September
It starts one night about five months after Karen had pieced his soul back together in that hospital room.
True to his word, she hasn't heard a thing from him, and then Agent Madani is showing up half dragging the man who was so out of sorts that he had actually allowed their troubles to be quite literally brought to her doorstep.
"I need to get some normal friends," Karen sighs, but then she steps aside and ushers them in because there's no point in pretending that no matter how many times Frank throws her aside, she will always be there waiting.
Apparently the punisher is once again on the outs with law enforcement and the recent CIA recruit mutters something about how her place isn't an option because the good guys would look there first, his place isn't an option because the bad guys would look there first, and Curtis won't have anything to do with it, so Karen was all she could think of.
"Got a First Aid kit?" Madani asks as though this isn't a regular pastime for the blonde.
Frank's protesting as she plops him down on the couch when Karen rushs back from the bathroom, kit in hand.
"Great," Madani nods in approval, already moving toward the door. "Now I get to go make sure this dweeb doesn't destroy another career path for me."
Frank grunts "do not leave me here" as Karen sputters "you're just going to leave him here?" but the door is closing behind her not an instant later.
The rest of the night goes down mostly as you'd imagine.
Frank only attempts to get up about seven and half times with Karen shoving him back down as she sews flesh back to flesh, Karen tries to remind herself that she shouldn't be touching him more than is necessary for the wounds, and they both actively avoid bringing up his most recent absence.
She wakes the next morning propped up in an armchair with her .380 in her lap and is genuinely shocked that Frank's still here, sleeping on the couch next to her.
She has no way of knowing that the man actively refuses to sleep amid danger no matter how many times Curtis, Madani or any of the others have offered to take watch, but something in the back of her mind buzzes at the thought of her watching over the big, bad punisher as he slept.
She pours him a cup of coffee as she hears him begin to rustle, jumps in the shower, and comes back out to an apartment as empty as the mug.
Feeling an unexpected urge to scream, Karen opts to smash the mug on her floor instead, only realizing it's a bit much when one piece skids to a stop against a black backpack.
He may not have said anything to her, but he had left a sign clear as day that he'd be back.
So she goes about her day as though she can't feel every passing second dancing across her skin, and when he returns in the early hours of the morning, there's a plate of pasta sitting out on the table, her own empty one discarded in the sink.
He passes out on the couch, and just like that a routine is born.
He's always up before her, waiting with a pot of coffee, exiting as she showers but always leaving an item clearly behind so she would know to leave food out.
It isn't long before he places his hand in his pocket and finds a key there, understanding where it fits with a small smile.
Frank doesn't offer any information on his current predicament so Karen doesn't ask, instead blindly waiting for the day when it will be complete and he will return to his own home.
Some days he gets back earlier and they began watching movies to pass the time. She made the mistake of picking action films the first few times around before realizing that Frank simply was never going to shut up about the inaccuracies no matter the number of times she swatted at him.
They eventually find their sweet spot with comedies, and after Frank legititmately roars with laughter at The Heat, Karen beaming at him out of the corner of her eye, she never varies from that genre.
October
Karen's stuffing a breakfast burrito into her purse when she opens the door to face a familiar seventeen year old girl.
In truth, she comes dangerously close to shooting the unannounced visitor, to which Amy only mutters, "man it kinda sucks to be on the receiving end of that whole skittishly guarding the door thing."
It's a late night and Frank returns home to find both women passed out on the couch, bathed in the soft light of the TV. He stares quietly at them for a moment, feels exhaustion take over, and ends up crawling on top of Karen's bed without thinking too much about it.
He wakes in the morning to what he could only describe as a whisper fight and has to chuckle at the fact that the only women in his life are ones of the incredibly stubborn variety.
"He needs sleep, just leave it alone," Karen's voice hisses only to be met with an "it's 10am, he's had plenty of sleep." More whispers ensue, to which Amy seems to be getting the upper hand since they are getting closer, but then there's some sort of shuffling noise that he can only imagine is Karen putting herself between the door and the determined teenager.
"How exactly do you think Frank Castle reacts when someone surprises him in his sleep?" Karen murmurs slowly as though she has won right then and there.
Frank chuckles then because the blonde wouldn't have the slightest idea, and the door swings open a moment later.
The two women find Frank half-naked, tangled in Karen's sheets, looking rather like a deer in the headlights.
Karen remains silent until Amy points between them with a smirk.
"Soo this is what you two have been getting on with, huh?" she wriggles her eyebrows.
A grunt from Frank and an eyeroll from Karen are the only reply she gets as they both disappear into the kitchen, making a b-line for the coffee.
Neither realize how absolutely domesticated they look to the runaway who can't take her eyes off their comfortable behavior as they go about their established routine.
"What are you doing here kid?" Frank finally turns to look at her, Karen following the movement almost instinctively.
"I just… I just need someone who gets it," Amy opts for the honest to God truth for once.
Frank opens his mouth, no doubt to send her away to a better life, when Karen takes a step forward and he calmly shuts it again.
