Work Text:
The night was freezing, as Matt crouched on the roof of the building. He knew it was going to be cold out tonight because Foggy had warned him earlier.
“It's supposed to be a low of -20 tonight. There’s also a snowstorm warning, it’ll hit later tonight,” He had told Matt during their lunch break that afternoon. His heart had picked up a little at the sight of the forecast, “Please don't stay out late tonight, Matty," he pleaded, his voice full of premature worry.”
“I won’t. I'll be in by eleven, I swear,” he had replied while giving his partner a reassuring smile.
Foggy only stopped badgering him after he had told Matt to at least wear extra layers. Looking back Matt probably should’ve listened to his boyfriend. Then again, crime didn't wait because Daredevil had to put on a scarf and extra gloves.
He had heard the yell as he stood on the edge of the roof, later that evening. A child. They were screaming for their parents as two older men threw them in the car.
They were young. Teenagers, maybe 17 years old. Barely allowed to drive and already harassing and threatening younger kids with their beat up mini van.
“Make one noise and you'll regret everything you ever said about us, asshole,”
Matt heard another heartbeat beside the two teenagers. It was beating quickly full of obvious adrenaline and paralyzing nervousness. The kid was younger than the harassers, maybe 12 years old.
“You know what they say, snitches are bitches,” the first mugger said. Matt heard the soft drumming of fingertips over a wooden surface. Most likely a baseball bat.
He cursed internally, running over the frigid rooftops. He needed to get there before the kid got seriously hurt. Sprinting through Hell’s kitchen, he didn't even realize the first flakes had started falling.
He heard a kick land and the thump of a body falling to the floor. He sprinted faster, trying to reach the kid before any more harm could be caused. His breath was coming in short puffs around him. The frigid air seemed to drop another five degrees in mere minutes. The wind was picking up, ripping through his suit and hugging his skin tightly. The scattered snowflakes were crashing down on him in a feeling similar to falling pine needles.
The kid was crying. Their short breaths and muffled gasps made it obvious. The older assailants were using the kid as a punching bag. Matt was aware that he didn't know why the teenagers were beating on the kid. But he would never leave a child to fend for themselves against two people twice their size.
He dropped into the alley swiftly, the aggressors hadn't even heard him coming up behind him. He grabbed one of them by the shoulders pulling down towards the street. The assaulter stumbled and fell to the ground as Daredevil punched him repeatedly in the stomach.
Daredevil grabbed the other assaulter and slammed him against a nearby wall, pressing his forearm against his throat.
“What do you want with that kid?” He rasped, pressing hard against the kids' adams apple.
“She needed to be taught a lesson. That's what happens to fuckers who snitch. She deserved it for snitching on us to the police. Little shits like her should-” Matt punched him multiple times in the stomach.
“You come close to her again, I will know. And I won't go half as easy on you next time. You beat up anyone else, I will find you and I will personally make your life hell,” He growled out the last word.
Matt let go of the mugger and he slipped down the wall to cradle his stomach. Then he heard a scuffle behind him. He didn't want to admit it but the snow was messing with his hearing and spatial awareness. He turned in time to come face to face with the first teenager and his baseball bat.
It hit him across the skull near his left ear. Hard. He stumbled as his hearing dampened and his senses flickered. For a few seconds he couldn't even think. Just a searing pain that ripped through his head.
He felt blood running down the side of his head from where his helmet had slammed into his head. His head was spinning. He couldn't tell his left from his right. This was really bad. Most likely a concussion. The fleeting thought of how he was going to get back home crossed his mind. Now wasn't the time. He had to stop the mugger to protect…
A soft panting behind him, further in the alley.
Right. The girl.
He heard the attacker approach again. He swung his leg under the guy. The mugger tumbled to the ground again as Matt kicked a couple times. Just so he could finally stay down.
He walked over to the shaking girl.
“Hey, are you okay?” he asked gently.
A quick head movement he assumed was a nod.
“I’m just going to call the police so they can get you back home, okay?
Another nod.
He dialed emergency services on his burner and left an anonymous tip. He spent the next ten minutes calmly talking to the young girl to help with her panic and fear of the attack while keeping his drowsiness at bay.
Not before long the police had arrived and Matt had to flee the scene. He crouched on the rooftops as he heard the police pick up the girl and the assaulters.
He let out a sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding. Then a crashing wave of pain and disorientation hit him. He needed to get home now.
Matt could feel the nausea and confusion setting in as he returned home. Right, home. Where was that? Better yet, where was he? Shit. He wracked his mind. Home. Warmth. Sleep. Comfort. He had to get back. The snow was messing with his senses, he couldn't hear. Maybe he could? What did home sound like? The rumble of traffic around him. The buzzing of the fridge. The pulse of the power cord charging his computer. The constant rumble of the billboard. Yes. The billboard. There weren't many electrical ones in Hell's Kitchen.
