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“Morning, Foggy.” Matt said as he walked into the office nonchalantly with a split lip.
“Morning— what the— that would be a dollar for the jar, Matt.” Foggy stood up to get the injury jar from the table and extended it to him.
“This barely counts as a split lip; it didn't even bleed that much.”
“Nope, you are not going to debate the technicalities of it again . A deal is a deal.”
Matt sighed and let his head drop dramatically before putting his cane away and grabbing his wallet.
“How did you get a split lip already? It's been less than a week.” Foggy grabbed the dollar from Matt’s hand and put it in the jar.
“Long night.” Matt simply said before making his way to his office.
“It is always a long night with you.” Foggy sighed and followed him because apparently it was much more important to talk about Matt’s nightly activities rather than focusing on his actual job. “And Frank?”
“What about him?”
“Did he get hurt? Remember the jar goes for you both.”
Matt opened up his laptop and stared at Foggy, well he stared at his direction, but he was making eye contact with the wall. “I don't know, I didn’t work with him yesterday.”
“Well, I tried.” Foggy said without much of a care, he wasn’t entirely fond of Frank, and he was only asking because Karen told him to. “I’ll just tell Karen she needs to talk to him then.”
“If that is all.” Matt paused, “Are there any new clients I should know about?”
Foggy nodded and sat down on the extra chair, past conversation forgotten in favour of passing on information about their new, possible client.
“Morning Karen,” Matt greeted, waving his free hand in her direction before closing the door. “Before you ask, I'm fine, and I put the five bucks on the jar I keep at home, at this rate I’ll just bring it to you when it's full.”
“What happened this time?”
Matt shrugged. “Busted a weapon’s operation by the docks, got a couple of bruised ribs.”
“Dammit, Matt, you have to be more careful. How many times is it this month?”
“Dunno.” He chuckled.” But according to Frank it’s almost full, he guesses a week or two before we bring the jar back.”
Karen passed a hand through her hair. “You do know that the point of it is to avoid filling it right? You're not supposed to treat it as a competition.”
“You asked us to do it, Karen, not our fault if we decided to have some fun with it.” He shrugged. “Besides, we are not doing it on purpose, believe me, we don't like losing this much money every month but if it's gonna happen one way or another we might as well make bets to see how long it will take to fill.”
“You two are impossible.” Karen huffed, exasperated. “I really thought this would work.” She mumbled to himself as an afterthought, Matt heard her regardless.
“If it makes you feel better, we haven't gotten stabbed, slashed nor shot this month which is an overall record for both of us.”
“Frank did get shot that time though.”
“That was last month. We are trying to budget now to be able to get Foggy and you Christmas gifts next month.”
“Are you telling me the only reason you didn't get shot is because you wanted to save money?”
“That was the point was it not?”
“Matt!” She cursed. “I have never met two people with as bad self-preservation instinct as you.”
“I need to protect this city; you know a few bruises or cuts won't stop me.”
“I know.” Karen breathed in deeply, closing her eyes for a second. “But you need to be more careful doing so, that's the point of this. We worry .”
“I know.” Matt said apologetically, pursing his lips into a tight line. “I’m trying though.”
“You are. Foggy and I have seen progress and we are proud of you for it, it's just, there's still a long way to go.”
“Yeah.”
“Morning Matt— Frank? What are you doing here?” Foggy frowned, he was expecting to see Matt as usual, talk about the jar, as usual, and get to work but instead he has a very out-of-place looking Frank Castle in his office, still wearing his punisher vest, which thankfully did not have any new blood splattered in it. “Where’s Matt?” His heart clenched, “Is he alright?”
“Relax, Nelson. He’s fine.” Frank said. “Dumbass kept cutting off his sleep lately which almost cost us yesterday.” He took out an alarm clock from his pocket. “He won't be working today.”
Foggy blinked. “You took away his alarm clock.”
“No, I just carry one with me wherever I go.” Frank grunts. “Whaddya think?”
“He’s going to be so mad at you.”
“That's his problem.”
“At least we didn’t have court today.” Foggy said almost as an afterthought. “If you made him miss that I think he would actually try to murder you.”
“Naw, he’s too much of a goody two shoes for that.” Frank snorts at the mere idea of it. “Besides, I wouldn’t have let him skip court for this.”
Foggy frowned and eyed him sceptically. “You know his work schedule?”
Frank shrugged. “When he has court or anything big with his day work, he's a pain in the ass to deal with, well, more than usual.”
“Huh”
“Yeh.”
“I should thank you; Matt does need the extra sleep.”
“Didn’t do it for him. Jus’ don’t want to get unnecessarily shot because his freaky senses failed him for being an idiot.”
“Uh huh.”
