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He lost a lot of blood. Hell, he’s still losing a lot of blood .
It’s always like this, isn’t it? He’s lucky he never died during his nights out. He’s lucky he always finds a way back home.
“Double D? You alright, man?”
“I got shot,” he simply mumbles.
“I know,” Spider-Man says, trying to keep him steady. “I’m gonna help you sit down and you’re gonna give me your emergency phone, okay? I’m gonna text your emergency contact.”
It was something they had put in place weeks ago, when they started working together. If anything was to happen, if anything went completely wrong, they both gave the other the directive on what to do. For Matt, it was simple. Take his phone, send a message to the first emergency contact and hope it wasn’t too bad. Hospitals were always out of the question. .
“Daredevil? ‘You still with me?”
“Hm-hm,” he hums, even if it’s not really the case. Technically, he’s still here, physically next to him. Officially, his minds is slowly losing
“How many fingers am I holding up?” Spider-Man asks. And Daredevil just chuckles.
“How am I supposed to know?” he asks, way too honestly. And that seems to worry the poor Spider-Man.
The rest of the night is a blur. Matt gets home and wakes up – somehow – the next day. He’s bandaged up and his whole body hurts, but he’s alive and – mostly – well.
“If you move a single muscle, I’m forcing you to get to a hospital next time,” warns a sweet voice, coming from the kitchen.
“Thanks for getting me home last night.” He doesn’t need to remember that part, he knows who his emergency contact is. Foggy walks up to him, two cups in his hands. A coffee and some tea. He put the tea in front of a disappointed Matt. No coffee for him today, Foggy is clearly pissed about what happened.
“You lost a lot of blood before I got there,” he says.
“I know,” Matt sighs in return.
“Did you know that Spider-Man is a child?” Foggy asks and Matt can’t tell if he’s serious.
“What?”
“Good, at least you didn’t know that part.” Oh, he isn’t joking. “The poor kid thought you were dying. He apparently asked you some questions, to make sure you were still responsive. And you laughed at him.”
“What? I–” That’s when he remembers it. He didn’t just chuckle a little at his ridiculous question – ridiculous when you know about who he really is – but he laughed, until Foggy arrived to pick him. “Oh no…”
“He had his mask off when I arrived and he was panicking,” Foggy continues. “A full on panic attack, actually. I had to tell him his crime fighting partner is blind on a normal basis, not just when he gets loopy on blood loss. Sorry about that, but I didn’t know how to deal with the teenager having a panic attack.”
“Wait, how old is he?” Matt asks, suddenly worried.
“You really need to have a talk with Spider-Man,” Foggy sighs. Vigilantes are all the same, aren’t they?