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His phone was blinking at him. Lucy couldn't stand the noise, the ringing or even just the buzzing when it was set on vibrate, and Frank had taken to leaving it on silent most of the time. After leaving her with Matt at his office this morning, he’d forgotten to change the setting back. Lucky he’d looked at it to check the hour, then.
It was Karen. Come get your man, he’s moping, it said. Uh. It was only about 5 but all right. He could do that.
He grabbed the overnight bag he’d packed earlier and walked down the stairs, feeling a bit fluttery in the gut. Shit, he was a grown man, not a 12-year-old girl.
“What’s got you looking so pissed, Pete?”
“Hey, Carlie.” She gestured at him to come in her office. “Not pissed,” he said.
“Uh huh. Ooh, you’re spending the night at the girlfriend’s again?” Frank grunted. “You know you’ll have to spill at one point, right? Naye said Lucy was doing well, and that she wanted to meet the mystery lover that adopted the both of you.”
“It’s just, you know.”
“Do tell,” Carlie said.
“Gonna be late.”
“Aw, you’re such a good boyfriend.”
Fuck, would she stop with that bullshit? Frank tried not to scowl at her. Those words – lover, boyfriend. He didn’t like them. They were ridiculous, both for him and for Red. They were fighters. Dangerous men living dangerous lives, courting death and, in Frank’s case, inflicting it.
Shit, what were they even doing? They both had too much baggage, too much fury, too much… too much everything. A day and a night spent together didn’t make a relationship. They’d spilled too much blood, theirs and others’, to deserve peace or sweet nothings in the ear or anything like that. It wasn’t them. It was all behind Frank, back in the days when Maria and Lisa and Frank Jr were still alive.
And Red carried too much shit and guilt around, too. Altar boy. Frank’d seen it, when he’d watched Red jump in the middle of a drug deal or kick armed men with absolutely no protection other than his rage and his faith. Frank’d seen it in Red’s vicious grin and his bloody fists. He cleaned up nice, and he could be sweet, but that was half of it. Only half of it. And Frank, under the Castiglione beard, still was the Punisher. His actions when they’d taken Matt – he hadn’t hesitated. He’d have taken up a mob with only his fists if he’d had to and he would have won, he knew it. He’d slipped into that particular mindset that had gotten him through – that had gotten him through. Before.
It had all come again to him when they’d taken Red. Fuck.
“Pete? Pete, you with me?”
He blinked. “Yeah, yeah.”
“You zoned out for a moment there. Making plans for tonight?” Carlie was beaming at him, and Frank couldn’t really resent her.
“Eh, you know.”
“Go get her, then! Don’t make her wait!”
Maybe he could throw a little stun grenade before leaving though. “Him.”
“Good eve – what? What? Pete, you can’t leave now! You never said – Pete!”
Frank booked it to the nearest subway station while Carlie was probably already in Naye’s office to share the gossip. They knew he’d had a wife before, but he’d never mentioned anyone else and they’d assumed what everyone always assumed. They must be preparing his interrogation by now.
He got to the office just before 6, and all three of them were still there.
“Hey, Karen,” Frank said.
She waved him in. “Our hero, here at last to save us from Matt’s pining. Come in, Frank!”
“I’m not pining.”
“You are, and it’s disgusting,” Nelson said. “Your sad puppy face is worse than the actual dog’s!”
“Cute, Foggy. The word you’re looking for is cute.” Karen closed her laptop and stood up to lean on Nelson’s open door.
“No it’s not.”
“You jealous, Nelson?” Frank felt Matt’s hand slide around his biceps. “Think your buddy here might be a little jealous, Red.”
“Well, he did say you cleaned up nice once,” Matt said. “He sounded a bit breathy too.”
Nelson made a choking sound.
“Or maybe he’s got the hots for you, Red.”
“I hate you all.”
“No you don’t.”
“No I don’t, fine. Matt, you still owe us a few drinks, yeah?”
“You just want to put me on the stand.” Oh, Lucy was still wearing the harness, uh. And Matt was keeping a hand on it. Frank tried not to smile (and failed).
“You bet I do, counselor.” Nelson closed the file in front of him with a snap, and stood up. “Right, well, let’s call it a day; my non-murderous girlfriend and I have a date.”
“Marci slays in court and you know it, Fogs.”
“Whatever. Shoo, go do the gooey face somewhere not in front of my face, all right?”
“Yeah, yeah, off we go, Fogs.”
Matt was smiling as they left the office, one hand tucked in Frank’s elbow and the other on Lucy’s harness. Somehow, the strap of his briefcase had ended again on Frank’s shoulder.