Because Karen can understand that notion perhaps better than anything else she knows to be true.
"You don't invite anyone back here, you stay out of trouble, and you're welcome to join our merry band of misfits," the blonde determines, ignoring the questioning glance Frank instantly throws her way.
In the end, it is her apartment after all.
The three blend shockingly well throughout the day, Amy taking time to observe before fitting herself in as cohesively as she can manage.
In fact, their routine finds no need to be adjusted in the slightest… that is until Frank returns home that night to find Amy sleeping soundly on the couch and Karen in her bed.
"Well shit," he mutters, deciding he'd get a blow-up mattress for the girl in the morning, but for the night he was not going to be caught curled up on the floor. All-nighters are no big deal to him anyhow.
His hand had just landed on the doorknob when he hears a creek in the floorboards and finds Karen leaning against the wall outside her room, staring at him through the dark with sleepy eyes.
"Where ya going Frank?" she yawns into her hand.
"Gotta head out," he shrugs.
"You just got back," she raises an eyebrow.
It's far too late for plausible excuses and the woman always sees right through him anyway.
"Seems I've been evicted," he chuckles quietly, nodding toward the figure breathing slowly across the room.
"I can share," Karen states matter of factly, disappearing back through her door without a second thought.
When he doesn't move a muscle, she shows back up in the doorway.
"Frank?"
"Ma'am?" Reverting back to his chivalrous ways seems like the safest play but she just sighs.
"Frank it's three am, I'm tired, and I'm not going to be able to go back to sleep soundly knowing that you're on the streets," she stares him down impatiently. "We're both adults, and I'm pretty sure you're not the type to get handsy."
This time she doesn't wait around to see if he will follow her, and when he finally gives in and shuffles into the room, she's already curled up on her side.
Funnily enough, or actually not funny in the slightest, it's Karen who ends up being the handsy one.
He had just begun to nod off when he feels the bed jerk and shoots up to find her flinching, dripping with sweat, eyes squeezed shut. Yet she's shockingly quiet for whatever she's experiencing, and later Frank would wonder how often she had dealt with this when he was just in the other room.
"Karen," he murmurs.
"I'm warning you," she spits back, words dripping with venom.
"Karen," he tries a little louder, and to his horror she lets out a blood curdling scream.
Frank grabs her arm, and then she's exploding upward, eyes wide open, but not comprehending.
Even with his reaction time, he's taken so off guard that she somehow manages to land on top of him, knife pressed to his neck.
"Hey, hey there," he freezes as he feels it break skin.
But then there's a clicking sound as Amy appears in the doorway.
"Get the hell off of him or I swear to God I'll blow your head off," she threatens.
"Kid back the hell off," Frank hisses, and then Karen is really seeing him.
She throws the knife to the floor as her hands fly to his neck, checking for damage.
"Oh God, Frank," she breathes, so he grips her wrists and holds on tight.
"You're one hell of a badass Karen Page," he grunts.
"I could've killed you," she tries to pull away but he won't let go.
"Oh please," he feigns offense. "Let's not get carried away here."
She pauses and he waits as the resilient Karen Page reimerges.
"Well, I guess you did fire a shotgun in my general direction," she smiles softly. "This kinda makes us even."
"I guess it does," he chuckles as she rolls off him.
"Wow ya'll are straight up mental," Amy mutters from the doorway. "I'm never leaving."
Somehow they all get back to sleep, but Frank's left hand never lets go of Karen's wrist.
And the next day he simply forgets to go pick up a mattress.
March
Karen wakes up to the smell of coffee, the sounds of teasing chattering coming from the kitchen, and a startling realization.
She's happy.
Like honest to God happy.
She lays there trying to remember the last time she'd felt this okay, if she'd ever felt this okay, and she's overwhelmed with this urge to run out there in her pj shorts and scoop them both into a bear hug.
"Oh god, get off," Frank would grumble as Amy would wink at her and tell her she's flattered but really doesn't swing that way, and Karen would play her part in pretending she didn't realize how much they both loved it.
Instead she opts to pull on her robe and shuffle calmly into the common space with only a small smile gracing her features at the sight before her.
Pancake batter is quite literally everywhere, and so are pancakes. Like, she's pretty sure that's one up there stuck to the ceiling.
Yup, yup it is, she realizes as Amy attempts to flip another one and it goes splatting against the refrigerator.
Frank's doing his best to look annoyed but honestly his poker face had been so much better back before the three of them became the three of them.
Amy spots the blonde first, or so it would seem because they're all fully aware Frank had sensed the moment she stepped out of bed, and points the pan in her direction.
"Karen!" she exclaims. "Please tell Mr. Cranksalot that he is not the only person who can cook in this home."
"I'm the only person who should be allowed to cook in this home," Frank grumbles, grabbing at the pan as she holds it out of reach. "I mean for godsakes you're flipping pancakes like they're pizza or something."
"They're basically the same thing Fraaannk," Amy exaggerates his name, egging the man on. "It just depends what you put on top of them."
