Running In the Dark
“That is a hideous shirt you should totally just take it off” au
The sound of running footsteps echoes in the dark alley. Karen thinks maybe her heart is gonna beat out of her chest, lungs burning as she draws in ragged breaths. She promises herself when this is all over she’s going to put that dusty gym membership to good use.
Frank is hot on her heels as they round the corner. Skidding on the damp bricks, he looks back behind them to make sure their pursuers don’t get any ideas about getting too close. Her heart thunders in her chest at the sound of a single gunshot, throwing her hands up over her ears in preparation for more.
They don’t come, and instead Frank picks up the pace, hooking his free arm under hers and dragging her along. He tosses the jammed rifle into a nearby dumpster careening out of the dark alley at breakneck speed. His eyes pan up and down the street looking for some kind of safe haven. There’s a smokey bar on the corner, red neon lights glowing in the damp air.
He turns, pulling her along again, but she digs in her heels, and he doesn’t have time to argue with her in the street. Instead he pulls her into the shelter of an unlit stoop, growling at her through barred teeth. “What!”
“Damn it, Frank, you can’t go in there like that!” She gestures at him, vaguely encompassing his appearance top to bottom. She’s feeling a little frantic now, the adrenaline pumping through her veins making her hands shake. Her voice gets a little shrill as she struggles to whisper. “That stupid skull on your shirt is like a neon sign flashing ‘Here comes the punisher, unarmed and looking for a fight’. Take it off!”
Her trembling fingers are already tugging at the hem, trying to drag the ridiculous thing up over his head. She’s on the verge of hysteria, glancing over her shoulder before turning back to angrily yank at the material. Frank stills her hands, wrapping his long fingers around her wrists. Leaning down to whisper in her ear, he says, “And what exactly does walking shirtless into a biker bar scream?”
“Take it off, Frank!”
Her eyes are wild and for the first time in years he doesn’t know how to respond appropriately to the situation. Reflexively her grabs the hem and jerks the article of clothing up over his head. “Now what?”
Snatching the black fabric from his hands she swiftly turns it inside out jamming it back down over his damp hair, fingers skimming the taut lines of his shoulders as he threads his arms back through the sleeves.
The sound of running once again catches their ears. Frank tenses, reaching for a weapon he doesn’t have. “Fuck–”
The softly exhaled curse is cut short, Karen’s lips crashing down on his, her surprisingly strong arms wrapping around his neck as she leans into him. She lets go briefly to hiss at him. “Pretend we’re kissing! There’s no way they’ll stop for a couple of drunks making out in the dark.”
With no time to argue or formulate another plan, he wraps his arms around her, tucking her into the corner of the doorway. One knee notches between her thighs, pinning her against leaded panes. His lips find her neck, nose nuzzling the column of her throat as he drops little kisses on the soft skin. For the briefest of moments he forgets their lives are in peril, that this is all just a ruse.
Karen clutches at him, playing the part of wanton seductress rather convincingly, an involuntary sigh rolling through her and tumbling out of her lips. Fingers dive into his hair, tugging him away from the attention he’s paying her collar bone.
Staring into his eyes, she can see the lust glazing them over, and it takes all she has in her to breathe deeply and look away. “They ran right by.”
He nods, breath still a little harsh. He stays entwined with her half a beat longer than necessary, reluctantly pulling away and stomping down the steps. “Come on, we have to get far away from here, and quick.”
She runs after him to keep up with his wide strides. “Frank?”
T
hey duck into another alley, this time looking for a fire escape to shimmy up. “What?”
“Who the hell thinks a giant skull painted across their chest is inconspicuous?”
Yanking down a set of iron steps, he fights the twitching at the corner of his mouth before answering. His voice lower than normal, growling at her for the second time in less than twenty minutes. “It’s supposed to strike fear in the hearts of evil-do–”
Ignoring the little thrill of desire the sound causes, she waves him off, smiling to herself. “Yeah yeah… I’m just saying you can’t make fun of Daredevil’s little red outfit anymore. Pot and kettle, et cetera.”
He laughs, gesturing for her to precede him up the steps. When she’s concentrating on finding her footing he finally lets the smile spread across his face. “Yeah okay, but Red doesn’t get a pass for the horns.”
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