Matt’s backed against a wall.
Usually he’d be fighting back about that, but it’s just Frank. And okay, maybe not many people would share that sentiment, especially not with angry Frank.
Many people, when being shoved against a wall by an angry Frank Castle are scared. Which Matt can understand, Frank is a big man, a strong one. Who’s taken the lives of many.
And for all it’s worth, Frank had never hurt Matt. He’d never hurt Matt…as of recently. Not in a way he didn’t want anyways, Frank is a lot of things, but he isn’t like that.
Matt figures he kinda deserves being shoved against the brick wall of their garage, having Frank cage him against it and get in his face with a furious growl,
“What the fuck was that, Red?!” He bites, and oh good. Franks used a nickname, he’s not too mad. Probably more worried, worried by the cut on Matt’s side.
And Matt’s not weak by any means. He’s strong, he’s a good height and he’s got muscle to him. But he’s dwarfed in comparison to his husband who is unfairly massive.
Matt grunts as his back collides with the wall, his senses being blocked with Frank caging him,
“It’s nothing, Frank” he says, trying to squirm away, “It’ll heal, it’s not even deep, just-“
Frank scoffs, a rough and angry noise that rattles around Matt’s skull a bit,
“Not even deep-that ain’t my concern, you still got sliced!”
“I’ve had worse!”
“Jesus fucking Christ” Frank groans, another noise that reverberates through Matt’s bones as he registers just how big Frank is.
He’s fought him before. Frank's style of fighting is a lot rougher, in many ways. Matt remembers being held down by his husbands strong hands, remembers them around his throat, around his-
“Are you listening?!” Frank demands, and really? Matt’s not, he’s fucking drowning.
All he can sense is Frank. Frank who’s large, sturdy body is holding him against the wall, that body which had been to literal hell and back.
Matt takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down but all it does is wire him up further as he takes a lungful of how Frank smells.
Gunpowder, blood, cheap coffee, something woody, something heady, sweat, anger, fear-Matt can hear Frank’s heart pounding in his chest.
All he can smell is Frank, all he can hear is Frank, all he can taste is Frank and all he can feel is Frank.
“Ah shit, C’mere Red”
Frank’s voice sounds marginally softer. His hands are not as rough as they pull Matt against that broad and strong chest.
Matt leans his head against Frank’s shoulder, letting Frank hold his weight up which he does effortlessly.
Fucking hell doesn’t that thought go straight to Matt’s dick.
The thought that Frank is so big, so fucking strong. Frank’s body is a weapon, his hands bloody, his hands being used to break people, kill people. The fact that Frank is holding him so gently, with those same hands, makes Matt take another deep breath.
“Y’need something from me, Red?” Frank asks, his voice rumbling low in his chest and Matt shakes his head,
“Just…hold me a bit” He whispers to Frank, “Please?”
“Don’t gotta ask twice.”