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Karen had been in bed since nine. There wasn't much to do now anyway. Normally, she wouldn't even be home at this time. But New York went into lockdown, and Matt and Foggy had sent her home by noon.
"Buy groceries, stock up on essentials. We'll work via teleconferencing," Matt's mouth was set in a grim line as he waved them off with nary a hug. It was taboo nowadays.
Karen had almost opened her mouth to argue then, but considered the rising number of cases that played across every single television and paper in the room, before shutting it. She quickly gathered all her files, notes and anything else she thought she might need in the weeks (or maybe months, she hated herself for the thought) ahead. After a moment's hesitation, she grabbed the small succulent on her desk as well, shoving it into her purse.
The walk home was tumultuous, as she navigated throngs of people rushing to get home or stocking up on necessities in every bodega and shop she passed. Not to mention the balancing act she was doing with her file bag, her purse and the extra bags she had stuffed full of notebooks and computer equipment.
Stepping out of her heels when she got home was a relief, but she had only a moment to spare before she pulled boots on and headed out for a grocery run. Making dinner was quick, but she used the time as she ate to catalogue briefly what she had on hand and how long she had before she had to step out again.
Karen sighed. This was the new normal now.
She had drifted off into a fitful sleep but the rustling noise at her door halfway through the night made her sit up in bed, reaching for the gun in her nightstand.
People in a panic would do crazy things, she knew. It never hurt to be prepared.
She crept towards the door, taking note of the shadows playing out beneath it, and letting out a slow breath when the shadows moved away and left her doorway clear. Deciding to check anyway, Karen waited until the sounds had faded before she pulled the locks back and opened her door slowly.
She blinked at the box of groceries and medicine in front of her.
Picking up the note that was left carefully on the top, Karen relaxed the grip on her gun. She would press the back of her hand to her cheek thoughtfully, but it was holding the gun.
Picked up some things for you the lockdown. Stay safe. - F
Call if you need me anything.
The harsh lines through those words made Karen's breath catch with a warmth that reached deep into her chest. She carried the box inside, stumbling a little underneath the weight of it.
What did the man fit in there?
A whole lot apparently, Karen found out the next morning. She hadn't bothered to unpack it after bolting her door again, choosing instead to go back to sleep.
Ramen noodles, bread, pasta, some TV dinners, fresh vegetables and fruit and ... oh.
Her fingers curled around the large pack of her favourite premium roast, feeling the warmth in her chest return as she stared at the coffee. She had given him a mug of that coffee only once in her apartment, when he'd come over to fix up her door's security.
Frank remembered.
Swallowing hard, Karen stood to put all the groceries away in the kitchen. The extra medicine and amenities (toilet paper, really Frank?) she stashed in the bathroom, before she washed her hands thoroughly.
She hoped he was safe.
-
It took her four days to crack. Pulling her phone out, Karen let her fingers linger above the screen for a short while before tapping to bring Frank's contact up. Her thumbs moved on their own accord, and she bit her lip for a little before scrunching up her face and hitting send before she could over think it.
Karen (3:48pm): Hey
She tossed the phone at the end of the couch. If she were a lesser person, she might grabbed one of the cushions to scream into it. But she wasn't a little girl anymore, and it was just a text, for goodness sake, not a proposal of marriage.
Shaking it off, Karen moved to grab her laptop. Whether there was a response or not was unimportant. She didn't even know if the phone number she had for him was still in use. Almost by reflex, her eyes fell on the small alcove where the pot of white roses had sat.
There was a reason why there weren't plants in her house. She had struggled to keep even the simplest plant alive. The succulent she had rescued home from work was already browning; she didn't think it would last another two days. The roses had thrived for awhile, bloomed beautifully even, but over time, she had either forgotten to water them or lacked the skills to take care of them for a sustained period of time. The last surviving flower had been dried and pressed into a notebook in the drawer next to her bed. The rest of it was disposed cleanly into the small community garden behind her building.
Karen hoped the dying remains of her plant would help nourish others.
The screens of research drew her in, and Karen delved deep into the web, as she did every time a new case consumed most of her waking hours. At the back of her mind, she wondered how the rest of New York was doing. She mainly communicated with Matt and Foggy via group texts.
Foggy had texted her separately last night checking in as well, and they'd FaceTimed for a bit, with Marci as well. Karen couldn't remember the last time she spoke to someone face to face. She didn't think waving hi to the neighbours as she took out the trash counted. Both their smiles were strained, and the quick nods they gave each other carried the burdens of not being able to stand too close together to speak.