Frank was well and truly fucked.
They stopped at a Thai place to get some takeout dinner, and once Lucy had done her doggy business in the gutter they went up the stairs to Matt’s apartment. Frank was disgusted at how domestic and ordinary it felt: Matt leaning his cane near the door next to Frank’s backpack and his own briefcase, then hanging his jacket carefully. Taking off their shoes, padding to the bathroom, their soapy fingers sliding together as they washed their hands in the sink, Matt wiping his hands on Frank’s shirt like the little shit he was.
“Red.” But he’d already slipped away to the kitchen, getting the plates out of the cupboard with a wide grin on his face. “Red, seriously?”
“What?”
“Did you have to do that?”
“What, can’t a guy cop a feel? I’m blind, Frank.” Red wriggled his fingers. “But I still like to, you know.”
“To what?” Frank stalked to where Matt was, leaning back against the kitchen counter. He’d rolled up his shirtsleeves, showing off his forearms. He wanted to wipe that little smirk off of his face. “To what, Red?” He wasn’t that much taller, maybe it was even just because he was doing his best to loom and Matt his best to lounge. Still, Frank looked down into that face as he took the glasses off and set them on the counter, a face he remembered punching, shooting even. He’d shot the guy in the head, and now he was boxing him in against his kitchen counter. Red wriggled, and showed a bit of teeth, and fuck it. Fuck him.
Frank pinned those forearms against the wood and went for it, went straight for the red lips and that too-smart mouth and shit, Red’d slipped a thigh between his. Frank needed to up his game if he wanted to stay on top. His beard rasped against Matt’s day-old stubble and the sound went straight down there. Fuck, that was – yeah, that was good, Red’s squirming, his tongue, the little humming sounds he made when Frank nipped at his split lip. He liked it with a sting. Frank was not surprised at all. He leaned in a bit more, made him bend back a bit more, made him –
“Ow!”
“Shit, what? Did I hurt you?”
“No, no. Sorry, let’s…”
“No. What is it?”
“Nothing.” Matt was looking mighty unhappy, but Frank wasn’t sure if it was because of the abrupt end to their making out session or because of the pain that had seemed to come out of nowhere. But it hadn’t, right? He’d taken a beating on Saturday night and another one on Sunday.
“Let me see.” Frank started on the shirt, removing the tie and undoing the buttons one by one. He was methodical and quick, and Matt’s face was doing the guilty thing. “Don’t sulk, it’s fine.”
“Not really.” Matt slid his hand along the wooden counter until he felt his glasses, and slipped them on.
The shirt was quickly open, a little cross hanging on a string the only unsurprising thing on a torso every possible color except that of unbruised skin. “Shit, Matt.” Frank hadn’t expected that many scars, either. “Turn around.” Matt did with a huff, and Frank slid the shirt down his arms. His back wasn’t much better, and his kidneys were particularly black and blue. Right where he’d pressed him into the counter, too. “Shit.”
“It’s nothing.” Red shrugged his shirt back on and busied himself with cutlery and glasses.
“It’s not.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re hurt. You’re not bleeding, you don’t have broken bones, but you’re still hurt. There’s no shame in it.”
When Matt turned around, he’d done up his shirt again, but it was a botched job. One side was lower than the other, and Frank felt a sudden surge of affection, of protectiveness even. Red didn’t need and above all didn’t want it, but that didn’t matter.
“Let me,” Frank said, and he took the takeout bag in one hand and pushed Matt forward into the other until he was sitting on his couch. “Don’t move.” Frank then brought the plates and forks and found two beers in the fridge that he set down on the coffee table.
“I’m going out tonight.”
Shit, now he was going all tragic martyr on him. “No you’re not.”
“Frank…”
“You need to let your body rest.”
“I didn’t go out yesterday.”
“Yeah. And?”
“I can’t – ”
“You can and you will. You can’t save everyone, and you won’t save anyone if you’re not on top of your game. You can fake it well enough when it’s just walking down a street and sitting at a desk, but more than that?”
“I have before.”
“It’s not healthy.”
“Frank, are you lecturing me on – ”
“Shut up. Yes I am.”
“You can’t make me stop!”
“That’s not what I’m doing, Red. I just… you’ll get yourself killed.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Look, if I ask Nelson or Karen, what are they going to tell me? Or that nun you see sometimes?” Matt paled. Huh. “Okay, I won’t. Look, let’s eat up first, yeah?”
Matt shrugged, and started poking at his food. “Are you taking Lucy with you?”
