#Hell's Kitchen Cronicles

[edourado]

Karedevil prompt: I loved your "Daddy Lessons" fic, so this is kinda/sorta in the same vein; Karen has a pregnancy scare but when it turns out she's not, both she and Matt are a lot more disappointed than they thought they'd be.

I’ve been putting this one off for a while, because I couldn’t quite get it right, but I think we could all use some lightness after the Defenders. 

That said, there are no spoilers for it. This was mostly written before it aired, so if you haven’t watched it, you’re clear. 

Please forgive any mistakes.  I just finished writing it, and I’m not in a big editing mood. 

Hope you enjoy. 

Positive

Matt wakes up when he can’t feel her in bed by his side. After making sure she wasn’t there, he touches his alarm. Almost four in the morning.

He gets up, alert, when his quick sweep tells him she’s not in the apartment. He’s already on fight mode, scanning the place and the hallways and the streets around, when he locates her. On the roof, of all places.

He’s barefoot, his sweatpants barely on when he climbs the stairs and rushes to her. She’s fine, at least physically, but she’s crying.

“Karen”, he calls, half desperate already, when he reaches the roof. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?”

“Oh!”, she says, turning to him, placing her hands on top of his when he touches her face, her arms, looking for something. “No, I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s nothing, I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you crying?” he asks, wiping her tears away, still looking for something, trying to figure it out, his senses alert to the world around them, trying to locate a threat. “What happened?”

“I’m sorry, I’m fine, I promise, I promise.”

When he comes up with nothing, he relaxes a bit, his hands still on her face.

“You’re not fine”, he says, finally. “You wouldn’t be crying on the roof in the middle of the night if you were. What’s going on?”

There are still tears coming down her face while she looks at him.

“I-”, she starts, but interrupts herself. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“I am worried. Please tell me what’s happening.”

Sniffing, she places her hands on his chest.

“Did someone come after you?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s… I think…”

He runs his hands up and down her arms, trying to comfort her.

“What?”

“I think I might be pregnant.”

Two things happen: first, he is washed with a warm flood of relief, because she’s not in danger. Second, he is almost paralyzed by her words, his brain going so fast it comes up with nothing useful for a good ten seconds.

“Matt?”

Finally, he sighs, wrapping her in his arms.

“Don’t scare me like that, please.”

“Sorry”, she whispers, hugging him back.

“Um…” he starts, and she moves back to look at his face. He tries to school his expression into a soothing one. “You- you think? You’re not sure?”

“No”, she shakes her head. “I’m late. But that’s not uncommon, so I didn’t think much of it at first. But it’s been two weeks, and today I almost gagged at the egg salad someone left in the fridge at work.”

“You didn’t, uh… Take a test, or anything?”

“I bought one, but, I don’t know, I guess I’ve been too scared to take it.”

Another tear comes down and he reaches to clean it up.

“You should have told me sooner”.

Karen sniffs.

“I didn’t want to worry you, maybe it’s nothing.”

“But what if it is… Something? What if you are really pregnant?”

When he says it, she starts crying all over again, and he pulls her back into his arms.

“Hey, hey, listen. It’s ok. Listen to me. We’ll figure it out, it’s gonna be fine.”

“I wanted to tell you only when I was sure”, she says, sobbing lightly, and the freaking out about to happen inside him has to wait.

While he stands there holding her, he takes a minute to think about it. If she really is pregnant, it’s not gonna be easy. None of them are equipped, in any way, to have a baby in a few months. They’re gonna have to make some changes, big changes, fast. He’s not entirely sure he knows how to do this, if he’s capable of doing this.

On the other hand, it’s not the worst thing in the world. He had entertained the idea of having a kid, years ago, but, every day a little more, he walked further away from what he thought a good father should be. Dressing up as the devil and beating up criminals was not, exactly, things that would make it safe for him to welcome a child into the world.

“Come on”, he says, kissing her temple. “Let’s go inside.”

“Do you- Do you want me to take the test?”

He pulls her by the hand and squeezes it a bit.

“Not if you’re not ready.”

“Ok”, she sighs, and his heart tightens at how relieved she sounds. “Thank you.”

He guides her back to bed, and holds her against him. Neither of them, he realizes after a few minutes, will be able to fall asleep anytime soon.

“How would you feel?” she whispers in the silence. “If I really am pregnant?”

“I don’t know”, he answers honestly after a few seconds. “It’s been a long time since I thought about having a kid.” He runs his fingers up and down her back. “What about you?”

She takes a little time to respond.

“I never thought of myself as the mom kind. I’m not sure.”

They lied there on his bed, both wide awake, thinking.

“Would you want me to keep it?” she asks suddenly. “If the test comes back positive?”

He blinks, startled by the question.

“Well. You know I’m a catholic.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, it is. But… I’d also never ask you to do something you weren’t comfortable with. I’d never force you to go through with it just because-”

“No”, she interrupts. “No, I- I think I’d want to keep it, too.”

He smiled up the ceiling, not really knowing why.

“Ok. That’s one decision down. How many to go?”

Karen falls asleep before him, and her breathing lulls him eventually. He dreams of holding things too tight, but then not tight enough.

.:.

When Karen wakes up, she is feeling somewhat better.

Knowing that Matt won’t freak out eases her mind a bit. But she should have known, what with all the meditating and the lawyer thing and all the martial arts, he’s pretty level headed.