The next time she looked up to grab a sheaf of papers that had fallen to the carpet, Karen realised it was dark. The low rumbling of her stomach prompted her to get up, wondering if she should have started dinner an hour back.
Nice to know things hadn't changed even under a lockdown, she thought wryly.
Her toes hit the hard case of her phone as she was making to stand up, and Karen screwed her eyes shut before opening them to snatch it up.
Frank (4:12pm): Hey. You need anything?
Karen (8:05pm): Still making my way through that box you left for me. Thanks by the way.
Karen (8:06pm): How are you?
Karen's staring at the screen was interrupted by the low battery warning, and she strode into the bedroom to plug it in before moving back to the kitchen.
Her heart was most certainly not beating just a tad bit faster than before. The first shock for even having his number right was superseded by the fact that he'd replied and continued the conversation.
The whole reason she had reached out in the first place was because she never did thank him for the box of groceries. Whether she had a deeper motive for initiating the conversation would be kept within these four walls only.
But she was worried about Frank.
Frank, on a normal day, was already pushing people away, but they flocked to him anyway. She remembered the first time she'd hugged him, right here in this apartment and he'd clung to her like nobody had touched him in years. Which might have been true.
She feared for him, alone in a room with nobody to talk to and nothing but his thoughts to keep him company.
That fear was the last thing on her mind as she went to sleep that night.
-
Karen woke slowly to a quiet apartment, blinking to get used to the darkness. It was unnaturally cold, like the heating had gone out, and she found herself grateful for the socks and sweatpants that she had pulled on before going to bed .
Tapping her phone, Karen fell back onto her pillows with a groan when the flashing '4:57am' blinked back at her. It was too early and too cold for this. The super wasn't going to be up at this time, and she didn't even know if repairs could be made in this situation.
Pulling the covers further up to her shoulder, Karen tapped at the screen again. The text notification stood out above the rest and she quickly opened it.
Frank (9:02pm): Dealing with the quiet. You?
Karen (4:58am): Cold. The heating went out, but otherwise, okay.
The phone was unplugged and slipped into the pocket of her sweatpants as Karen got out of bed and went straight to her closet to put a sweater on. There was no telling how long the heating would be out. And as long as she was up, she might as well start her day.
The sun was just breaking over the buildings by her apartment as Karen finished off her second cup of coffee. Her sock clad toes curled into the fabric of her couch, and she hugged her knees to her chest. At least it wasn't the middle of winter.
A knock sounded from the door, and Karen ignored it. It was lockdown, everyone she knew was at home. She must have imagined it.
Another knock, more insistent this time. Karen set her mug down. Maybe one of her more elderly neighbours needed help. Nobody else was supposed to be out.
Which explained why her jaw fell open and she took a step back as she opened her door to find Frank Castle standing there.
Karen raised a hand to pinch herself.
He pulled down the bandana that he'd been using as a makeshift mask, and the sides of his mouth quirked up at the motion. "Hey," he said gruffly, hand shaking a box of tools at his side. "You said your heating was out."
"You could have just replied the text, you didn't have to come fix it," she said dumbly, slowly stepping aside as Frank stepped in. He started to shrug off his coat, but then changed his mind halfway and kept it on.
"Apparently, I did. Jeez Karen, it's freezing in here."
"It's not that bad. The super will - "
"Yeah, nobody's going to do shit. It's faster if I take a look at it."
"But - "
"I'm going," Frank picked up the tools again, leaving a small bag behind. "Just put the coffee on."
Karen opened her mouth again, but he was already shutting the door behind him. After a moment more of silence, Karen padded over to investigate the bag. Her insides went to jelly as she pulled out more fresh fruit and vegetables. There was a not-uncomfortable warmth spreading from the vicinity of her chest all the way down to her toes.
Shaking her head to snap herself out of it, Karen opened up her cupboards in search of another mug and more coffee grounds. And after pouring in her usual amount, she shook in extra. That man took diner coffee that was nigh undrinkable; he would most definitely need a brew stronger than what she normally drank.
She didn't know what to do with herself after. With a start, Karen lifted her hand to drag through her hair, which must look like a bird had nested in it at the moment. At least she'd washed it last night. She definitely wasn't expecting company.
It wouldn't do to change at this point. He had already seen what she was wearing.
