"Can't imagine what," he jokes dryly. So much shit happened that Frank doesn't even know where to start, so he can only imagine how Matt feels. He's still glad that Matt is here though and not trying to run off on his own immediately, which is kind of what Frank expected. He's surprised he waited here for Frank as long as he did.
Eyes shift over Matt restlessly, wanting to do more to help him too.
"We could regroup and get breakfast somewhere," he offers, even though he was cautious about going for a walk. They still have to eat. "My mug's still beat up but I know at least one place that won't ask any questions."
Matt takes another sip of his coffee even as he smiles.
"Are you taking me out on a date, Frank?"
It's a playful tease. Matt knows Frank's offering it to keep him from going stir-crazy and to try to maintain some sense of normalcy in Matt's life, and he feels a surge of appreciation and warmth (and love) at that. But it is also the first time they've ever talked about going out somewhere together that isn't vigilante related.
Things have changed drastically from last week to this one, and Frank can't deny that they're in some hot water now, Matt especially. Frank is used to being on the run and living a life no one else would really want or aspire to, but Matt had a whole other world separate from vigilantism and Frank too - something normal. He knows how it feels to lose something like that overnight, even if the comparisons are on different spectrums.
So, yeah, he wants to take his partner out for breakfast.
"What if I am?" he plays along, a pleased sound to his voice. "You okay being seen with my ugly mug in public over eggs and pancakes?"
It's easy to talk about their very obvious relationship status in the context of little teases and jokes. Maybe the reason they've never really discussed it is because they both know exactly what it is, and they've just accepted it. Hell, now they're even living together.
"I wouldn't want to be seen with anyone else."
Matt can't deny that he also enjoys the defiance of it all. Him and Frank, brazenly (but cautiously) stepping out into the city in the broad daylight is nothing short of a big Fuck You to Fisk.
Alright, that gets a quick laugh out of him, because they both know the elephant in the room they refuse to acknowledge (and yet have in every other damn way). Other people would've caved under the pressure after so many years but the two of them stubbornly continue like it's no big deal.
They don't need a "what are we" conversation. They're long past that.
"Maybe you finally did go nuts, Red," he can't help but tease, taking a long drink of his coffee and feeling slightly more human for it now. "Or I shouldn't have waited this long to take you out in the daytime huh?"
Why would he? He's always been at his happiest and most peaceful during those late nights or early mornings together, tucked away into their own little world. Dates are one of those conventional things Matt's done because it's expected. He and Frank have never needed that.
"Can't give people too many opportunities to be jealous that I have the best date in the city."
"Now you're just filling me up with some sweet bullshit, Counselor." He's still smiling though, still touched in a weird way, because this is just how they roll.
He downs the rest of his coffee like it's water and comes over to slide his hand around Matt's waist and draw him in for a kiss. Ridiculous. Why does he even like (love?) this man?
"You look good in my clothes but it might help hide you a bit more too." Matt is normally so put together out in the real world - at least with the way he presents himself. "Just for now."
"I think I look pretty good out of them, too," he says, unable to help himself as he goes in for another easy kiss.
Frank's right, though. Matt has a better chance of blending in if he's wearing something more casual and less tailored or high-end than his usual wardrobe. He already has Karen working on getting him some things, but for now, Frank's will do.
Matt, please. That gets another laugh out of Frank, which hurts his ribs, and he curses as he holds his side. Deserved that one, probably.
"Don't tempt me, I'm in no spot to bend you over right now," he says with a grumble, actually sounding annoyed about that fact. It's going to be hard to keep their hands off of one another when they're in constant close quarters like this. Something new.
Matt can't help but look pretty pleased with himself. He kisses the corner of Frank's mouth to placate him, then gives Frank's hip a pat before drinking down half of his coffee.
"Let me go splash some water on my face before we go anywhere." Then he pauses, because he knows Frank's in pain. "We can go eat breakfast together any time, you know. If you need to rest and not move too much, I can go to the church myself."
"Nah, nah, you're not getting rid of me that easily already." He knows that's not why Matt suggested it (not completely, anyway - probably) but Frank wants to be there to help. They're not going at this alone. Besides, Matt brought up going to visit this important person and Frank is kind of curious...
