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Frank Castle was not an easy man to get along with. After years of military discipline, coupled with the fact that his behavior was the product of the worst kind of betrayal and corruption, Frank knew he was a little rough around the edges. This hadn’t stopped you from waltzing into his life with absolutely no regard or tolerance for his bullshit.
Frank watched as you meticulously cleaned the weapons in front of you on the table. Your attention to detail was enough to make a Marine envious. He still didn’t know where you learned it all, because you certainly weren’t ex-military like him.
“Are you gonna stare at me all night, or sit down and help?” You shot him a pointed glance before returning to your work, mumbling under your breath about the audacity of men.
Frank couldn’t stop himself from grinning a little. Your smart mouth had gotten both of you in a lot of trouble, but it was one of the reasons you were such good friends. You could dish it out and you could take it.
Frank sat with a wince. His back had been beaten to hell a few weeks prior, and he was pretty sure his ribs had only just begun healing, but he wasn’t going to complain. Thus was the life of the Punisher.
“You make sure they’re all unloaded?” Frank questioned, though he knew the answer to that question already. He didn’t know why he liked teasing you so much, but he couldn’t help himself.
You sent a glare across the table, scoffing.
“Do you think I’m an idiot?” You asked, cocking your head to the side. Frank watched the rise and fall of your shoulders as annoyance coursed through you, sending a tingling sensation directly into his chest.
“No.” Frank said firmly, “Was just a question.”
“Hmm.” You answered, rolling your eyes.
Frank knew you liked the teasing too. He was completely in the dark about why you enjoyed it, but nonetheless, it wouldn’t be your relationship without all the teasing.
Or the pining. Or the filthy dreams you have about her you sick fu-
“Frank, are we doing this thing or not? I can’t clean all these guns by myself. Do something.”
Your comment startled him out of his dirty thoughts. You were staring at him with a bewildered look on your face, probably wondering why the hell Frank couldn’t seem to focus lately.
Frank quickly grabbed a gun, double checking that the weapon was actually unloaded before beginning the cleaning routine he was so familiar with.
It wasn’t his fault, really. He couldn’t help that your legs kept him so distracted during debriefings that he never hear a word you said. He also thought it was rude of you to wear your hair the way you do, because it made him dizzy when you walked by and he could smell your shampoo. Really, if Frank thought about it, it was your fault he was so out of it, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.
He certainly wasn’t going to be the person to ruin whatever this was between the two of you. He liked things the way they were, so instead of daydreaming about your legs like he constantly wanted to do, he did his best to ignore the festering feelings bubbling in his chest every time you walked in the room.
It was better that way.
The plan for the evening was simple. Get in, shoot the motherfuckers who were trafficking women, and get out. They’d never see Frank or you coming, and New York would be better for it tomorrow. It was a normal, run of the mill mission that you and Frank had worked dozens of times before. Frank trusted you with his life, and you offered the same trust to him, albeit with a little sass. There shouldn’t have been any issues.
So, of course the plan went to shit as soon as it began.
Neither of you had expected such a large operation to be booming right in the heart of New York City. Frank watched from behind a pallet of crates as you snuck around the structural framework of the warehouse roof, disappearing behind beams faster than any normal person could track. His job was to cause a distraction as soon as you found the women so that you could lead them to safety without endangering them further, but he couldn’t move past the bad feeling bubbling in his stomach.
Your eyes found him in the darkness, sending him a wink before disappearing around a beam. Frank, who normally would charge headfirst into the array with guns blazing, was horrified to realize that he was considering calling this off. You were out manned, out gunned, and vulnerable if any of those men happened to look up and see you, and that sent a sinking feeling through his chest.
Minutes dragged by as he waited for your signal. The longer he waited, the more restless he became. The men he was supposed to be focusing on were growing more rowdy by the second, and if he didn’t step in soon, someone would surely see you.
Gunfire was his first indication that something was wrong. Screaming was the second.
Frank catapulted into action, rolling into a standing position and taking aim at the first man he saw. Most of the men in the room didn’t know he was there until a round of bullets ricocheted through them.
“Frank!”
Your voice carried through the warehouse, echoing off the walls directly into Frank’s chest. That was not the signal. Something had gone very, very wrong.