She wakes up and he’s still asleep, his arm thrown around her, hand on her belly. She wonders if it was an accident.

What if she is pregnant? Would that be the worst thing?

Sure, she was not planning for a kid, nor was she preparing for one. At all. Her life was not, in any way, suited for a child.

How would they raise it? Where would they raise it? Would they want to leave New York? Stay in Hell’s Kitchen? Would they even be able to afford it?

“I can hear you thinking”, he says, suddenly, behind her. Glad he was awake, Karen turns around to face him.

“I’ve been doing that a lot”, she whispers back.

“Let me think with you.”

Sighing, Karen places her hand on top of his on her belly.

“Let’s say I really am. We would have to do a lot of change.”

“Like what?”

“Like… I don’t see how a baby would fit in my apartment. Or your apartment, for that matter.”

“A baby is tiny.”

“Yeah, but they come with a lot of shit, Matt. A lot of shit. There has to be a nursery to fit the crib, the clothes, the diapers, the changing station, a stroller, toys-”

“Ok, ok, I get it. There’s a lot of shit.”

Breathing deep, she nods.

“Ok, so we’ll get a new place.”

“Can we afford a new place?”

“You forget your baby daddy is a lawyer. A damn good one at that”, he says, smiling because she’s laughing at the term “baby daddy”. “Trust me, I can get us a good place. You would just have to chose a good one and I’d get it for you.”

Feeling better, she decides to agree with that. Maybe let him take the lead on some stuff.

“Ok.”

“What’s next?”

“Hmm… I guess… Would you like a boy or a girl?”

That pulls a smile out of him, honest and open, and she finds herself smiling in return.

“I don’t know. I think I’d like a mini you. A little trouble maker raising hell wherever she goes.”

“Or a mini you. A tiny ninja dressed in red, beating bad kids up. You could train him to be just like you.”

“Oh, I’ll do that either way. But not exactly like me. Hopefully we’ll be able to raise them as a normal person.”

“Normal is boring.”

“Ok. Slightly weird, just like us.”

Slowly, he makes her feel better. They could figure this out.

“What about names?” he asks while picking a tie for the day.

“Isn’t it a little early to think about that?”

“Hmm. Maybe you’re right. Which one?”

“Right hand”, she picks, zipping her skirt up.

“Would you be ok with baptizing her?” he asks as they exited the building, ready to face the day.

“I don’t see why not. And ‘her’?”

He shrugs, holding her hand as they walk down the street.

“Maybe I’m partial to a girl.”

They walk together to the bakery they usually get coffee, but, today, Karen orders tea. He kisses her goodbye when she has to turn a different corner to go to work, and it’s a little bit harder to let go than usual.

“We’ll have lunch, yeah?” he asks and she nods, sharing his need to be together, at the moment.

Lunch comes and they meet at a small restaurant near his office (the new and improved Nelson and Murdock).

“Foggy would be her godfather”, he muses while they wait for their food.

“And Claire for godmother”, she completes. “I’d feel very safe with that choice. But also… Maybe Trish?”

They eat and talk about what life would be like if they were, indeed, expecting a child.

After work, he picks her up, smiling at her when she exits the building, for once clocking out with the rest of her colleagues.

Once home, when they’re already in bed (there would be no Daredevil-ing tonight), he lies with his ear to her stomach, trying to hear something, anything, different.

“No, I can’t get anything”, he says, finally.

“Well, thank God. It would be weird if you did.”

It was close to midnight when she sits up.

“Ok. Ok, I think I’m gonna take the test, now.”

Matt tries not to pace, but she can tell he’s restless.

“I actually bought two”, she says before the time was up to the result of the first one. “Should I take it, too?”

Yeah, I think you should”, he says in a hurry and she walks back into the bathroom.

One comes out positive. One comes out negative.

Karen sits on the couch with her head in her hands, face hidden, legs shaking.

“We’ll take a blood test tomorrow”, he decides, crouching in front of her, hands taking hers from her head, making her sit up. “We’ll be fine, we’ll know tomorrow.”

She sighs, upset that they didn’t know yet, and he pulls her up for them to go to bed.

“We’ll have to figure out which schools we like pretty quick”, he says to the ceiling, rubbing her back, trying to soothe her enough for her to sleep.

“Didn’t you grow up here? I thought you would know.”

“My school was very shitty. I’d want a better one for her.”

“There you go again”, she says, and he hears the smile. “Her.”

“Mini-Karen”, he muses, closing his eyes, picturing a small little thing giving him trouble.

.:.

“Matt”, she whispers above him, a light hand on his chest, trying to wake him gently.

It almost works. He fell asleep thinking about where he would like to raise a kid, in Manhattan, a nice place with space for them to play. He grips Karen’s hand when he wakes up, trying to sit up, alert, but she presses on his chest to keep him down.

“Is everything ok?” He asks, relaxing back, still holding her hand on his chest.

“Uh, yeah. Listen. I’m not pregnant”, she says as softly as she can.

Fully awake now, he focuses on her.

“You’re not? Did you-”

“I got my period. Not pregnant.”

They stay still for a moment, that information settling in their brains and, it seems, in the room around them. After a few seconds, Matt sits up, pulling her into a hug, and she lets out a long breath, her arm around him.

“That's… That’s good, right?” He asks, feeling strange, feeling… he doesn’t really know.

