Pray you catch me

Pairing: Kastledevil (Matt/Karen/Frank)

Summary: How domestic can a couple of vigilantes and a reporter be?

Rated: K+ (but it is about a threeway relationship, so beware)


"You're lucky I was there", Frank Castle said, pouring scotch on a glass, after complaining Matt had no ice in his fridge.

"Have I or have I not managed to survive before you showed up with your guns?" Matt asked, crossing his arms in front of him after putting the kettle on the fire, leaning against the wall.

"Barely."

He was going to answer, but turned his head to the right, in that way that meant he was listening to something, and raised his brows.

"What?" Frank asked.

"Karen turned the hot water on."

"So?"

"She didn't turn on the cold one, it's gonna be too ho-"

"Ow ow ow! Oh God!" came the yelps of Karen from his bathroom and Matt chuckled, starting towards the sound that Frank couldn't hear.

"That shower can be tricky", he said while walking to help.

"Matt!" Karen called loudly right before he crossed the door of his bedroom.

Frank took a sip of his scotch and opened the fridge to look for something to eat. Nothing but leftover take out, and, to be honest, he felt like eating something fresher. Closing it again, he leaned against the sink and nursed his drink, thinking about what his next move was going to be. Word was there were some Irish people looking for him.

His burner vibrated in his pocket and he frowned. The main people that usually called him were here, all two of them.

He raised his brows when he read "FN" on the caller ID.

"Nelson?"

"Did you kill a bunch of drug dealers in Harlem?" asked his former lawyer.

"What?"

"Just answer the freaking question!"

"No. What the hell are you talking about?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, counselor, I'm sure I didn't kill some drug dealers. What's going on?"

"Ok. Just needed to make sure. Bye."

"Hold-"

The line was dead before he could ask anything else. By his side, the kettle started to boil and he moved to snuff the flame from the stove. Looking at the two mugs on the counter, with a tea bag each, waiting for the water, Fank realized Red should have been back by now. Looking towards the bedroom, he couldn't see him, but he could hear the faint sound of the shower running.

Ok. It's fine. Frank's a fucking grown up, he can sit on the couch and drink by himself. Relax a little. God knows he needs it.

That decision went out the window even before it came in. Draining his glass with two gulps, he grimaced when the liquid burned his throat and walked towards the sliding door of Matt Murdock's bedroom, walking around the bed and into the en suite bathroom.

They could all relax later.