“What?”
“After this.” He waved his fork over the takeout boxes.
“I don’t think she’ll need to, but sure, if she asks.” Frank pretended he’d misunderstood, and Red didn’t ask again.
Frank tried to get some reaction, at least. He stole some rice from Matt’s plate, but no, he didn’t retaliate. All right. “I thought maybe we could, uh. Go get you some body armor or something, afterwards.” Silence to his left. He looked at Red; he was frozen. “You used to wear some. With horns.”
“I don’t need it anymore.”
“Sure you do. Maybe not the horns, though.”
“I do fine without it.”
“Your body says otherwise.”
“It’s nothing.”
“For fuck’s sake.” The plate didn’t break when Frank slammed it on the table, but it was a near thing. “Look, I know a boot to the back isn’t a building falling on you, and that you survived that, but isn’t that good reason to be more careful? I’ve seen less scars on Marines on their third tour, Red. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
Slowly, deliberately, Matt set his own plate on the table, the fork precisely parallel to the knife. “No.”
“What if I hadn’t found you the other night, Red? What then? What if I hadn’t gone after you?”
“I…”
“Look, I get it, I do. But you don’t do that to me, Red. You just don’t.” He’d lost too much already. No more, Frank thought. No more. “And what about your friends? What about Nelson, and Karen? What about Lucy? You ever think about them?” The nun, he didn’t say. Do you think about the nun? He’d have to find out who she was, later.
Finally, Matt spoke again. “The guy I went to, before. He’s in jail right now.”
“You his lawyer?”
“Foggy.”
“Well, he’ll get out then, right?”
“Yeah, probably. There were circumstances, and...Yeah.”
“All right. Until then, we’ll find you something.” Frank looked at Matt’s profile, his slightly downturned mouth. “Maybe not tonight. You look done in.”
“Way to make a guy feel good about himself, Frank.”
“What, you want me to serenade you? You got a guitar somewhere?”
“You play?”
“Not in a while, but yeah.” He flicked some hair away from Matt’s face. “That’s how I met my wife.”
“Oh.”
Frank watched Matt cradle his bottle of beer, start picking at the label. “You finished?” He took Matt’s plate.
“Yeah.”
A few minutes later he’d filled Lucy’s food bowl, the plates were drying next to the sink and the takeout boxes were in the fridge. He came back to the couch. Matt hadn’t really moved, the bottle was dangling from his fingers between his knees and Frank took it away before it fell to the floor and broke. “Hey,” he said. Matt tilted his head back a little as if he could see Frank looking down at him. “Here’s an idea. We have a long, warm shower to loosen up those muscles, you put on those stupid socks, and we, shit, I don’t know. Read a book? I can read to you. Is that a thing people do?”
“We can watch a film, too.” Smartass.
“Are you making fun of me, Red?”
Matt smirked a little. “I am.”
“Fine. Ha ha, funny. So?”
“That’s not what you came for.”
“What did I come for?”
Matt shrugged. “Food and sex?”
“You think you’re that irresistible, Red?”
“Clearly I’m not.”
“Hm. I don’t know, it’s still early. So, what do you say?”
“Yeah, all right.” He stood up. “But you don’t have to stay, Frank.”
“Sometimes I still want to shoot you in the head, you know that?”
“I’m not going out tonight.”
“Damn right you’re not. Now, about that shower?” Frank put a hand flat on Matt’s chest, not putting any pressure but just… there. He waited until Matt nodded, finally. “I’m not too sure of myself either, you know?” For the second time today, he undid Matt’s shirt, but this time he lingered, got closer with each button, finally took Red’s hand to put them over his own waist. Frank wanted to feel him.
“Why?” Quiet, as soft as his fingers were when they slipped under his shirt.
“I haven’t – not in a while. Not since, you know.” It wasn’t that Frank thought he’d forgotten how, no. But he was afraid of what he’d feel. Who he’d think of. If he’d forget who he was with, if he’d start crying in the middle, if. If.
But Matt’s palms on his stomach were nothing like Maria’s. They were larger and a bit dry, and his nails bit into Frank’s sides when their mouths met again. They shuffled towards the bathroom, throwing their clothes in the direction of the couch and mostly not missing. “I’ll trip on it,” Matt said when Frank made to drop his shirt right where they were, and yeah. Blind. Frank forgot sometimes. He dropped Matt’s glasses on the sink and pulled him inside the shower, turning the knob behind him.
