Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Pointdexter, it was Pointdexter, this whole time. Parading around in his suit and killing innocent people. He could care less about his own reputation. It was the fact that this double of him Fisk had puppeted to waltz around his city, hurting his people? It made his stomach churn, his stomach crawl.

Which is what brought him here, in the Bulletin, trying to figure out what happened, desperately fighting his best, despite his injuries. Karen was so scared, he could hear it in her voice, feel it in her erratic heartbeat like a nervous rabbit’s from her hiding place in the backroom that smelled like old files and newspaper clippings.

It was then the man who would save him came. Frank looked like a demon rising from hell, creeping out of the darkness, the scent of blood hanging in the air.

Matt could he hear the sound of gunshots being fired, once, twice, three times. 'He's probably tearing the place to pieces' he thought, knowing The Punisher's methods, not agreeing with them, but he had to admit, when Frank said he would do something, he stuck by it. He could respect that about him, besides, he wasn't the one lying on the floor bloody and black with bruises.

In his gruffest tone, Frank snarled at Pointdexter,  who barely flinched at seeing the infamous criminal killer, wanting to get to the blind man he had almost succeeded in killing on the floor.

Matt could make out his words, but if he strained his ears, he could just about figure out what was going on. Despite the ringing in his ears and having to fight the darkness swimming across his senses, on edge with the fact his ability to react was out of sync. Anyone could come at him right now and he'd be helpless to their blows, a mere punching bag.

Frank held the dipshit parading around in a Daredevil lookalike costume up by the throat, luckily he was a simillar build to Matt and didn't stand a chance against someone broader and stronger like Frank. He was verging on spitting at him in his vengeful anger, “Who the fuck sent you? Answer me, or I’ll shoot your other leg, asshole.” He gritted out, noticing whoever it was in the cloned suit was shaking.

Pontdexter rattled out, trying to remain as calm as possible. Despite the fact the fucking Punisher had him held up by the throat, “Hi Punisher, long time, no see.” He had said the same thing to Karen not moments earlier and thought he would get away with it, confident in the teachings of Wilson Fisk. The plan was to disgrace Matt Murdock and therefore Daredevil, but if possible, killing wasn't exactly unadvised, but not right away.

Frank slowly smiled an uneasy, feral grin at him, he'd been told you could see the battlefield raging behind his eyes when he did it. He answered him roughly, “Cut the shit, I know you ain’t him, so there’s no point keeping up the charade. Answer me, and I’ll let you crawl back to whatever hole you crawled from.”

The blind man, assessing his injuries as best as he could, hanging on by listening to his surroundings, taking in what he could. He found Frank, but it sounded...off. His voice was deceptively calm, but his heart beat far too fast, he was a loose canon, ready to go off at any minute.


He quivered, feeling pain coarse through his body, but he shook his head, not giving in. His loyalty to Fisk not wavering for a moment, refusing to rat his mentor out, not for the Punisher, not for anything. Which is what got his other leg shot, he realised as he let out a shrill scream, rage burning through him but he was helpless against the heavier, muscular, taller man.

Frank smiled at him again, the same feral grin, his steely eyes glinting as he realised what was going on now, the obvious. He replied in a sharp voice, knowing it was enough to startle anyone, “Never mind, I’ve got it.” He roughly shoved him away, meeting his gaze with a furious look, eyes hard, knowing he looked terrifying, “You tell Fisk, our arrangement still stands.” He noticed he was trying to charge at him so he jumped at him, scaring the agent into leaving the building. He was about to shoot him and have done with it, until he heard a strangled voice coming from near the stairs.

“Don’t...don’t shoot!” Matt shakily got out, trying to get up, but the loudness of the gunshots and damage to the building had his head ringing, his senses more than a little disorientated. He tried scrambling over to Frank, who knew well who he was, he’d made it more than obvious after helping him with his court case who he was, also his voice never changed, and he knew the former marine was smarter than he looked.

He’d know that pleading, shaky, disorientated voice anywhere. Whether from the court case or his little talk with him on the rooftop where he’d tied him to the chimney, “Red?” he called out, walking over to where the voice was coming from.

Which is where he found the blind lawyer bloodied and bruised, looking terrified on the floor. His leg was twisted at an odd angle and his shoulder looked sprained, he was black and blue, his rumpled white shirt had bloodstains on it, glasses askew so he could see right into those cloudy blue eyes.

Matt could hear him, but the sound quality wasn’t clear. it sounded like he was underwater, like he was drowning. He wasn’t sure if Frank was a threat or not in this situation, because they were not friends, not enemies either. He didn’t know what they were, because he’d felt those lips on his once, which is why he didn't know how to feel.

He didn’t know why that was so strong in his mind right now. Matt blinked owlishly as he tried to find him, and when he did, he replied, “Yeah?” It wasn’t much, but eh didn’t know what was going on, not clearly anyways, and he’d be willing to say that Frank was mostly always a threat, but he felt...different than other threats.

Frank sighed, muttering to himself as he did, before kneeling down beside the lawyer. Frank looked him over once, noticing he was hurt pretty bad, but got down to business, “Red, you’re hurt pretty bad, and that’s just the ones I can see.” He sighed, as he asked the question that was of more importance to him, “Where’s Karen?” 

