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slash4femmeThe pain wakes Foggy. For a moment he stays where he is, with his eyes closed, half way between sleep and waking not really conscious of anything other than the physical discomfort. He needs to get up and take some medication, so he rolls over, into the space where Matt should be, but of course isn't.
The room is cold, Foggy snuffles into Matt’s pillow for a moment before forcing his eyes open. Everything is darkness and shadow with the dull light from the streets playing though the edges of the curtains. He fumbled for the bedside table until his hand closes around his phone.
2:15 am it says, late for Matt to still be out but not unheard of. Not panic time, not quite yet. He’ll call Matt on the burner phone after he takes his meds.
Foggy sits up slowly, his whole body feels heavy and awkward with pain dulling his mind, so he can only thinking in simple thoughts. Get up. Get water. Take meds.
His legs hurt, really hurt, a strong ache like a muscle cramp that goes on and on and on. The pain medication will help though, at least let him sleep a little bit before he’s got to get up for work.
He gets up and shuffles across the floor. He grabs his hoodie from off the top of the dresser, pulls it on as he opens the bedroom door. The living room is as ever bathed in pink light, pale and ghostly so that he doesn't see the figure sprawled on the couch until he’s almost past.
“Foggy.” Matt says, he’s in the sweatpants and tshirt he insists on keeping in his box of Daredevil equipment so he can change into something without waking Foggy.
“Matt.” It feels like his mouth is full of wet cotton and comes out sounding like each sound is being dragged over sandpaper.
Matt frowns, “Hey” He says and makes to sit up, reels a little in the process like moving his making him dizzy. “You okay?”
“I should ask you that.” Foggy says hunches his shoulders a little bit, huddles down into the old over-sized Columbia sweatshirt. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Matt says and there isn't any open wounds or bleeding that he can see, but that doesn't mean anything with Matt. Then when Foggy doesn't move “Claire says it’s only a minor concussion.”
“You came from Claire’s apartment hear with a concussion?” Foggy wants to be angry and he is it’s just being dulled by the pain he’s in.
Matt looks a little bit guilty. “I’m sorry,” He says. “I just wanted to come home. Typical, stupid, sad puppy Matt face.
Foggy sighs. “I need my meds.” He says. “I can deal with you being crazy and running around the city with a hand wound after that.”
Matt sits all the way up now.”Are you all right.” Foggy can almost feel him focus all his senses on Foggy. “Do we need to go to the hospital?”
“No. I’m just in some pain, I need to take some of the pain meds my doctor gave me so I can sleep.”
Matt makes to get up and Foggy waves him off, “I can get them, you stay there.”
For a moment Foggy thinks Matt’s going to struggle up and get the glass of water for Foggy if it kills him. He just sits back though and Foggy shuffles into the kitchen.
The glass is shockingly cold in his hands. He moves with it slowly, afraid he’ll drop it. Balances it with two hands as he fills it with water.
He fumbles with the cap on his pill bottle until he gets it off, swallows a pill down. He leaves the glass in the skin and wraps the hoodie more tightly around him, goes back into the living room.
Matt’s still half sprawled across the couch, eyes closed, breathing slow and even, but Foggy knows he’s not a sleep.
“Move your feet a little.” He says and Matt shifts just his legs making room.
Foggy drags the blanket they keep on the couch for nights like these up and over them as he sits. He tucks his legs up on what little couch is remaining as best he can.
It would be easier in their bed but that would involve moving Matt.
“I’m going to have to change doctors.” He says. “I need to see someone who’ll take this seriously.”
“Can they refer you somewhere, a to a specialist?” Matt says without opening his eyes.
Foggy’s mouth tastes stale despite the water he’s just had, he rubs one hand across his face. His wedding ring catches the light from the bill board outside. “Probably, I’ll call tomorrow.”
“Have you thought anymore about a cane?” Matt says, and Foggy snuggles into the blanket closer against Matt’s legs.
“We need to look into the insurance, see what it covers.”
Matt is frowning again, “I’ll call them.”
“Okay.” Foggy closes his own eyes, the pain is receding under the medication. He starts of drift off again.
Next to him Matt shifts around on the couch, so that their sides are pressed together and Matt’s arm is around him.
Stupid Matt, he thinks, he shouldn’t be moving with a concussion. He doesn't open his eyes though, just leans his head against Matt’s shoulder.