The cold water hit Frank’s shoulders but he managed to catch most of it before it warmed up enough, and then he tugged at Matt’s hips to put him right under the spray. Frank watched him turn his head up into in, watched droplets cling to his eyelashes, watched his hair flatten against his skull. Frank poured some shampoo in his hands and started massaging it in. Matt groaned surprisingly loudly, and Frank grinned. Oh, it’d be good. One day soon he’d lay Matt out on his fancy silk sheets and get him to make all sorts of noises. Those he was making right now were already pretty good.
Matt seemed to be particularly invested in Frank’s shoulders, then down to his chest. “You got scars too, Frank,” he murmured.
“Yeah, well.”
“You’ll tell me about them?”
“Sure.”
Matt smiled and spent some time running his fingers through Frank’s hair and beard. He seemed fascinated by the textures, scratching and tugging and stroking everywhere.
“M’not a dog, Red.”
The only answer he got was a pleased hum, and he didn't push it. It was nice, anyway. There was a moment when Matt stiffened and his eyes widened in panic, but he shook his head and relaxed right away. “Sorry, got water in my ears. Caught me by surprise.”
“That’s all right.” Frank let his palm ran down from Matt’s (scarred) shoulderblade to his (very, very nice) ass. “It’s just me.”
“I know.” Matt was all soft and warm and pliant now, with a half-smile curving his lips. Frank ran his thumb over them and Matt tried to bite him, but he was too mellowed out to catch him.
“Ready to get out?”
Frank shut off the water and reached out for the towels right outside. They dried off quickly, and Matt’s flushed skin was soon covered by soft, shapeless clothes. Bit of a shame, Frank thought. He flipped the hood over Matt’s head and got a pointy elbow in the gut for his trouble when they got out of the bathroom. Worth it.
A few minutes later Matt’s hair was a fluffy mess on his pillow and he was fighting to keep his eyes open. “Don’t wanna sleep,” he mumbled. God, how old was he?
“Why?”
“S’early.”
“You’re sleepy, so sleep.” Frank plugged in Matt’s phone. Charging, it said. Right, accessible features. “I’m right here.”
He settled next to him on the bed, book in hand.
Disgustingly domestic.
Frank opened his eyes to darkness. Lucy’s claws were clinking on the floor. Sprawled half over him, Matt was sleeping. He hadn’t moved after he’d relocated from the far side of the bed to his human mattress, his ear right over Frank’s heart. He had a thing about Frank’s heart, it seemed. But Lucy was restless, and Frank should take her out for a walk while the streets were not too crowded.
He gently uncurled Matt’s fingers from his shirt and used all the skills he’d developed as a father to move him without waking him up. Matt made a little displeased noise but curled around the pillow and went back to dreaming about whatever it was blind people dreamed about. Still, as a precaution, Frank took off his shirt and watched Matt latch on it. It should smell like him by now, and he hoped that it would help keep Matt as peaceful as he seemed to be.
He didn’t even tie his boots; just put on a jacket, grabbed the keys from the nail by the door, clipped Lucy’s leash on, and out they were.
The night air was cold but not cold enough to be unpleasant. The streets weren’t empty, they never were, but they were quieter than in the day and Lucy was happily trotting and sniffing by his side for all their walk.
When Frank opened the door and looked around, he didn’t notice anything strange. Not at first. There was enough light from the billboard to see by without switching on a light. He unclipped Lucy’s leash, toed off his boots, draped his jacket over the back of a chair, picked up the tie that had fallen from the counter. Domestic.
“Frank?” The voice was a little bit high. Frank padded into the bedroom and found Matt sitting up in bed, eyes wide and darting everywhere, settling nowhere.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“I thought. I thought.” Matt was taking quick, short breaths. Something had jerked him out of sleep.
“Bad dream?”
“I. I. I couldn't hear you. Or Lucy. I thought.”
“We just went for a walk. We’re back now. I didn’t want to wake you up to tell you.”
“No, no, it’s. It’s fine.” Not really, but Frank let it go. It wasn’t like he didn't know exactly what had happened. He’d been there too, but Maria had never waited for him on the other side of the nightmare.
“Can I have my shirt back now?”
Matt’s fingers tightened around it before he held it out. “Sure.”
“Thanks.” Frank slipped it on and settled back on the bed. “Think you can go back to sleep?”
“Yeah, maybe. I don’t know.” He wriggled back down under the covers. “Frank,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Can you… if the offer still stands. Can you read to me?”
“Sure.”
So it seemed both his heart and his voice could smooth out Matt’s forehead and send him to sleep, huh. He watched him sleep for a while before switching off the flashlight he’d used to read and tugging a little on Matt’s wrist. Even fast asleep, he caught on right away and octopussed all over Frank.