He reaches to pat Matt's butt in encouragement for him to move. "Bathroom's in the hall. I'll get dressed."
Which he does while Matt's getting himself ready too, finding a clean tank top to slip on instead because it's easier, and shrugging a hoodie on top of it. It'll be good enough in the interim, and he needs an easy way to go incognito anyway. New York doesn't really care about looking out for the average asshole in a hoodie on the street.
Matt drinks down the rest of his coffee and goes to the bathroom to try and make himself feel like a functional-enough-human. He's sure he's looked better, but at least he also knows he's looked a lot worse. When he comes back, he starts feeling around Frank's clothes to find some sort of jacket.
"Have any sunglasses?" he asks, as if he hasn't already snooped through everything of Frank's by this point.
They're both not in the best shape but they're making it work like the stubborn assholes they are. Just what they do. Normal people would be resting for days and not irritating their injuries even more, but they have never been normal, and the Fisks won't wait for the enemy to rest.
"Yeah, here-" He heads to his lockers where he keeps some of his clothes and finds a pair of old, cheap sunglasses he uses himself a lot of the time. Frank tosses them Matt's way without a second thought. "Not your usual style but you'll make 'em work."
He also grabs a ballcap to slide on before hobbling back over to one of his gun racks to grab a small piece, checking for ammunition before he hides it into the strap he slides on under his hoodie. Frank never leaves without at least one weapon on his body. It would be like Matt leaving without his fists.
Matt doesn't say anything about the gun, but he raises his eyebrows in silent commentary to himself as he finds a jacket with a hood. Once he slips it on, the sunglasses are next, then he grabs some of the cash he took out a day ago.
He'll take the lack of commentary gladly, especially because it would just escalate into an unnecessary argument, and they're both tired and hungry. They can fight plenty later. Right now, Frank is surprisingly pleased in seeing Matt dressed down in his clothes, looking more like himself and less like the Devil. There's a part of him that likes it a little too much.
"Yeah, let's go." He leads the way out of the bunker, though not before setting up his usual alarms before locking the door. He still needs to give Matt the rundown about all of that since he'll be staying with him full time for a while.
They slip out the back of the industrial building and Frank pulls his hood up over his cap once they're outside, eyes scanning the streets with paranoia. People are hurrying along with their typical lives despite the city going to shit. They still need to work and live, even with a fucked up curfew and Martial Law breathing down their necks. New York never really sleeps.
"It's just a couple blocks from here," he explains. The diner is a hole-in-the-wall store Frank has definitely gone to enough times to be on friendly terms with the waitstaff. They don't ask questions, even if they know who he is.
Matt follows, pulling his hood up as well. He's curious to experience the world from Frank's perspective. All this time, Matt's only made assumptions on how Frank lives day to day, but he's glad for Frank's experience. This would be a lot harder to do if he had to go it alone.
As Frank scans the streets, so does Matt.
"There's a patrol car a few streets over, heading in the opposite direction."
Beyond that, the city seems like it usually does at this time, with an added layer of nervous energy. Matt walks alongside Frank, close enough their shoulders brush together sometimes.
"Still so weird how you can know that," he says out loud with a small smirk, shaking his head. It doesn't matter how long Frank's known Matt, the fact that he knows what kind of vehicle it is without even being in the same vicinity is amazing. "Do earplugs even work for you? To drown this shit out?"
Their shoulders brush again and Frank glances over to Matt briefly, then around them, civilians barely looking their way. Does he dare? Would it be too bold or help them blend in more if he just...
Fuck it. Frank waits until they're turning down the corner of his block to "accidentally" brush his hand to Matt's, a brief suggestion, before he's casually sliding his palm against Matt's to hold on.
"I can hear the police radio inside," he says, as if that explains how he knows and doesn't make it any more bizarre. It's nothing something he talks about much, though, unless he's asked. Sometimes he worries that if people knew how much he could really do, it'd make them uncomfortable.
Maybe not Frank, though.
At first Matt thinks the brush of hands isn't on purpose. When he feels Frank take his hand, it's so subtle and smooth that Matt can't help the little smile he gets. Something like a date and hand-holding, the world really must be ending. But he's not complaining. Matt's the only person in the world that gets this side of Frank.