He knew that the vigilante’s injuries were more important than questions, but that didn't stop him from wanting to know if the safety of his friend was assured, knowing that he wouldn’t let her get hurt. They were colleagues, after all. She worked with him at his firm, by day, but he had to make sure. He would take Red from here, as long as Karen was safe, and he’d make sure he was someplace safe, because he knew Karen wouldn’t want Matt hurt. Or at least, that’s what he was telling himself was the reason he was helping the reckless redhead with his injuries. Frank was trying to think of other things despite the constant battlefield scorched into his brain by Billy, his dead wife, dead kids and Wilson fucking Fisk.

Matt knew he knew the answer to the question, but took a minute to think, knowing he had hit his head but nodded. Wwincing at the movement because of the pain it caused to surge through him as soon as he moved his head. He looked in the general direction of the other vigilante. “She’s safe. I told her to make a run for it once he was distracte easily replied in a quiet voice, the shakiness from his voice was gone, but he was still hurt, the pain softening his voice. He added, “I don’t think it can be seen, but my...my ribs...my ribs burn.” Matt groaned out, his sound getting worse, he imagined his vision would be blurry if he could see.

Frank cursed out at the information that his ribs burned, “Fuck. You might have broken ribs. Fine, okay, let’s do this, Red.” he replied ominously, not explaining anything as usual, because he knew the redhead would protest if he tried to explain they were getting out of here, now. Without so much as a second thought, Frank found himself scooping the slighter, shorter man up in his arms much to his protest, but he eventually gave in, succumbing to the darkness and blacking out, causing Frank to worry, but it’s not like there was anything he could do about it.

Once he got outside, he found a truck so he hotwired it, opening the mostly empty trunk and dumping his guns, ammo and heavy leather jacket in the trunk. He got into the driver’s seat, making sure everything was in order, gently putting the unconscious vigilante on the back seat, covering him with a blanket that was in the passenger seat so his body temperature wouldn’t drop too much, driving. He didn’t know where, but he needed to find them somewhere, and fast.

When Matt Murdock woke up, he soon found out that he wasn't in his apartment. He didn't know where he was or who with. One thing he did know; it wasn’t a familiar place, that much was crystal clear. There was damp in the air, maybe it had been raining?

He could also smell coffee, gunpowder and leather in the air, making him a bit confused and a little concerned to where he might have gotten himself. If he was still alive, that is.

He was in a clean bed, a generously large double bed. The sheets went to his waist and he was in a pair of pyjama pants far too big for him. There was a wrap on his ribs, he noticed. Hadn’t those been broken? He went to get up, but a coarse hand held him down by his stomach, making him look up in bewilderment, his unseeing blue eyes whirling around in their sockets to try and pinpoint who was holding him down and why.

“I don’t think so, Red. You’re not in any shape to be up and walking around like it’s nothing.” Frank, who was the one with his hand on his stomach, advised in the same gravelly, rough voice as always, looking sternly at him.

Matt blinked again, looking at him, "Where…where are we?" he asked, looking around them carefully, they appeared to be in someone's apartment, senses on full overdrive.

"A safe house. A safe house that belongs to a...colleague. Or at least, someone who does the same things I do. He's letting us lay low here." Frank explained to the disorientated blind man who he was still holding down, making sure the reckless, shorter man wouldn’t get up, potentially furthering his injuries..

He furrowed his brow, looking more than a little confused, "And you're…and you're staying with me?" Matt asked, with confusion, wondering why Frank would stay with him, looking right at him, speaking in that helpless tone he hated using.

It’s not like they were together. Even if Matt wasn’t sure he would mind that as much as he pretended to, because he remembered how they had kissed for the first time; in his office, and he wasn’t about to forget that. He had tearfully told Father Lantom about this, and he told him to pursue his wishes, if he thinks it’s doing God’s work.

He had so much guilt and shame on his shoulders from not only years of trying to protect this city, but from his own religion. Not to mention coming to terms with the fact he couldn't even sit up straight, he was that gay, and had been born in the wrong body. His dad, Jack hadn't known, and he'd never gotten the chance to tell him.

To his father, who was long dead but sometimes spoke to him internally, would always know him as Matilda Murdock, even if he still got called Matty and Matt by his dad.

He'd told Father Lantom in confidence first, who had assured him that regardless to a Bible page, God accepted those from all walks of life as long as they followed the teachings of the Lord and treated their neighbour like they wanted to be treated.

He hadn't gotten the chance to tell Foggy, the first man he'd had feelings for, but hadn't breathed a word of it to anyone. He simply engaged in relationships with women, trying to mask it as best as he could, sometimes slipping.

Karen knew, which is part of why she ended it with them, the both of them agreeing it was for the best. But there was something enigmatic and enthralling about Frank, something he didn't quite understand. He didn't exactly agree with his methods or line of work, his code of conduct, the battlefield lurking behind his eyes but he respected him enough to leave him be as best as he could. He was touched that the older man wanted to help him, and had dressed his wounds.

Frank sighed, looking at him, arms crossed over his chest, a fresh black shirt on, this one was plain. Frank's gaze softened a bit, but nodded, answering simply, "Yeah Red, I'm staying. I'm staying with you." 