Oh get it together, Karen told herself off. It wasn't like he came a-courtin'. The man was just here to fix the heater.
It had been more than a year since their encounter at the hospital. Words were unsaid. Worse words were said. Things and emotions were left in the hospital room that was probably sterilized as soon as they left. There probably wasn't anything else left.
That was a lie. Karen had something left though.
But she buried it deep into a large box and squashed it all the way at the back of her mind the minute she heard him outside the door again.
"Coffee's on," she called. "I already hid the cream and sugar so it won't offend your delicate eyes."
"Thank you kindly, ma'am."
Karen had already opened her mouth admonish him for calling her such, but the twinkle in his eyes told her he was joking so she shut it again. Moving to the kitchen island, she took a seat, and watched as he washed his hands and poured out a generous helping.
Silence fell as he waited for the coffee to cool (barely) before taking a hearty drink. Karen fidgeted a little. The last time they'd seen each other, he had been telling her to leave, that he didn't want her. That would have been uncomfortable even for actual couples, much less them.
She'd sigh every time his handiwork crossed her desk, knowing he was still out there fighting criminals. Matt would look at her knowingly the way he did from behind his glasses and Foggy would clear his throat, loudly changing the subject to anything else.
Karen didn't want to be the one to speak first. Frank was the one who walked away from her, and then showed up again out of nowhere. He was the one who had some explaining to do, not her.
"Um, thanks for the coffee," Frank eyed her over the rim of the mug as he drained it.
She shrugged, "You're welcome to the rest of it. I've already hit my quota for the morning."
"That was quick."
"It was cold."
"Your heater should keep for now. It was just a loose pipe that I knocked back in," Frank turned to fill his cup again. "Just used a boot. Didn't even need all of these tools."
"Sorry to make you come all the way down here for that," Karen crossed her arms, suddenly wishing he would stay. This was the most conversation she'd had in a week. Let's be honest, everyone was getting a little touch starved and lonely, no matter how great technology was.
But this was Frank. He had always slipped out of her grasp like smoke. It happened two years ago, and it happened again last year.
She didn't see why this time would be any different.
Karen never figured out a way to hang on to Frank.
Not even with two hands.
She looked up from her hands to find Frank staring intently at her. He'd sat down his half finished mug of coffee, leaving her to take in his face fully.
Karen hated that Frank looked good. He was clean shaven and unbruised. There were even tiny smile lines in the corner of his eyes. There was a lightness to his posture and to his disposition. His hair was the neatest she'd had ever seen it, closest to the fade that he had sported in the hospital but it was well maintained. She could tell he probably got a haircut just before the lockdown occured.
And the all black ensemble he always on didn't seem to be sporting any fresh blood stains either.
"Came over all this way on my own," his voice was a low rumble and Frank kept his eyes on her. "Decided to pick some things up along the way."
Karen, the reporter with a way with words, was at a loss for them. "Thank you," she offered.
He inclined his head, before reaching to finish off his coffee.
"You look good," Karen blurted out before wincing internally. Stupid Karen.
Frank rubbed at the back of his neck, the tip of his ears going red. "Thanks, Karen. You too."
Sighing, she gestured towards herself and down the length of her sweatpants. "You must be joking."
"No blood, no visible injuries, nobody coming after you because of an article you wrote," Frank ticked the criteria off on his fingers. "I think we're good."
His gaze deepened even as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. "You look good, Karen," he repeated.
It was her turn to blush, the heat rising easily to her cheeks, and she ducked her head. Her hand came up to tuck some hair behind her ear automatically.
"Thank you," she repeated again.
In the silence that ensued, Karen found herself desperately wishing that Frank would stay. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last. But it had never been stronger.
Everyone was lonely. The usual daily human interactions that everyone was used to had been stripped from them. If she felt this lonely, she couldn't imagine how it must feel for Frank.
Frank nodded silently.
"Where are you at now?"
"I'm working construction. It gets me some pay and helps me work off some stress, or whatever. Curtis set it up. I live in a really dingy apartment. But I make do."
"Huh."
"Hm?"
"I thought the CIA paid you off to be quiet about the whole carousel thing. Would have thought you'd be living it up somewhere, or at least have a decent place."
Frank shrugged, the discomfort evident on his face, "It wasn't for me. Most of the money I put back into the VA." What went unsaid, or what Karen deduced from the look of guilt that sprang into his eyes, was that Frank didn't think he deserved the money, or a nice place to stay in. He thought he wasn't worth it.
