"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.
He knows, because he feels it, too. They've both been at this for a long time. It's an endless grind and neither of them can really give it, because he knows neither of them would know what to do with themselves.
"And I don't care if you don't have fancy sheets."
The fact that Frank would even think to get something like fancy sheets to accommodate Matt is telling, and he doesn't know what to do with that information anymore. He can't ignore how much he thinks about the other man all the time anymore, or how much he's fucking glad he's staying, even though he shouldn't. God, he's so fucked. They both are.
"That's a first," he murmurs quietly, leaning more heavily into him. "You hate my scratchy sheets."
He presses a smile to Frank's neck before giving it a light kiss. And then his phone starts to go off, announcing Foggy's calling, and Matt exhales a sigh. He doesn't want to answer it, but he knows he should, and either way having the voice repeating Foggy over and over is grating in the moment.
How weird that this is about as normal as it gets for guys like them, it's almost sweet. Frank is ready to lean into it when Matt's phone goes off, Foggy's name ringing out like a reminder that they shouldn't be doing this to begin with.
"Yeah, go for it."
He won't stop Matt from grabbing it of course, taking the chance once Matt's up to stretch out against the clean sheets. It feels a lot better now, and even though Frank isn't wearing a shirt, he's not shivering the way he was before.
He tucks the arm on his good side under his head, eyes following Matt across the room. Matt's friends are probably worried about him and he has to wonder if they're used to this yet.
Matt answers the phone, the conversation short. He won't be at the office today, something came up, he swears he's fine, Foggy should call him if he finds anything about the pawn shops and other stores being forced into bankruptcy. He doesn't mention Frank, because that's a conversation that probably doesn't need to happen.
"No rest for the wicked," he says, once he hangs up. "I don't think he believes me that I'm fine."
The corner of Matt's mouth quirks up, because Foggy has every reason not to believe him, but it's always amusing to Matt when he's wrong. It doesn't happen often, so he likes to soak it in a bit.
There's a mild guilt in Frank with the way Matt dismisses his friend, but that's really on Matt, not him. It's not like Frank would be welcome in the life of Murdock's reality outside of their little bubble, no matter how many times he's run into Foggy Nelson while half naked in Matt's apartment. He knows, but he doesn't have to always know.
"I wouldn't believe you either," he says with a quiet snort. "But he's a good guy. Good friend." For taking Matt's bullshit anyway.
"It's fine, I got comfortable without you," he gloats dryly - if one can even call this comfort. His body is still bursting with pain, especially when he moves, and the cot is hardly a firm and supportive mattress.
Matt raises his eyebrows as he crosses back to the cot. He helps himself on to the cot, as mindful as he can be of Frank's condition, and, no, it's not perfect. It's not even the most comfortable. It sure as hell beats the floor, though, and Matt knows he'll end up partially splayed on top of Frank by the time they both decide to take their much-deserved rest.
"What if we got you a sofa bed? More practical than a real bed."
"Uh-huh." He shifts just slightly to offer Matt some space, ready to welcome him under his arm on his good side. "Guess you can join in."
As if he doesn't love this too.
Even though Matt is teasing, the idea of a sofa bed makes a hell of a lot more sense. "I hadn't really planned this place out with comfort in mind, or you..." His voice trails off tiredly, his arm falling around Matt to trace fingers over his shoulder. "You wanna be here more often?"
Because he can't just say that he likes spending time with Frank, because that's not whatever this is supposed to be. But there's the bonus that if he's here in Frank's place, no one can bother him at home because he wouldn't be there. That doesn't sound too bad.
"I can't promise breakfast every morning or blood-free sheets, but the shower pressure isn't so bad."
He jokes to ignore the real reason why he's pleased over Matt being here too, when he absolutely shouldn't be. This shouldn't be happening, period. They're a few years too late to be worrying about that though.
He keeps touching Matt's arm distractedly, closing his eyes.
He huffs out a breath, exhaustion starting to settle in. They both know Frank won't get a real bed or a couch or fancy sheets, just like they both know this isn't going to become a consistent occurrence. It's nice to act like their lives aren't complete shit-shows, though. Matt almost feels like a kid playing house.