Shit, if Karen or Sarah could see them… or, fuck, Carlie. He’d never hear the end of it. Now Frank was going to have nightmares. He sighed, curled a careful hand around Matt’s skull, and let sleep claim him again.
Frank opened his eyes to early morning sun pouring in from the window. Matt was awake; Frank could hear him in the kitchen. Making coffee, sounded like. Frank’s skin was still warm where he’d been lying just a few minutes earlier.
“Hey,” he said when Matt came back to bed holding two mugs.
“Hey, Frank.” Matt handed him a coffee and slipped back under the covers. “You woke up early.”
“So did you.”
“Hm. Your heartbeat changed first.”
“So what, I’m the one who woke you up, is that it?” Frank draped an arm over Matt’s shoulders, careful not to put too much pressure on the bruises he knew were under his sweatshirt. “Sure it’s not your fumbling with the coffee pot that woke me up?”
“I don’t fumble.”
“Sure you do. Everybody does in the morning.”
“I don’t.” Great, a pout.
“You’re better than all of us, is that it?” He shook him a little. “Come on, Red. You’re human too.”
The pout didn’t completely go away, but Matt let his head fall on Frank’s shoulder. “I don’t like it when people think I can’t do things.”
“I never said that. I never thought it.”
“I know.”
“But people often do?”
“Yeah.”
“That sucks, Red.”
They didn’t say anything else for a while. The coffee was too hot, which was how Frank liked it best in the mornings; and he drank Matt’s too when it looked like it was going to spill all over the bed. Matt’s fingers had relaxed around the mug as he’d fallen back asleep. It was fine; they had plenty of time yet before having to get up and be productive members of society. Well, Frank didn’t have much to do today, but he’d start looking for some body armor that would be light enough for Mr. Parkour here. Matt’d want something that would let him have full freedom of movement, wouldn’t slow him down when jumping from roof to roof. Something that would ease a little the worry in Frank's guts.
A little surprised hum from his shoulder made Frank look from the window to the twitching fingers in Matt’s lap. “Hey, sleepyhead.”
“Oh, um.” He rubbed his head in Frank’s neck. It tickled. “Sorry.”
“Still early, Red.”
“All right.” He hid his yawn in Frank’s shoulder. He definitely liked the shoulders. Frank decided he’d pay particular attention to them when working out it if got him that kind of moments. “Hey, Frank.”
“Yeah?”
“You called me Matt yesterday.”
“It’s your name.” It had slipped out. Frank hadn’t thought it would, not right now. Not so early.
“Thought you’d forgotten.”
As if.
But then Matt threw a leg over his and sat on Frank’s thighs and kissed him, fingers buried in his hair and his knees tight around his hips, and it may have slipped Frank’s mind then. They made out for a while, slowly but with intent; Matt’s hands had soon slipped under his shirt and thrown it away and yeah, definitely the shoulders.
“What’re you smiling at?” Matt’s voice was a bit rough, a bit demanding. Frank liked it.
“Nothing,” he said, and flipped them around so he could hover over a breathless Matt, pinning his wrists down on the bed.
“I let you do that.”
“You keep telling yourself that, Red.” Frank blocked a knee coming for his gut and lowered himself just enough over Matt that he could feel there was nothing, nothing between them but sweatpants and a hair’s breadth of air. Then, he waited. He could wait. Red, though – he was impulsive and impatient and he would break first, Frank just knew it. Red smirked at him, vibrating and challenging and his eyes wide, lost somewhere Frank could never go. They were almost golden in the morning light.
And then Lucy jumped on the bed and wanted to tussle too and Matt fucking giggled. Frank sighed and let the moment go. Cockblocked by a dog, eh. But Matt looked so happy right then, his laugh was so genuine, Frank didn’t have the heart to scold Lucy (much).
Wednesday went pretty much like Tuesday, although Frank had to deploy Special Ops skills to evade Carlie and Naye who were out for intel on his mystery male lover. He found a few pieces of armor he’d try and get Matt to wear, but he decided it could wait a few days. Didn’t want Red to get ideas. First, Frank planned on making him stay home for the next couple of nights. The neighborhood was quiet after they’d gone through the weapons dealers, and Matt should be well-rested enough to win his and Nelson’s case. Frank found he cared about that too, now. Altar boy had rubbed off on him (not literally enough though, and that would have to change soon).
