Matt was distracted. Which was normal for the most part, given the fact they had super senses. But as Karen stared a little closer at their face, she noticed they were.. blushing? Which was not a Matt-y thing to do. They seemed to be humming a song as well, too low for Karen to make out, but loud enough for her to notice. Goddamn it Matthew Murdock. A fucking enigma, they are. Foggy just shrugged whenever she approached him about their random habits that never made much sense, a tight smile tugging at the side of his mouth.
By mid-day, Matt had started tapping along to the unheard song with their cane, their shoes, anything that could be made into a subconscious action. The humming had gotten louder too. The more Karen strained to figure out what the song was, the more Matt quieted down. Could they hear her focusing? Burning questions, Matthew!
By the time Karen was starting to pack up, she finally heard it. The words to the song. She would have screamed in relief, but y'know, she had to listen in. After all, Karen Page was a reporter. Matt had been tapping their cane against the filing cabinet, their whispers following the unheard tune.
"-You talk real slow, 'cause it's late and your mama don't know. Our song is the way you laugh-"
Matt had this soft grin on their face, the same grin when Foggy tripped on air on the way back from Josie's. And Karen just lost her shit, a near silent wheeze escaping her as she brou. They whipped their head towards her, confused.
"Are you singing Taylor Swift?" Karen asked incredulously, Matt's cheeks reddened and they brought their hand to nervously tap on the bridge of their red-tinted glasses, only confirming her query. Matthew Michael Murdock was a fan of Taylor Swift. Not even- The Devil of Hell's Kitchen was a Taylor Swift fan.
"Is that what that is? Huh. I just heard it around." They sounded sheepish, as if they had been caught with their hand in a cookie jar. Distantly, Karen wondered if Matt would have stolen cookies from nuns as a child? Probably. Now all Karen could think of is teeny-tiny Matt in a Robin Hood costume, stealing cookies for the other kids. But alas, Matt wasn't a Taylor Swift fan. Which wasn't really surprising, it's Matt.
The brief interaction was just that, unfortunately brief. Matt made themself scarce soon after. Karen adored Murdock, but did they have to be so cryptic? Foggy chose the wrong week to come down with the flu. And without him to conspire with, Karen was just left to let the mystery rot in a corner.
Frank played the guitar. Matt could hear the air bounce around it in a corner the first time they had been in one of Frank's safe houses voluntarily. Every other time before, they both were normally too busy making sure neither died. The first time it was brought up in conversation, Frank ducked his head down to hide the blood rushing to his face, even though Matt could hear it. But he played for them nonetheless.
Matt loved hearing Frank play the guitar. No matter where Frank was in the Kitchen, as long as he played his guitar, Matt could pick him out. He always played when he thought Matt was asleep, but they weren't. When Karen, Foggy, and them were out around people, Matt would listen out for Frank's heartbeat and guitar. It grounded them. Kept them centered. His hands were so skillful when he played. So gentle. So unlike how he usually used his hands. It made them so giddy inside, they didn't know what to do with themself. Lately he'd been playing certain songs, over and over. Sometimes he'd sing along. The low rumbles of his voice not quite fitting the pop-like songs, but they loved it either way. They were romance songs.
Even if you held Matt at gunpoint, they'd never admit that they were a hopeless romantic. When they were just starting high school, Sister Maggie had gotten them a pile of romance movies. The nuns proceeded to hate her as much as Catholics could hate. But the Devil didn't care, they still listened to the movies with Foggy, when they were too drunk to try and turn on the radio.
It wasds easy to understand why Matt was so captivated by Frank's guitar, and the songs he played on it. And sometimes there'd be a second guitar, playing alongside Frank. It was always slightly (Understatement.) untuned, but it fit together nicely with Frank's playing. Maybe Frank was thinking of them when he played. But that's pushing it a little bit. Frank doesn't do that, he wouldn't do that. Would he?
He would. But Matt never realized this fact. Frank realized after the sixth day of playing cheesy love songs in an attempt to get the Devils attention that Matt seemed to proceed like normal with their routines, apparently pushing thoughts of Frank to the backburner. Frank would play. Matt would listen.
They fought, like usual. But Matt seemed a little less inclined to go on offense when they fought, much to Frank's dismay. He didn't have a clue why their dynamic had changed all of a sudden. Matt hated sudden changes between them. So something had happened with them. But they didn't talk like that with Frank, it wasn't his place to push with all that 'feelings' bullshit.
So he didn't. Castle just kept on rolling with the punches, and dishing some of his own out. Murdock took them with ease. Always. Which led them to the edge of a rooftop, on some sort of run-down apartment complex on the border between Queens and Hell's Kitchen. A flickering shadow seemed to watch them, but it could've been just a trick of the light.
He punched, they dodged. Punch, dodge. Punch, kick, dodge. "C'mon Red. Where's the fight in you gone?" Frank smirked, not that Matt could see it, but the movement was clear enough for them to pick up on it.
Matt finally swung at him, albeit lazily. "Still there, Castle. What about you?" They stumbled back, nearing the edge. They still had some life in their movements, but they were slow. Hesitant, almost. Which was weird. It was Matt. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen rarely hesitated.
"I'm not the one who's holding back. What's that all about? Don't think I haven't noticed."
