He snorts a bit at the question, stepping into the shower and trying not to sigh in relief as the blood starts to wash away. He gives Frank a hand to step inside, moving them so Frank gets the majority of the spray.
"I'm sort of my own boss," he says. And, sure, technically he should go to the office, but Foggy and Karen can manage right now and they'll know he's not there for a decent reason. Hopefully. He's going to get an earful when he says he was making sure Frank didn't die. "Even if I did have to work, this is a bigger priority."
The spray hitting his skin for the first time is almost too much, his whole body tense, but he rolls his shoulders to relax and let it do its job. The wounds sting when the water hits them but Frank turns to get his head wet, then back around toward Matt. He's quick to reach for him just because, hands heavy as they rest on Matt's hips.
Hearing he's a priority shouldn't please him so much but, hey, contrary to popular belief, Frank is still human and has feelings. It's kind of nice.
"Guess it's nice to know someone out there doesn't want me to die," he says while tipping his head back against the water again, closing his eyes as he enjoys the warmth along his shoulders and back.
Matt keeps his tone light, but the reality is that he wouldn't know what to do if Frank died. He doesn't want to think about it. There's no reason to think about it, anyway, not when Frank is decidedly alive.
"Haven't shaken you off yet. Like an annoying thorn in my side." But one he clearly wants there... or else he would've taken care of it a long time ago. Definitely wouldn't be standing naked in a shower with him otherwise.
Blood is slowly but surely washing away and Frank leans into the wall on his good side, while his arm comes up to brush through Matt's wet hair, helping more of the dried blood there wash away. It's also a good excuse to touch him of course, not that he's ever needed excuses.
"Like shit," he admits with a sigh. "But a lot better than last night."
"Would've been worse without you." Which is just a straight fact. In Frank's state, he wouldn't have been able to remain conscious long enough to stitch himself up, let alone drag his ass back to safety. He's grateful for this bastard and his weirdly strong super senses.
His body is still exhausted but he's getting there. Frank is quiet for a little while before he leans in to kiss Matt's lips, lingering there a moment before he speaks quietly: "You already do too much for me."
"I don't just mean now." Matt's helped him with more than just last night, he's stuck by him for years even as Frank's given him every reason not to. They're companions in a way neither of them want to express, and maybe this is as close as Frank can get right now, but he knows deep down he doesn't deserve it. Matt still has a chance out there, but Frank is doomed to die being The Punisher.
Maybe the blood loss is really getting to his head.
He doesn't argue more though, still feeling a pounding in his head, and he hears Matt's tone clearly. If he was in better shape he'd fight back. Instead, he brushes his fingers back through Matt's hair again and sighs, turning back around to the water to grab some actual soap to lather up with.
Matt waits for Frank to lather up, since Frank needs it a little more than him. He's glad to scrub off the last of the reminders of the night before, though, and once he's rinsed he gets the towel for Frank to use first.
Note to self: vegetables and extra towels.
"You smell better," he jokes. "Your heart's sounding better, too. Not working as hard as it was last night."
He gradually will feel more human as he gets better, but right now he's also physically too exhausted to put up a fight for much. Damn it. It's frustrating, but at least he's on the mend.
He towels off haphazardly, careful around the stitches, his breathing tightening and growing more strained with movement, but at least he's keeping in control. Frank realizes how limited his resources are for Matt in the moment too, never having prepared for guests in this place. Extra towels would benefit them both. He never expected even Matt to stay over when they usually utilize Matt's more appropriate apartment for that sort of thing.
"I'm surprised you touched me at all with all the blood on me," he comments, carefully walking back to his sink so he can brush his teeth, get the tuna and copper taste out of his mouth.
He towels off as he makes his way to find Frank's clothes. At least he doesn't have to worry about matching, getting the impression everything Frank owns is black. The cargo pants and long-sleeved shirts remind him of the days he was The Man In The Mask, before Daredevil was really a thing. It almost makes him chuckle. Almost.