After Maria appeared to him in a dream, the one about waking up with her was only gone for a few weeks, but she told him to find someone to make him happy, like he’d been with her and the kids, or she would kick his ass all the way from the afterlife. He knew he felt things for Matt. He knew it was the same things he'd felt for Maria. 

The younger man was reckless, a danger to himself, and goddamn irritating with all that religious bullshit; insisting everyone deserved a second chance, even scumbags like the phony FBI agents working for Fisk. He was also stubborn as hell, possessed a sharp coy presence, could be as charming as the devil himself and was easy enough on the eyes.

He knew that it was a risk to his barely there heart, but goddamn it, he was going to pursue him, and if it didn’t work out, then he’d work out what to do about that later. Right now, Red needed him.

Matt looked up at him curiously, but offered him a slight smile, "...Thanks, Frank." The words he wanted to say were stuck in the back of his throat. He wanted to tell him that he was unfathomably grateful to him for saving him. He wanted to tell him that he thought he might be in love with him. He said none of those things, and in fact, he wasn't sure he should say any of them.

The other man looked at him, as if he knew something he didn't. Frank smirked a little at him, noticing the admiring, burning gaze of those cloudy blue eyes. It was hard to ignore. He replied easily, "It wasn't a big deal, but you're welcome, Red."

He wasn’t stupid, he knew that the younger man liked him like that, and you didn’t have to be smart to see that the redhead was about as flamingly gay as hellfire itself. So, what was stopping him? Could it really just boil down to religion? Frank hoped to hell not because he wasn’t sure if he could handle losing him over a dusty old church book.

He asked softly, using that vulnerable tone he hated using, "When can I get up?" Matt didn't know the extent of his injuries but he felt a heaviness on his left leg. "What are my injuries?" he asked with confusion, feeling gauze on his shoulder too.

Frank chuckled a bit, putting his hands in his pockets, walking over to the bed and hovering over him, he gave him a once over with his steely dark blue eyes, more grey than anything, "What ain't your injuries might be a better goddamn question, but I'll tell you. Just don't expect to be back in action anytime soon, Red." He stated with a sigh, cracking his knuckles before sitting down on the bed with him, careful not to sit on the slighter, shorter man.

He started to show him the full extent of his injuries, taking the redhead's hand so he could guide him over the damage on his body, noticing how Matt gripped onto his larger hand in a vice like grip, so he guided his hand to the cast on his left leg, "Broken in three places." 

Next, to his bruised sides, explaining every injury carefully, from the bruises, to the cuts on his face, to his cracked, bruised ribs which he commented, "I took whatever you were wearing under your shirt off. It was part of the reason your ribs almost fucking broke. Did no one teach you to be careful in that thing? Jesus Christ, Red." He continued after growling, telling him about his sprained shoulder. 

He went quiet at the comment on his damaged ribs, looking away from the taller man. Only three people on this Earth knew about the fact he wasn't biologically male, mostly due to the hormones he'd been taking for the past five years, getting them wherever he could afford.

Karen who'd been so sweet and understanding about it, hugging him tightly and making sure he was doing okay. 

Elektra who had been surprised but undeterred with her pursuit of him, she had completely unravelled him at one point, even though that time had passed long ago, she was bisexual and didn’t seem to mind. She had, however, without meaning to, misgendered him a few times. He was unsure to this day if Stick knew about the little secret of his gender identity, but if he didn’t, he hadn’t breathed a word about it.

Father Lantom, who had quietly apologised to him and told him that God gave the hardest battles to His strongest soldiers, and that he was fighting on admirably so.

And now Frank knew. He was worried he'd never want to speak to him again, that he'd leave in the dead of night and be nothing more than a shadow. Most everyone he knew left him, eventually, only in a matter of time.

A rough hand grabbed his chin, holding his face between his forefinger and his thumb as he spoke in a surprisingly gentle, rumbling tone, "It's alright, Red. I'm not going to judge you, not for this. Not for something out of your control like this." Frank said, meaning it. He thought about what to do and without thinking, he lowered his head, pressing his lips to Matt's gently in their second kiss.

It was reckless and stupid but goddamn worth it to feel the tension and worry melt away from the younger man, who became like putty in his hands. It shouldn't feel so good to know he could make the redhead go completely boneless like that, in his arms, but God did it feel good to know that it was him doing that.

Frank believed too, as surely as Matt believed in God, that the soft little peck had turned him completely boneless, not because of a lack of being touched or cared for, no, but because it was Frank kissing him. And he was proud to admit that little thought made a tinge of pride surge through him.

He went to say that he was glad it changed nothing between them, but then Frank's lips were on his and nothing mattered. His hands went to his face, sensitive fingertips framing the sides of that rough, shaven face. He could feel his stubble between his fingertips and it made his veins ignite with a strange kind of fire that he hadn’t been aware of needing to feel, lighting up his entire being like holy fire.

Matt closed his eyes, trying to tug him closer, needing more. He needed to be as close to the taller, broader man as he could be. He needed the kisses, but not soft, sweet ones like this. He wanted the violent crash of teeth meeting tongue that ahd been their first kiss, and he was willing to fight for it, but then those rough lips on his were gone.