Frank nodded again, just for something to do in the sudden drop in conversation, before turning to wash out the mug he'd used. After drying it, he set it aside. "I should go."
Karen almost got whiplash with how fast he turned to leave, "What?"
Gesturing with one hand and zipping up his jacket with the other, Frank smiled at her, "You're all set. Call me the next time the heat goes out again, yeah?"
Partly out of desperation for him, and out of own selfish desire, Karen stopped him with a hand to his arm, "Wait."
Frank stilled, half turning to look at her.
What was she doing? One moment, she was burying her feelings down deep, the other, she was asking the man to - Karen didn't even know what she was asking. But she couldn't imagine Frank being on his own during this time. Perhaps it was partly selfish, she could honestly say that she was craving some human interaction. And it wasn't like Frank was complaining.
There was a very very small voice at the back of her head admonishing her for the hope that she had in her heart, the silent one that she would not, could not voice to anyone.
It wasn't hurting anyone. And it certainly wasn't going to hurt Frank.
Fuck it.
She couldn't meet his eyes, choosing to focus on the patch of wallpaper between his back and the refrigerator, 'You could - I mean, there's extra room for you here to crash, if - if you wanted to."
A large hand, warm and calloused, came up to cover hers. "Karen, I - "
Her words came fast now, and she didn't think she could stop them even if she wanted to. "Look, you said your place was a shithole anyway. And if you're going to keep coming over to check on me, and buy me groceries, I'd rather you just stay here so you don't have to commute so much. Being out there is dangerous right now. Even the big bad Punisher can't fight a virus if he can't see it." She could feel her lip trembling a little and she firmed it up before barrelling on. "You're on your own, I'm on my own. We can be on our own, together. It's a big apartment."
"I don't want to disrupt your routine."
Karen let out a helpless laugh. "There is no routine. We're all stuck at home. At least we'd have somebody to talk to."
His thumb stroked over her skin slowly. It felt like ages before he spoke again, "You're sure? It won't be a bother?"
She shrugged, "At least I won't have to worry about getting robbed." They didn't speak of the gun she had answered the door multiple times with, and had nearly shot him with.
Frank snorted, before letting out a heavy sigh. He nodded, "I'll be back in an hour."
If Karen opened her mouth, the first thing that came out would be "Promise?" so she kept it shut, and nodded, watching as Frank shut the door behind him.
Oh my god, what had she done?
-
When Frank came through the door again an hour or so later, it was with a duffle bag and an armful of something else. Karen took in the size of the paper bag, wondering what it was.
Tilting his body to hide what it was, Frank dropped the duffle a little awkwardly by the kitchen counter, fiddling with whatever it was. Karen pressed up against the kitchen counter to get some height, straining to get a glimpse. It couldn't have been more groceries; Frank had already stocked up her kitchen to last them for a good week or two. It couldn't have been a pet either, although she wouldn't have put it past him to sneak a puppy in. There were no telltale sounds coming from it.
Finally, he straightened with a small, satisfied sound, and Frank turned, holding a small pot of white roses in his hands.
Karen's heart stopped.
The daintiness of the flowers seemed almost out of place in Frank's hands, but he cradled the vase gently and with a little bit of discomfort.
"I noticed you didn't have the flowers on your sill or tabletop anymore," he explained in response to her shocked face.
Her eyes didn't leave his figure carrying the vase over to the window and settling it down, "I - I don't have the best green thumb around."
"It's okay," Frank shrugged, shuffling his feet a little. "I don't mind buying more of them."
Karen silently counted to ten in her head, wondering already if she made a mistake by asking him to stay. A long exhale followed the counting.
She gestured for Frank to take his jacket off, noting that he was still feeling out of place.
While he was gone, she'd retrieved the spare set of sheets and pillow she kept in the closet. The couch had already been made up for him and she'd placed a mug and a coaster by it. Look at yourself, she scolded internally. Already behaving like he was going to be staying long-term instead of just riding out the lockdown. Get your shit together.
But she found herself putting out an extra set of towels instead.
"Make yourself at home." Perhaps the best way would be to pretend he didn't exist in her space for the next few hours, to give them both time to settle in the new routine that was going to be the next few weeks. They've never been in each other's orbits for longer than a day at a time, now that Karen actually thought about it. There was no impending danger, unless you count a virus, but there was no bomb, no armed shooter in the building opposite, and no cops bursting into the room threatening to take him away.
