Here's another red castle fic posting here.
Tags: minor violence, injuries, injury recovery, falling in love, idiots in love
Down in this state of hell, the night becomes bloody again.
Coughing was the only relief The Punisher could achieve while another punch was thrown, slamming against his jaw. He spits out few droplets here and there again before trying to get up from the restraint.
It only earned him another kick to the gut.
Damn, these assholes never quit.
One crime ring after another, another plague choking at the city to be taken care of. It was suppose to be a simple infiltration. Get in, take down the weapons dealers, get out. Simple.
However, The Punisher didn't account for being careless. Didn't account for being caught off guard and taken down easily without warning.
He shouldn't be making mistakes like this.
The Punisher already felt the world spinning around him. The dizziness from loss of blood didn't help with his focus, and he tried; he was trying to keep his head steady. Trying to have some sort of idea on what the hell was going on.
Another blow.
Then another.
Now the ex-marine's head felt heavy. Each bruise decorating him while he felt weaker. They held onto him longer, screaming something at him, the tone of demand extremely prominent within their voices.
God, he was bleeding everywhere.
While The Punisher was trying to keep himself conscious a little longer, he suddenly heard a series of rounds being shot overhead.
Continuous shouting started to enter, now becoming clearer as the ringing in his head began to subside.
"Over there! It's the damn Devil!"
Shit...
Altar Boy is here...
The next thing The Punisher knew, there were more grunts coming off from the side. This time, it wasn't coming from him.
His eyes focused again, blinking rapidly to get rid of the blurs that crept at the corners.
There he saw the man of the hour. Going against every single scumbag in his way. Doing fancy flips to pin down each one that was stupid enough to come at him head on. A crack went of here and there, a few screams, more bullet shells littering the ground while the guns they came from scattered.
It was like a whole damn play had performed right then and there, right in front of The Punisher. His arms felt relief as the ones that held him down had released them, only to notice that they fell to side with a groan.
For one brief second, the ex-marine thought he was going to die. One second of complete delusion and Frank Castle would've accepted death.
However, Daredevil came in, kicking death to the side and ordered it to wait.
Not now.
Not yet.
The Punisher had completely forgotten about the horizons turning against him, his body giving out as he fell to the side. Daredevil managed to catch him on time before he hit the ground, pressing into him a little closely.
"...Frank!"
Fuck, more yelling. And his hearing was off again. Everything sounded so distant, vague even. The Punisher could only narrow his eyes slightly, seeing the familiar figure with the black mask staring back at him, despite his eyes being hidden.
How the hell does Red do it?
How is he able to waltz right in here no problem and take down every bastard that comes through? Even with those heightened senses, Frank has seen him struggle before.
Those thoughts went to the back of his head.
Frank was becoming delirious by the minute, leaning closer against the vigilante. A hand went over to his face, rapid touches in a haste.
A low voice was his only warning before he was hoisted up from the ground, one arm around him.
"Can you walk?"
Frank nods slowly, getting his legs to work again as they traveled down the stairs. He was sluggish in his moments, but Daredevil kept his pace, took his time once they were out of the building.
Good thing it was so late at night, no one would be around to bat an eye at the sight: Daredevil practically dragging an injured Punisher. The press would be losing it and the headlines would spread like wildfire. As of now, Daredevil was making sure no one was around to bare witness. From what Frank could tell.
However, the ex-marine's sense of time and place were becoming muddled. Frank could only focus on the body next to him, his hands pressing in on the toned muscles underneath cloth while his eyes trailed to the jawline that held stubble.
The man that saved him from near death.
While everything was starting to fade to black, Frank was trying to look for something to say. Anything. A thank you would be great. Especially when Red went out of his way to save someone like him.
He turned to face him and could only mutter out:
"You're wearing that shitty ass black sweater again..."
Close enough.
Frank woke up lying on a bed, his body sore and aching over soft sheets while his eyes tried to adjust to darkness. Only a flicker of light came from the windows. He grunts, trying to sit up, only for his body to give out in protest. Alright. He needs to lie down again.
Where the hell is he?
It was hard to tell with little light, but soon he hears footsteps approaching.
The next thing he knew, Red was right there, setting a glass of water down at the nightstand and with a first aid kit ready.
"Hey, it's okay, Frank."
Oh.
He's in Matt's apartment.
Red had carried Frank's unconscious ass all the way over to his apartment.
"One of your stitches tore, hold still."
Careful hands went to press gently over his navel, feeling the sting of the open gash. Frank endured it, nodding slowly when Matt motioned the needle and thread over.
While the lawyer was closing up the wound, Frank faced him again.
"Why?"
Furrowed brows looked over.
"Why what?"
"Why'd you save me, Red? Me of all people."
Matt only shrugged at that as he finished up the stitch.
"Come on, don't give me that shit," Frank muttered, closing his eyes for a moment. "Why'd you help me out back there? You want something?"
"I wanted to help you, Frank," Matt pressed softly, placing bandages over the stitches. "I heard your heartbeat back there. Couldn't leave you there to die."
A stubborn grunt.
Matt ignored it.
"I've helped you before, you know."
"Back then was different..."
"Different how?"
"I was your problem."
The glass of water was now pressed into his open hand. Frank opened his eyes took it anyway, now feeling his parched throat.
Matt shook his head lightly.
"You were a problem, but that wasn't why I helped you before. I simply...wanted to help you. Just like now; I wasn't going to let you die. You don't deserve death."
Maybe the Devil was telling the truth.
Maybe.
Frank choked out a laugh, not knowing how else to react.
"So what? You don't hate me anymore, is that it? Think I can be saved?"
It was now Matt's turn to laugh.
"I never hated you."
Something about that sentence struck a cord within the ex-marine. Matt never answered the last question, but maybe Frank didn't need an answer. Especially when that was all he needed to know.
Maybe it was how sincere Matt sounded when said that.
Pure honesty.
He didn't need heightened senses to know that himself.
Frank knew him and Daredevil couldn't exactly get their philosophies to align together, but it was all along the same gray area. Right?
They've been allies before, and now Frank was here, looking up at a face he wants to see every single day.
"Thank you..." Frank ended up saying.
Matt tilts his head slightly.
"For not hating you...?"
"No; for bringing me here and patching me up. You're taking some risks here."
"Like how you risked yourself up on that rooftop earlier?"
"That's different."
"Is everything going to be different for you?"
Was he teasing him again?
Matt wasn't wearing the mask, so when the corners of his mouth quirked up to a smile, his entire face was exposed as well. Frank saw the whole picture. He didn't want to look away.
Something in his chest twisted, but Frank allowed it. He didn't mind the hammering inside as he kept staring at the lawyer. He knows he can hear it.
Maybe things can change.
"Yeah, it will be, actually," Frank assured, relaxing again. "I guarantee you that."
Matt still hasn't dropped his soft smile.
"Get some sleep, asshole."
A couple of pain pills were passed over.
Despite Frank wanting to stay awake much longer, Matt had a point. Sleep sounded great.
It was fine.
Frank looked forward to seeing him again when he wakes.