That was went Frank pulled away, looking fondly at him as he affectionately scolded him, chuckling slightly at the annoyed look on the redhead’s face, likely caused by him pulling away, “Good, I found an effective way of getting you to shut your smart mouth.” He was smiling though, goddammit and he couldn’t stop it.

He had remembered their first kiss, much rougher than this one; it had been more of a crash of teeth and tongue than anything, which had happened in Matt’s office, days after he’d found out he was Matt Murdock as well as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

Matt let out a whine at the loss of touch, but frantically scrambled for the other man’s hand, wanting some sort of grounding touch, so he smiled back at him, rolling his uncovered, non-seeing eyes at him, “It might not always work, Frank.” He shot him a cheeky little grin.

He squeezed the redhead’s hand as gently as he could manage, but nodded to him, “I’m pretty sure it’ll shut you up no matter the time or the place, Red.” he replied, towering over the vigilante. He let go of his hand, after tapping his wrist gently, “I need to check the dressings on your leg. That sound okay?” he asked.

Matt squeezed his hand a bit, his face flushing at his words, but he replied, “I guess you’ll have to find out, won’t you? God willing.” he smiled a little, despite the burning pain in his ribs, shoulder and leg. He knew he was in good hands, and maybe he shouldn’t trust Frank so implicitly, but he did, and that wouldn’t be changing anytime soon. He nodded at the question.

“You know damn well it’ll shut you up, God or not.” he chuckled, letting his gaze travel over the blind man’s half-covered body. He shook his head, forcing himself not to think about the pretty little thing in front of him, just focusing on his injuries, “Nope, I need verbal consent, Red or I’m not coming near you. You’d be pissed if I nodded at you.” Frank pointed out. 

He mulled his words over in his mind, his cheeks only burning more as he felt the dark haired man’s admiring gaze on him, but replied, “Yeah Frank, it’s okay to look at my wounds. I…um, thank you for tending to my wounds.” he murmured, a bit embarrassed that he couldn’t help himself, that always irked him whenever it was to do with sighted activities too.

Frank grazed a thumb over his cheek, gently tracing from his temple to his chin, “It’s going to hurt, so maybe biting down on something might be advice.” He looked around for something and found a sponge, giving it to him, “Here.”

He couldn’t deny that this injured blind man was reminding him too much of his wife. Whether it was his smile, that sassy attitude of his or his resilience to keep fighting. The kid didn’t know when to stay down, and it would probably be what killed him, but now wasn’t the time to think of that.

Matt bit down onto the sponge, unable to stop himself squirming when rough, warm calloused hands were on his sensitive skin. He knew that he probably would have moaned if he didn’t have the sponge in his mouth.

When the ex-marine started changing the support on his sprained shoulder, he noticed the care in the usually rough handed man’s touch. He was touched that he was being so gentle with him, but wondered why, God knows their relationship was a complex one.

He knew he had feelings for him. He wasn’t blind to that, thankfully, but he had no idea how he would feel about dating him, he had a lot of relationship deterrents, not to mention every relationship he’d had so far had been a complete and utter dumpster fire, despite the fact they had been with women.

First Elektra, then Karen, then Elektra again. She kept worming her way into his life, knowing all the right things to say to coerce him back to her bed. Karen might have been the sweetest woman he knew, which is why he’d been quick to end things between them, frightened beyond his wits he’d hurt her.

He had so desperately wanted something with Foggy, but could see that he was about as straight as his white cane, so pined for a while, but this was all before meeting Frank. The vicious, ex-marine, who had killed, and would kill again, no questions asked. He should hate him, loathe him for his ungodly, sinful work but he didn’t. He loved him, more than he thought he would get to love another man in his life.

Frank mistook the barely there moan for pain, so he gently stroked his forearm, “Hey, it’s alright, Red. Easy, it’ll be over soon.” he spoke in a low whiskey deep tone, not the usually harsh gravel of his voice. He didn’t have a goddamn clue why he was so invested in the scrawny, accident prone, maddeningly pious and frustratingly stubborn man. Why the hell should he care about a problematic man younger than him and stupid enough to not only skulk around a shady part of New York such as Hell’s Kitchen like it’s guardian devil, but to do that while not giving a shit about his own health and safety too? He shouldn’t care about such a reckless dumbass, but he knew he did.

Jesus Christ, he hadn’t felt like this since he and Billy were serving together, because he’d be stupid to deny what he felt for Billy, despite how badly that went for him. He was dead now, he’d had to put him down like the rabid dog he had become in the end through greed and power, despite how much it had killed Frank to have to be the one to put him down, he’d done it.

He tended to Matt’s other injuries, making sure the cast on his busted up leg was set properly like Curtis had told him how to do over the phone when Matt had been asleep, cleaning his cuts, scrapes and making sure the wrap around his chest wasn’t tight enough to cause any further damage. It nice and loose but supportive so it would help the injury heal.

He got some Ibuprofen from the first aid kit he had, as well as two paracetamol, knowing he would need all the help he could get to numb the pain. He went over to the sink, filling a glass with water and handing it to him, “Here, these’ll help with the pain.” he suggested, even though he made it sound like it wasn’t a request, knowing the redhead to be stubborn, and that was putting it lightly.