“Whatever. Just came to tell ya he is alive.” Frank said before turning around to leave. “Tell Red I'll see him around.”
Foggy was on the phone when Matt walked in. He had begun to make a habit of checking how much money he put in the jar at the beginning of the day in order to see how the previous night had gone. At the beginning it had been extremely worrying, seeing Matt put a handful of bucks each time, signalling how badly he got beaten up. As the weeks passed by though, he saw a decrease in the severity of injuries—or he had begun to get desensitised to it— as Matt only put in one buck or three more than not, which for them meant a successful night.
Lately, rarely, there had even been times where Matt didn't put any dollars in for a day or two in a row which made Foggy smile and clap him in the back while Matt would try to roll his eyes at him, even though Foggy could see the smile on his face as he would get to work.
So, when Matt walked in and casually shoved in thirty bucks to the jar before getting set up in the office as if it was no big deal, Foggy panicked. Thirty bucks meant very bad, no good injuries. The type they needed medical attention for. Hanging up the phone he went towards Matt, not bothering to knock. “Are you okay? What the hell happened?”
Matt frowned for a second before his face went carefully blank. “You mean because of the money?”
“Yeah, Matt, because of the money.” Foggy said incredulously.
“Oh, it's nothing, don’t worry about it.”
“ Matt .”
“It's not all mine, Frank chipped in.”
“Oh, then it's alright then.” Foggy said in a cheery, very sarcastic way. “That's somehow worse.”
“It was mostly various minor cuts and scrapes; Frank did get slightly nicked by a bullet, but it only needed two stitches. We decided to just put in the thirty bucks instead of categorising every injury, which seemed like a waste of time.”
“You do know how messed up that sounds, right?” Foggy pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed in and out. “At least you are not dying somewhere in a ditch hiding injuries again, so I’ll take it as a win I guess.”
“That only happened like twice .”
Foggy groaned and shook his head, leaving back to focus on his work while muttering lines along “one time is too many” and “goddammit, Matt you're gonna give me grey hairs”.
Frank was woken up by the sounds of his phone ringing. He grunted as he moved his hand to pick it up, biting back down the pain it caused through his body. “Who’s this?”
“Hello, Frank.”
“David?” Frank recognised the voice and immediately became alert. “Something wrong? Sarah and the kids okay?”
“They’re fine. I’m not calling about them. I’m calling about you.”
Frank had nothing to say to that, so he stayed quiet.
“Frank?”
Frank simply grunted in response.
“I saw what happened the other night. You need to be more careful.”
“How the fuck.”
“I still have access to every camera in town. Despite what Madani thinks, they changed the codes and passwords but that barely slowed me down. Not the point, point is you got hurt and went radio silent for two days.”
“I go out killing and you people complain, I stay put and you bitch about it too?”
“Karen and Matt were worried. So was I.” David spoke over the phone.
“I’m fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“I've seen you get shot in the head and walk it off. Your ‘handling it’ isn’t always ideal.”
“Stitching was easy, I’ll be fine and dandy in a day or so. I just need to rest, which you interrupted.”
“Yeah, yeah.” David huffed. “I’ll let you get back to your beauty sleep once I am sure you’re not gonna die on us.”
“Bye, David.”
“Karen says you owe her 40 bucks.”
“What for?”
“Hiding an injury.”
Frank grunted in return and hung up.
“You're a fucking idiot.” Frank lashed out as he carried Matt to his apartment. The mission had gone sideways, and Matt ended impaled with a fucking rod one of the guys had found nearby, and to make things worse, the idiot had pulled it off, making him bleed much more.
“You say the sweetest things.” Matt pouted.
“The hell were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t— “
“Yeah sounds ‘bout right. You weren't.”
“I couldn’t just stand there.” Matt said quietly, speaking loudly hurt more.
“You should have.” Frank continued walking to the roof access, juggling his guns and Matt on his arms so neither would fall.
“He was going to shoot you.”
“Don't mean you got to jump in.” Frank opened the door, then moved to the couch where he laid Matt on. “Get that suit off. Don’t fall asleep.”
Matt winced but he managed to take off the suit while Frank brought everything he needed. Now he was wearing only his boxers which was probably a blessing given how much he was bleeding; this would be easier to clean.
“Here,” Frank threw a clean rag at him. “Put pressure on it.”
Matt did as told but by the time Frank was ready to stitch it, he barely had any pressure on it, it was too much strength that he didn’t have.
Frank cursed under his breath. “Red I’ll need you to take your hands away now. You gotta stay up with me, alright?”
“‘Kay.”
Frank began patching him up, trying to work through the blood that was still seeping from Matt’s body. Focused on his job, he almost didn’t hear Matt calling his name.