They could just be.
Pulling her laptop closer to her, Karen curled up in an armchair and returned to her research on their current case. Though, she didn't know courts actually would work now that people weren't supposed to be out and about, nor even in close proximity to each other. Maybe they were considered essential services?
The small click made her look up and she relaxed, seeing that Frank had grabbed the extra towels and headed for a shower.
It was a quick one, probably utilitarian since she didn't think they got long, hot showers in the military. Frank emerged, scrubbing at his hair with the towel. He shrugged at her glance, "Figured I better wash off anything I might have brought in with me."
Karen couldn't argue with that. They were hunkered down now.
She nodded at the clothes in his hands, "Laundry day's tomorrow."
"Got it," Frank nodded.
-
They fell into an odd sort of routine over the next few days. Karen was the same at home as she was at work. Give her a thread to pull, and she'd follow it down the rabbit hole of online investigative journalism, only resurfacing a couple of hours later. More often than not, nowadays when she resurfaced, it was to a mug of warm tea that had replaced her half empty one that had gone cold. Sometimes it was a few slices of toast with jam, other times it was just a glass of water.
It was Frank trying to take care of her in little ways, and she would dig her pen viciously into the side of her thigh to quash whatever feelings might rise out of that buried box.
But she ate and drank the offerings anyway.
She told herself it's because they were already placed there anyway. It was out of convenience.
Frank on the other hand, kept a rather relaxed schedule, which surprised Karen.
She would have thought that he'd keep to a regimented set of tasks and time to do them. But other than his exercise routine - he went for a run every alternate morning, and did reps in the living room until mid-morning - Frank did whatever he wanted.
He watered the roses regularly, taking her at her word that she had terrible gardening skills. Frank would take a few minutes each day, scrutinizing the petals and the soil, looking to see if the pot needed to be moved to somewhere with better light.
Frank also had a huge pile of books that he'd borrowed from the library and Curtis to catch up on. Every time Karen would look up, she'd find him in a different area of her apartment, staring intently at the pages.
Sometimes it was on the floor by the fire escape, using the natural light from the windows to read.
Other times it was stretched out on the couch with a hand behind supporting his head as he balanced the book in his lap.
One memorable time, Karen looked up to find him halfway between the kitchen and the living room, frozen halfway as his eyes scanned the pages during a particularly interesting section, it seemed. She had grinned at the sight, before shaking herself out of it and diving back into her work.
Frank did most of the cooking, given his free time. It wasn't that Karen couldn't cook, although you would believe that, given the lack of groceries in her home, but that she was just too busy to. So in the few days that Frank had been living with her, she had been treated to a whole variety of things, from pasta to fried rice to Vietnamese pho. She didn't think she'd had this amount of food in her since Foggy's family had that extra shipment of meat and made her go home with some.
It was nice to be taken care of. But she had to make sure that she didn't get too used to it. Because he was going to be leaving once the lockdown lifted.
She did only offer her apartment as temporary sanctuary.
Frank phoned Curtis every day too. Or perhaps it was the other way around. They were both checking in on each other.
Karen stretched lazily before rolling off the bed and padding out of her room in her socks and pajamas. The heat was still in and out, and she couldn't really blame the super since he couldn't do intensive repairs until they started delivering parts again. Frank had already made friends with half her neighbours on his many trips down to kick at the boiler or whatever was downstairs in the basement. Karen had taken to sleeping in socks, you never knew when you would wake up to a freezing floor.
She halted just beyond her room door, pressing herself closer to the wall and keeping as quiet as possible. Frank was on the phone.
"Good morning to you too, Curtis." Frank's lazy drawl sent a sliver of excitement down her spine and she pressed her nails into her palm to center herself.
"I'm doing good, Corpsman. You?"
It took a little while, but Karen snapped herself out it. This was a private conversation, she really shouldn't be listening in like some interloper. She had already turned, all ready to creep back into her room and amuse herself until she could emerge at a more suitable time.
Then, the low murmured "I really shouldn't be here, Curt," stopped her in her tracks.
Here it was, the denial, the rejection again. The feelings surged up within her and made her dizzy, and Karen pressed a shaking palm to the wall for support. Again and again, Frank was going to walk out of her life.
It really shouldn't surprise her anymore.
"She has a life. She has things to do, so many things to accomplish in her life. I'd just be holding her back."