"And I think I can smell the diner coming up."
He's not going to make a big deal out of it. Well. Later he will, but right now he's just going to squeeze Frank's hand to let him know it's more than fine.
It's kind of ridiculous how they did all this shit backwards, so that something as basic as holding hands in the daytime feels like some big, weird thing. Considering who they are, maybe it was always going to be weird. It's also nice though and Frank knows Matt can probably hear the stupid way his heart leaps at him giving in to it, humoring Frank as they walk the rest of the way. Something normal just for a short walk.
"They're good people. Won't ask why we look shady as shit," he jokes a bit, and with how early it is, hopefully the place won't be too packed. People seem less and less inclined to linger in public spaces right now, so the two of them walking into this restaurant may seem abnormal right now.
They approach and Frank only lets go of Matt's hand to hold the door for him instead. He's a fucking gentleman, alright? The place is small but cozy, a few patrons already there with their coffee and eggs or pancakes. A friendly woman from behind the counter waves them in and tells them to take a seat anywhere, and Frank heads over to a booth in the corner. Naturally, he takes the seat where he can keep his eyes on the door.
That's good enough for Matt, because he knows Frank doesn't take trust lightly. He follows him and sits across from him, slipping off the sunglasses. With his back to the door, he doesn't have to worry about being seen or recognized, and he thinks it'd be weirder to wear the glasses inside. Besides, he's pretty damn good at pretending to be sighted.
"You'll have to read the menu to me," he teases, as if he can't pick up on the multiple scents giving away all the food. Underneath the table, he nudges their feet together.
It feels good knowing that Matt trusts his judgment by now, when things could easily go sideways for them. He can't help the small smile at sitting across from Matt in such a normal environment too, foot knocking against Matt's playfully as he leaves the contact under the table.
"They make a mean omelet here, but they've also got that healthy shit you like. Oatmeal with almond milk or whatever the fuck." It's said fondly though, like he's used to Matt's shenanigans.
With Frank's face all busted up, he looks like he just got hit by a bus, but thankfully New York is full of people who just don't give a fuck. The waitress comes over to get them some coffee in the meantime, smiling to Frank and greeting him with a friendly: "Welcome back, Pete. The usual?"
She eyes Matt and then Frank back and forth, clearly thinking something, but she doesn't voice whatever's on her mind. Frank usually comes here alone. Frank nods though and replies with a gruff but friendly: "Yeah- Yeah. Thanks, Rosa."
Eyes flicker up to Matt, daring him to say anything cheeky right now.
It's very clear by Matt's expression that he will not be letting 'Pete' slide, but he's not going to say anything about it right now. Instead, he flashes a charming smile Rosa's way.
"What's the usual? If it's a lot of bacon, I might have to go with something different. Trying to watch my figure."
This is two parts of his world colliding and Frank isn't sure how to feel about it yet. He can tell by the simple look on Matt's face that he's not letting this go any time soon, but it's Frank's fault for bringing him here.
Naturally, Rosa is charmed by the smile and comment easily, writing something down onto her pad as she looks between them again.
"Two eggs, sunny side up, with potatoes and extra bacon." How Matt knows him so well. Frank sighs and leans back in his seat with his coffee.
"Just order whatever you want," he grumbles at Matt, lightly kicking his foot under the table, and then he looks back up to the waitress. "And he'll be needing some of that fancy oat milk shit for his coffee."
That gets an easy and amused laugh from Matt. He orders himself an omelette with toast and jam, fully planning on eating some of Frank's bacon whether he likes it or not.
"Pete, huh? You know she knows who you are, right?"
Of course Frank must know. Matt gets what he means when he says he can trust these people. He's glad Frank has others on his side, too. There's a pause when Rosa brings the coffee, the freshly brewed bitter smell hitting his nose followed by a carafe of oat milk.
Another sigh, this time through his nose. He waits for the coffee refresh before squinting a look at Matt. Even though the asshole can't see it he can probably feel it somehow.
"She's just friendly," he says, ignoring the comment about his alias for his own pride. "I'm nice."
Another gentle kick to Matt's foot, as if that proves a point.
