Chapter 9
Frank woke up to the smell of coffee and the faint sound of classical music playing. It wasn’t the jarring way he usually woke, tense and ready to fight. This was different—soft, almost domestic. It unnerved him.
He sat up on the couch, wincing as his injured thigh reminded him of its presence. The wound was healing, but slowly, and Matt’s stubborn insistence that he “take it easy” was starting to wear him down.
In the kitchen, Matt was moving around with practiced ease, his bare feet padding softly against the floor. He was humming—Frank couldn’t place the tune, but it was light, almost cheerful.
“Morning, sunshine,” Matt called without turning around.
Frank grunted, standing up carefully and making his way over. “How the hell do you always know when I’m awake?”
Matt smirked, pouring a cup of coffee and sliding it toward Frank. “You snore like a bear when you’re actually asleep. When it stops, I know you’re up.”
Frank stared at him, deadpan. “I do not snore.”
“Oh, you absolutely do,” Matt replied, leaning against the counter with a shit-eating grin.
Frank took a sip of coffee, letting the warmth settle into him. “You’ve got a mouth on you, Murdock.”
“And you love it,” Matt shot back, the playful edge in his voice making Frank’s stomach twist in a way he didn’t want to examine too closely.
They spent the morning in relative peace, Matt working on a brief at the table while Frank cleaned the weapons he’d stashed in a duffel bag under the couch. The silence between them was comfortable, punctuated only by the occasional clink of metal or the scratch of Matt’s pen.
But Frank’s mind wasn’t on the work. His eyes kept drifting to Matt—the furrow of his brow as he focused, the way his hands moved gracefully over the paper, the slight smirk that tugged at his lips when he solved whatever problem he was working on.
It was infuriating.
“You’ve been staring at me for the past ten minutes,” Matt said without looking up.
Frank’s jaw tightened. “You’re imagining things, Red.”
Matt set his pen down and tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Am I?”
Frank scowled, turning his attention back to the gun in his hands. “You’re annoying, you know that?”
Matt chuckled, standing and walking over to lean against the counter near Frank. “And yet, you’re still here.”
Frank glanced up at him, his defenses faltering for just a moment. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment.”
Matt’s smile softened, and he reached out, brushing his fingers lightly against Frank’s arm. It was a casual gesture, but it sent a jolt through Frank’s system.
“You’re not as tough as you think you are,” Matt said softly.
Frank froze, his breath catching. The air between them shifted, heavy with something unspoken.
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Frank said gruffly, pulling his arm away.
Matt’s expression didn’t change, but his voice was steady, deliberate. “You don’t have to be alone all the time, Frank. It’s okay to let people in.”
Frank stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “I’m gonna grab some air.”
Matt didn’t stop him, but Frank could feel the weight of his gaze as he walked out.
Frank stood on the fire escape, the city sprawled out beneath him. The rain had started again, a soft drizzle that misted his face and blurred the harsh edges of the skyline.
He took a deep breath, his hands gripping the cold metal railing. Matt’s words played on a loop in his head, cracking through the walls he’d spent years building.
“Jesus Christ,” Frank muttered, running a hand over his face.
He didn’t do this. He didn’t feel like this. But here he was, on the verge of something he couldn’t name, all because of Matt Murdock and his stupid, unrelenting kindness.
The sound of the window sliding open pulled Frank from his thoughts. Matt climbed onto the fire escape, his movements sure despite the slick metal.
“Thought you could use some company,” Matt said, his voice light.
Frank huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “You don’t quit, do you?”
“Nope,” Matt said, leaning against the railing beside him.
They stood in silence for a moment, the rain falling softly around them.
“You make things complicated, Red,” Frank said finally, his voice low.
Matt turned toward him, his expression unreadable. “Do I?”
Frank met his gaze, the tension between them building to a breaking point. “Yeah. You do.”
Matt took a step closer, the space between them shrinking to nothing. “Maybe complicated isn’t so bad.”
Frank’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he let himself consider it. Consider Matt.
And it terrified him.