“I mean”, she starts, sitting by his side, and he notices her hair is washed, she’s been up for a while. “Yes. Isn’t it? We’re not really equipped to have a kid. We never talked about it, we never even… I mean, that’s a huge step for a couple. Would we be ready for something like that?”

She lies down again by his side, and her question was immediately answered inside him: yes.

“Well”, he turns towards her, glad it was the weekend, glad they didn’t really have to get up right away. “I don’t know about you, but if I had to have a kid, I’d want it to be with you.”

She shakes her head, but that smile is there, pulling at the corners of her lips.

“Sweet talker.”

“It’s true, though.”

His forehead is pressed against hers and he runs his hand up and down her back.

Her arm around him, she moves her head to press a kiss on his lips.

“Me too.”

It’s strange. He should feel relieved, and he is. A kid out of the blue like that can be a lot of trouble, and it’s not like he doesn’t have enough of that already.

Still. That little, small, tiny part of him is getting bigger. The part that considered how nice it would actually be, to have a small version of both of them running around, calling him daddy, calling her mommy, learning how to walk and talk and then, when they’re a little older, learning to fight. He would teach her - or him - everything he knows, he would teach his kid to be better than he is, he would work every single day of his life to be a good father.

He wants to be a father.

He wants to be a father and he wants Karen to be his kid’s mother. Suddenly, he wants it more than anything in the world.

When he wakes up the next morning, he hears her in the bathroom, washing her face, but when she picks up the towel, he can smell the tears.

He’s up in a second, walking out of the bedroom, opening the bathroom door.

“Karen”, he says, and she mistakes his urgency for concern.

“It’s nothing.”

He knows what it is. He felt her running her hand over her own belly last night, felt how restless she was when she was supposed to be relieved.

“Karen, listen”. Matt grabs her hands and turns her towards him, feeling excited, feeling scared, feeling nervous that she’s gonna think he’s crazy. “Let’s do it.”

Karen blinks at him and her hands tighten around his.

“Wh-what?”

“Let’s do it. Let’s have a kid.”

She looks at him for a second or two, stunned, and then a sudden huff of laughter comes out of her, she looks away, but then looks back at him, blinking.

He wants to try and convince her. He wants to ask what she thinks. He wants to stop and really think about this. He wants a lot of things, so he does nothing. Just stands there, holding her hands, waiting.

Matt hears it when she decides. Her heartbeat picks up a bit, she bites her lower lip and leans forward, kissing him softly, a press of her lips on his.

Her fingers are still wet from when she washed her face, they’re cold as she raises her hands to weave them inside his hair. Slowly, she leans back, her arms around his neck, his around her.

“Ok.”

[edourado]

Karedevil prompt: OK, this just came to me this morning, with winter descending upon us and me trying to fight off a cold; I've read several "Karen takes care of Matt while he's sick" fics, but I'd love to see a "Matt takes care of (or at least attempts to) Karen".

Hello, Anon. Yes, I’m aware that winter has come and gone for you (I’m assuming). But here I am, and here it is, your prompt, finally. 

It took an angsty turn. I’m sorry, I know you were hoping for fluff, and I fully intended to write it, but there, out of nowhere, I had ten pages of angsty stuff. Hope you like it, anyway. 

Enjoy, and thanks for your prompt ♥

No Love Left to Waste

Matt knew that he deserved what he got from Karen and Foggy these days. 

Everything that had happened that year was complicated. The presence of Elektra made him do some pretty stupid shit, like lying to his business partner and secretary, legal assistant, girlfriend. His friends. Yes, there was a ton of shit within himself he had to sort out.  Yes, Elektra did help him realise that he could not keep what he had going on up for much longer. Yes, everything was a mess. 

Yes, he fucked up. And no, it was not Foggy’s fault. Nor was it Karen’s.

He understood she needed time. She was not as mad as she had been, initially, once he explained, once he told her, once he came clean. She was hurt - didn’t tell him, but he could feel it. He felt it every time she moved or spoke or blinked or swallowed or tried to hide it.

She was not mad, but she was not too happy, either. They talked, she helped him, he helped her, she even smiled here and there. But it was still so strange, there was this huge gap that wasn’t there before.

That’s why he understood when he had to find out through Foggy that she was sick as a dog, caught too many times under the harsh winter weather.

“Why do you smell like chicken?” he had asked Foggy when they met in his fancy office on Wednesday, after hours.

“Oh”, he said, typing on his office computer. “I took some soup to Karen at lunch. She’s super sick, poor thing. Oh, shit, I’m in. I’m hacking my office. No big deal.”

They went to work after that, collecting important information Matt needed (well, Jessica needed), counting the minutes until the cameras started working again.

Almost two hours later, they walked out, Matt waving his cane around and holding Foggy’s arm, for the security guard’s benefit. No way the new goofy, technologically challenged and harmless looking guy and his blind friend had anything to do with the cameras powering down, right?

“So Karen’s sick?” he asked once they reached the sidewalk.

“Yeah”, Foggy confirmed. “I told her to take care of herself, but you know that one. Once she sets her mind on something…” 

Matt tried not to be obvious about the fact that he didn’t know about that.

“How you guys doing?” Foggy asked and Matt raised his brows, sighing.

“Ok, I guess.”

”Yeah, sure, that totally sounds true.”

“I don’t know, man”, he said. “I told her everything, she had a bunch of questions, I did my best to answer them, she understood. It’s just…”

“Not the same.”