The scene on the rooftop slowed down, as if it was in slow-motion. The streets of New York fell silent as his words sunk in fully. It seemed like the whole world held its breath for Murdock to react. The Devils posture slackened, and they crept farther back. They didn't stop moving towards the edge. The skull-bearing man nearly dove forward, in case they slipped off and fell, but he didn't. Not the reaction Frank was going for, but okay.
Frank watched as they scurried off, away from him. The lights from the carousel flickered as they ran. He studied the way Matt dove deeper into the Kitchen. Escaping confrontation, not a new tactic of theirs, but one of Frank's least favorites. It was time consuming. And emotional, especially emotional. Fuck emotions. Ew.
No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't think of anything that'd he'd done to keep Matt from going all out in a fight like that. The Punisher hadn't killed that many people lately. So what had he done? Damn it, Red. As they both went their separate ways, the silhouette crossed the roof.
Days passed by, and things shifted slightly back to normal. Matt and Frank worked together as Daredevil and the Punisher, sometimes as Matt and Frank. They eventually found themselves collapsed too close to each other on a cot in one of Frank's safe houses after finishing a bust together, bruised and bloody.
Matt, now maskless, fiddled with a roll of bandages, unseeing eyes wandering aimlessly as they waited for Frank to hobble up and over for them to bandage him up. The awkward silence between them both was driving Matt batshit crazy. So they did the only thing they could think of. Making it even more awkward. As soon as Frank practically threw himself back down at the cot, Matt reached out to touch his face. Frank was strangely compliant. They shakily felt Frank over, constructing a picture in their head of the wound, while they began to bandage him up along the way. "You're really stupid, Frank. You know that. Right?" Matt's hands were holding Frank's face in a way that he hadn't been held since Maria.
"Yeah, Red. I know."
If Matt wasn't as out of it as they were, they might have heard the fondness in his voice. They might not have heard it either way, Frank was an abstruse one.
The silence wasn't as awkward after that. Frank managed to wrangle off his skull themed vest while Matt turned to pull out a butterfly stitch to stick onto his forehead. If they had stalled while he got stuck around the armor, what Frank didn't know didn't hurt him. Matt had removed the chest piece of their body armor, gathering at their waist.
After everything was all said and done, they were laying side by side on the cot, facing each other. Matt preferred to sleep facing people so they could listen to them, rather than the world around them. Frank just liked watching Red. He had his guitar out too, retuning and strumming it occasionally.
"So," Matt started, and Frank's head snapped down to meet Matt's. "Do you play Taylor Swift on that?" Their bruised cheeks reddened at the odd question. Frank just smiled that impossible smile of his, Matt could feel it.
He started plucking a vaguely familiar tune on the strings of the guitar. "Are you serious? I play her for you every morning, Red." Coarse laughter rumbled through Frank as he watched Matt's fidgeting stutter to a stop, processing what he said. "You could hear it, right? That's why I've been playing such cheesy shit."
"Ah."
Frank stiffened. "C'mon. Throw a dog a bone. What do you mean by that? I know you're a Catholic, but still. I thought you noticed what… this is too." Matt's head tilted to the side, hearing the horribly hidden anxiety in his voice. His sentences were trailing off in the way people trail off when they're trying not to ramble.
How could this perfect man be so stupid? "Frank." Their tone was firm. Matt's hands reached back out to Frank's face, just holding him close. "Shut up." Matt tilted forward, leaning forward to kiss him. They were off-center by a little bit, but they both just blamed the concussion. Frank adjusted a little bit, and returned the embrace.
They held each other for a few moments, as if they were frozen in time.
Only when both their faces were on the verge of turning blue, did they pull away, both sporting smiles. Any tension locked away deep inside them both resolved.
"'M sorry, Matt. I really thought you realized." Matt. Matt. Not Red, or Murdock. Matt. They were so far off the deep end for the Punisher. It sounded like the Punisher
felt the same way for Daredevil, too. Now that they really listened to Frank, they could hear his heart pounding. Oh. That was nice. Very nice.
Nervous giggles filled the room. Was that from them? "No… I hadn't, but now that I do, doing this is so much easier." Their body was moving on its own, leaning back in to kiss Frank. Matt wasn't against it, but they won't deny it was a little jarring to be so out of control of their own body.
Frank, of course, noticed and pulled away after a few seconds. "You're high as balls on adrenaline and blood loss, Red. Time to rest." Matt gave in almost instantly, practically collapsing onto Frank. It was sweet.
"Hey Frank?"
"Yeah, Matt?"
"Can you play for me? Just for a little bit."
And so he did. His blood-stained fingers plucking the strings carefully, helping it all mesh into one song. Right before Matt fully fell into unconsciousness, they could hear Frank beginning to sing along to the song. It was by no means perfect, but somehow it made Matt Murdock fall for Frank Castle even more.
"-All there's left to do is run, you'll be the prince and I'll be the princess. It's a love story, baby, just say, 'Yes'"
If Foggy noticed Matt singing to the radio, neither made a move to point it out. Only listening to his best friend giddily follow along with the songs playing.
"This love is difficult, but it's real...!"
Wait, hold on- they like Taylor Swift? Foggy whipped his head to give Karen a look, but she was already glaring at Matt through the frosted windows. Hm. Odd.