Karen watched Frank turned towards the windowsill where the white roses sat, still thriving, still blooming. She saw his shoulders slump, a cloud of resignation hanging over him. "Yeah, I bought her flowers. The old ones I got her last year died. It's a damn sign."
'It's killing me, Curt. The days I've spent here, it just reminds me that I'm not suited for a life like this."
Karen had always understood why they said heartbreak hurt physically. She'd felt it when Frank had walked away from her twice already. But this time, she thought this one hurt the most.
-
She didn't come out of the room for the rest of the day, and buried herself under the covers with a book hoping to ignore whatever was outside. Karen knew she couldn't ignore Frank forever, but she didn't feel like she could process anything at this point. Maybe tomorrow.
There had been a gentle knock on the door a couple hours earlier, and when she pulled the door just slightly ajar earlier, she noticed a small sandwich on the floor by the door.
Karen struggled not to cry at the sight, and closed the door without taking it in.
It was maddening how Frank just couldn't see how he was exactly suited for an after, taking care of her, buying her groceries, fixing the heat. She even saw him helping an elderly neighbour up the steps the other day, safety distancing rule be damned.
"She'd have fallen otherwise," he smiled ruefully. Karen wasn't sure then if she wanted to hit him or kiss him.
The protests from her stomach were getting a little too loud to ignore.
It was almost ten at night, and Karen was getting hungry enough to risk it. She could simply explain it as a rest day, or that she wasn't feeling well. She'd make something up.
What she didn't expect when she stepped out of her room was a fully dressed Frank Castle ready to leave the apartment.
"What the fuck."
"Hey," the feared Punisher was trying very unsuccessfully to hide his duffle behind his back. "I thought you'd turned in for the night."
"So you decided to sneak out without even telling me."
"I left a note," he hunched his shoulders defensively. "And I was going to come back and check on you."
Karen strode forward purposefully. Frank later told her that her glare had been so strong, he almost felt like he had to pat himself down to make sure that he hadn't been set on fire. All she knew then was that she wanted answers.
"Not suited for a life like this huh? I got news for you, Frank."
Understanding dawned on him, "You heard me talking to Curt." Frank passed a hand over his face, scrubbing at his eyes.
"Damn right, I did. And you're sadly mistaken. You think a cold-blooded murderer would take care to have me drink water, or eat, when I'm too busy to do work? Or take care of roses because I like them? For goodness sake, Frank! You even brought me a blanket the other day cause you thought I was going to be cold!"
Karen shoved at Frank angrily, her hands connected with his shoulders and chest. The fact that he barely even wobbled fired her up even more, and she put all her weight into her hands and shoved him again.
Frank didn't even flinch.
How infuriating.
"You're an asshole!"
I'm trying not to be," he grumbled. Frank dropped the duffle quickly, hands coming up to catch her wrists and pull them down to her waist. "You have a - "
"Don't give me the 'I have a life' speech again, Frank," Karen almost felt childish as she raised a foot to kick at his ankle. Whatever, she couldn't move her hands but there was no way he was going to keep her from kicking him. "I heard it once last year already, when you were beat to shit by the way and chained to a hospital bed for the second time in your life, and I still wasn't running. So I'll be damned if I have to hear it again. Aren't you bored of yourself yet?"
Frank cursed under his breath, creatively and explosively.
Karen kicked him again.
"Stop it! Jeez, Karen."
"Yeah well, I've seen you get shot and keep walking. A kick won't do anything," Karen muttered, kicking him again for good measure. It wasn't doing anything to relieve the anger and frustration, but she did feel some satisfaction so she didn't see why she had to stop.
"If I don't give the speech, will you stop?"
Karen paused her struggling. It wasn't like she was going to be able to wrench her wrists free of his iron grip anyway. "Maybe," she conceded.
"Fine. I won't give the speech," Frank released her slowly, hands moving to clench by his sides. "But you know my point. And it still stands. Don't - " Frank took a hasty step back when Karen gritted her teeth. " - kick me again."
"You deserve it," Karen crossed her arms. "I can't believe you think I would actually kick you out."
Frank sighed placatingly, "No. I'm kicking myself out."
"I'm the landlord here. You don't get to do that."
"Karen."