“Yeah. And she’s not, like, lying to me or pushing me away or anything, but she’s… Closed off.”

They walked a few steps further.

“I think she needs some time, man. It’s a lot to process, what with Elektra and what happened between you guys and everything…”

“Yeah”, he said, feeling the wind pick up and sting his face. “Yeah, I know.”

Foggy got in a cab and Matt got in another. After giving his address to the driver, he sat back and thought about his current situation with Karen.

He knew, of course he knew, that seeing Elektra in his bed stung. And, after he told her and explained why she was there, it didn’t make it any better. Karen is an intelligent woman. She did not ask him further about their involvement, just took what he offered and that was enough for her to reach her own - the right - conclusions.

“We were not…” he had told her. “We were not involved, Karen, not anymore. She had been poisoned, Stick had just saved her life.”

She had stood there, hip against the empty office window, arms crossed, looking at him, thinking about it, not mad, not angry, listening, but closed off, reserved, hurt, she was still very hurt.

“I believe you”, she said when he started promising her he was telling the truth.

And, his senses always so sharp, he heard what she didn’t say.

“I actually don’t.”

And maybe his senses were super humanly sharp, but, in that moment, he wondered if Karen‘s were, too, since, even as he did not tell her of all the intimate moments he had shared with Elektra these past few months (the decoy kiss, the innuendos, the jokes, the mapping of each other’s scars, plans of running away together), she seemed to see them, to watch those moments as he remembered them.

Since then, that tension remained. For the rest of their talk, all throughout their next ones, even when she tried to act like it was OK, when he tried to tell himself he was imagining it.

Almost a year later and it was still there. And now she was sick,enough to miss work and enough to make Foggy use his lunch break to get her soup.

The cab left him in front of his building, and he climbed the stairs and walked through his own door in a haze.

A year ago, he would not have to find out by someone else. A year ago, he would have heard it in her voice, felt the extra heat of her skin, he would have known just by being in her presence.

Now, he didn’t know because she kept their contact to a minimum. And he couldn’t blame her, but accepting it was proving to be a challenge, too.

He changed into casual clothes and walked out again, hoodie over his head, hiding his face.

When Matt got to the corner of her street, he walked towards the alley that gave him access to her fire escape.

It didn’t take long for him to locate her. Her apartment was quiet, there was no movement, aside from her laboured breathing. She was in bed, surrounded by an armour made of blankets and pillows, almost fully asleep.

Matt thought about taking the main entrance, climbing the stairs and knocking, giving her the chance to refuse him. But she was warm in her bed, all tucked in, he didn’t want to make her move.

After that conclusion, the obvious, sound, right call would be for him to leave, call her tomorrow. But he was here and he could hear her and, he realized, his chest ached with her absence.

When he got to her window, he almost smiled. It was cracked open, a thin gap letting frigid air inside. She had been taken so many times, so many people have come for her, and here she was, leaving her window open while she lied there in her bed, ready for plucking.

Or, he noticed while opening it and swinging a leg inside, maybe not so ready. There was a gun inside her bedside table drawer, fully loaded.

Even if Matt couldn’t smell traces of gunpowder and strong coffee, he could smell Frank Castle’s influence.

Walking in and closing the window, he stood in place for a few seconds, debating if he should leave, if he should stay, if he should let her know he was there.

When she let out a series of sneezes and a moan-like little cry, he swallowed and walked to her, until he was sitting on the edge of her bed, with her facing him, lying on her side, wrapped in her blankets like a fat burrito.

Matt took his hand to her hair and almost sighed when the strands moved against his fingers and his palm. He missed that feeling so much.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, groggy, half asleep, softly, after opening her eyes slowly.

“I heard you were sick”, he said, something in his chest tightening, he missed her so much. “Wanted to see if you were ok.”

Sniffing, Karen didn’t move or protest when his hand went to her face, thumb tracing her features.

“You shouldn’t leave your window open”, he said, something like warm water running inside him, relief, maybe, that she wasn’t kicking him out.

Her eyes closed, Karen chuckled.

“Frank said the same thing.”

He knew Frank had been there. By the feel of it, he was a regular visitor. But hearing her talk about him so casually, confirming what he already knew, it almost physically hurt him.

He was jealous, Matt realized.

“Was he the one that gave you the gun?” he asked, trying not to betray his feelings, his thumb still caressing her face.

“No, that’s mine”, she said, taking a hand from inside her blanket cocoon and wiping her nose with a crumpled tissue. “He just brought me a new box of bullets.”

He had a thousand things he wanted to say to that. Most of them, he knew very well, were just out of jealousy.

He knew Frank well, by now. Knew what he had done for her, how he had saved her, knew he was not dangerous to her. But the urge to go off and tell her to stay away from Frank at all times was there, on the tip of his tongue, because he’s dangerous, he’s unpredictable, unstable, his enemies are dangerous and powerful, she could become a target, he could-

“He made me a shitload of soup”, she said, hiding her face inside her blankets right after, a fit of cough overtaking her. “Shit, I hate this”, she said, and Matt couldn’t think about the extent of her relationship with Frank right now - he had no right to think about it.

“Have you been to a doctor, Karen?”

“It’s just a cold”, she said, rubbing her nose. “I don’t need a doctor.”