Matt helps himself to a set of clothes, not complaining about the soft worn-in fabrics or the strong scent of Frank coming off them. If he was sentimental, he might think it feels like a hug or something ridiculous like that.
Hey, Matt looks good in black, and even more so in Frank's clothes. There's always a spike of approval in Frank whenever he sees Matt wearing his, an extra flood of arousal or affection that the bastard can probably sniff out somehow, but Frank's long since stopped minding. Just part of being... whatever he is with Matt Murdock.
He goes to grab some clean pants of his own, the cot and sheets a mess, but he'll deal with that later. Frank hobbles to the open first aid kit again instead, grabbing a new clean bandage himself.
"Yeah, for a blind guy." He teases affectionately. "If you saw my ugly mug you'd be running in the other direction."
"I have it on good authority that people think you're very good looking."
Matt hears how people react to seeing Frank. There's a difference in the way the heart picks up when it's from fear or excitement or attraction, and people usually have a mix of it when Frank's around.
"Do you want to keep fishing for compliments?" he teases right back.
"Uh-huh. We both know you just like me for my winning personality." He speaks while twisting his body carefully to put on a new bandage himself, wanting to handle something on his own so he doesn't feel so damn useless. Not that he hasn't appreciated all of Matt's help, obviously. There's a lot he wouldn't have managed himself before bleeding out.
Once secure, Frank looks back up to Matt, a new wave of warmth settling in his chest.
"You should have met me a year sooner than you did."
But, seeing as Frank seems to like him in black, Matt decides to keep that in mind. Maybe he can add a couple black suits to his closet to off-set the navy-blues and charcoals.
He gathers up his blood-stained clothes, taking the phone out of his pocket and setting it aside before the clothes get dumped in the trash.
Seeing Matt dump his clothes makes Frank wonder how many outfits he's ruined over the years just like that. Wearing black tends to make clean up easier, anyway.
"You pull it off," he agrees. "Never thought about changing it up?"
Not that it would matter to Matt obviously, but still. The Avengers seem to change their pajamas every other time Frank sees them, but they've probably got that A-list superhero money or something.
He hobbles over to his kitchen area in search of more food, feeling hungrier now that the pain meds are fully working and he's no longer as woozy.
Nothing beats the classic, though. It's what the people know, and Matt's not really about branding himself but he is about making his presence known to criminals.
"Maybe I should get a logo. I can't let you get all the graffiti."
It's amusing to imagine Matt getting his red pajamas custom made somewhere just to be different, but he's been doing the vigilante thing long enough for it to be reasonable, he guesses. At least if he wants more armor, an improvement to the costume. Frank sometimes wishes he'd just bulletproof the entire thing.
He grabs a protein bar from a shelf and chuckles on an exhale, only sounding half amused, half bitter: "Sometimes I regret giving 'em something to use."
"But you gave people something that gives them hope, too."
Which isn't something Matt ever thought he'd say about The Punisher at the start of all this. He liked Frank even back then, but he also viewed Frank as dangerous, unstable, and a threat. But Frank does more for the people of the city than he'll ever admit. Matt doesn't have to agree with Frank's methods to understand the impact he can have on those who choose to look for it.
"Face it, Frank. You're a street hero, just like Daredevil."
Being called a hero from someone like Matt will never cease to feel strange to Frank, because he never started his mission to be looked up to by anyone, even people who find safety with him around. He isn't sure how to handle it and he'll probably never use the H-word on himself, but hearing it from Matt is especially significant.
"Big words, coming from you," he says quietly, not joking this time. He leans against his counter with a hiss of breath before digging into his bar. "I don't want to be a hero."
"You should rest." Matt's not the one coming off a near-death experience. "I'll help you change them, then maybe we can both get a bit of sleep."