After he’d finished his work at the shelter, Frank took a shower and trimmed his beard and took a good look at himself in the bathroom mirror. Some of those scars reminded him of people he’d have to talk to soon, people he’d neglected a bit lately. Curt, David… Maybe he could go to Curt’s session tomorrow. Get a beer afterwards. He picked up his phone and turned it over in his hands. He wanted to text Sarah, but he didn’t know what to say. He had a standing invitation every Saturday, and he just knew Sarah would be thrilled to see him bring a plus one (and Leo would probably be all over Matt. She was at a stage when she went from crush to crush and, fuck, he couldn't be jealous of a teenage girl, could he?). But he wanted to keep Matt all to himself for now, too.
Ah, fuck, he had it bad. Little shit had wormed his way into Frank’s skull and he’d be impossible to remove now. He sighed and went to root for the softest shirt he had in his mostly empty closet. He was so, so gone.
“You hungry?” Matt asked as they walked away from his office. He was still slightly blushing from Karen’s teasing. It was a good look on him.
“Left stuff in your fridge.”
“Stuff?”
“You’ll see.” Frank’d swung by an organic shop before meeting with Red. He’d gone through the roof entrance to leave the goods in his kitchen. Tonight, he was cooking; no takeout, no leftovers. Something healthy and wholesome he’d make for them both, and then… well, a guy could hope, yeah?
“Didn’t know you cooked.”
“Lots of things you don’t know ‘bout me, Red.” Matt didn’t answer, then at an intersection turned a sharp left, pulling on Frank’s arm. “What?”
“I’m just… you’ll see.”
“Hm. Lead on, then.”
Matt’s hand curled a little tighter around his biceps, and Frank followed.
After a few minutes, they reached a church. Matt stopped in front of it, head tilted, then shook his head and continued to the next building over. St Agnes, it read on the door.
“This,” he said. “This is where I grew up. After my father.” He fumbled a bit with his cane in his free hand. “After he died.”
Frank looked at the door. “Do you often come back?”
“I, uh. Didn’t use to. But after, um. I don’t know what Karen told you. About Midland Circle.”
“Not much.”
“Right.” Frank waited. He was a sniper, too. He was patient. Matt led them around, to another, smaller door at the back. “I was brought here. The nuns, a nun. She helped me. I was in a bad place.”
“She the nun you come see when you need stitches?”
“You’re a stalker, Frank.” He didn’t deny it. “She’s good at stitches.”
“She here when you grew up, too?”
“Yeah.” All right. But there was something else, wasn’t there? “And, um. I learned. She’s my mother.”
Well. He hadn’t been expecting that. To be fair, Matt probably hadn’t either. “Shit.”
“Yeah.” Matt made a tiny sound, like the driest, smallest of laughs. “I didn’t take it well, not at first.”
“Can imagine.”
“So, um. If you’d like. She’s in here.”
“What, like a meet the parents thing?”
“You don’t have to.”
“Oh, no. I saw her scold you right, I like her already.”
“While you were following me like a creep.”
“You gonna file a complaint?”
Matt shook his head, and the door opened before they could knock. “You done stalling?” She was short, wiry and 100% steel. She took them both in with a glance and a raised eyebrow, and opened the door wider. “Come in, there’s hot cider inside.” She didn’t seem surprised to see Lucy and Frank guessed he’d come here before on a Sunday. Lucy clearly knew the place, too.
“Maggie,” Red said.
“Who’s your your gentleman friend, Matthew?”
“I’m Pete, Ma’am.” He should call her Sister, perhaps, but it felt weird knowing she was Matt’s mother. Somehow.
She led them down a flight of stairs and ended up in a large, if a bit outdated, kitchen. A pot of hot cider was simmering on the stove, and she ladled some in three mugs that she set on the table. “You don’t look like an orphan in need of shelter,” she said. “What brings you here? You look well,” she told Matt. Frank could guess she mostly saw him when he didn’t.
“Oh, he’s all black and blue under the clothes,” he said. Matt turned as red as his glasses and Maggie snickered.
“That’s interesting,” she said. “Tell me more.”
“Fished him out of a ditch the other night. Still recovering. He was cold as a, um. Block of ice.”
She looked at Matt with pursed lips. “Why am I not even a little surprised, Matthew?”
“Um.” He hid behind the steam coming from his mug, and his glasses fogged all over. “I’m fine.”
Frank almost laughed out loud when he saw the nun mouth his words as he was saying them. Yeah, she knew him all right. “I’m getting him some body armor.” Matt wisely kept silent.
“Good,” she said. “He needs it. So, Pete. You also a crime-fighter? Or are you just following Matthew to save him from himself?”
He shrugged. “Eh, bit of both.”