Sighing, Matt reached inside his pocket for his phone. He would much rather call Claire, but he took up so much for her free time as it was, and he knew she was busy with Luke tonight, one of Rand’s hires would have to do.

Karen complained when the doctor answered the phone and Matt asked if she could do a house call. She insisted that she didn’t need to see anyone, reaching out for more tissues, coughing and sneezing, freezing.

“You have a fever, Karen”, he said, hand on her forehead, so glad she didn’t bat it away. “It’ll be quick.”

He stood there while the older doctor examined her, stethoscope to her chest and back, measuring her temperature, asking questions.

“She needs a lot of rest, regular intake of fluids and healthy food”, she told Matt. “This is a prescription for some pills, the ones she’s taking won’t do much good”, she handed him the piece of paper. “Make sure she’s warm, but  you should let some air in.”

“Thank you, doctor”, he said, walking the woman to the door.

Matt closed the door and turned around to walk back to Karen’s bedroom. He found her sitting in bed, the covers away from her, the window open again.

“This is not helping, you know?” he said, walking to it and closing it, leaving the bare minimum for some air to come and ventilate the place.

“I don’t- she said, moving to get her hair out of her face. “I don’t feel comfortable. My body hurts.”

“I know”, he said, walking to her bed, not really knowing what to do.

What he wanted to do was sit by her and wrap her in his arms, touch her head to his chest and not let go of her until she felt better. But, given her aforementioned lack of comfort, cuddling him would be the very last thing she wanted to do.

“Are you hungry?” he asked instead and she sighed, annoyed.

“No. But I have to eat, I guess.”

“You do”, he said, moving to help her up, and it was such a small thing, but he wanted to smile when she accepted his hand. “We’ll warm up some of Foggy’s chicken soup”, he tried joking, lifting her from her bed slowly.

“Frank ate that”, she said, and he could swear he heard a hint of a smile in her voice. “Said he knew Foggy meant well, but ‘store bought shit it’s only gonna make you sicker’.”

“And then he made you soup?” Matt asked, trying not to betray annoyance.

“Yes. Like a ton of it.”

It was, indeed,  in a huge pot over her stove, and it actually smelled pretty nice. It was, Matt assessed, lukewarm.

He actually opened his mouth to ask if Frank did this a lot. Came in and made himself at home at her apartment, or if he cooked for her a lot. Ask what else he did. He doubted she would dignify his questions with answers, so he just closed it again.

“If you want to eat in bed, I can take it for you”, he offered after she groaned to sit on one of the kitchen chairs.

“Yeah, ok.”

Turning around, she walked out of the kitchen, sneezing twice on her way back to bed.

He took a bowl full of - surprisingly rich - soup for her, sitting at the foot of the bed while she ate. When he came back from the kitchen a second time, with a glass of water for her, he found her asleep, her breathing heavy and her skin still too warm.

MInutes later and he was closing the door after himself, running downstairs to the first drug store he could find to get her pills, along with some chocolate things he knew she liked. When he came back, she was still sleeping.

“Karen”, he called softly, a hand on her forehead, moving some hair away from her face. “You have to take your pills.”

“Hmm”, was all she said, before sniffing and going right back to sleep.

Sighing, Matt opened the boxes and had all the four pills she needed to take in his hand when he tried again.

“Karen. Come on, just take your pills and then you can go back to sleep.”

She took a deep breath and moved her arm from inside her blankets, asking for the pills, blinking. He gave her one by one, and she took sips of water to swallow them, and then turned around to go back to sleep when she was done.

“Can you dim the lights?” she asked. “It’s too bright.”

There was only one lamp on, on the bedside table near her window. Matt walked to it and switched it off, leaving the room in complete darkness - not that it mattered to him.

Walking outside to refresh her glass of water, he rested his hands on the counter and took a deep breath.

She doesn’t seem to mind having him in her space. Yes, being sick is taking up most of her attention, but given Karen’s history, he would think she’d put up some sort of fight. Maybe things are finally starting to go back to normal, they can go back to their normal, maybe they can-

Maybe…

Maybe him being there is of no consequence to her. Maybe the way things ended between them didn’t bother her anymore because she was over it. Maybe she didn’t have time to think about it, with Frank Castle stopping by and making her soup and going with her to meet a source for one of her stories or lingering around her long enough Matt could smell traces of her perfume on him when they met, sometimes, on random rooftops.

Maybe.

Even while he told himself not to do it, he focused on the inner walls of her apartment, on the traces left in the carpet, looking for signs that another pair of shoes walked around, looking for bigger clothes in her coat closet, looking for something that didn’t belong, looking for something.

He found plenty, but not enough.

There was a box of bullets, sealed, but she had told him Frank brought it for her. There was a first aid kit stocked with enough medicine and equipment to put a few nurses to shame. There was a dog leash inside a bag, and Matt does not remember Karen owning a dog.

Still. That proved nothing. And, even if it did, why was it any of his business.

With his attention back inside her bedroom, Matt listened and moved to make her a warm cup of tea. She was about to wake up.

Just in time, she started coughing when he was halfway to her bedroom again. 

After taking a few sips, Karen placed the cup on the bedside table and lied on her side, facing him, who sat on the floor by her bed.

She looked at him for a while and he felt her eyes wandering his face.

“Why are you here, Matt?” she asked, voice so small.

There were many answers to that. “Because you’re sick”, “Because I was worried”, “Because I miss you”. None of those, however, were the whole truth. 