He strained his hearing. He could hear the buzzing faintly.
Just follow the noise. He repeated this mantra to his numbing brain over and over.
He stumbled across the rooftops. The snow and wind were picking up as he walked. He was close, he could hear it. His head throbbed painfully, making his concussion known.
Finally he heard it. The hum of the fridge. The pulse of the charging cord. And the overpowering electrical buzz of the billboard across the street.
His exhausted body basked in the idea of making it home. A small flare of pride hit him, so glad that his body hadn't given up on him.
He limped toward the door of his emergency stairwell. But his muddled senses failed to alert him of a small height change in the flooring. He sprawled to the floor as he weakly thought; well at least I made it home, before blacking out.
---------
Someone was calling his name.
Just five more minutes. He was so tired. Just a couple minutes in this peaceful sleep filled world. He didn't feel like dealing with reality right now.
The person was yelling at him. Why? He just wants some peace and quiet. He rarely gets that in New York, so he should take advantage of it now. He’s so tired.
He feels the person get increasingly more distressed. Matt groaned mentally. He should wake up to tell them to stop.
As he slowly regains consciousness, so does the pain and the cold. Now that he’s aware, it's so cold. And shit, that's Foggy telling him to wake up. He can't feel his body. Just icy numbness. His head feels like it was dropped in an ice bath especially where his wound is.
He might have opened his eyes, he doesn't know. It's not like it would change anything anyway.
He needs to tell Foggy that they're still outside, they need to go in. It's so cold here.
Through his dulled hearing and disorganized brain he hears Foggy reply about not being able to carry him alone inside. Did Matt say that out loud? He doesn't think he has the strength to pull himself up let alone walk down the stairs to his apartment.
Foggy seems to think the same thing because he suddenly hauls Matt up to his feet, places Matt's left arm behind his shoulders and Foggy grabs his waist with his own right arm. He tugs Matt slowly toward the exit holding up most of his body weight.
Matt doesn’t even know how his legs move. The only thoughts running through his head are the warmth of his apartment below and the panicked beat of Foggy’s heart next to him. Foggy is shaking next to him, anxiety coursing through body. Matt wants to comfort him but no words come out of his mouth. Instead he listens as his partner whispers small words of encouragement with every step closer to home.
They make it into his apartment and down the stairs where Foggy slowly deposits Matt on the couch.
Foggy is telling him to take off his suit. Then he goes out of sensory Matt’s perception. He struggles for a couple seconds as he tries to lift his arms and make them move in a useful manner. He can’t. He's stuck. If he had more strength he would’ve started crying. He’s too tired.
Foggy comes back carrying a small bag. Matt assumes its the first aid kit.even with his fucked up sense he can smell the gauze and antiseptic. He drops the first aid kit gently on the couch next to where Matt is half-sitting, half laying.
“Hey buddy? Do you need help getting out of your suit?” Foggy’s voice is cautious and wracked with worry.
The suit is intoxicating. In the warmth of his apartment, it feels too stuffy. The suit is choking him, encasing his exhausted body in a thick layer of heat. The suit needs to come off but Matt can't do it. He just wants to sleep. He's so tired.
He nods at Foggy before mumbling the word hot. Matt wants to tell exactly how this makes him feel but again the words die in his dried up throat. Foggy helps him out of the suit, then Matt just lays there, letting the temperature change wash over him. Soon enough, Foggy places a thick blanket over him, he tries to argue but he knows it's to no avail.
He feels the cold tingle of a thermometer in his ear. He tries to squirm away but Foggy holds his head to stop him from pulling away. A distant beep struck the silence and Matt could hear Foggy's breath start to pick up. Dammit, Matt had scared him again. But why?
Foggy is silent for a minute. Matt thinks he might be on his phone but he doesn't have the energy to listen if he hears the tap of Foggy’s fingers against the screen. Then he’s walking across the apartment grabbing things and making a clatter. Matt tries to follow him with his senses but it's useless. Why can't he just sleep? He should try that.
Before he can drift off again, Foggy comes back. Matt wants to ask why keeps leaving. Suddenly he feels the pressure of at least five blankets on top of him. He feels even weaker with this new force pushing against him. Why does he need more blankets, he isn't even cold. Just numb. And confused.
Foggy placed bottles of warm water on him. Matt felt like he should know why. Then a heating pad is put under the tower of blankets and on his chest. He had forgotten about the heating pad. It had been a gift from Claire. No. From…Karen?
He didn't need it. He tried to tell Foggy but the words ended up coming out as a half-hearted grumble.
Foggy seemed to be unfazed by Matt's protests as he sat on the couch next to him. Foggy moved toward Matt, gently picking up his head and placing it on his own lap. Matt moved closer to Foggy’s chest trying to get as close to his partner's heart as possible. Even with his muddled senses he could feel Foggy’s heart beat through his chest.