“Pete,” Matt said, “works at a dog shelter and also does odd jobs. Fixed my place.”
“I’m good with my hands,” Frank said as blandly as he could.
“I like him,” she said. “Hold on to him, Matthew.”
Red’s face was priceless. “Shouldn’t have come,” he mumbled into his cider.
“Oh, I disagree. So, Pete, are you looking for work at the moment? There’s always stuff to do around here.”
“Sure.”
Matt disappeared upstairs with Lucy, mumbling something about the church and the yard and exercise. It didn’t really make sense, but Frank and Sister Maggie did their best not to laugh at him while he was still nearby. He could probably hear them from wherever he went anyway, but plausible deniability was a thing, yeah? They chatted for a bit and finished the cider between themselves, and when there was none left they went to look for Matt and found him with a couple kids in the yard behind the church, throwing old tennis balls around and making Lucy a very happy dog indeed.
“I have to go take care of dinner,” Sister Maggie said. “I’ll see you both soon.” She shook Frank’s hand and had a little awkward moment with Matt, both of them seemingly not knowing what to do around the other. She finally settled for squeezing his wrist, and he twisted his hand around to grasp her fingers.
“Thank you,” he said.
She left and Frank looked at Matt. “Got myself a new job,” he said.
“That’s good.”
A bell rang and the kids ran inside after a quick, “Bye Matt! Bye Lucy!” and left them alone outside.
“I like your mom.”
Matt’s hand slid up Frank’s arm and slid under it. “I think she likes you too.”
“Everybody likes me.”
“Oh, they do, don’t they?” A smile grew on his face. “Well then. I promise I’ll like you too if you feed me, now.”
“So demanding, Red. So demanding.”
Frank dodged a totally accidental swing of Matt’s cane. They took their time getting back to the apartment, enjoying the crisp air and the smells of cooking food from all the joints they walked past. Frank even whistled as he prepared dinner and Matt was showering.
They had a quiet dinner and then a quiet evening, Matt working on something on his laptop and Frank reading his book, their thighs and arms pressed against each other. Lucy was sprawled at their feet, her watchful eyes on them. Frank hoped she wouldn’t decide to intervene again.
Just before ten, Matt removed his earbuds, closed his laptop and set it on the coffee table with a yawn that he tried and failed to hide.
“Tired?”
“I’m…” Matt started, but Frank cleared his throat. No bullshit, Red. “I guess I am a little, yeah.”
“You can’t keep a full-time job and spend all your nights chasing criminals. Not for long, anyway. Something’s gotta give.”
“Yeah, well. It’s giving, right now.” He curled against Frank, tucking his feet on the couch. His cheek brushed Frank’s shirt and yes, it was going to pay off. Matt rubbed against it like a cat and took off his glasses to put them on the computer before coming back to snuggle even closer. Book set aside, Frank smiled and let Red enjoy himself for a while.
“Should I let you have some quality time alone with my shirt, then?”
Matt stopped his petting. “If you removed it, I wouldn’t choose to go with the shirt.”
“You wouldn't, huh.” Frank took it off and waited. Predictably, Matt’s hand went first to his shoulder, down his arm, then over his chest, up his neck. And then, of course, he had to stop on his face. He didn’t seem to get tired of Frank’s beard, ever. Frank wondered what he was doing: comparing the texture of his hair and his beard? How the shortest hairs felt sharper, pointier than the longer ones? How his hair and beard melded into each other on his temples? Whatever it was, it was clearly doing it for him – and for Frank.
“Frank.”And then Matt was straddling him and Frank’s hands were tight on his narrow hips and they were kissing, kissing with all they had. Frank kept trying to get him closer, closer, and Matt’s nails were digging into his shoulders, and he didn’t seem all that sleepy now, did he?
There was a series of thumps: Lucy’s tail on the floor. Frank was not, absolutely not in the mood for another interruption; he slid his palms from Matt’s hips to his ass and Red got the hint just fine, his thighs wrapped around Frank’s waist and in a few steps they were in the bedroom, the sliding door closed between them and Lucy.
Matt’s breath was hot on his neck, his teeth sharp – oh, it was like that, then: good. Frank hoisted him up a little higher and Matt wriggled around him, eager and so, so ready.
Frank threw him on the mattress and laughed at the yelp it got him, and followed him and pinned him down with his entire body, enjoying the twisting and the squirming and the swearing. “What a mouth you have on you, Red,” Frank murmured as he slid the zipper down Matt’s sweatshirt.
“Don’t like it?”
“Isn’t it a bit filthy for an altar boy like you?” All those bruises, all those scars.