He ran, plowing through another group of men with such ferocity that the metallic tang of blood would probably coat his tongue for hours afterwards. The warehouse was huge, and there were hallways in every direction. Screams echoed around him, sending him into a furious scramble through room after room, shooting everything that moved. His thoughts felt disorganized and messy. He couldn’t focus on anything but you, you, you.
You weren’t anywhere, and it was driving him to madness. The trail of bodies he followed through the building made him simultaneously proud and sick to his stomach. You were always able to hold your own, but you shouldn’t have had to do this part alone.
Somehow, the eerie silence that had crept in was even worse. When you were screaming, at least he knew you were still alive. Now, he was in the dark and his instincts didn’t know where to begin.
He finally made it to the back of the warehouse, where a single door swung on its hinges leading to the harbor outside. The unmistakable scent of gunpowder and sweat engulfed the room. Frank’s eyes caught on the gun you’d been so meticulously cleaning earlier that day. He tried not to think too hard about what kind of trouble would have caused you to drop it. The sound of screeching tires tugged his attention back to the door.
He didn’t hesitate. He ran as hard as he could, praying to a God that he didn’t believe in anymore. Anyone, anything, to make sure you were okay.
He hadn’t run far when he came across another group of men, guns pointed directly at him. He would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so worried about you. He didn’t care that they had guns shoved in his face. This part of the job was a cakewalk for him. He easily took out the men, only to realize how fucked the situation truly was.
A group of women stood huddled a few feet away, clearly terrified of him. He moved towards them, causing a ricochet of cries to erupt from the group. This is why you were the one in charge of getting them out of situations like this. To them, he was just another violent man. He needed you.
“Are you with her?” One croaked in his direction, voice wobbling. She held her chin high, though Frank could taste her fear in the air around him.
“Where is she?” He demanded, immediately regretting the tone of his voice. He couldn’t think straight, and it was grating on his nerves that he hadn’t found you yet.
She flinched, raising her hand slowly to point.
“Frank!” A muffled cry echoed across the pavement.
He turned, horrified as he watched masked men shove you into the back of a van. His heart seized, forcing a grunt from his throat. The van was too far, already screeching away in the opposite direction. He raised his gun, then lowered it. He couldn’t risk hitting you.
“Fuck!” He shouted, slamming his gun down on the pavement. He crouched down, holding his head between his hands for a moment before straightening again. “Fuck!”
He felt both deathly calm and dangerously on edge. He needed to get these women to safety. He needed to go after you. His vision went red at the thought of what they’d do to you. He would rip their heads from their bodies when he got his hands on them. He would paint New York red with their blood. He’d hand deliver their heads to the NYPD with a reminder of how shitty they were at their jobs. He would do anything to bring you back to him.
He repeated the license plate from the van like a furious mantra, dialing Micro with shaking hands. It was probably stolen, but still worth looking into. Micro was less than enthused to be getting a phone call at one in the morning, but Frank couldn’t find it in himself to care. He had to do something.
Even less enthused to hear from him was Matt Murdock, who he hadn’t spoken to in months. While they disagreed on almost every choice the other made, Matt could hear the desperation in his voice as he explained the situation. Frank knew Matt was close by and wouldn’t allow innocent people to get hurt.
“Listen,” Frank lowered his voice to seem less imposing to the women who had silently watched him having a meltdown over the phone, “A guy’s going to be here soon. He’ll be in a ridiculous Halloween costume, but you can trust him. He’ll help you. I have to go after- I have to get her back.”
Frank gasped for air. He needed to go after you, but you’d be absolutely furious at him if he didn’t make sure the women were okay first.
The woman who’d originally spoken nodded, opening her mouth to say something and then stopping herself.
Frank did his best to be patient while she worked up the courage to speak. His restless energy felt palpable, hanging in the air, suffocating him. The longer he waited, the more likely it was that he’d find you dead. He could not let that happen.
“She threw herself in front of us. They grabbed her instead of us. She did it on purpose.”