“Because I lost you”, was what he said, sitting there on her floor, his back against the cold wall, glad the apartment was dark, so she couldn’t really see him that well. “And it’s killing me

The “I don’t care” he said to Elektra when she expressed being sorry he lost everything rang loud in his ears, and he wondered again if Karen couldn’t read his mind.

She stayed silent for another few seconds and he could swear her eyes were drilling holes in his skin. 

“I lost you first.”

Matt felt his breathing changing, that something inside his chest tightening again.

“And it killed me, too. Because I didn’t know why it was happening.”

He didn’t need evidence of all that had gone wrong with them, he knew it all. Hearing her say it was not any easier because of it, though.

“That’s because you didn’t have me, then”, he admitted. “Not all of me.”

He wanted to move, to get up from the floor and climb in bed with her, hold her tight to him, make up for all the time they lost, all that time he could have had her, they could have had each other.

“Frank said I loved you”, she whispered and it was like a small, tiny electric shock inside him. “And maybe I thought I did. I don’t know.”

His hands closed in fists around nothing, but when she moved to get another sip of her tea, it unlocked him from his immobile state against the wall.

“There’s too much we don’t know about each other”, she continued. “Even if I did love you, it wasn’t the real you. Maybe it was the idea of you.”

When she placed the mug back down, he was sitting with his arm supported on her mattress, his chin on top of his own hand, and her face was close to his when she lied back down.

“I loved the idea of you, too”, he said, running the tip of his fingers on her hair, like he always wanted to do, always, always, since day one. “I didn’t take the time to know you for real. Only what you made me feel.”

She sighed and went on looking at his face in the dark.

“It wasn’t just you”, she said, so small, almost afraid. “I didn’t tell you a lot of things.”

He wanted to ask why not, but he felt as if his voice would shatter the spell.

“I don’t know if you would be able to love the real me”, she said, almost as if it was a secret, her voice small and tight.

His whole body ached to hold her, to wrap his arms around her and not let go anymore, for anything.

Instead, he just sat there on her floor, his fingers on her hair, trying to fix his life.

“The parts of you I know, I already love”, he said and it felt more like a confession than anything he had ever said in church.

“Is that why you’re here?” Karen asked again, taking his hand from her hair, wrapping her fingers around his palm.

Matt nodded, closing his eyes, resting his face against her mattress, silently asking for everything.

“And because I want to love all of you.”

After a moment, she moved and he raised his head.

“Come here.”

Slowly, he got up from the floor and slipped in bed with her. She kept a small distance, a gap between them, to be closed later, if they so decided.

“Remember when I told you about my brother?” she started, and Matt nodded, listening, his whole focus right there, everything beyond the limits of her bed, forgotten and ignored.

.:.

When he woke up, it was morning, the day was happening outside, loud and fast and cold. Karen had her face tucked in his chest, wrapped around her blankets, his arms tight around her, his chin resting at the top of her head.

She had told him a lot about her. About who she was, what had happened to her, what she had done, cried (even when she tried not to) and he had finally surrendered to that urge to press her to him, to hold and protect her from everything, that urge that she always rejected, she didn’t need his protection, but it was there, inside him, nonetheless.

Checking his wristwatch, there was still half an hour to go before she had to take her pills again. He should get up to get her some food, heat up the stupid soup Frank had made, make her eat.

Settling on the decision of five more minutes, he ran a hand on her hair one more time, that certainty inside of him intensifying with every passing second.

He loved all of her.

[edourado]

The Cabin (part 2)

Here I am! Friday-almost-Saturday, but it still counts as the “next week”! Deadlines, man. Deadlines. 

Here’s the second part of your Christmas gift, @shipsabound! Hope you enjoy it! I really liked writing it! 

Also, happy New Year!

Muah!

She kept saying that he needed a haircut. But, if not getting one meant she was going to keep weaving her fingers through it every time he was within her grasp… Well, he was just not gonna get one.

He should not like that so much. Sure, he had always liked it, the feeling of someone’s hand (preferably a lady’s hand) in his hair. Maria used it all the time as a trick to get him into doing something she wanted, to get him into bed, to get him to fall asleep, to calm him down.

Since her, however, he had, honest to God, forgotten he liked that so much. Plus, it’s not like his army regulation buzz cut allowed for much… Playing. Since he became the Punisher, though, and had to go underground for a while, his hair care had faltered a bit. And he did mean to fix that, he really did. But he never got around to it, and it actually helped him go unnoticed, so he kept postponing it.

He did get rid of the beard. Told himself that it was more practical, but he knew, deep down, that it was because of the way she kept frowning at it when they first met after all those months.

“You’re a mess, Frank”, she had said, finally, once she got up from that bench, heels click clacking on the floor, hair up in a neat bun and God. She looked so good. “You need to shave.”

So he did. For convenience, he kept repeating to himself. Not for Karen.

(It was for Karen. One hundred per cent, for Karen. But that fact would die with him.)

The haircut, though, kept being put off. And she didn’t seem to mind that so much, so that was that.

But he did, in the end, decide he needed to, at least, trim it down. It was getting out of hand, he actually had to move it aside once when he was shooting a pervert. Didn’t affect his aim, the scumbag dropped right where Frank wanted him to (at the feet of his abused wife), but the fact that he did have to brush it aside meant he needed a trim.