He didn't know how long he stayed there. Not thinking, just letting the sound of his boyfriend’s heart run through him.
His silence was once again disturbed by the feeling of the thermometer in his ear. He squirmed away but not before the reading became apparent. Foggy’s heart stumbled and started beating faster. He was worried again. He felt foggy reaching for his phone again.
He didn't even pay attention to the voice that picked up on the other end of the call. Foggy was telling the person about how he found Matt. The person was giving him advice? Probably Claire then. Foggy hung up and reached over for something on his left.
“How do you feel, buddy?” Foggy whispered gently.
Matt tried to tell him all of it but he can only manage a weak, “Tired.”
“I know but Claire said you have to wait until you're warmer if you want to sleep.”
Ah, so it was Claire. His pulse beat through his dulled head wound. “Hurts.”
“What? Your head?”
He manages a small nod that doesn't jostle his injury too much.
Then, a gentle hand is placed on his scalp.
“This might hurt a bit,” Foggy muttered.
Matt winced as the antiseptic was rubbed through his cut. Then the stitching starts. Despite Foggy’s obvious anxiety, his hands are steady, passing the needle through the wound. The attention on the wound brings back the reminder that Matt’s still concussed.
“Hey, Sunshine?” Foggy whispered, “Mind if I join you in your blanket burrito? It'll warm you up faster.”
Matt opens his eyes in the direction of Foggy’s voice to try and confirm silently. He can’t tell if Foggy understands his non-verbal agreement, so he does another small nod. Foggy joins him under the tower of never ending blankets, hugging Matt against his bare chest. The warmth of his partner’s body makes Matt realise how cold he actually is.
Matt is pretty sure Foggy is talking to him. But the heat of his body and closeness creates a comfortable fuzzy feeling inside of Matt, so he's no longer paying attention to Foggy’s ramblings.
They lay there together for what seems like forever and a minute at the same time. Then the shivering slowly starts. It racked Matt’s body like an earthquake, making him, if possible, even more tired. He feels so, so tired as the never ending shakes and searing warmth run through him. Foggy just held him closer, still whispering nothing to keep Matt out of his own head. The soft tingling in his limbs becomes a burn as the blood returns to them. He can't help the small sounds that escape the back of his throat as the numbness turns to heat and pain.
Foggy checked his temperature again once the shivering finally died down. For the first time he seems satisfied, “Matt?”
Matt hummed softly in agreement.
“Stay awake for a little longer, ok? You're almost there buddy, just stay with me.”
Matt doesn't think he can. His body seems to be failing him, unable to move much out of pure exhaustion. But he will for Foggy. Just a little longer.
“Sounds like ‘m dying” Matt managed.
“Well, you weren't far off.” Foggy let out a nervous snort, terribly hiding his true emotions.
It didn't seem like long before Foggy prodded him again with the thermometer. Matt starts to really hate that thing. Foggy lets out a long awaited sigh of relief. That’s good.
“You can go to sleep now, Matty.”
Matt doesn’t even wait a second before he lets unconsciousness roll over him.
---------
Matt wakes up to something tickling his feet. Ah, it's Foggy. He pulls foot foot away. Wait, what? Where is he? That’s the leather couch beneath him. There’s a pile of blankets that are on the floor. What happened? Did they go out drinking until three again?
“How are you feeling?” Foggy’s sleep riddled voice breaks through Matt’s confused thoughts.
“A little hungry.” Why was Foggy asking him this? Did he go out last night?
“I hope so, it's probably been at least 36 hours since you last ate.”
“What do you mean?” Matt felt like he should know why.
“Matty, what day is it today?” Foggy asked, a fresh wave of panic breaking through his voice.
“It's Friday, right? We closed the office because of the snowstorm.” Matt was sure that somehow that answer was wrong.
“No baby, it's Saturday morning,” Foggy said softly as if not to scare Matt.
Then it hits him. It was not a dream. The muggers and the girl. The baseball bat. The cold. Foggy finding him. The constant confusion.
He reached up to feel around the injury on his head. Then he buried his head in his hands.
“Shit. I thought that was a dream. Sorry for putting you through that.”
“No need to apologize,” Foggy said calmly, rubbing Matt’s palm in a comforting motion, “ If anything I'm really glad I was there yesterday. I uh… I don't think you would have made it, if I hadn't found you.”
He hadn’t realized that it was that bad. Shit, once again he almost dies in front of Foggy. This is a terrible habit.
“Hey, no. Stop it with your catholic guilt, Murdock. I’m happy you're safe, just next time call me when you feel like passing out in a snow storm. Come home to me, okay?”
Matt nodded solemnly, before dropping his head in half-hearted shame. Foggy gently cupped Matt with his free hand and kissed him lightly.
“I love you so much, just don't let a snowstorm be your downfall,” he sounded almost sad, bittersweet.
Matt nodded again before kissing Foggy back, “I love you too, Fogs.”