The cot's not the biggest, but Matt's sure he can tuck himself in there against Frank's non-injured side. He sits up so he can eat some of the protein bar, but also so he can move and peel off the sheets.
Alright, Frank can't argue against that when his stitches are literally fresh and aching, and he still feels like he was run over by a truck. It's just his stubborn nature to keep pushing onward anyway. If Matt wasn't here, he'd be at this computer already looking at next steps for tomorrow.
He comes over to help grab some new sheets and pillowcases. The cot isn't made for two grown people but it wouldn't be the first time they've both stuffed themselves onto it. He can't help but still feel like Matt's doing too much looking after him, but that's just because Frank hasn't allowed himself to be taken care of in ages.
"Maybe I should get a real bed," he muses once the sheets are changed and he can sit again, sighing heavily. "Though that'll encourage you to sleep over more, huh?"
"You make it sound like that's the worst thing that could happen."
Matt finishes the protein bar, ignoring the bland, chalky taste in favour of just eating something. He sits beside Frank, bumping their shoulders together.
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He snorts a bit at the question, stepping into the shower and trying not to sigh in relief as the blood starts to wash away. He gives Frank a hand to step inside, moving them so Frank gets the majority of the spray.
"I'm sort of my own boss," he says. And, sure, technically he should go to the office, but Foggy and Karen can manage right now and they'll know he's not there for a decent reason. Hopefully. He's going to get an earful when he says he was making sure Frank didn't die. "Even if I did have to work, this is a bigger priority."
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Hearing he's a priority shouldn't please him so much but, hey, contrary to popular belief, Frank is still human and has feelings. It's kind of nice.
"Guess it's nice to know someone out there doesn't want me to die," he says while tipping his head back against the water again, closing his eyes as he enjoys the warmth along his shoulders and back.
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Matt keeps his tone light, but the reality is that he wouldn't know what to do if Frank died. He doesn't want to think about it. There's no reason to think about it, anyway, not when Frank is decidedly alive.
"How are you feeling?"
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Blood is slowly but surely washing away and Frank leans into the wall on his good side, while his arm comes up to brush through Matt's wet hair, helping more of the dried blood there wash away. It's also a good excuse to touch him of course, not that he's ever needed excuses.
"Like shit," he admits with a sigh. "But a lot better than last night."
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"You're a tough son of a bitch, Frank. I'm almost jealous."
As if Matt hasn't rallied from death's door before, either.
"I'll stay as long as you want me to, you know. No questions asked."
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His body is still exhausted but he's getting there. Frank is quiet for a little while before he leans in to kiss Matt's lips, lingering there a moment before he speaks quietly: "You already do too much for me."
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Matt firmly believes that. If anything, he wonders if he's done enough for Frank, and if somehow doing more would keep them from situations like this.
"I know you'd stick around if I was the one bleeding out and barely able to stand, so don't give me that bullshit."
It's said fondly, but firmly, his tone saying he's not open for discussion right now.
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Maybe the blood loss is really getting to his head.
He doesn't argue more though, still feeling a pounding in his head, and he hears Matt's tone clearly. If he was in better shape he'd fight back. Instead, he brushes his fingers back through Matt's hair again and sighs, turning back around to the water to grab some actual soap to lather up with.
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Note to self: vegetables and extra towels.
"You smell better," he jokes. "Your heart's sounding better, too. Not working as hard as it was last night."
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He towels off haphazardly, careful around the stitches, his breathing tightening and growing more strained with movement, but at least he's keeping in control. Frank realizes how limited his resources are for Matt in the moment too, never having prepared for guests in this place. Extra towels would benefit them both. He never expected even Matt to stay over when they usually utilize Matt's more appropriate apartment for that sort of thing.
"I'm surprised you touched me at all with all the blood on me," he comments, carefully walking back to his sink so he can brush his teeth, get the tuna and copper taste out of his mouth.
