Before Matt can start trying to get comfortable again, Bruce holds up a hand for a pause and, in case Matt's not together enough to register it (between the drugs and the trauma, he's not), he adds, "Hold on a second, before you ... "

Matt hums, staying still, and Bruce moves over to him, reaches for his wrist, puts his fingers to the pulse point there. A handful of seconds pass, and then Bruce lets him go, nodding. Matt may still be white as a sheet, but the beat of his heart isn't screaming shock anymore. It should be safe for him to sleep. "Okay."

"Okay," Matt repeats, sinking into the couch slowly but in earnest, now. He closes his eyes, lets out a heavy breath, and then -- then something seems to occur to him and he opens them again, turning his head in Foggy's direction. His eyes, as always, are unfocused but not as badly as they were when he first came to. He's out of the woods, now, albeit exhausted. "Foggy, if you want to spend the night here, my bed's open."

It's less offer, more demand. Please stay here, Foggy, at least for tonight, where the Avengers can keep an eye on you while he can't.