Surprisingly, Matt let him dress his wounds and make sure his dressings were tight enough, only opening his mouth after he had gotten help taking the pills, “Thank you, Frank. I can’t help but wonder though…why are you helping me?” he asked, genuinely unsure why the older man was helping him.

Frank only looked at him and shot him a feral little smile, but the only answer he got was, “Drink your water, then get some rest. When you wake up, I’ll have food and coffee waiting.” he replied, using the same gravelly voice he always used, as if reaching his quota of gentleness for the day.

Without the slightest hint of his usual defiance, he drank the water, only asking, “What happens if I need to get up?” Only really asking for one reason, wondering about how he would go to the bathroom with his extensive injuries, thankfully a lot milder than he was used to. 

Something thrummed quietly inside of Frank when the usually sassy, snappy redhead full of quips and who always had something to say, listened to him, not only listened to him but followed his commands word-for-word.

He’d be a liar if he said that didn’t affect him in ways he didn’t think it would. He replied, looking sternly at him, “You yell for me Red, or you don’t get up from that goddamn bed, you hear me?” he replied in a clipped tone.

He lowered his head slightly and replied quietly, “I’ll call for you if I need to go.” He mumbled, feeling tired and helpless, just wanting the sweet release of sleep to swallow him whole from his embarrassment.

It was bad enough knowing that Frank probably felt the same about him, but to be all flustered and helpless in front of him? Matt had no clue how to act about that, so he would let sleep take care of that for him. 

Fuck, he hated the quiet, cowed tone of the usually sassy redhead, so he brushed a thumb down his face, “Do you want me to stay? I…I don’t mind.” he rasped, looking into those sky blue non-seeing eyes, knowing that it probably wasn’t the brightest idea he’d ever had, but it would also be convienient in case the redhead needed to get up during the night, but also, Frank could lay with him, feeling reassured that he was safe and nearby.

Cloudy blue eyes looked at the direction of his voice, not realising he was looking right at him likely, but there was something in his eyes, something fragile that hurt Frank in ways he couldn’t fathom to see. It was almost like he was expecting him to leave.

“Would…would you stay?” Matt asked in that same tiny, fragile voice. The one he hated using because he was aware it made him sound like a child and he hated that, but he couldn’t stop it. He didn’t want to sound like a child, not when the ex-marine was used to him snarking and sniping his way through most occaisions, but this vulnerability wasn’t a nice thing to share and it made him feel weak.

Frank grabbed his chin in his thumb and forefinger again, looking right at him, inching his face closer to his, enough so he could feel his breath on those freckled cheeks, “I’m not leaving, Red. I’m here,”

He was grateful to know Wade in this moment, because if he didn’t know his fellow soldier, he wouldn’t have a place to keep Matt safe and he would’ve probably been like a caged animal about it. But also damn him, because there was the subject of sharing a bed with the younger man, something he hadn’t done with someone since his wife.

He kicked off his shoes and pulled down his jeans, dressed now in the black shirt and boxers, “I’m going to lay on your right, since you’re on the left side of the bed, okay?”

Matt looked a little startled at the notion of sharing a bed with him too, but he also looked at him with this grateful look he wasn’t sure he liked, or if it made his skin crawl. He gulped, trying to wet his tongue so he could talk without exposing his suddenly dry mouth, “Um, yeah. That’s…that’s fine.” he was blushing again too.

Frank chuckled, getting into the bed and pulling the sheets over them, stroking Matt’s cheek with a brush of his thumb once again before laying on his side, facing the shorter man, a loaded handgun under his pillow just in case they needed it during the night.

He felt a smaller hand grab his and let him hold his hand, so he let him hold it. He rumbled against his hair, “Goodnight, Red.”

Matt smiled sleepily as he replied, grabbing his hand before settling in the slightly elevated position Frank had moved him to awhile ago, something about how it would help his ribs heal, as he hummed, replying, “Night, Frank,” With that, he faded off to sleep, neither sinner nor saint waking him until the morning, the meds doing a number on his conscious state.

Frank found himself smiling at the dozing redhead in his arms, holding onto his hand tightly as he fell asleep himself, knowing all the doors were locked. He just hoped they could both get the shut eye they both desperately needed.

Chapter Text

A rattling and click of a gun woke Frank in a millisecond, he recognised the breathing so he didn't shoot, but he ripped into him, growling almost, “You almost got shot, Wade.”

The merc with a mouth, suited up in red spandex turned to grin at him, taking his mask off, “Hey Frank! I’m just grabbing an ammo bag I left here and then I can leave you and your boyfriend alone.” he replied with a bit of a smirk, he had never seen the ex-marine holding hands with someone.

“He’s not my boyfriend, Wade.” Frank ground out, glaring daggers at the mercenary.

Wade arched a hairless eyebrow at him, “...So holding hands with someone while they sleep beside you, in the same fucking bed I might add, is something you do with friends, huh?” he smugly stated.

“Nu-uh, I call major fucking bullshit, reaper.” Wade pointed out, adding with a small pout, “And where’s my fun nickname?”.he pouted a bit.

