Work Text:
Frank zoned back in at the microwaves blaring beeps, ripping his focus off the dingy cheap radio he snatched from David.
Using his dominant arm to haul himself up, he roughly limped over to lift the door panel. He cursed aloud, his fingers jerking in contact with the tupperware’s steaming heat; fortunately for Frank, his phone also began to simultaneously buzz in his side pocket.
Hurriedly grabbing a half damp towel to reach in once more, the container slammed onto the wooden countertop, fumbling to flip the phone against his ear.
“Agent Madani, whaddya’ stalking me now?”
“I beg to differ, but thank you again, Castle. Ebbing and a few affiliates got taken into custody this afternoon. Thought I’d update.”
“No need to, but don’t get too comfortable with my services.”
“Oh trust me, I know.”
Biting his inner cheek, taking in Madani’s humming, he ended the brief call.
Exhaling exhaustedly, he gently placed the phone down, hovering over the tupper of heated leftovers.
Turning back, Frank observed out the apartment window. Dampening navy blue and marmalade hues overcasted the city during rush hour. A lovely time to pay someone a spontaneous overdue visit, especially one he paid an apology to. Call him a man of convenience.
Snatching his jacket off the couch arm, he double checked for his keys and wallet, swiftly making his way out. Frank’s head peeked out both directions, locking the door behind him cautiously.
His plan was maybe irrational but it would be useless to retreat back inside. Passing by his neighbor, he paid a respectful nod as the guy snubbed his cigarette out on the concrete.
The bustling and obnoxious noises around Manhattan seemed to grow louder from ground level. Likely an effect of getting your eardrum blown over a rough couple of days.
Frank’s calloused fingers stroked over the metallic crosswalk button, patiently for the light. Right across at 28th street he made out what was a stagnant outdoor flower vendor, the aged owner right outside. An extra stop, it was.
Briskly walking, he glanced over the organized collection. Marigolds, carnations, orchids, lilies, he was honestly stumped there.
“Aye,” He called over loud enough to grab the shopkeeper's attention.
“You’ve got any mixed bouquets? Got someone m’ visiting.” nodding along to their foreign words, he quickly checked the time, still indirectly watching the assortment of flowers get packed.
Handing a twenty for it blindly, he didn’t care to stay and collect the change and instead walked straight.
Reaching three blocks down, he turned a corner to the apartment’s barred entrance. A few floors above, he noticed a familiar dimmed lamp. “C’mon, pick up.” Frank mumbled, dialing.
Finishing inspecting photographs and files, you huffed irritably. A total of five hours sitting at a stationary position opening and closing tabs, and occasional business conversations. To make things better, there wasn’t any lead on the case you picked up.
‘Barracuda’ both sounded and looked fictional; you weren’t very willing to question it though.
Everything else remained untouched, food items set out for dinner preparation sitting in a pile on the kitchen counter. Even when working remotely, the urgency of finishing tasks instead tending to your own needs was a problem. A little one, but a bad one.
Slumping back into your office chair, pushing away from the desk, your gaze drifts up to the ceiling.
In slow blinks you attempted to rest your sight from the laptops moderately high brightness.
Right beside, your phone suddenly buzzed. Stretching out with a tired yawn, you picked it up, chest instantly tightening at the contact name.
Castle.
You perked upward halfway at the sight of the unexpected call. Last time Frank came, he was in desperate need of suturing his bicep from a dagger stab. It was terribly rushed. Only bits of memories were remembered, the rest being foggy except Frank biting down on a rag as you removed shrapnel from the open laceration while the only antiseptics lying around was a half pint of vodka.
Giving yourself a few seconds grace, you bit your bottom lip in contemplation. Pressing the accept button, your tongue grazed upper teeth in a discreet smile.
“Frank?” You answered, gentler than intended.
“Thought I’d call before disturbin’ your peace,” He hoarsely started, “I owe you one.” putting it clean and simple.
You scoffed.
“You know you really don’t… C’mon, Curtis has fixed you up many more times before me.” Realistically, he trusted himself with you because of the closer proximity. At least that was the reason in your mind.
“Eh, he’s dealt with me for years... Done me too many favors to count. I don’t do drop off delivery either.”
Eyebrow quirking at his comment, you shut the laptop, pushing the curtain out of frame to peer outside. Frank was already fixated on your window, giving a small gesture. You watched as he slowly lifted the bouquet in the air enough to see, a silent invitation.
“I suppose I can buzz you in,” faking skepticism in your tone, you stepped over to push the buzzer.
“Atta girl.”
Counting the seconds nervously, you paused at the familiar knocking pattern. Heels pushing off the ground to look into the peephole, Frank looked like a wreck. Unlocking the chain latch and knob, he stood on the welcome mat, a satisfied smug growing. Leaning in closer as the door opened, you both maintained eye contact until he cleared his throat.
"Put these in a cup for me, daffodil."
He murmured, wrapping one arm around your waist loosely with a light kiss to the forehead. Gaze wandering to your lips momentarily, he eventually let you entirely slip from his grip.
Closing the door as soon as he entered, Frank sighed as you looked back concerned.
"You worry me, Frank... Like seriously, you’re bloodied with cheap bandages on your face, and is this really your way of making it up?” You swallowed hard realizing how much you raised your voice.
He shook his head at the expected scolding, going in to scoop you up.
"I'm here now, n' I'm all yours, yeah?” He cooed, jaw tightening as he stared intently, expression unreadable. “I know, I know, that wasn’t right. Be mad at me all you want.”
Ignoring his prior request, he nabbed the bouquet from your fingers, placing them firmly onto the countertop. Frank shushed your incoming comment, gripping you from picking them up again.
Hand caressing its way back down, hungry for a longing feel, his calloused fingers rubbed circles around your wrist. Carefully, he lifted your arm, spreading kisses down your hand to your forearm.
“You’re such an asshole.” Weakly protesting only drew him closer, Frank's temple touching yours, asking for permission. A fervent desire.
Taking in the faint whiff of cologne and sweat on him made the feeling all too intoxicating.
It tore through your anger, subsiding and replacing it with need. Stubbornly succumbing, your hands flew to cup the sides of his stubble, mouth colliding with his, frantic and demanding.
Groaning at the sudden move, Frank moved to cup your silhouette, his other hand tangling in your hair. His coarse and bruised lips slowly retracted before tenderly returning the affection. Teeth grazing over the curvature of your cupid's bow, the sweetness rapidly reverted back to sloppy reckless abandon. Breathlessness growing, you interrupted, hand cupping his face softly. Smirking against your palm, Frank bit down teasingly followed by another kiss.
“Call me whatever you want.” Frank rasped with a deep chuckle. Tugging both sides of the open jacket, shoulders rolled as the fabric smoothly slid down, pooling by the end of the wrist cuffs.
Frank rasped with a deep chuckle. Tugging both sides of the open jacket, shoulders rolled as the fabric smoothly slid down, pooling by the end of the wrist cuffs. Defined muscles involuntarily flexed as he pulled the jacket off, tossing it elsewhere out of sight.
“You wanted me to make it up to you, eh?”