Frank’s heart felt like it might burst out of his chest. That sounded exactly like something you’d do. He cursed you for your recklessness but couldn’t be too upset. You’d chosen to put yourself in danger, rather than let their victims continue to bear the brunt of their violence. Warmth, and a little bit of rage, tingled in his chest.
“I have to go after her.” He repeated, voice hoarse with sorrow.
The woman nodded, understanding the quiver in his voice for what it was. What it meant.
“Red will be here soon. You’ll know him when you see him.” Frank nodded once, eyes glazing over as he calculated exactly how he was going to find you. Micro was searching, but that took time he didn’t have.
“The men...,” the woman began, huddling closer to the women around her, “They mentioned 10th Avenue when they thought we weren’t listening. It’s another warehouse, I think.”
Frank swallowed thickly, thanking her softly. He knew what he’d have to do, and he didn’t hesitate to run headfirst into danger to get you back. Thus was the life of Frank Castle.
The block felt completely abandoned when Frank finally made it to the warehouse district of Hell’s Kitchen, but he knew they were somewhere nearby. As soon as they’d seen the white skull on his chest, they knew they had Punisher-shaped targets on their back. Fucking cowards.
Frank wanted nothing more than to comb the entire block looking for you, but he knew that would waste precious time. He needed to fucking relax, but his body was screaming at him to go, run, find. Every military instinct he’d ever learned warred in his mind with the desire to find you. To save you. To hold you. It had been hours since he’d last seen you, and every minute that went by was eating at his soul.
He grounded himself in the pain radiating from his ribs. If they hadn’t already been busted up before tonight, they were surely broken now. He didn’t care. The pain helped him focus on the task at hand.
He searched for the van, finding it sloppily tucked behind a building. Frank didn’t think they were that stupid, but he’d learned a long time ago not to underestimate the idiocy of desperate and terrified men.
There. A flash of light. A curtain being carefully closed. Less than half a second, but Frank clocked it with ease. Anyone else might’ve missed it, but not Frank. He was certain of what he’d seen. Within seconds, he was moving around the back of the building, ready to rip anything that moved in half.
Soft voices carried through the glass of the windows. Frank only counted two, but he couldn’t be sure. Your voice is what he was searching for, and he hadn’t heard it yet.
His patience finally wore thin, sending him into another furious rage as he kicked the door off its hinges. The two men inside jumped to their feet, scrambling for their weapons. It didn’t matter. Frank was on them before they could let out a squeak. He fired a bullet at one, making sure it hit its target before grabbing the other by the throat and slamming him into the reinforced concrete wall. He resisted the urge to dig his thumbs into the man’s eyes.
“Where is she?” He grunted, slamming the man’s head against the wall again.
“In there! IN THERE!” The man groaned, pointing toward the closed door across the room.
Frank threw the man to the ground, watching the light leave his eyes as he fired his gun. And fired. And fired. The clip was completely empty, but Frank didn’t care. The men deserved worse than what they got.
Frank hurried to the door, pushing against the creaking wood, terrified of what might be on the other side.
You were on your side, curled into a tight ball. Your eyebrows were furrowed, jaw clenching and unclenching. Dried blood coated your skin, but Frank couldn’t tell if it was yours or someone else’s. The sight broke his heart.
He fell to his knees in front of you, running his hand over your hair. Tears streaked your cheeks as you grabbed his shirt in a tight fist.
“What did they do?” He couldn’t see any bleeding wounds, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t hurt you.
“It’s fine, Frank.” You gritted your teeth as you tried sitting up.
Frank softly nudged you back toward the ground, scrambling to figure out his next steps.
“It’s not fine.” He responded, softly cupping your cheek. “What’d they do to you, sweetheart?”
Your face crumbled. Pain echoed through Frank’s entire body. Fresh tears escaped your eyes, and Frank couldn’t think of anything to do but wipe the tears away with his thumbs.
“Take me home, Frank.” You pleaded, unable to answer his question.
Frank didn’t hesitate to lift you into his arms, holding you close. The blur at the edge of his vision finally subsided when he felt you nuzzle against his chest, breathing a thank you. The pounding in his ears didn’t stop until he was setting you on the couch at the safehouse you’d been sharing for months.