The ex-marine glared at him, “No, but it’s complicated and not your business, spiderfucker.” he casually replied, knowing the nickname would get a laugh out of him, even though he knew Peter wasn’t actually a spider, he just had spidery powers. 

Wade smirked at him, “As long as you know you and that guy aren’t just looking friendly, reaper. Now, I’m going to find out where the fuck I stashed my bag and leave you two alone, okay?” Wade smiled, looking around for his ammo bag and finding it, festooned with little kawaii avocados, a joke gift from Weasel. 

Frank watched him, sighing as he replied, “Okay fine, he’s not just a friend…but neither of us can do shit about it right now, so leave it be, okay dipshit?” he advised, looking a little twitchy, his trigger finger tapping on his wrist.

Wade noticed it and nodded, “Okay, cool. I won’t say a word about, zip, nada, zilch. I got you, reaper. Now, toodles, because I’m off to go on my mission, then speed home to my sweet little Spidey-bug!” He cheerfully waved the finger waggling wave he usually did when leaving friends.

The ex-marine looked at the mercenary, grunting before he spoke, “Okay, thanks spiderfucker. Keep your head above board, okay?” 

He looked at him with concern, there might be four years between them, but like Curtis, Karen and Red, he had few friends, and those he had, he cared for.

Wade smiled at him a bit, “I’ll do my best, you big ol’ softie. Now, go take care of your would-be boyfriend. I think he’s dreaming.” 

He giggled at his other words, “You know I’m older than you, right?” he laughed and then waved again, leaving.

The ex-marine shook his head, “Little shit, I’m surrounded by little shits, swear to god.” He raised his eyes to the ceiling morosely.

He did notice that Matt was stirring a little and gently squeezed his hand, which made the redhead hang onto him for dear life. It hurt Frank deep in his heart that this reckless little shithead had such a lack of love in his life. 

It was fucked up that he wanted him of all people to stay with him, but he wasn’t leaving, not now. He was too goddamn invested now, he cared about the redhead’s safety, and that usually meant he’d gotten attached to someone.

Matt woke with a start, looking around him in confusion as he asked with a panicked, rasped voice, “Frank?” 

His breathing was pretty ragged, and he ached all over, but that was probably a result of his injuries more than anything. 

The older man gently stroked his hand, “Ssh, it’s okay, Red. You’re safe, go back to sleep. It’s early.” he assured him, putting the gun back under the pillow and readjusting the blankets, making sure the half asleep redhead had enough of them. 

His lips twitched upwards fondly, Maria had accused him of being a blanket thief, and he didn’t want the vigilante getting cold. It wouldn’t help his injuries heal if he got cold, not when he was just now noticing how thin Red was.

Surprisingly, he managed to shift his upright position slightly, hoping the ex-marine wouldn’t notice too much, shifting closer to him, cheeks the same colour as his messy, unkempt hair. 

Matt mumbled sleepily, taking the blankets in a dazed, half-asleep motion, “Thanks, Frank.” 

Frank did notice, he noticed everything that the reckless blind man did. He got up, adjusting the pillows, meaning that they were still upright, but noticeably nearer to him, grabbing another blanket he found in the closet too. It was one of Wade’s and had rainbows on it. He sat closer to Matt, knowing that’s what he’d been trying to do by sleepily moving closer to him..

He smiled warmly at him in a sleepy way, a fond look on his face as he murmured, "Thanks, Frank." In a sleepy haze, he kissed his cheek and then fell back after sleep,

Frank touched the cheek he had kissed, smiling like a sap. 

He smoothed the man's red waves down, "Sleep well, Red."

He went back to sleep after a few minutes of making sure the younger man’s breathing was playing in a steady rhythm. It was a necessary requirement when dealing with broken or bruised ribs, and he needed to make sure the wrap was working. 

Listening for the steady breathing assured him that the redhead hadn’t punctured a lung or anything too dangerous, thank fuck.

In the morning, when he woke, Matt was still asleep, so he looked at a clock on the wall, festooned with cartoon characters he didn’t know of, it was early, but not too early. 

A grumbling noise got his attention as Matt stretched, opening his hazy blue eyes, stretching slightly in lieu of his injuries, not looking for Frank, he knew the smell of leather, caffeine and bullets by now to know that the man lay beside him.

Frank was still asleep, but had his arm winded around Matt’s, still holding his hand after Wade left them in peace to sleep. He shifted, grunting in sleep and waking with a start, looking frantically at the space beside him for the younger man. The feeling of the smaller hand squeezing his hand tightly alerted him that Matt was still there.

He would’ve asked if it was Maria, but then opened his eyes, looking softer than intended at the younger man, “Hey, Red.” he rumbled, voice like gravel like it always was first thing.

Blue eyes stared at him, finding his face by following his voice, squeezing his hand again, “Good morning, Frank.” he softly spoke, hearing the affection in the other man’s soft greeting. 

Frank stretched, letting out a gruff noise, looking at the younger man, “We need to get you showered and dressed, then I can redress your wounds.” he pointed out, rubbing a hand down his face.

Christ, he hadn’t even had coffee yet and he already had a headache.

The younger man’s face went scarlet as he stuttered slightly, “A shower? With…with your help?” he asked, not sure if he would be able to manage that.