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Eyes shift over Matt restlessly, wanting to do more to help him too.
"We could regroup and get breakfast somewhere," he offers, even though he was cautious about going for a walk. They still have to eat. "My mug's still beat up but I know at least one place that won't ask any questions."
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"Are you taking me out on a date, Frank?"
It's a playful tease. Matt knows Frank's offering it to keep him from going stir-crazy and to try to maintain some sense of normalcy in Matt's life, and he feels a surge of appreciation and warmth (and love) at that. But it is also the first time they've ever talked about going out somewhere together that isn't vigilante related.
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So, yeah, he wants to take his partner out for breakfast.
"What if I am?" he plays along, a pleased sound to his voice. "You okay being seen with my ugly mug in public over eggs and pancakes?"
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It's easy to talk about their very obvious relationship status in the context of little teases and jokes. Maybe the reason they've never really discussed it is because they both know exactly what it is, and they've just accepted it. Hell, now they're even living together.
"I wouldn't want to be seen with anyone else."
Matt can't deny that he also enjoys the defiance of it all. Him and Frank, brazenly (but cautiously) stepping out into the city in the broad daylight is nothing short of a big Fuck You to Fisk.
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They don't need a "what are we" conversation. They're long past that.
"Maybe you finally did go nuts, Red," he can't help but tease, taking a long drink of his coffee and feeling slightly more human for it now. "Or I shouldn't have waited this long to take you out in the daytime huh?"
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Why would he? He's always been at his happiest and most peaceful during those late nights or early mornings together, tucked away into their own little world. Dates are one of those conventional things Matt's done because it's expected. He and Frank have never needed that.
"Can't give people too many opportunities to be jealous that I have the best date in the city."
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He downs the rest of his coffee like it's water and comes over to slide his hand around Matt's waist and draw him in for a kiss. Ridiculous. Why does he even like (love?) this man?
"You look good in my clothes but it might help hide you a bit more too." Matt is normally so put together out in the real world - at least with the way he presents himself. "Just for now."
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Frank's right, though. Matt has a better chance of blending in if he's wearing something more casual and less tailored or high-end than his usual wardrobe. He already has Karen working on getting him some things, but for now, Frank's will do.
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"Don't tempt me, I'm in no spot to bend you over right now," he says with a grumble, actually sounding annoyed about that fact. It's going to be hard to keep their hands off of one another when they're in constant close quarters like this. Something new.
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"Let me go splash some water on my face before we go anywhere." Then he pauses, because he knows Frank's in pain. "We can go eat breakfast together any time, you know. If you need to rest and not move too much, I can go to the church myself."
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He reaches to pat Matt's butt in encouragement for him to move. "Bathroom's in the hall. I'll get dressed."
Which he does while Matt's getting himself ready too, finding a clean tank top to slip on instead because it's easier, and shrugging a hoodie on top of it. It'll be good enough in the interim, and he needs an easy way to go incognito anyway. New York doesn't really care about looking out for the average asshole in a hoodie on the street.
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"Have any sunglasses?" he asks, as if he hasn't already snooped through everything of Frank's by this point.
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"Yeah, here-" He heads to his lockers where he keeps some of his clothes and finds a pair of old, cheap sunglasses he uses himself a lot of the time. Frank tosses them Matt's way without a second thought. "Not your usual style but you'll make 'em work."
He also grabs a ballcap to slide on before hobbling back over to one of his gun racks to grab a small piece, checking for ammunition before he hides it into the strap he slides on under his hoodie. Frank never leaves without at least one weapon on his body. It would be like Matt leaving without his fists.
"Food first or you wanna see your friend?"
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Matt doesn't say anything about the gun, but he raises his eyebrows in silent commentary to himself as he finds a jacket with a hood. Once he slips it on, the sunglasses are next, then he grabs some of the cash he took out a day ago.
"Ready?"
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"Yeah, let's go." He leads the way out of the bunker, though not before setting up his usual alarms before locking the door. He still needs to give Matt the rundown about all of that since he'll be staying with him full time for a while.
They slip out the back of the industrial building and Frank pulls his hood up over his cap once they're outside, eyes scanning the streets with paranoia. People are hurrying along with their typical lives despite the city going to shit. They still need to work and live, even with a fucked up curfew and Martial Law breathing down their necks. New York never really sleeps.
