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“Really, Matt? You’re going to make a fuss about this?” A huff of laughter softened the brush of Foggy’s frustrated sigh against his face. “Your tough guy superhero image is taking a real hit here. Among other things, Jesus.”

“It stings.” Matt twitched away from the chemical burn of the antiseptic Foggy was dabbing on his abraded cheek. “And it’s nothing, just a few scrapes. Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it? Your pretty face is part of our business plan, buddy. How are you supposed to lure in new clients if I let you get all scarred up? Now be a good little vigilante, and you’ll get a treat after I’m done.”

“I’d settle for a stiff drink,” Matt answered on a sigh of his own, obediently holding still as Foggy cleaned the rest of the cuts he’d picked up on tonight’s patrol.

“Oh good. Drinks, I can do. But I ate the last of my snack stash going through the other half of those boxes the D.A.’s office sent over.”

“I can tell.” Matt pulled an exaggerated grimace at the scent of stale cheese puffs that clung to the cuff of Foggy’s sleeve.

“Sorry for offending your delicate sensibilities, Daredevil. You know, sometimes I wonder how it is that you actually scare anyone out there.”

“I manage.” Matt would never stop being grateful that Foggy had come to accept his nighttime activities enough to actually joke about them, and he’d do whatever it took to keep Foggy from ever realizing just why the criminals of Hell’s Kitchen were terrified of his shadow. “And to be fair, I didn't start the Daredevil thing.”

“They call you The Man Without Fear!” The words rang with melodrama, and Matt swatted fondly at the arm sweeping dramatic gestures into the air.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone’s scared of something.”

“I don’t know. You dive off of buildings. You throw yourself into gang wars. There’s no bad guy too big or too dangerous to tangle with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.” He shook his head, voice dropping low. “The things you do scare me just to think about. So from where I’m standing? Yeah, looking pretty fearless there, Matt.”

From where he was standing, almost tucked between the spread of Matt’s knees, close enough that it was harder work to avoid contact than it would be to just reach out and touch.

“Everyone’s scared of something,” Matt repeated, as he laid his hands flat to either side of his thighs and leaned fractionally away from the warmth radiating from his best friend. “We almost done here?”