Chapter 11
The whiskey bottle sat half-empty between them, casting long shadows across the room in the dim light of the billboard. Outside, the rainstorm raged on, its steady drumbeat filling the spaces between their words.
Frank leaned back in the armchair, his glass resting against his thigh. He wasn’t drunk—not even close—but there was a warmth in his chest that wasn’t just from the alcohol. Matt, sitting cross-legged on the couch, looked impossibly relaxed, his tie loosened and sleeves rolled up.
“You’re a lightweight, aren’t you?” Frank teased, eyeing the flush creeping up Matt’s neck.
Matt smirked, tipping his head toward Frank. “You forget, Castle, I can hold my liquor just fine. But I can also tell you’ve been eyeing that bottle like it’s your lifeline.”
Frank snorted, taking a slow sip. “Maybe I’m just trying to drown out the sound of your voice.”
Matt chuckled, the sound warm and low. “You’re all talk, Frank.”
“Yeah, and you love it,” Frank shot back, the words slipping out before he could think better of them.
The room went quiet for a moment, the playful banter hanging in the air like static electricity. Frank avoided Matt’s gaze—or where he assumed Matt’s gaze would be—and took another drink.
Matt leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You keep saying that,” he said softly, his tone less teasing now. “Why?”
Frank frowned, his grip tightening on the glass. “Saying what?”
“That I… love it,” Matt said, the words laced with curiosity.
Frank’s heart thudded painfully in his chest. He hadn’t meant anything by it—or maybe he had, but not in a way he wanted to unpack right now.
“It’s just a saying, Red,” Frank muttered, his voice gruffer than he intended.
“Is it?” Matt pressed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Frank groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”
Matt shook his head, his expression softening. “Not when it comes to you.”
The words hit Frank harder than he expected. He looked up, meeting Matt’s steady, unflinching expression.
“You’re a weird guy, you know that?” Frank said, his voice quieter now.
Matt tilted his head, that knowing smile still in place. “Takes one to know one.”
Frank leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You keep pokin’ at me, Red. One of these days, you’re gonna hit somethin’ you can’t fix.”
Matt’s smile faded, replaced by something more serious. “I’m not trying to fix you, Frank. I just… I don’t want you to carry all of this on your own.”
Frank’s throat tightened, and he stared down at the amber liquid in his glass. “I’ve been on my own for a long time. Don’t know how to do it any other way.”
Matt reached out, his hand resting lightly on Frank’s forearm. The touch was grounding, steady.
“You don’t have to figure it out tonight,” Matt said softly. “But maybe you don’t have to figure it out alone, either.”
Frank looked up at him, the sincerity in Matt’s face cutting through his defenses. “You’re a better man than me, Murdock.”
Matt’s smile returned, softer this time. “Maybe. But I’m not letting you off that easy.”
The rain outside had eased into a gentle drizzle, the storm’s earlier fury spent. Inside, the air between them had shifted—less sharp, more tentative.
Frank drained the last of his whiskey and set the glass on the table. “You keep this up, I’m gonna start thinkin’ you like havin’ me around.”
Matt leaned back against the couch, his arms draped over the back. “Maybe I do.”
Frank’s heart stuttered, and he looked away, his jaw tightening. He wasn’t used to this—not the openness, not the quiet warmth that seemed to settle in Matt’s presence.
“You’re somethin’ else, Red,” Frank muttered.
Matt smiled, leaning his head back against the cushion. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Frank stood, his movements deliberate as he stretched and crossed the room. He needed space—just a little—to untangle the knot in his chest.
“I’m gonna call it a night,” he said over his shoulder.
“Frank.”
The sound of Matt’s voice stopped him in his tracks. He turned, meeting Matt’s gaze—or the approximation of it—and waited.
“Goodnight,” Matt said simply, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.
Frank nodded, his voice gruff. “Goodnight, Red.”