"It's just a couple blocks from here," he explains. The diner is a hole-in-the-wall store Frank has definitely gone to enough times to be on friendly terms with the waitstaff. They don't ask questions, even if they know who he is.
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As Frank scans the streets, so does Matt.
"There's a patrol car a few streets over, heading in the opposite direction."
Beyond that, the city seems like it usually does at this time, with an added layer of nervous energy. Matt walks alongside Frank, close enough their shoulders brush together sometimes.
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Their shoulders brush again and Frank glances over to Matt briefly, then around them, civilians barely looking their way. Does he dare? Would it be too bold or help them blend in more if he just...
Fuck it. Frank waits until they're turning down the corner of his block to "accidentally" brush his hand to Matt's, a brief suggestion, before he's casually sliding his palm against Matt's to hold on.
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Maybe not Frank, though.
At first Matt thinks the brush of hands isn't on purpose. When he feels Frank take his hand, it's so subtle and smooth that Matt can't help the little smile he gets. Something like a date and hand-holding, the world really must be ending. But he's not complaining. Matt's the only person in the world that gets this side of Frank.
"And I think I can smell the diner coming up."
He's not going to make a big deal out of it. Well. Later he will, but right now he's just going to squeeze Frank's hand to let him know it's more than fine.
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"They're good people. Won't ask why we look shady as shit," he jokes a bit, and with how early it is, hopefully the place won't be too packed. People seem less and less inclined to linger in public spaces right now, so the two of them walking into this restaurant may seem abnormal right now.
They approach and Frank only lets go of Matt's hand to hold the door for him instead. He's a fucking gentleman, alright? The place is small but cozy, a few patrons already there with their coffee and eggs or pancakes. A friendly woman from behind the counter waves them in and tells them to take a seat anywhere, and Frank heads over to a booth in the corner. Naturally, he takes the seat where he can keep his eyes on the door.
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That's good enough for Matt, because he knows Frank doesn't take trust lightly. He follows him and sits across from him, slipping off the sunglasses. With his back to the door, he doesn't have to worry about being seen or recognized, and he thinks it'd be weirder to wear the glasses inside. Besides, he's pretty damn good at pretending to be sighted.
"You'll have to read the menu to me," he teases, as if he can't pick up on the multiple scents giving away all the food. Underneath the table, he nudges their feet together.
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"They make a mean omelet here, but they've also got that healthy shit you like. Oatmeal with almond milk or whatever the fuck." It's said fondly though, like he's used to Matt's shenanigans.
With Frank's face all busted up, he looks like he just got hit by a bus, but thankfully New York is full of people who just don't give a fuck. The waitress comes over to get them some coffee in the meantime, smiling to Frank and greeting him with a friendly: "Welcome back, Pete. The usual?"
She eyes Matt and then Frank back and forth, clearly thinking something, but she doesn't voice whatever's on her mind. Frank usually comes here alone. Frank nods though and replies with a gruff but friendly: "Yeah- Yeah. Thanks, Rosa."
Eyes flicker up to Matt, daring him to say anything cheeky right now.
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"What's the usual? If it's a lot of bacon, I might have to go with something different. Trying to watch my figure."
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Naturally, Rosa is charmed by the smile and comment easily, writing something down onto her pad as she looks between them again.
"Two eggs, sunny side up, with potatoes and extra bacon." How Matt knows him so well. Frank sighs and leans back in his seat with his coffee.
"Just order whatever you want," he grumbles at Matt, lightly kicking his foot under the table, and then he looks back up to the waitress. "And he'll be needing some of that fancy oat milk shit for his coffee."
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"Pete, huh? You know she knows who you are, right?"
Of course Frank must know. Matt gets what he means when he says he can trust these people. He's glad Frank has others on his side, too. There's a pause when Rosa brings the coffee, the freshly brewed bitter smell hitting his nose followed by a carafe of oat milk.
"She likes you, too."
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"She's just friendly," he says, ignoring the comment about his alias for his own pride. "I'm nice."
Another gentle kick to Matt's foot, as if that proves a point.
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