Chapter 3
Hell’s Kitchen would hide in their homes, close their doors and windows when Daredevil and the Punisher were fighting on their very own rooftops, which the two of them protected every night in their own way, both convinced their way was better than the other’s. Mostly, that was the reason that stirred their fights, and they could last for hours- if not days. They both weren’t afraid to hurt the other, using every bit of strength they contained in their body. Frank- and Matt- knew the people of their city were afraid when they were fighting, but they were both filled with an everlasting rage.
While the people shut their doors and kept their conversations down, listening concentrated to the fight that occurred on their rooftops, right now, it seemed to Frank that whole Hell’s Kitchen was out on the streets. At a certain moment, Frank wasn’t even surprised anymore when he heard a camera or a phone click. He probably would do the same. If he had to be honest with himself, Frank was just as surprised as the rest of New York.
The Punisher happening to carry the Devil. Bridal- style.
Frank cursed, knowing they would be in the spotlight the rest of the week. Fuck that. Red was hurt. He had to do this. Right?
Frank managed to come up with a route without too many people noticing them, and he let out an exhausted sigh. He was glad they were back in his apartment. He carefully put Red on his couch, putting the softest pillow under the man’s head he could find. It was almost four AM, but the hardest part hadn’t even started yet. Frank went to grab the first aid box in Matt’s kitchen, but then he heard a loud groan, coming from Matt’s direction. For the second time this night, Frank ran, stumbling like a fool.
“Red? Red, talk to me. Can you hear me?” Frank rambled, but Matt seemed so out of it, he couldn’t bring out another word. Not much later, Matt started hyperventilating and his body started shaking. Frank decided he didn’t like this, and he grabbed Matt’s hand.
Matt’s body flinched away, hard enough to let the pain become visible on Red’s face. He closed his unseeing eyes, and gasped loudly. “Frank? Frank, are you still here?” Of course Frank was, what was the idiot thinking. Frank squeezed Matt’s hand a little, and the other man seemed to calm down a little. Just a little, but enough for him to properly breathe one time. As minutes passed, both men frozen in time, Matt seemed to calm down, and Frank was certain he would faint in just a second. But the shaking had stopped, and his breathing had almost gone back to normal. The stubborn bastard hadn’t even gone into shock, while Frank was more than certain he had lost way too much blood.
Frank squeezed Matt’s hand, and he stood up to get the first aid kit. He tried to ignore the sudden shriek when he let go of the other’s hand. He quickly ran towards Matt’s cupboard, and hastily destroyed the lock with his bare fist. He ran back stumbling- stumbling, again- and sped to Matt’s side. He quickly grabbed the trembling hand of the now shaking vigilante. Frank had jinxed himself, Matt was definitely going into shock, no matter how stubborn he was.
“Stay still now.” Frank whispered. And stay with me, he thought. He looked at Matt’s face, his lips were blue suddenly, and he was shaking and sweaty. Dark and bright blood stained Matt’s newly bought, white couch. He tried not to listen to the way Red’s breathing was rather vocal, and the way his chest heaved in an effort of sucking in as much oxygen as they could. But they couldn’t. Frank observed the severity of his wounds, and after he had laid Matt’s legs on a few soft pillows he went to work on the gushing cut on his thigh. He tied his belt as tightly as he could around Red’s leg a few inches above the wound, trying to stop or at least lessen the bleeding.
He would have to move quickly, had to get Red warmer as soon as possible. He opened the first aid kit, and took out some bandage, he tightly wound it around the cut, hoping it would help stop the bleeding faster. He would stitch it as soon as he could actually manage to see the wound. After that Frank took out the fabric scissors and cut open Red’s suit. It was damaged anyway. The material sticked to the almost dried blood, and he carefully managed to remove it from Red’s skin. Frank took a smaller pair of scissors and took a cotton ball, after he had soaked it in iodine. “Matt, you still with me?” He didn’t get an answer. Which shouldn’t have surprised him, though. It still did.