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He towels off as he makes his way to find Frank's clothes. At least he doesn't have to worry about matching, getting the impression everything Frank owns is black. The cargo pants and long-sleeved shirts remind him of the days he was The Man In The Mask, before Daredevil was really a thing. It almost makes him chuckle. Almost.
Matt helps himself to a set of clothes, not complaining about the soft worn-in fabrics or the strong scent of Frank coming off them. If he was sentimental, he might think it feels like a hug or something ridiculous like that.
"I'm hurt, Frank."
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He goes to grab some clean pants of his own, the cot and sheets a mess, but he'll deal with that later. Frank hobbles to the open first aid kit again instead, grabbing a new clean bandage himself.
"Yeah, for a blind guy." He teases affectionately. "If you saw my ugly mug you'd be running in the other direction."
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Matt hears how people react to seeing Frank. There's a difference in the way the heart picks up when it's from fear or excitement or attraction, and people usually have a mix of it when Frank's around.
"Do you want to keep fishing for compliments?" he teases right back.
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Once secure, Frank looks back up to Matt, a new wave of warmth settling in his chest.
"You should wear black more often."
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"You should have met me a year sooner than you did."
But, seeing as Frank seems to like him in black, Matt decides to keep that in mind. Maybe he can add a couple black suits to his closet to off-set the navy-blues and charcoals.
He gathers up his blood-stained clothes, taking the phone out of his pocket and setting it aside before the clothes get dumped in the trash.
"But you can't tell me red isn't my color."
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"You pull it off," he agrees. "Never thought about changing it up?"
Not that it would matter to Matt obviously, but still. The Avengers seem to change their pajamas every other time Frank sees them, but they've probably got that A-list superhero money or something.
He hobbles over to his kitchen area in search of more food, feeling hungrier now that the pain meds are fully working and he's no longer as woozy.
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Nothing beats the classic, though. It's what the people know, and Matt's not really about branding himself but he is about making his presence known to criminals.
"Maybe I should get a logo. I can't let you get all the graffiti."
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He grabs a protein bar from a shelf and chuckles on an exhale, only sounding half amused, half bitter: "Sometimes I regret giving 'em something to use."
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Which isn't something Matt ever thought he'd say about The Punisher at the start of all this. He liked Frank even back then, but he also viewed Frank as dangerous, unstable, and a threat. But Frank does more for the people of the city than he'll ever admit. Matt doesn't have to agree with Frank's methods to understand the impact he can have on those who choose to look for it.
"Face it, Frank. You're a street hero, just like Daredevil."
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"Big words, coming from you," he says quietly, not joking this time. He leans against his counter with a hiss of breath before digging into his bar. "I don't want to be a hero."
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Matt lets a light smile cross his face. Frank can say what he wants, but Matt's not changing his mind.
He stretches out on the blood stained cot, exhaling a tired sigh.
"Got any of those protein bars for me?"
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He grabs a bar to toss at him next, knowing he'll catch it, before hobbling back over.
"You know that shit's covered in blood, right?" A soft scoff. "I can change the sheets. You should sleep. Were you on the floor all night?"
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"You should rest." Matt's not the one coming off a near-death experience. "I'll help you change them, then maybe we can both get a bit of sleep."
The cot's not the biggest, but Matt's sure he can tuck himself in there against Frank's non-injured side. He sits up so he can eat some of the protein bar, but also so he can move and peel off the sheets.
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He comes over to help grab some new sheets and pillowcases. The cot isn't made for two grown people but it wouldn't be the first time they've both stuffed themselves onto it. He can't help but still feel like Matt's doing too much looking after him, but that's just because Frank hasn't allowed himself to be taken care of in ages.
"Maybe I should get a real bed," he muses once the sheets are changed and he can sit again, sighing heavily. "Though that'll encourage you to sleep over more, huh?"
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Matt finishes the protein bar, ignoring the bland, chalky taste in favour of just eating something. He sits beside Frank, bumping their shoulders together.
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