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.
"Nice?" Matt raises his eyebrows. "According to who?"
He laughs, though, and maybe he should feel bad about having a good time when everything is going to sit around them. Or maybe he can just let himself have a moment of normalcy and not think too much about it.
He adds some milk and sugar to his coffee, giving it a stir.
"Should I be jealous? Maybe I should tell her you're already taken."
"People," he says with dry amusement. Anyone who interacts with him and is still alive would know how nice he is, obviously, because it means they haven't pissed him off bad enough to get on his ugly side. That's how it works right?
Matt finding amusement in this situation is kind of nice though, even Frank can admit to that much. With all the shit that just went down, both of them beaten and broken down in different ways, they deserve some levity. Even if it's temporary. So, Frank is fine playing along with whatever this is as he keeps his foot pressed to Matt's under the table.
"Taken, huh?" A soft breath, gruff but pleased. "Didn't think you'd be the jealous type with the amount of flirting you do on your own."
"I didn't say I was jealous, I was just asking if I should be."
Okay, so maybe he's a little jealous sometimes when someone else can make a connection with Frank. He knows how Frank is. He knows it's never going to get to any of the points Matt lets his own flirtations get to, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel a brief pang of something when he'd heard Karen and Frank together. Friends, bonded over something Matt had nothing to do with, maybe it was just the collision of what Matt used to think he wanted meeting what Matt actually wants.
He takes a drink of his coffee, letting his foot slide against Frank's.
"Anyway, we live together now. Things are different."
The corner of Matt's mouth quirks up, amused but betraying the tiredness he's feeling.
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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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He laughs, though, and maybe he should feel bad about having a good time when everything is going to sit around them. Or maybe he can just let himself have a moment of normalcy and not think too much about it.
He adds some milk and sugar to his coffee, giving it a stir.
"Should I be jealous? Maybe I should tell her you're already taken."
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Matt finding amusement in this situation is kind of nice though, even Frank can admit to that much. With all the shit that just went down, both of them beaten and broken down in different ways, they deserve some levity. Even if it's temporary. So, Frank is fine playing along with whatever this is as he keeps his foot pressed to Matt's under the table.
"Taken, huh?" A soft breath, gruff but pleased. "Didn't think you'd be the jealous type with the amount of flirting you do on your own."
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Okay, so maybe he's a little jealous sometimes when someone else can make a connection with Frank. He knows how Frank is. He knows it's never going to get to any of the points Matt lets his own flirtations get to, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel a brief pang of something when he'd heard Karen and Frank together. Friends, bonded over something Matt had nothing to do with, maybe it was just the collision of what Matt used to think he wanted meeting what Matt actually wants.
He takes a drink of his coffee, letting his foot slide against Frank's.
"Anyway, we live together now. Things are different."
The corner of Matt's mouth quirks up, amused but betraying the tiredness he's feeling.