If not for his feelings, for the fact his dysphoria would be, as it always was, at peak whenever he showered. He didn’t need someone having a front row seat to his own personal hell. 

Frank was about to joke that there was no need to be nervous about showering with him to lighten the mood a little, but then he saw the fear in Matt’s eyes and knew that he meant something else by that. 

He enveloped Matt’s smaller hand with his huge by comparison one, “Red, I have no fucking intention of hurting you. I just need to help you so you won’t get your dressings wet and, to make sure you don’t fall down on your usually smart ass and die.” he bluntly explained.

Matt seemed to calm down at that but he nodded, biting his lip as he explained, the words just about coming out, “I…I have no idea if…if you have some knowledge of being gay, so I’m not sure if I can explain gender identity to you.” 

The only thing he knew about Frank was that he’d been married, to a woman, and had kids that he’d adored.

Frank chuckled softly, squeezing his wrist gently, “I’m not that old, Red. My kids taught me a few things about....” 

What was it Frankie had called it, the rainbow mafia? 

He chuckled, “I know more about the rainbow mafia that you might think, Red.”

He looked at the younger, terrified, blind man carefully as he replied softly, “I’m pretty sure I’m bi, myself, or like Wade, gender doesn’t really matter to me. I don’t really give a shit as long as I figure you I’ve caught feelings, you know?” he chuckled softly.

Matt followed his voice again, finding the humour and almost playful note to his description of the queer community he knew he was a huge part of. He had meant to go to a few talks about it in Father Landon’s weekend services, but had never gotten around to it. 

He smiled shyly at him as he nodded, “Then you’re like Wade, in that respect anyway.” 

Matt shyly added, blushing to the roots of his red hair, “I’m gay, and as you’ve probably realised by now, trans. ...Do you know what trans means, Frank?” he asked cautiously.

The ex-marine looked down at him, tracing an old scar on the back of his thumb that met at the smaller hand’s wrist, “Yeah, I do. It means you’ve got a pretty raw deal and have to grow a whole new body, right Red?” he asked, but he knew that he was right. 

He had reason to believe his daughter, Lisa, would’ve figured out she was actually his little boy if she had lived long enough to do so. He would've loved his boys no matter what, but those heartless bastards rook them from him, the fucking Hand.

“You know a lot more than I imagined you would.” Matt said quietly, his face still red, but noticeably a little calmer than he had been at the mention of the shower, still scared to even think about getting undressed in front of someone who knew though. 

Even if it was Frank, who had done nothing but protect him and keep him safe. 

Frank, who he was pretty sure he was in love with, but was scared to voice those feelings.

He chuckled a little as he replied, explaining quietly, “My kids...Frankie and Lisa, when they were alive, knew a lot from school, they taught me a few things. ...I think my daughter would’ve been trans too, if she’d lived long enough to find out. She'd always pretend that her name was that kid Harry from one of her dinosaur shows.” 

He hated how his voice still cracked saying their names and talking about them, but he pushed forward, “Wade also brought me up to speed on a few things.” Frank added quietly.

Matthew was at a loss for words at Frank’s, but after a few minutes, he spoke in a breathless, grievous tone, “I...I’m so sorry that you...that you never can know that.”

He took a breath and met Frank’s eyes again, his own wet from crying, because he’d never thought of having a family of his own, but from hearing about what it was like with Frank, he liked the idea. 

He realised now he was crying because that little girl would never realise that she was actually a little boy, and that little fact cut him deep, deeper than any bullet wound or shard of glass could ever could cut.

Frank noticed his tears and engulfed his huge hand over Matthew’s again, soothing him quietly, “Shit, I didn’t mean to make you cry, Red. It’s okay, well, it’s not okay, but I’ll be fine, they’re gone and there isn’t shit I can do about it now.” he told him, as quietly as he could, knowing it was true. 

Curtis had always told him that grief could take years to bury the hatchet on, and he really thought he was getting there, some days.

Matt forgot himself and let go of his hand, hugging the ex-marine tightly, not caring about his wrapped chest in that moment of fierce protection, he was rash and as quick as the devil when it came to shielding the people he cared for from pain. 

He breathed into Frank’s shoulder, his voice tight and grief-stricken, “I’m sorry that happened to you, Frank.”

Frank was caught off guard at the hug, not used to being hugged by anyone but the side-hug Curtis sometimes gave him if they hadn’t seen each other in a long time, or if he was going on a particularly dangerous mission. He felt oddly safe and warm in the scrawny, shorter man’s arms.

He didn’t even think, he just hugged him close, gently moving them out of the bed, being careful not to hurt the shorter, thinner man's injuries more or to jostle his cast or bandages anymore than Matt had already done..

“Do you think you can stand, Red?” he asked, looking into those hazy blue eyes, but he wasn’t above carrying him if need be, he hated how light Matt was in his arms, because he needed to eat. 

He thoughtlessly pressed a tiny kiss to Matt’s cheek, “We need to get some food in you too, or you’ll starve to death as well.”

Matt’s breath came out rickety, slightly wheezed even, at the chaste kiss to his cheek, smiling shyly as he stumbled over his words, “I, uh...I don’t know, Frank.” 