"That is not even remotely true," He goes for the pan again but she dashes around the counter. "Are you gonna do something here Karen?"
She's not sure what it is, but something about this moment makes her feel so incredibly confident, so incredibly safe, that she blurts out the fear, or rather hope, she's been hiding for weeks.
"How long has it been safe for you to return home Frank?" It comes out so much more forcefully than she meant it to, and even Amy freezes because they all understand the gravity of this moment.
"About six weeks," he says, staring her straight in the eyes.
The silence is palpable. Karen thinks if Amy took that pan and threw it across the room they would be able to see the air split in half.
But she doesn't throw the pan. Instead she hands it to Frank, who accepts it without breaking eye contact, and begins grabbing mugs out of the cupboard.
"You better come grab some if you want any Karen," she calls out. "We gotta do our fair share of consumption if we don't want Frankie Boy to die of caffeine poisoning."
The spell is broken and Karen grins and Frank grins and Amy is grinning into the coffee pot with her back to them both. Because they all know what this means.
Frank is staying.
This is the day Karen realizes it's no longer her apartment, but their apartment, and to hell with all the people who give her strange looks whenever she passes by advertisements for pancakes after that and grins like a maniac.
May
Amy knows something is up the moment her housemates emerge from their room together that morning.
Because Frank always gets up first to make the coffee, Amy always follows to push his buttons, and Karen always immerges just a little while later.
Always.
The three of them are nothing if not control freaks after all.
So when the pair walk into the kitchen at the same time and Karen reaches for the coffee, the teenager's alarm bells start ringing pretty clearly.
"Hi," she says from her place on the couch, and they both jump, she's not kidding, Frank Castle jumps about an inch off the ground.
"Hi," Karen says, a little too chipper, and Amy's eye's narrow.
"What do you want for breakfast?" Frank asks Karen, which never happens, because she's never awake.
"Oh I don't mind, really," the blonde insists, brushing past him to grab a mug. "Amy, do you want some coffee?"
Amy doesn't bother answering because she's fairly aware neither of the others in the room are paying any real attention to her.
"I won't be gone too late tonight," Frank comments and Amy's jaw drops.
"Oh good," Karen says as though this isn't the very freaking first time that the man has ever clued them in on his plans.
"What is happening right now?!" Amy practically shouts, jumping to her feet.
The doorbell rings literally an instant later, and it's Dina, wanting to discuss what she calls a common problem.
Frank invites her to stay for breakfast, and she's evidently not seeing anything wrong with the situation, having already gotten her shock out of the way a while back when she walked in on the three playing an intense game of monopoly.
Amy pays no attention to what the agent has to say, instead focusing on the other two well enough to realize they really aren't paying attention either.
Dina's in the middle of detailing a crime bosses rap sheet, when Frank and Karen glance at each other over their food for the third time and suddenly Amy gets it all too well.
"Oh my gosh GROSS!" She spits out, wiping her hands furiously on her shirt as though she is somehow contaminated.
The adults, for lack of a better word, at the table all turn to face her but they should know by now she's really not one for self-control.
"You guys freaking did IT," she blurts out, banging her hands together like a demonstration, and Dina literally spits out her drink. "Oh my god I was here last night, all night!"
Karen bangs her hand on Dina's back because now the agent is hacking up a lung, and Frank Castle goes a shade of pink.
"I swear to God if I ever hear a single moan coming from that room, I'm going to assume you've been murdered by an intruder and shoot the hell out of it," Amy determines.
"Deal," Frank winks, Karen swats his arm, and the three resume eating.
"Right, so this dude shot up a rival gang?" Amy motions for the open mouthed agent to continue.
"I don't know what I expected," Dina finally mutters. "Okay, this guy…"
July
The anniversary of Frank's family's deaths comes around too soon.
Amy doesn't need to be told, she memorized that date the first time she read about him.
Karen doesn't need to be told, she feels it in his grip on her that morning, sees it in his eyes.
They're all awake but they let Frank get up first, make the coffee, keep the routine.
Amy plays her part, mocking his omelette prep, although perhaps a little softer than usual.
Karen plays her part, shuffling out a few minutes later, commenting on what's in the day's paper.
Frank plays his part, pretending he doesn't notice.
They eat breakfast in silence until Frank murmurs, "Lisa would be sixteen."
"I know," Karen says and Amy pours him more coffee.
They go the cemetery together.
No one is even sure whose idea it was, but suddenly they're in the car.
Karen plans to give him time alone first, some things require solitude afterall, but he opens her door so they all climb out.
The women stop just a few feet behind him because they know.
They know Maria and Lisa and Frankie Jr. will always hold first place in Frank's heart.
And they're okay with that. They really, truly are.
Karen grabs Amy's hand and they hold onto each other and stand quietly.
Ready to stand for as long as it takes.
They all have their trauma, their irreparable heartache, their damage.
They all have their before.
But now, together, they have their after too.
They have their now.
Somewhere mixed among the muck of this weird, dysfunctional family.