“Frank?”
Oh. Oh, he’d stopped too long. He stroked along Matt’s side, watched him shiver. “Looking good, Red.”
A pleased smile spread over his face. “Like what you see?”
“Yeah.” Frank really did. And then he shut them both up with more kisses, because if there was one thing he’d thought about all day it was this, those lips, that tongue, and what it did to him when he felt them on him. They managed to get rid of their pants, and this time Frank didn’t give a shit about where they were falling down on the floor (probably on the floor). They were skin to skin everywhere, and yes, Matt was very sensitive. Just breathing on his nipples made his breath come faster, and it made Frank feel like he was king of the world. He was almost afraid to do too much and send Matt over the edge too soon. He wanted to see him come and he wanted to make him wait and he wanted, he wanted.
“Fuck, Matt,” he said into his clavicle. “Fuck,” he repeated when a warm, sightly dry hand slid down, down and wrapped around him.
“Yeah,” and it was not much more than a pant, a huff of breath on his chest.
But Frank didn’t want to wait anymore and he didn’t want to take his eyes away from Matt’s face either, not this time. He looked around and saw Mr Sensitive Skin’s hand cream on the bedside table. Good enough, Frank decided, and he quite enjoyed Matt’s curious expression as he tried to figure out what was happening.
He didn’t try for long, though, because Frank had soon curled a slick hand around where it was most needed, and Matt made a noise like he was dying or maybe reborn.
“Like that, huh?”
Matt’s fingers tangled with his; they got slippery and curious and exploring and then back where Frank wanted it and then it was all warm and slick and breathing each other's air and fuck, fuck. Matt lost it with a long, drawn-out groan like he was fighting it, fighting himself to the last when Frank went just that little bit faster, and that pretty much was it for Frank. He followed right after.
Frank managed to avoid crushing Matt when his arms gave out, but it was a near thing. They panted next to each other, Matt’s eyes widened and his parted lips very red. Frank watched him, and after a while grabbed his boxers from the floor and wiped them off. Matt wrinkled his nose like a delicate princess and turned his head in Frank’s general direction. His hair was flopping over his forehead, and his cheeks were still flushed. Red was, Frank thought, stupidly pretty. He dug an elbow in the bed and set his head on his hand, looking down at all that skin spread out on silk just for him. The little cross around his neck had slipped down to the pillow.
“You’re noisy,” he said.
“I can be quiet.”
“I don’t mind.”
Red’s eyelids fluttered and didn’t entirely open again. “Okay.”
“Already tired out?” He caught the loose fist coming at him, slow as molasses. “Hey,” he said. “Not complaining.”
“No?”
“Nah. Proud of myself, more like.” There was something… bubbly in his chest, something he’d only ever felt for one person before. And he hadn’t been celibate before Maria, oh no.
“Uh huh.”
“It’s all part of my clever plan to keep you from going out tonight.”
“Frank…”
“Hm?”
“I’m not yours to protect, Frank.”
“Yeah? You sure?” Another weak punch, and this time Frank kept his hand around Matt’s wrist. Curious, he brought it to his chest and, yes. The fingers uncurled right away and slid to his shoulders. “I don’t have to, no.” He smiled when Matt turned to his side and started stroking his skin. The good thing with him being, out of necessity, so tactile, was just that; the constant touching, an appreciation he couldn't hide. It made Frank’s chest feel tight, too. “I just… I want to. I know you don’t need me too, not really. What we’re doing… it’s dangerous, with or without a bulletproof vest. But, uh. With is a bit less dangerous than without, yeah?”
“Okay, Frank.”
“Yeah?”
Matt hummed, his eyes fully closed now. Well, all right. Frank’d take it. Matt’s breathing had slowed town to something deeper and regular; he was almost asleep. Almost, but not quite; a shiver ran through him. Frank touched his arm and yeah, goosebumps.
“You cold?” No answer, of course. “Yeah, you are.” Frank did a quick tour around the bed to pick up their clothes and slip into sleep pants, and he poked Matt until he put his own sleep clothes on. He went right back sleep after that, a hand palm up on the pillow in front of his face. The fingers were twitching, and when Frank settled next to him and pulled up the covers Matt rolled immediately into him.
“Don’t go,” he mumbled. So not quite asleep, then.
“I’m here.”
“Don’t leave?” He didn’t add, me. Frank heard it anyway.
“I’m here Matt. I’m not going anywhere.” And Matt better not either.
They’d make sure of it, he knew. They’d make sure they didn’t lose anyone else, ever again.