He honestly replied, knowing his leg still hurt like hell. 

"Then I'll carry you, Red. Come on, take a shower, then I'll make us something to eat." Frank replied casually enough, not putting the scrawny, younger man down.

Matthew realised that he might be better off being carried by the taller man, but at the mention of food, he felt embarrassed. “I...I’m okay, you don’t need to do that, I’ll be fine.”

He decided then and there that they would go to the kitchen in this safehouse and see what kind of food Wade had in, because he needed to get food in his stomach as well, and some Tylenol or something wouldn’t do the both of them any harm, for their respective reasons. 

He headed to the kitchen and warned Matt, “Red, if you don’t put that goddamn martyr complex of yours down for five seconds, I will feed you food from my own fucking hands if I have to. Your Catholic guilt bullshit isn’t going to get you anywhere with me, altar boy.”

Matt nodded, something sparking in him at the older man's rough words, more an order than anything, that should not make him all hot under the collar, but here they were. 

He mumbled, deciding if he didn't hold on, he might fall, not that the ex-marine would let him but he knew he was kind of bony and hard to hold onto, "Okay, I could eat."

Frank held him a little closer, making sure the hold would squash the other man’s ribs, “Oh good, you’re actually willing to shut up and listen for once in your goddamn life. You’re a bag of bones, Red.” 

He sighed with frustration, grunting as he opened the kitchen door open with his left foot. 

He put the slighter man down on a seat, looking to see what Wade had in the cupboards and thanked him in his mind, because there was actual food. He was tempted to make some classical Italian dish to help Matt get the nutrients and fibre he needed to heal and actually get some meat on his bones.

Matt realised he was thinking something through, because he got all quiet like he did when he was thinking, so he left him be, just sitting in the chair and taking in the smell of the kitchen.

Frank noticed that he let him think and was grateful for it, so he settled on making a nice simple Penne arrabbiata, since Wade had Penne pasta, even though it was store bought. 

He also had the necessary spices and fresh chilli peppers, cloves of garlic and herbs. 

He smiled, it would take little time to make a nice meal for him and Matthew.

“I don’t know if I told you this Red, but I come from Italian heritage. My old man was Italian, and he taught me how to make nice food. I’m going to make us some pasta, would you like that?” Frank asked, turning to look the blind man in the eyes, watching as he was checking the wrapping on his chest.

Matt jumped slightly at the sudden speech, but listened to him, “Yeah, that sounds really nice, actually. I remember my dad telling me that my Nana was Irish, so we’re both multicultural, you more so than me.” he smiled a little, because they had precious little in common, it was nice to find something they had in common.

“Not to lean into stereotypes, but most would say your appearance alone, as well as your beliefs make you Irish by default, Red.” Frank quipped, opening a cupboard and getting what he would need out.

“Do you need a hand with anything?” Matt asked, injured as he was, he didn’t want to just sit there while the older man made food for them.

Frank knew he would ask that, so he replied the answer he had ready in his head, “Don’t most people say cooking is an act of love? Just sit your ass down and keep me company Red, that’s all you’ve got to do.” he assured him, filling the pot of pasta with water, looking around for the salt.

Matt blushed at his words, almost the same shade as his hair, mumbling his reply, “I’ll have to cook sometime for you too, then Frank. I’m not very good at it, but I’m decent at baking.” he confessed, having told few people that.

Frank looked a little shocked at that, asking softly, voice going a little more gravelly than usual, “You…you bake, Red? I wouldn’t have thought you were the type for that, if I’m honest.”

Matt smiled at his honesty, hearing his heart beating steadily like the drum of war. It was, “Most don’t expect a blind lawyer to be able to bake.”

Frank scowled, spitting the words out, his harsh tone not directed at the redhead, “Then those stupid ableist motherfuckers had better widen their horizons, altar boy. I wouldn’t mind seeing you bake…when you’re healed. And not before then.” he warned, knowing the blind vigilante could be reckless and had a temper quicker than the devil he masqueraded as.

Matt’s face softened as quickly as his anger thundered, the care in the ex-marine’s tone was something that hadn’t been directed at other people for his gain before. No one had ever told him that people were wrong for expecting the very least from him, just because he was disabled. 

Frank noticed and crossed the room while the pot of pasta simmered, putting a hand on his shoulder, “I mean it, Red. You’re capable of anything you want to do…and fucking reckless enough to do shit that people with 20/20 vision would be scared shitless of doing without thinking.” 

Matt blinked for a second, saying in a soft, hesitating voice, “Are you purposefully flirting with me to get me to listen, Frank?”

The ex-marine shot him a feral grin, stirring the foamy, cooking pasta, talking as he added the spices, “I might be. Is that a problem, or are you just scared of getting attached, Red?”

Matt blushed bright pink, smiling fondly at him, “You're not nice you know that? I mean, flirting with a guy who clearly, against his better judgement, is crazy about you?” Matt fondly teased him.

Chuckling, he poured sone water and handed the redhead some pain medication, “Here, you little shit.”

He downed some water and aspirin himself, looking right at him, “Besides, I might just be a little crazy for you too, Red.” Frank informed him, his voice low and steady.