"Stop it, Frank," she held out a hand before moving to sit heavily at the kitchen counter. "I've heard it all multiple times, and you've walked away multiple times. I seem to recall also telling you multiple times that I'm not going anywhere." Her hunger was all forgotten now. Her belly felt like it was on fire with the amount of anger in her. "I've lied for you, I've been taken hostage for you, and I've done everything I could to make sure that you're kept out of prison. What more do you want from me?" And just like that, the anger left her. Karen let her shoulders sag. There wasn't enough pride or energy left in her to keep them up.
Karen was tired. She was so tired.
Maybe if he really wanted to leave, it was best for him to.
But there was a sick fear every time he left, that she might not see him again. This time, it was just worse.
Because she had now seen the real Frank Castle. Oh, she had caught glimpses of it during all their interactions together. His intrinsic nature to care and to protect, it always shone through. Frank wasn't born a killer; he had just grown to be good at it. But Frank was born a nurturer, a protector, someone who cared. There was no turning it off.
Karen wanted all of it.
She wanted all of him.
"How could I even ask anything else of you?" He was practically gaping at her. "You've already done so much. Am not even sure I'm worth it."
"You came to me, Frank," Karen pointed out. Her finger jabbed into the countertop with with every other word, accentuating her point. "I didn't ask for groceries, I didn't ask for you to come fix my heater. I definitely did not ask for effing roses in my window sill. You did all of that on your own accord."
Frank was silent for a bit, before offering, "I could take them back - "
"Oh my god," Karen threw her hands up in the hand in actual exasperation. "I didn't say I didn't want them. I'm saying that you initiated the acts. Is it that heinous to think that any part of you might actually be craving for human interaction besides Curt? Is it so far out of the realm of possibility that maybe you see something here, and you want something?"
The silence stretched again, and Karen smacked her palm against the counter, "It's a yes or no question, Frank."
"It's not that simple."
"The hell it isn't," Karen shoved off the counter, going toe to toe with Frank Castle, convicted murderer and vigilante. But all she saw was a man, twisting his hands together nervously, unsure of himself and looking so torn she could cry.
"Why'd you buy me flowers?" Karen pointed viciously towards her sill, where the innocent flowers were sitting.
"I noticed that the previous ones weren't there anymore."
"We didn't need incognito communication anymore, and you didn't have to get them," Karen squared her shoulders, daring him to look at anything else but her. "So why did you buy me flowers, Frank?"
It took a second. But then Frank let out a noise that was almost pure need, before breaking composure and grabbing her around the waist. Pulling her into him, he covered her mouth with his, kissing her desperately. Karen recovered after a moment of shock, dragging at the back of his jacket with her own hands, and kissing him back. His lips were chapped, and Karen didn't expect anything else, given the way he had been taking care of himself. But they were insistent, and she let herself be swept away by the force of his kiss, her knees almost buckling.
She needn't have worried. The firm arm around her waist held her up, and damn she wasn't even complaining to be pressed up close to him. Slipping her hands under his jacket, she let them roam across his back, sliding them forward to slip them up to his chest. The hard plane of his chest, his sturdy muscles, the rigidity with which he held himself, Karen was free to explore.
His mouth had left hers, kissing across her jaw and moving down to her neck. Frank buried his face there, groaning as he inhaled the smell of her hair and her skin. His fingers clenched around her waist as hers dragged across his neck.
"Frank?" Karen was breathless, and Frank groaned into her neck again at the sound. The vibrations made her shiver and she heard Frank grunt again, low in his throat. He was still holding her so tight that she was almost on her tiptoes against him. His jacket had been shoved halfway down his arms, and she didn't want to think about how her hair must look right now. He had gotten a hand in it sometime and was clutching at the strands almost reverently.
"Frank," she said again, more firmly. Frank pulled back to look at her compliantly. The little furrow in his forehead made her want to smooth it away, so she did. He caught her hand on the way down, kissing her fingertips gently.
Karen was almost scared of affecting the new charged atmosphere between them, so she kept her voice soft, "Why'd you buy me flowers, Frank?"
His thumb brushed across her cheekbone, and they both noted how her breath hitched at the touch. With a soft exhale, Frank closed his eyes and he lowered his forehead to hers, "You know why."
There was a lump in her throat, and she felt her heart racing. It was going even faster than during the kiss. This was it now. It was all going to be laid on the table. Karen knew she only had one shot at this. If Frank slipped out of her grasp this time, she'd have lost him forever.
"So then why'd you try to leave?" Karen caught his face in her hands, shaking him slightly to get him to look at her. "You already know how I feel."