“Red?” He looked up and saw Matt didn’t look so good, he was all pale and drowsy.
“Don’t thin’k I c’n stay awake much.” Matt said guiltily, he had his eyes half closed yet his expression was scrunched up in pain.
Frank knew this was going to happen sooner than later, especially with how much blood he must have lost. “It's okay, Red. You do what you gotta do, I’ll take care of ya.” He said gruffly, in a soft voice he wasn't used to using anymore.
It was as if that was all Matt was waiting for before closing his eyes, slumping on the couch now completely unresponsive.
Frank took a deep breath before going back to the task at hand. Once satisfied with his work, making sure he wasn’t losing any more blood and the bump on his head wasn’t swelling anymore, he deemed it safe enough to declare Matt wasn't dying on him anytime soon.
He debated on leaving him there while he finished cleaning up but decided against it, carrying him to the bed, making sure none of the injuries got hurt as he settled him down, he would tell himself it was because he couldn't clean the blood off the couch with him in it. Not long after, he finished cleaning and scrubbing off all the excess blood from the couch, so it no longer seemed like someone died there.
Once that was set, he began to pack up his things to leave, but not before opening his wallet and putting 15 bucks in the jar. He didn’t get hurt this time, somehow, but Matt getting hurt was on him and fair was fair. He wasn’t about to make Matt lose money unnecessarily.
Heading towards the door with his bag slumped across one shoulder he stopped in his tracks, he should probably leave, he did his job and Matt was probably not going to die halfway through the night, yet his gut was uneasy and restless at the thought of leaving when there was someone hurt and injured just a few feet away in the other room.
“Dammit.” He cursed under his breath before putting the bag full of weapons down and laying on the newly cleaned couch. He laid his head down on a pillow, hitting it a few times to cushion it and closed his eyes, sleeping lightly in case Matt needed anything.
“Frank—”
“No.”
“Why do you have to be so unreasonably difficult?” Matt groaned in exasperation, turning around to face him.
“It's part of my charm.” Frank grinned, not paying attention to the blood dripping from his mouth.
Matt huffed. “Just come inside, I can patch you up.”
“It's not that bad, I’ll deal with it back at my place.”
“That place is dirtier than the dumpsters I end up in, given how many spots you are bleeding from, I know you will get an infection from it if you go.”
“I have been fine before. The place doesn't need to be fancy; it works just fine.”
“You’ll bleed out on your way there, again,” He pointed out. “What's the big deal anyway? It's not like you haven't ended up at my place before, especially when I need to patch you up.”
Frank shrugged. “I don't feel like losing my money tonight.”
“What.”
“If I go in, I’ll have to add money to the goddamn jar, so Karen doesn't chew me out again for skipping on it, and I don't feel like I wanna do that today.”
Matt tensed his jaw and tilted his head judgingly. “You are bleeding out just because you're too stubborn to pay up?” He clarified before shaking his head. “You are an idiot. Come inside, I’ll deal with Karen's wrath.”
Frank didn't move from his place.
“Fine, bleed out on your way to your dumpster, I won't stop Karen from bringing you back to life just so she can kill you again, especially if you die because of your stubbornness.” Matt jumped from the rooftop they were in to the next one where his apartment was before going in through the roof access.
Matt had only taken his mask off when he heard heavy footsteps on the roof and the all too familiar heartbeat. He smirked when Frank walked in seconds later and turned on the lights.
Matt opened his mouth to say something when Frank cut him off.
“Shut up.”
“I didn't say anything.” Matt frowned.
“You were going to say something annoying.”
“How do you know?”
“You’re always saying annoying things.” Frank responded without missing a beat.
Matt bit back a grin, he was lying. “Excuse you, what I had to say was great actually.”
“Nah.”
Matt simply flipped him off before going to grab his first aid kit from the bathroom. “You know the drill, shirt off and don't leave your guns on my couch.”
“Yeh, yeh, I know, guns go on the table, so you don't bitch about the gunpowder smell later.” Frank took off his shirt and turned his back to Matt, so he had better access to the bullet lodged in his shoulder blade.
Matt carefully extracted the bullet from Frank’s back, cleaned it up and then stitched him up with careful precision. Once he was done, he moved on to cleaning and bandaging the bullet graze on Frank’s leg, ignoring the complaints from the other man about how he could do it himself.”
“Done. Try to not move much for now, I won't redo the stitches if you mess them up.”
“Thanks, Red.” He mumbled. “You were right.”
“Of course.” He paused. “About what?”
“Definitely better than my place. Back there I don’t got anyone to play nurse for me.”
Matt snorted. “Don’t get used to it.”
“Hmm… Dunno, this is now the, what? Fourth time you patch me up this month? At this rate I should buy you a nurse outfit.”
