hawk_shot | (Reply)

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He felt the mattress sag a little as Kate settled her weight onto it. Her body felt warm against his hip and upper thigh through the blanket laid over him. It was a welcome addition. He wasn't freezing, but hospitals were always cold even with the blankets. Her hand was warm, too. The rubbing against his knuckles is soothing, and for a brief moment he turns his hand enough so that he could give hers a slight squeeze in return. The hand on his chest felt like it was practically against his skin through the thin hospital gown. He could feel the beating of his own heart vibrating back against her palm. Concentrating, he could feel her pulse as well, moving slightly at a different cadence than his.

"... yeah. I'm sure Peter's already out there, just another night like always." It was compulsive, this drive to help because they could. That inability to stop. Matt has done it for longer than any of his friends who wear masks. One year of having walked away. It still didn't stick. He knows that Kate is just like them. She doesn't know when to stay down or tap out. He admired that about her, while at the same time being worried for her.

There was a small half-smile, a tired sigh at her words. Air that blew out of lungs that might not have kept breathing. How many times by now had he nearly died? One less time than Fisk wanted. His fingers uncurled to brush back the hair from her forehead. In a quiet voice he said, "I know. I'm sorry. It felt like the right thing to do, though." A beat, then even quieter he added, "Besides, if I hesitated, it might have been you throwing yourself in front of a bullet." He'd always rather take the hit than someone else.

Especially her.