"I can't - I won't - " Frank was almost incoherent, but she pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Carding her hands through his hair, Karen tried to soothe him and she watched as Frank slowly calmed again. He sighed heavily, "I'm scared, Karen."
She let out a wet laugh, almost certain that she was going to start crying in the next second, "Hey. Look at me."
Karen jerked his head again, making sure he was looking at her.
She stretched up as far as she could, pressing a kiss to his forehead and dropping back down to look at him, "So am I."
The look he bestowed her with was so full of affection and wonder, Karen could have flown to the moon and back.
-
Frank blinked awake slowly, squinting a little in the sunlight. He worked his jaw a little, sore from where it was pressed into the flesh of his arm. Wriggling his fingers slowly, he waited for feeling to come back. He must have been resting on his arm awhile, since he couldn't feel his entire right side.
His left arm reached down to pull the covers up, fingers tangling on the way up with the slim arm around his waist.
Oh, that's right.
Frank turned to look over his shoulder.
Karen was half draped over him, pressing her face into the space between his shoulder blades. A soft snore made him smile, and wasn't that an amazing thing? That the sound of a beautiful woman could still hit him right in the gut.
The light whooshes of her breath raised goosebumps on his bare skin, but then again, Frank reckoned that it might be from the intimacy they were sharing, and the many revelations it brought in the early light.
Karen shifted in sleep, and Frank rolled onto his back in tandem with her, still unwilling to wake her yet. But he needn't have worried. She was already awake. The arm that she had draped across his waist moved to loop around his arm, and she rested her chin on her hands sleepily.
"Don't even think of running," she murmured.
Frank was pretty sure her eyes were still closed. "Wasn't thinking about it." He let a hand drift down to gently rest over the covers where her waist was. Frank also wondered if he should gift her his shirt permanently, since it looked so good on her. She looked good in black.
"Yes you were," Karen opened her eyes slowly, her nails scratching lightly at him. "You were thinking so loud I could almost hear you."
Frank'd give her that, so he corrected himself, "I wasn't thinking about running this morning." But he was the whole time he was here. He thought about just packing up his things and leaving since he'd stepped through her door.
"Don't," Karen rolled over further so she was leaning on his chest to look at him, chin in her hands, elbows digging into his torso. He winced a little, and Karen dug in further. She scrunched her nose up and Frank knew that was his retribution for even considering leaving. "Stay."
Her eyes carried all the promises of the universe, and Frank reached out a hand to cup her face. Karen sighed, closing her eyes and turning her face into his palm. "Stay, Frank."
Wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer, Frank dropped a kiss on her nose, before leaning in to kiss her properly. Karen's hands found his shoulders, pressing him further into the pillows as they kissed. The lightness in his heart surprised him even now, and he shoved the small kernel of doubt out of his mind, opting to hug Karen closer instead.
He felt colder when she pulled away, but settled after she pressed her face into the side of his neck, curling into him. Frank wondered if Karen still had the feeling that she'd described last night before they'd drifted off to sleep, the feeling of having to bury all your feelings deep and locking them into a box, but judging by the small satisfied smile on her face, she was feeling all of it now.
"Is that a yes?" Karen dug her toes into the side of his calf.
Frank winced a little. Her toes were cold, and she had wriggled them between his thighs to warm them. "I'll stay, for as long as you want me, Karen."
"Well, it's definitely not going to just be until this lockdown ends," Karen's matter of fact tone was accompanied by her tightening grip around him.
Smiling down at her, Frank stroked at her hair. The primal need in him roared as she shivered, rolling her shoulders back at the motion. "Is that so?"
"Yeah, you're stuck with me now," Karen stuck her tongue out. "Literally. The law says you're not supposed to go anywhere."
"Since when have you ever obeyed the law? You followed a convicted murderer into a diner."
"I follow the law when it's convenient for me, same as you." Frank couldn't argue with that, and he sighed contentedly as Karen took to drawing on his bare skin in indiscernible patterns.
"You hang out with the lawyers way too much."
"Oh, that's right. You're telling Matt and Foggy."
"Karen, no."
"Aw, come on. It'll be fun."
"No."
"Please."
"I'll throw the flowers I gave you out."
"No!"
-
Matt and Foggy eventually found out during a FaceTime session with Karen, during which Frank had strolled past in the background, shirtless.
Foggy had fainted.
It was Karen's favourite FaceTime session yet.
(Frank did it on purpose.)