Work Text:
Foggy stared down at Matt, shocked as his friend fought with the sheets on the couch. Jessica had called him the previous night from Matt’s phone, swearing and arguing with the lawyer until Foggy had relented, frustrated at the heroes that now littered his life. He and Matt had somewhat made up, but he was still furious at the other man. But here, actually looking at his best friend – former best friend – everything that he was planning to say dispersed. Old and new scars littered over the entirety of his body, bruises covering the entirety of his face. He was currently in the midst of a nightmare, the silk sheets soaked with sweat and irritating the shaking man.
His body takes over his mind, dragging the blankets off of the man and sitting on the ground. Matt instantly jumps up, getting into a fighting stance as the demons still ravaged his thoughts. Hearing somebody’s heartbeat, he turns around to the intruder, ready to fight them off when Matt recognises it. Foggy slows his breathing, letting Matt get used to his surroundings from his sudden scare, not wanting to be attacked by the startled man. Matt’s face reveals his true emotions; fear, confusion and sadness. Foggy almost feels bad for him, before covering his feelings. He was pressured into this, and he would give Matt a piece of his mind and leave. Expect he still cared for Matt, cared for the blind man like nothing else in the world mattered.
Trying to find Foggy was like standing amongst a sandstorm, everything was in a haze and was slowly pressing down on him. Suffocating, Matt falls onto the couch, folding himself into a ball whilst covering his ears, his nose. His senses were drowning him, and nobody was there to be his support. Watching the usually strong man break hurt Foggy, almost in a physical way. Slowly, as if he were approaching a hurt animal, Foggy sits on the couch, taking Matt in his arms. Feeling Foggy’s heartbeat, smelling his scent and being enclosed by Foggy, Matt breaks down for the second time in days.
A tentative hand reaches around Foggy’s waist, softly scrunching the t-shirt. It’s joined by another, before clutching the shirt harder, bringing himself closer to the warm body. Foggy hugs him closer, resting his cheek on the curly brown hair. The shaking starts before the sobbing, the silent cries turning into heaving sobs, arms tightening around the other lawyer. Foggy continues to hold the crying man, slightly rocking the two of them back and forth. Through the cries, Matt tells him of the harsh sounds, the fierce smells and agonising touches, asking Foggy to get them to stop.
His heart finally breaks, seeing Matt be so close to him, and in so much pain. Ignoring his anger at the blind lawyer, Foggy unwillingly untangles himself from the crying man, who sobs become harsher as he can’t feel his best friend. Quickly running around, Foggy finds the noise-cancelling headphones in one of the drawer’s, and the peppermint oil from the bathroom. He boils the kettle on the stove, cursing as the water doesn’t boil faster and places chamomile tea into their usual cups. On a second thought, he grabs the sheets off of Matt’s bed, dragging them behind him. He finds Matt desperately searching for him, knocking to the chairs and tables, frantically looking with unseeing eyes. Softly grabbing him on the elbow, Foggy slowly guided Matt back to the couch, replacing the sheets with the clean ones, and throwing the sweaty ones into a pile to be washed.
The headphones seem to calm Matt, who settles down a bit as the tension leaks out of him. The peppermint oil does even more wonders as Matt’s crying slows down, dispersing into a gentle trickle. Making a Matt Burrito with the softest blanket Foggy could find, the blind lawyer’s head rests in Foggy’s lap, soft hands running through the greasy hair. Clicking his tongue, he blows the steam away from the tea before drinking, feeling the slight burn. Foggy decides to not give Matt his own cup, observing the shaking hands and jolting limbs. Holding the cup steady, he holds Matt’s head as he gives the man little sips, knowing all too well that the head holding was a bit too much. Matt doesn’t seem to care, leaning into Foggy’s hand as stress and tiredness force his eyes to close.
Foggy follows quickly, falling asleep with his hands tangled in the other man’s hair. He wakes up a few hours later as the sunrise shines through the large windows. Groaning against the light, Foggy gently removes himself from Matt, who had become a cuddly koala throughout the night and had somehow manoeuvred them so that he was nestled on Foggy’s chest. The dark circles that had covered the entirety of Matt’s eyes had somewhat receded, barely prominent under the shaggy hair. Grinning, Foggy dips down to give a light kiss on Matt’s temple before fixing them breakfast.
Matt feels Foggy wake up as he heartbeat speeds up, and he is lifted away from Foggy’s warmth. He goes to groan before realising that Foggy thinks he’s asleep, and can feel the grin on his friend’s face. Matt waits for the moment, not wanting to upset the friendship that was slowly being rebuilt. A hand brushes through his hair, and the quick kiss would’ve been missed by anyone lesser. Hearing Foggy walk towards the kitchen, he decides to hop off the couch and head towards the bathroom, a hoodie thrown onto the floor earlier in the week in his hand.
There isn’t much in Matt’s kitchen Foggy finds, with the bare minimum in the fridge and cupboards. Muttering under his breath, Foggy snickers as the blind man yells from the shower about not shopping in a while. Grabbing the eggs and toast, he works quickly as Matt finishes up in the bathroom, coming up behind Foggy and wrapping his arms around him. Turning around, Foggy smiles at Matt and in a moment of brave stupidity, kisses Matt. Matt’s reaction is instant, turning from shocked revelations to kissing Foggy back. They part as Foggy struggles for breath, heavy breathing breaking the silence. Sniffing, Foggy yelps as he smells the eggs burning, placing them on the cleanest plates he could find. Grabbing a tray, they both walk to the dining table, ready to talk about the night, and their relationship if one was to form.