Frank firmly wiped the cotton ball over the first cut, and he was actually relieved when he heard Red hiss. Frank put one of his hands flat on Matt’s bare chest, feeling the other’s quickened heartbeat. One of Matt’s hands shot up and grabbed his, holding on for dear life, eyes suddenly widened in fear. Frank squeezed his hand, giving him a sign that he would move on. He quickly worked over the cuts on his arms and hands, each time squeezing the clammy, bloodied hand. He carefully let go of Matt when he was going to clean his chest. Most cuts weren’t that deep, and Matt lay perfectly still. After a while he had cleaned all the wounds on his upper body, he bandaged them, and stitched some of them. By the time Frank was done with it, Matt had lost his consciousness.
Frank stood up and went for the bathroom, where he took the softest towel he could find, wet it with lukewarm water, and went back. He dropped to his knees and wiped Matt’s face clean. He moved slowly, watching Matt’s expressions and face. He looked so peaceful right now, even though the big billboard outside his window shone a weird purple light on his face. He was so handsome. More than handsome, which, to Frank, was a lot to admit. He caressed Red’s stubbled face, and ran his fingers slowly through the thick brown hair. Then Frank just sat there, forgetting about the wound, which was still bleeding in Matt’s thigh. The only thing he could see was Matt.
It was the first time Frank had ever allowed himself to love someone after—no. He shook his head, clearing the images of his wife and children, dead and bloody, out of his head. He wouldn’t fail this time. Frank could protect Matt, and Matt could protect him. Frank knew that Matt wasn’t made of glass, and Frank didn’t treat him that way either. He knew that Matt could see better than any person who had the actual ability to see. There was something about that, the faked vulnerability, the masquerade Matt put up as a lawyer, that intrigued him. Something about the way Matt tried to keep all the bad thing to himself, not even having the teeniest bit of self-preservation. Matt brought out Frank’s soft side he didn’t even know he possessed. He loved Matt, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to lose him.
Frank stood up, determined, went to the bathroom again and cleansed the towel, before he took it back again to wipe the sweat and blood off of Matt’s body. Matt was still bleeding, so Frank left the dried blood for what it was, and cleaned Red’s thigh with the towel instead. The wound was still bleeding a bit, but Frank could manage. He picked a needle and a thread, and after drenching it with iodine, he put it in the flesh of the leg. With his other hand he held the cut closed, making it easier to stitch. A few minutes later, Frank was satisfied with his work, so he cut a bit more bandage and wrapped it around the leg tightly. Then he took off the belt, and sat back.
Frank sighed, and looked at his watch. Damn it. The sun was already setting, which- again- shouldn’t surprise him, since it was half past six. Yet again, it did.
His brain couldn’t quite understand what was really going on, he only knew that Matt did get hurt, and he himself didn’t. Now, Frank wasn’t the type of guy that blamed himself, or drowned in his guilt, unlike Red, but, well, this really was his fault, wasn’t it?
He stood up with a groan, his muscles sore from sitting almost three hours on the cold, hard ground. He opened Matt’s fridge, thunderstruck when he actually saw food. Frank decided he should make pancakes. He took out the ingredients and put them all on the counter. He lit the stove, put some butter in the pan and poured in the sweet mix. Half an hour had passed already, and Frank wiped his face with his hand, accidently wiping flour across his nose. He went to wash it off with tap water, when Frank heard a shriek coming from the couch. He ran, stumbled, actually fell this time, to the couch. Matt tried to speak, but Frank shushed him and grabbed his hand. Matt visibly relaxed, and a poor, pathetic smile spread across his cheeks. Frank smiled back, not knowing, neither caring, whether Matt could see it.
“I heard that, Frank.” Red said, voice hoarse from his screams. Relief overwhelmed Frank, and he gasped slightly. “It’s okay, Frank. It’s okay, I am okay.” Frank squeezed his hand, unable to respond, as tears filled his eyes and rolled down his face. Matt wiped them away, eyes not flickering, but focussed, just a little too high to be looking into his eyes, but Frank couldn’t care less. Then Frank realized. He’d never actually seen Matt’s eyes- not without the glasses or the mask. Frank gasped loudly, but instead of drawing back, he leaned in closer, and cupped Matt’s cheek with his hand. Frank stared into his big, beautiful, brown eyes, and he almost whined when he saw the exact moment the realization hit Matt as well. He looked down, eyelids covering half of his eyes, while his hand hovered over the table, scanning for his red glasses. Frank grabbed his wrist firmly.
