Work Text:
Foggy is just beginning to wonder if his partner is ever going to show up to work on time when his phone rings.
“Hi, Foggy.”
“Matt, hey, where are you, man?”
“I, uh, yeah, I’m gonna need a sick day.”
Foggy immediately feels his stomach drop. He’s trying to get his head around the vigilante thing, really he is. He’s trying not to worry. But he sees Matt’s knuckles every day, sees the way he moves with a little extra care, and he knows this Daredevil thing is getting worse, not better.
He glances up to make sure Karen’s out of earshot and cups his hand around the receiver. “Matt, you said you were going to be more careful,” he hisses. “How bad is it, are you okay?”
Matt sighs. “No, I’m fine,” he says, his voice oddly nasal. “I just, um, I can’t come in today, okay?”
“I swear to god, if you’re ditching work to get in a few more hours of this vigilante bullshit—”
“No, no, I’m not, okay?” Matt responds, exasperated. “I’m not going out, I just, I can’t walk, okay?”
“You can’t walk?” Now Foggy’s really pissed. “Matt, one of these days you are actually going to get yourself killed, you know that? What happens when somebody takes your head clean off your shoulders, huh?”
“What? No, no, Foggy, listen.” Matt sighs again. “It’s not from last night, I mean, I did go out, but it was nothing, it actually ended up being a really quiet night. But that’s not the point, the point is you know I’ve been congested the past few days, and I guess it moved up into my ear because now I’ve got an ear infection and I can’t hear great and my balance is all off and I can’t walk.”
Foggy is completely silent for a long moment, and then he bursts out laughing.
“Don’t laugh,” Matt says, but Foggy doesn’t stop.
“An ear infection?” he repeats. “I’m sorry, it’s just, you regularly traverse Hell’s Kitchen by jumping between rooftops, and you’re bedridden with an ear infection?”
Matt huffs impatiently. “Well, technically I’m floor-ridden,” he says, and Foggy laughs even harder. “Shut up, would you? It’s not funny, Foggy.”
Despite himself, though, Matt begins to laugh too.
“So, what, you’re just sitting on the floor?” Foggy asks when he can breathe again.
“Um, yeah, basically,” Matt says. “I had kind of a headache when I woke up, but I didn’t really think about it. So I got up, and made it about two steps before I hit the floor pretty hard. Luckily my phone was on the nightstand, but I’m still figuring out how to get back into bed.”
Foggy glances into the lobby. They’ve got a surprisingly light day, and he figures Karen can hold her own for a bit.
“Okay, hang on, man. I’ll be right over, okay?”
“No, Foggy, you don’t have to—”
“Too late, I’m already on my way.”
Foggy hangs up.
When he gets to Matt’s apartment, he finds his best friend sitting on the bedroom floor. He’s upright, leaning against the bed, his hands pressed onto the floor on either side of his hips.
“Hey, Foggy,” he says weakly.
Foggy just grins and shakes his head.
“Foggy?”
“Oh, sorry,” his friend answers quickly. “I’m shaking my head at you. I’m so used to you knowing everything that’s happening.”
“Ha, yeah, not so much at the moment.” Matt’s holding his head very stiffly, not turning towards Foggy as he usually does. “I still can’t hear real well out of my right ear, but I think the pressure’s getting a little better. Being upright is helping.”
“Okay, great,” Foggy says. “Maybe we could put you upright somewhere other than the floor, though, huh? You wanna get back on the bed, or you think you can make it all the way to the couch?”
“Let’s try for the couch,” Matt says. “You’re gonna have to let me lean on you, though.”
“Yeah, buddy, I’d figured that much out already,” Foggy says with a laugh, leaning down and draping Matt’s arm over his shoulders. “You just put one foot in front of the other, and I’ll hold you upright.”
Matt nods and then winces as the room spins. He bends his knees and plants the soles of his feet on the ground. When he’s feeling about as grounded as he thinks he’s going to get right now, he says, “Okay, one, two, three, lift.”
Foggy lifts, and Matt doesn’t feel himself stand so much as he feels his body straighten away from the floor. He leans hard on his best friend’s shoulders, half to support his weight, half because having more contact grounds him.
“You think you can walk?”
Thinking better of nodding again, Matt says, “Yeah.” He takes a step, and Foggy steps with him. Yeah, they can do this.
It’s painfully slow, getting Matt all the way to the living room, but Foggy manages it. He lowers Matt gently onto the cushions, and Matt leans back while keeping his feet on the floor.
“I’m gonna make you some tea,” Foggy says. “Let’s see if we can’t clear up those sinuses a little more.”
Matt nods, and this time the room spins less aggressively. “It’s in the cupboard next to the fridge,” he says. “And there’s honey in the one above the stove.”
Matt’s having a little trouble pinpointing Foggy’s location using only one ear, but he still has a general sense of his friend’s movements around the kitchen. He does feel the change in temperature and pressure when the water on the stove starts to boil, and it comforts him. When Foggy slices a lemon and squeezes the juice into the steeping tea, the scent hits Matt’s nostrils hard even through the congestion. He focuses on the acidity; the room might still be moving around a bit, but if he can center on the mug of tea, he at least knows where the room is.
Foggy brings the tea over to Matt and places the warm mug in his hands. Matt breathes in the steam gratefully and feels the fluids in his head already starting to loosen a bit.
“Um, you might wanna grab that box of tissues,” he says, gesturing vaguely towards the cabinet behind Foggy.
Foggy grabs the box and sets it down—harder than strictly necessary, Matt notices, so he can hear where it is—on the coffee table. Then Foggy sits in the chair across from Matt.
“So, turns out the great Daredevil does have a weakness after all,” Foggy says. “The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, defender of the people, brought down by an ear infection.”
Matt smiles wryly and takes a sip from his mug. It feels good to be able to joke about this, even if it’s at his own expense.
“Thanks for coming over, Foggy,” is all he says.
Foggy nods, and Matt senses it this time. “Of course, buddy. What are friends for? Besides, I need you on your feet in court the day after tomorrow.”
“Ah, I knew there had to be an ulterior motive.”
“I mean, you know I only keep you around for your brilliant debate skills,” Foggy says, mock serious.
Matt feels Foggy coming into sharper focus as he takes another sip of his tea. Almost...
“Hey, Foggy,” he says, “Click your tongue for me?”
Foggy hesitates, but he does it. The sound is sharp and percussive, and Matt’s ears pinpoint Foggy’s shape in the chair across from him.
Moving quickly, he snatches the pillow beside him and launches it at Foggy, hitting his partner squarely in the face.
Foggy falls back against the chair with an oomph and tosses the pillow onto the floor. “Shut up, Matt,” he says, but Matt can hear the smile on his lips and continues to laugh. Foggy stands up, and in his best professional-lawyer voice says, “Well, I can see you’re perfectly fine now, so if you don’t mind, I think I’ll be getting back to the office.”
Matt grins, and Foggy does too.
“Thanks, Foggy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”