafe driving."
Foggy gave him an odd look, feeling more than a little as if he was out of some loop that the rest of those present were in on. "So he… let you drive?" he questioned, somehow feeling as if it wasn't true even before he said it.
Sure enough, Peter shook his head glibly. "Nope!" he said, popping the 'p.'
Foggy felt a mild headache coming on, and he resisted the growing urge to rub his temples. He was absolutely sure that he was missing something that just had to be glaringly obvious and he just couldn't fit into place for whatever frustratingly inane reason, and he very much did not like the matching, almost-smug-but-not-quite sharp grins that Claire and Frank were sporting at him.
It didn't help that Matt was subtly edging closer to the door, so Foggy shot him a look, gesturing strongly towards the armchair opposite to Peter. "Sit." he commanded, and Matt moved to do so, ducking his head like a scolded puppy. Foggy's unease grew.
"You gonna tell him, or should I?" Frank drawled towards Peter, one corner of his lip twitching further up into something along the lines of vindictive.
"Well, I thought it'd be obvious by now," Peter admitted, tilting his head as his eyebrows furrowed in completely unbelievable guileless consideration. "Foggy, you get how we couldn't stay in a parked car with people shooting at us, right?" Peter questioned suddenly.
Foggy gave him a look to which Peter responded with an unrepentant grin.
"And you get that it was just me and Matt, right?"
Foggy nodded slowly, the creeping dread seeping further into his limbs.
"And that I didn't drive?" Peter checked, smile turning shark-like, and Matt rocketed upwards from his seat, apparently unable to stand the pressure of waiting for the inevitable anymore.
"It was me!" Matt burst out, smacking himself in the chest for effect. "Alright? It was me - I drove," he clarified, tone practically daring anyone to argue against him.
Foggy readily did so, mouth snapping shut from where it'd dropped open for only a moment before his face began to visibly turn a deep red - burgundy, if you will. "You drove?" Foggy bit out as incredulous, unholy rage seemed to steep further into his features with every half second that passed.
"He really, really didn't~" Pete singsonged in the background, but all of Foggy's attention was tunneled in on Matt, who was beginning to look minorly panicked.
"You manned a car when you can't even see?!" Foggy choked out through his near incandescent rage, smoke practically leaking from out his ears and from between his clenched teeth like he was a particularly enraged dragon. He was definitely colored bright enough to fit the description.
"I-" Matt started, but Foggy cut him right back off, jabbing a single, pointed finger at the man with enough cuttedness that it made Matt take a half-step back, bumping into the armchair.
"Matthew. Michael. Murdock."Foggy gritted out, stalking forward and poking Matt sharply in the chest with each name, said man leaning as far back as he could but unable to creep further away with the seat behind him and any other movement meaning he'd be showing his back to Foggy. Which, at the moment, definitely didn't seem like a bright idea in any means of the word.
"Yes?" Matt said weakly, glaring somewhere over Foggy's shoulder when Frank and Peter burst into muffled snickers, Frank's less toned down than Peter's.
"How dare you," Foggy hissed, looking seconds away from throttling the other man, who was more than able to feel the sentiment if one went by the way he leaned further away so that his back was now bent at a near 45 degree angle.
"I couldn't think of anything else!" Matt protested, bringing his hands up defensively once more.
"You apparently can't think at all!" Frank scoffed almost derisively. "Seriously, Matt - what were you thinking?" Foggy questioned in disbelieving incredulity, apparently completely overriding his own previous statement and still looking like he was halfway contemplating biting Matt's nose off his face.
Matt's shoulders slumped and he let out a long, deep sigh, apparently giving up on his increasingly strained attempt at remaining standing and instead falling back into the armchair, head tilted back so he was still somewhat facing Foggy. "I was trying to protect him," he said quietly, and Foggy's lips pursed.
"You could've killed him instead," he said harshly, refusing to back down even as Matt flinched and seemed to shrivel inwards slightly. "Seriously, Matt. I know how good your senses are - really, I do. But you've told me yourself: they don't make up for your lack of sight, and, like it or not, that's something of an integral need for driving."
Matt's chin dipped lower, lips twisting in an odd mixture of mulishness and sullen, repentant understanding. "I… get it. I do - I swear," he added on with a glance towards Peter's direction at the incredulous noise from the teen. "It's only that that was the best way I could think of, at the time - and even now, honestly. It wasn't like there were just a few men after me - and Peter, consequently. There weren't even just the, what was it? Forty guys Peter mentioned discussing the attempt last night. I heard well over a hundred separate men and women coming after us since the moment we first ran into them, and I don't doubt that the actual number is higher. They had us surrounded for nearly the entire time - even after we left the car, though there were at least less of them at that point. I knew Rand's car was bullet resistant, and we couldn't get to anywhere safer than there first. The original plan was to get to one of Rand's safe houses, but we had to throw it out - not like I knew the way by car," he shrugged somewhat helplessly.
Nobody else said a word, the silence somewhat tense but contemplating, and Foggy pursed his lips before taking a step back, seating himself on the coffee table in front of Matt. "Damn," he cursed quietly, slowly running a hand through his hair.
Matt quirked his lips in sardonic agreement.
Frank made a dissatisfied noise. "What? That's it?" he griped, throwing a hand out to gesture between Foggy and Matt. "Not even a single punch for that shit? Seriously?" he denounced critically as he let out a scoff.
"I'm a man of words," Foggy said dryly, gesturing at his somewhat rumpled suit that didn't exactly scream 'lawyer' but got his meaning through well enough.
Claire hummed. "I mean, it's my job to help people heal, but I still almost popped him one," she admitted easily, raising an eyebrow at Matt's fraction-of-a-second affronted expression before it promptly resided.
"I wouldn't punch Matt," Peter suddenly announced, hand raised in the air as if he'd been asking permission to speak despite having spoken without receiving it.
"Thanks Peter," Matt said wryly.
"I'd deck him," Peter clarified immediately thereafter, and Foggy wheezed as Frank let out a loud guffaw, Claire giving Peter a look that was strangely proud.
"You'd what?" Matt questioned disbelievingly, mouth dropping open.
"You heard me," Peter answered dismissively, waving him off. Then, at Matt's frankly miffed look, Peter rolled his eyes. "Dude, I mean, yes, thank you for doing your best to protect me and all that, but I still had literally the Worst Experience of My Life™ today because of you."
Foggy winced, shooting another glare - albeit comparatively half-hearted to the fiery rage that it'd been earlier - towards Matt before turning to Peter. "That bad?" he questioned with another grimace.
"Hooooo boy," Peter wheezed out in a sudden, mildly manic laugh, a faint edge of hysteria lining his expression and setting the other occupants in the room on edge. "Yep!" he said lightly, the gleaming smile on his face not matching his too-wide-eyed features.
"Do I wanna ask," Claire said slowly.
"Nope!" Peter announced in the same voice that was drenched in false levity.
Matt cut in somewhat hesitantly. "I may have…"
"Drove into oncoming traffic - twice," Frank cut in with a shit-eating grin, apparently having remembered the brief conversation that'd happened before Foggy's arrival.
Foggy stared for a couple seconds. Made a sound in the back of his throat that one could be tempted to call a dry sob if not for the complete and utter lack of any and all expression on the man's face.
Matt gave a grimace of a smile. "Oops?"
"Don't forget about the eighteen-wheeler!" Peter quipped, and everyone's head but Matt's snapped towards him, the latter dropping his face resignedly into the palms of his hands.
"THE EIGHTEEN-WHEELER?!" Foggy screeched.