Even though he got a couple hours of shuteye, the injuries are wearing him down, and he could definitely use a few hours more. It feels good with Matt at his side, adding to the warmth and comfort, and with his eyes closed Frank can pretend they're in a real bed. Matt's is always damn comfortable.
"Mm. This time..." his voice trails off on a sigh, a pained sound muffled in his throat as he shifts on the cot. "Thanks for saving my ass, Red."
Matt laughs, sounding tired as the sleep he missed out on the night before starts to come over him. He's asleep before he can think about it much more.
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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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The warmth of Matt's body is welcome and he leans into it naturally, ignoring the throbbing in his side.
"I'm tired, Red," he says after a moment, closing his eyes. He doesn't just mean because of last night, of course, but that's nothing new.
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He knows, because he feels it, too. They've both been at this for a long time. It's an endless grind and neither of them can really give it, because he knows neither of them would know what to do with themselves.
"And I don't care if you don't have fancy sheets."
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"That's a first," he murmurs quietly, leaning more heavily into him. "You hate my scratchy sheets."
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He presses a smile to Frank's neck before giving it a light kiss. And then his phone starts to go off, announcing Foggy's calling, and Matt exhales a sigh. He doesn't want to answer it, but he knows he should, and either way having the voice repeating Foggy over and over is grating in the moment.
"Give me a second to get that."
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"Yeah, go for it."
He won't stop Matt from grabbing it of course, taking the chance once Matt's up to stretch out against the clean sheets. It feels a lot better now, and even though Frank isn't wearing a shirt, he's not shivering the way he was before.
He tucks the arm on his good side under his head, eyes following Matt across the room. Matt's friends are probably worried about him and he has to wonder if they're used to this yet.
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"No rest for the wicked," he says, once he hangs up. "I don't think he believes me that I'm fine."
The corner of Matt's mouth quirks up, because Foggy has every reason not to believe him, but it's always amusing to Matt when he's wrong. It doesn't happen often, so he likes to soak it in a bit.
"Sorry." For the interruption, he means.
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"I wouldn't believe you either," he says with a quiet snort. "But he's a good guy. Good friend." For taking Matt's bullshit anyway.
"It's fine, I got comfortable without you," he gloats dryly - if one can even call this comfort. His body is still bursting with pain, especially when he moves, and the cot is hardly a firm and supportive mattress.
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Matt raises his eyebrows as he crosses back to the cot. He helps himself on to the cot, as mindful as he can be of Frank's condition, and, no, it's not perfect. It's not even the most comfortable. It sure as hell beats the floor, though, and Matt knows he'll end up partially splayed on top of Frank by the time they both decide to take their much-deserved rest.
"What if we got you a sofa bed? More practical than a real bed."
He's teasing, of course. Mostly.
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As if he doesn't love this too.
Even though Matt is teasing, the idea of a sofa bed makes a hell of a lot more sense. "I hadn't really planned this place out with comfort in mind, or you..." His voice trails off tiredly, his arm falling around Matt to trace fingers over his shoulder. "You wanna be here more often?"
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"There are worse places to be."
Because he can't just say that he likes spending time with Frank, because that's not whatever this is supposed to be. But there's the bonus that if he's here in Frank's place, no one can bother him at home because he wouldn't be there. That doesn't sound too bad.
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He jokes to ignore the real reason why he's pleased over Matt being here too, when he absolutely shouldn't be. This shouldn't be happening, period. They're a few years too late to be worrying about that though.
He keeps touching Matt's arm distractedly, closing his eyes.
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He huffs out a breath, exhaustion starting to settle in. They both know Frank won't get a real bed or a couch or fancy sheets, just like they both know this isn't going to become a consistent occurrence. It's nice to act like their lives aren't complete shit-shows, though. Matt almost feels like a kid playing house.
"So we're even."
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"Mm. This time..." his voice trails off on a sigh, a pained sound muffled in his throat as he shifts on the cot. "Thanks for saving my ass, Red."
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Matt laughs, sounding tired as the sleep he missed out on the night before starts to come over him. He's asleep before he can think about it much more.