“Fuck you.”
“Not today.”
Matt snorted before grabbing a cushion from the couch and throwing it at him, he caught it easily. “You're an ass.”
“I try my best.”
Matt decided to bite back his reply, if he continued the banter, he knew Frank would never stop. “So, what’s with all the lashing out at the jar today?”
“Wasn’t lashing out. Simply didn’t want to pay.” He shrugged
“Uh huh. Why?”
Frank stared at him without saying anything else. Matt knew him enough to know he was staring judgmentally at him.
“Okay yeah I get losing around 40 bucks each week is far from ideal, but you’ve never complained so much.”
“‘Ts stupid.” He mumbled. “Was saving for some new guitar strings. The one I had got busted.”
“It’s not stupid.” Matt said. “ You are, though, a drama queen too.”
“‘M not.”
“Right…” Matt drawled out. “Whatever. You are staying here tonight, walking on that leg will make things worse.” He stood up and grabbed something, before throwing a thin blanket and a pillow at Frank.
“Fine.” Frank saw no reason to argue further and if he were to be honest, he would very much not have to walk unless necessary. “Guess I’ll leave ya to it then, got work tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah, Foggy will have my head if I don't show up.”
Frank grunted before laying back on the couch which at this point was becoming a bit too familiar to him. “‘Night, Red.”
“You too.” Matt answered back, retreating back to his room but not before grabbing his wallet and slipping in 20 bucks in, covering both he and Frank’s quota of the day.
“You've got to be kidding me.” Claire mumbled out as she answered the phone. “How bad is it?”
“We’re probably not going to die.” Matt answered.
“I’ll be there in twenty.”
Claire showed up twenty-two minutes later with her own first aid kit that was slightly bigger than the one Matt had in his apartment, along with gloves and a glass of scotch because she had a feeling she would need it after helping her vigilantes with whatever mess they got themselves in.
She was right in bringing the heavy liquor because they were going to give her headaches and grey hairs at this point. Matt had ended up with a few cuts and bruises as usual, as well as an open head wound in the side of his skull that was bleeding profusely. The only reason she didn't panic was because she knew how much head wounds tended to bleed. Because of said head wound though, he got a rather nasty concussion and for that he couldn't really stitch frank up where he needed to.
Frank had somehow gotten shot again, making Claire think that maybe her, Karen, and Foggy should make another jar just for him getting shot because this was not good. People could go their whole lives without getting bullet holes in them, but Frank treated them as souvenirs at this point, a bullet each place he went. She knew it was an exaggeration but barely.
Apart from Frank getting shot in the back, again, thankfully not near the spinal cord, but far enough that there was no way he could stitch it on his own, he had gotten a black eye and split lips. Claire decided that was not important at the moment and focused on the bullet wound, which had gotten in pretty deep.
“Good thing you called me today, don’t think Matt could have gotten the bullet out nicely even without his senses intact, it's pretty tricky.” She casually said once she had been able to take out the bullet wound and proceeded to clean it up.
“Tell Frank about it, he almost convinced me to do it myself.” Matt chimed in. “Even I know my limits.”
“Debatable.” Claire answered back, taking a clean gauze to put in the wound. “Frank, you know better than to try hiding an injury.”
“Wasn't gonna hide it.” Frank grunts. “It's just better when we do it ourselves, we know you have to bring your own first aid kit, not like the hospital funds it.”
Claire chuckled. “The hospital doesn't, but you have been funding it quite well these last few months if I may say so.”
“What?”
“You didn't know? The jar money goes to funding my off the books medical help. You think all the nice medical supplies are cheap?”
“I know it's not.”
“How has it been this long without any of you knowing where the money goes? What did you think happened to it?”
Matt pursed his lips, feeling a bit stupid now that he thought about it, he shrugged.
Claire sighed and continued bandaging up the injuries. “It's not just mine that gets funded, we have been stocking up your own little medical kit you have in the bathroom.” She looked at both Matt and Frank amusingly as they looked very lost at the idea. “You really didn't notice how your first aid kit was suddenly very well stocked?”
“I thought Frank had done it.” Matt said.
Frank huffed. “Thought Red had some real nice first aid kits, probably why I came here more. Wasn't me though.”
“You two are really something.” Claire mumbled and shook her head. “Most of it goes to stocking up your medical supplies, both here and my personal kit, and ten percent of it goes to Karen and Foggy and honestly I don't know what they do with it.”
“Huh.” Frank grunted.
“Guess that means we don't have to ration the nice supplies anymore.” Matt pointed out. “I’ll add this to our jar budget tomorrow.” He directed the last part at Frank.
Claire began to open the bottle of scotch she brought because she really needed a raise to deal with them sometimes. “Matt, no .”