“Matt.” He started, but Matt’s other hand was now also trying to reach his glasses, and Frank had a little trouble holding the man’s wrist. Matt clenched his eyes shut, till a point where it almost looked painful. When Matt let out a few deep huffs, free arm randomly flailing, desperately looking for his glasses, Frank took his other wrist as well. “Matt.” Frank said again, letting his hands slip from Matt’s wrists to his hands. “You’re beautiful.” Slowly, Matt opened his eyes, and Frank sighed in relief when he saw the brown irises again, Matt’s long black eyelashes almost touching his eyebrows. His eyes flickered a bit, before Matt dropped them and observed their hands.
Frank looked at Red’s face, saving every detail of it inside his head since he wanted to remember this moment forever. It was simple: Matt Murdock was stunningly perfect. He squeezed Matt’s hand gently, and Red’s body went from tense to relaxed and sleepy in less than a second. God, he was beautiful. When Matt squeezed back, his heart went skyrocketing, and he felt funny. “Matt, you’re so fucking beautiful.” Then, suddenly, Matt snapped his eyes up again, and Frank’s breath hitched when Matt’s watery eyes bore directly into his. A tear fell down, and it landed on their hands. “I’m sorry. It’s just… I can’t control them, a-and I don’t want you t-to think…” but Frank shushed him before he could finish the sentence by placing a soft kiss against Matt’s hands. Matt sucked in a deep breath, before releasing it with a deep sigh. “Matt, it doesn’t matter. Do you know why?” Matt shook his head. “Because I like you, Red. Have been for a while.”
Matt huffed, dropped his eyes, and sighed a few times. “Frank, you know I’m catholic, right?” Frank nodded and squeezed his hand, motivating him to go on. “Well, two men being… together is a new thing. I know it doesn’t matter to you, but that’s the reason I didn’t want to team up. I wanted to… well, I don’t know. I wanted something.” He mumbled, voice going down as new tears welled up. He breathed a shaky breath before adding: “I wanted to avoid my feelings, I guess… I know Father Lantom doesn’t mind it, he says love is love and some…” after that Matt started talking so fast and soft Frank couldn’t understand it anymore.
“Matt!” Frank shouted, wincing as he saw Matt flinch and tense up again. “Sorry, I am a mess, I just… Frank, I like you too.” Frank almost fell off the couch, and he choked on his breath. It took him a second to recover, but he looked up to see Matt’s face beaming. A wide smile on his face, and damn, smiling looked good on the guy. He simultaneously smiled back, and they both chuckled. Oh fuck it, Frank thought. He felt like a schoolgirl enough already, but couldn’t help but add something to the scene. He leaned in, placed a soft kiss against Matt’s lips, and Matt responded quickly. His hands grabbed Frank’s hair, and he kissed Frank back softly, but with so much passion Frank could just melt. Then Matt chuckled loudly, and drew back a bit. “Frank, there’s flour on your nose.” Frank grinned as well, and he let Matt wipe it away with his soft fingers. “This is so cliché, Frank. I like it.” Frank hummed in agreement, as he pulled Matt into a long hug. He sniffed in the scent of Matt’s hair, ignoring the scent of blood and dirt. Later, he thought. He felt Matt’s lungs expand against his chest, and he realised he felt better than he had in ages.
“I baked some pancakes, want some?” Matt’s stomach growled and they both stood up laughing, Matt leaning into Frank, hopping on his good leg to the kitchen counter, where the warm pancakes stood. Frank took some syrup and helped Matt back to the table in the living room. They ate in a glorious silence, their hands still holding the other’s. Frank finished up a little sooner than Matt, and he sat back to look at Matt, whom was now illuminated by the golden light of the morning sun. Matt smiled at him when he was done too, and Frank just felt so good.
“I assume we’re not gonna talk about what happened last night?” Frank asked. “Nope, not now, maybe not ever.” Was his response. “I did save your ass, though. I’d say I at least deserved a ‘thank you, Frank.’” Matt chuckled, and planted a pancake- tasting kiss on Frank’s lips. “Thank you, Frank. I owe you.” Matt whispered, then he placed his head on Frank’s shoulder. “You sure as hell do, Red.”
Than they just sat, while the morning sun created a golden aura illuminating both them and their beloved city.
The Devil owes him a favour, he will come to collect that favour.