And then, of course, she had to go and become Kyle Pretchett newest, biggest obsession, so he and Max moved in with her until he got the cabin in the woods for them. Frank wasn’t a man to hide, but Karen was too important for him to gamble with her life. He knew that he could end Kyle five minutes, but she mattered more. Her safety mattered more. So off he went, away to the woods with her, his dog and his truck. Let Red take the lead on this one, he didn’t mind.

He didn’t mind it at all, actually. It was nice to see Max running around, for a change, he didn’t get to do that a lot in the city. Frank laughed at his attempts to hunt squirrels, his less than gracious spins on the frozen lake in front of the cabin, his rolling on the fresh snow.

And Karen, well. No one in the planet would say that she was a target. She hummed in the kitchen, poured them glasses of wine, smirked at him, sat on the floor with Max, endless questions of “who’s a good boy”, her blonde hair shining in the winter light.

They were already close, but they got closer even before they got out of the city. He took her hand to keep her close to him when they were in public, the official reason being that it was in case he needed to pull her out of the way quickly. The real one was that he liked the feel of her fingers around his.

Like pieces on a puzzle, they arranged themselves comfortably, perfectly. In the diners, his arm would curve around the back of the booths, around her shoulders, her right side always pressed to him. In the car, she would reach to him and feed him chips, chocolate, beef jerky, cookies, bites of her burger, forkfuls of her salad, french fries.

And he would stand behind her, guiding her around the improvised shooting range he put together for her, because she wanted to “learn” (she was a pretty good shot. His praises would tint her cheeks red, that smile a prize for him, every time). He would whisper the steps of dismantling her gun and putting it back together, cleaning it, counting bullets, teaching her about his own guns, safety, chamber, kick, aim, he was there in her ear, drinking wine, getting drunk on her perfume, falling asleep on the couch, waking up with her curled up to him, her face in his neck, ankle twisted around his.

Yes, Frank was there to protect her, he would always be, as long as he could breathe. But did he enjoy her proximity, her touches? Did he like to know how her skin felt under his fingers? Did he like to smell her shampoo way  more often that it was normal?

You can bet your ass he did.

Red called with the news. Good news, of course, Kyle had been found, had been shot, was in a coma. Frank had half a mind to drive back to New York and finish the job himself, but Karen was lying there on the couch with him, pressed against him, smiling at him, looking at him, it was snowing outside, they had a ton of food in the fridge, wine to drink, a cabin all to themselves, shit, they were not going back.

After they agreed to wait, after she had snuggled up further into him, after he let his hand wander up her back, in her hair, his leg around hers, her breath on his neck, the shy tip of her fingers touching his jaw, they fell asleep on the couch again, too wrapped up in each other, they both knew it, this was too intimate, the way he looked at her was too intimate, the way she opened up was too intimate.

But there they were. Too intimate. Fine with it.

A few lines had been crossed already, they both knew this was more than just a friendship. Still, he felt like he needed a solid excuse to keep advancing. It was the holidays, Christmas time, some mistletoes were bound to be hung around this city. That would be nice.

But no. No mistletoes. Not a one. They went to different diners, they went to different stores, they stopped at random gas station stores. Nothing. Christmas came and went and it was like the universe was telling him to step up his game.

He thought about Maria, and the one time her brother had used the typical Christmas custom to make a move on a girl.

“Ugh”, she had said to Frank, watching the whole thing. “Seriously. He needs to up his game. Mistletoe, really? How high school.”

He had to laugh when he remembered it. Okay, babe. Point taken.  

So that was a bust. He would have to figure out another way. It was becoming difficult to resist, especially when she would keep nursing those glasses of wine, lips taking a lovely, enticing red stain. Especially when she would keep running her fingers through his hair like that, while she sat there on the couch, already tipsy, lazily running her nails from the base of his scalp to the middle of his head, behind his ear, slow little scratches that had him shivering down his spine.

“You need a haircut”, she said, voice slow, so slow, the wine was making her mellow, the snow and the cold outside making her soft, the fire he started on the fireplace every night making her warm.

“Do I?” he asked, letting his eyes fall closed when she kept on with her caress.

“Mm-hmm”, she hummed, hand travelling down his neck, now, going around and stopping on his chest, pulling until his back rested against the couch she was laying on and her mouth was right there on his ear. “You never stop working?” she asked.

Frank eyed the guns he had been cleaning, the pieces of them scattered around the coffee table.

“Keeps me busy”, he said, turning his face, looking at hers, those electric blue eyes staring at him, cheeks tinted pink, lips stained red.

He wondered, just then, what her tongue would taste like.

“Hmm”, was her only reply, but he heard the comment she wanted to make. He heard her offer of keeping him busy some other way.

He was staring at the way her teeth pulled on her lower lip, paying close and undivided attention to the movement when his phone vibrated on the floor. He actually let out an annoyed breath and her timid smile only made him want to close that gap a little faster.

“It’s Matt”, she said, after taking a peek at the caller id.

“Of course it is”, he sighed cursing the timing of the man. “Yes, Red, what is it?”

It was nothing. Absolutely nothing. He just wanted to know if everything was ok, if they needed anything, wanted to speak to Karen. Basically he just called to be in the way.

Karen’s voice was soft on the phone, answering his questions, assuring him that she was “fine, I promise”. Her eyes on Frank, and then on the ceiling, when she moved to lie more comfortably on the couch, not on her side like she had been, and Frank wanted to roll his eyes when she laughed of a joke, told him “don’t worry, Matt”, too soft.