“Anything hurt?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the cushion. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, which was a new phenomenon for him. He’d never thought so hard about what he should be doing with his limbs until you waltzed into his life.
“No, just a little rattled ‘s all.” You shook your head, grabbing his restless hands and pulling them to your chest. “What about you? Your ribs still fucked?”
A shy smile played on Frank’s face.
“Yeah, they’re always fucked.”
Frank wasn’t lying. His side had been screaming at him for hours, but that was something he could worry about later.
“What happened, sweetheart?” He asked, unable to hide the crack in his voice.
A look of pure terror struck your face. You sat up, wincing at the sudden movement.
“Did you get the women out? There was a group of them in the back. I tried to get them out, but I-”
Frank held up a hand, silencing your worried rant.
“They’re fine. Red's handling it.”
“Matt?” You questioned, cocking your head to the side. “He was there?”
“I called him after...,” he paused, clearing his throat, “After you were taken.”
“Oh.” You said softly, nodding slightly. A shadow hid in your eyes, but Frank was too much of a coward to call you on it.
“I’m so sorry.” He finally said, squeezing your intertwined hands. “I thought I’d have to tear the city down to find you. Those women are the only reason I knew where to look.”
“Don’t apologize, Frank.” You sighed, dropping your forehead against his shoulder. “Just don’t treat me like I’m breakable after this, okay? I can handle myself. I lost control of a situation ‘s all.”
Frank scoffed, anger flaring under layers of concern.
“Lost control of a situation?” The gruff tone he was using pulled your gaze to his again. “You threw yourself into harm’s way, without backup. That wasn’t losing control, that was just stupidity.”
Your eyebrows furrowed in anger, but you kept a tight hold on his hand.
“It was either me or them, Frank. What would you have me do? I won’t let innocent people get hurt. You would’ve done the same thing.”
Frank shook his head. “You don’t get it, do you? You were so far up your own ass back there that I barely made it in time to get those women. If you’d followed the plan, we wouldn’t have had to do any of this.”
“That’s not fair, Frank. I did what I thought was right. I couldn’t just leave those women.”
“Right?” Frank stood, dropping your hands and stomping across the room. “For who? Not for me!”
Frank realized he was being unfair, but he was so angry at you for risking yourself that he couldn’t stop the word vomit from bubbling out of his mouth.
“My family’s gone. They’re gone. My friends barely fucking tolerate me. I only have you. You’re my entire life, and you decided tonight was the night to be a fucking superhero? I was right there. I could’ve helped! And now you’re staring at me with those ridiculously beautiful eyes of yours, expecting me to understand your reasoning for almost getting yourself killed? Get the fuck out of here.”
He waved a hand, pacing back and forth as you stared blankly at him.
“You...” You started, narrowing your eyes at him. “You think my eyes are beautiful?”
Frank momentarily paused his pacing to shoot you a narrowed look before continuing.
“That’s what you got from that, huh?” He chuckled, shaking his head.
Frank tried to ignore the way your chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace. What the fuck was he doing?
“Well, you’ve never called me beautiful before.” You pointed out. “What the fuck does that mean, Frank?”
Frank clenched his fists, unable to stop himself.
“It means that I love you, and you’re so fucking aggravating sometimes that I can’t remember why I love you, and then you look at me the way you’re looking at me now, and it feels like coming up for air after drowning. I look at you, and I can breathe again.”
Frank dropped to his knees in front of the couch, eye to eye with you. The conversation he’d had with himself earlier about keeping things casual with you felt a million years away. He couldn’t hold it in anymore, especially after almost losing you. The weight of what he’d almost lost, what he’d already lost, was too heavy, and he was tired.
“You don’t have to love me back. But you can’t put yourself at risk again, sweetheart. I can’t lose another person. I can’t lose you.” He added, pleading.
The room filled with silence, and Frank’s heart began to crack. He’d ruined it, and now he was going to pay for it.
“I’m sor-” He started.
You surged forward, pressing your lips to his in a bruising kiss. He didn’t let himself second guess it. His hands cupped your cheeks, pulling your face against his even harder.
He finally had you in his arms, and he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon. Or ever. And from the way you wrapped your arms around his neck, he figured the feeling was mutual.