When she handed the phone back to him, getting up and walking towards the kitchen, he watched as her hips swayed with each step.

“Is she drunk?” Red asked.

“Lil bit”, Frank replied, watching as Max pranced after her, pressing his face to her leg, wanting attention. He knew the feeling. “She’s fine, though.”

“Ok”, Red seemed to be weighing the fact. “Ok, then. Just...”

He missed Karen. Frank could tell. Well, tough shit, buddy. He was not giving her back anytime soon.

“Call me if you need anything, ok?”

“Sure thing, Red. Good night, now.”

Frank finished the call and got up to go after her in the kitchen. She had a piece of toast in her hand, covered in whatever dip she had picked up at their last trip to the market.

“I have an idea”, she said, cheeks so red, reaching out and touching her toast to his mouth, so he had no choice but take a bite. Guacamole. Not the best one he had tasted. “Let’s ice skate.”

He scoffed, chewing and swallowing, shaking his head.

“No.”

“Why not?!”

“First of all”, he said, going back to the living room. “We don’t have skates.”

“Yes, we do! I found some in the closet in my bedroom!”

She whined and pulled on his hand, saying “please” over and over, and Max bit on the fabric of his pant leg, pulling, apparently copying her move, just because.

Finally, he sighed, let himself be pulled, looked her in the eyes, said “ok.”

She squealed, ran to get the skates and in less than 10 minutes, he was watching as she took tentative steps on the ice, arms out around her, gloves and puffy coat and wool beanie on her head making him smile, watching from the edge, hands on his pockets.

It was a bit dark, only the lights of the house and the truck lighting the frozen lake. Max ran and slid after Karen, spinning around her, stumbling and falling, just going with it and gliding on his back.

She laughed and he tried not to when she stumbled, almost falling, but catching herself. Looking at him, she reached out her hand and he found himself moving towards her, taking it, letting himself be pulled, steading her when she would falter, pulling on her hand, making her spin and glide, smiling to himself when she would laugh out loud.

“You’re good at this”, she said, holding his right hand with both of hers, trying to skate backwards.

Frank shrugged.

“Lisa loved it.”

Eyes on him, she smiled.

“I feel like Lisa and I would have been good friends”, she said, pulling him, looking behind her, watching where she was going.

“Yeah”, he agreed, musing at the fact that the memory of his daughter, his son and his late wife didn’t hurt as much when he was around her. “I think so, too.”

Max had already rushed back inside, probably too cold to keep running around them. He’s pulling her by the hand a bit, making jokes about how he’s gonna have her shooting a few targets from here, making her giggle, watching her hair flying behind her and he cheeks get too red from the cold wind.  

Fuck, he’s ridiculous.

The main thing about their stay here, Frank noticed, is that time slipped away from them easily. Not that they ran out of it (they’re blissfully, happily without a deadline to go back to the city), they just keep losing track of the hours, the days. They woke up and had breakfast at noon, lunch at five, dinner at one in the morning, went to bed at three, sometimes four, sometimes just when the sun would start rising.

They only realized it was Christmas when she looked at her phone on the 25th, around eleven in the morning, while he flipped them some pancakes.

“Oh, hey!” she exclaimed from the table, lifting her face from the phone, smiling at him. “Merry Christmas, Frank!”

She had placed a kiss on his cheek a proceeded to bake cookies. “Christmas cookies”.

Now, right when he was holding her hand, their arms extended and she was balancing in one foot, they heard fireworks, far away. Looking up, they could spot the lights behind the trees, back in the city.

They slid to a stop on the ice, and she looked at his face when they halted, standing close to him, fingers squeezing him.

“Happy New Year, Frank. Apparently.”

There they were, too close together again, he saw his hand rising to her hair, like it would, on it’s own , her skin and his fingertips cold, their breaths condensing before them.

“Happy New Year, ma’am”, he replied, not too loud, because she was right there, so close.

God, he wanted to kiss her.

One flick of blue eyes to his lips and he was leaning, her breath was catching slightly, and his mouth was touching hers, his chest was warm from the inside out, the tip of his tongue touched hers, she sighed in his mouth, shit, shit, he was gone.

New Year kisses were supposed to be chaste. A peck. Quick, not this long, slow, intense thing, full of tongues and nibbles and sighs and moans.

Alas, there they were. He had one hand on the nape of her neck, a bunch of her hair caught in it, keeping her face against him. Her own were on his waist, fingers hooked on his belt loops, and on his chest, pulling on the flap of his coat, opening her mouth to his, swiping her tongue against his, feeling so good, she felt so good, he had no business enjoy how good she felt.

A gust of frigid wind blew then, hitting them from the side and she gasped.

“Oh, my God, I’m freezing”, she said against his face, laughing, and he leaned further to get another kiss, a long press of his lips against hers, before turning around and pulling her off the ice.

They removed their skates on the porch and she ran inside, rushing back in, where it was warm. Max, smart dog that he is, was curled up in front of the fireplace, the chew toy Karen had given him between his paws.

“Oh, shit”, Karen was saying, rubbing her hands together, standing in the middle of the living room. “My toes are frozen.”

He walked to her, caught her face in his hands and resumed their New Year kiss. She had her hands climbing his chest towards his neck when he took a step further, making her take one back.

He didn’t even feel her unzipping his coat, just felt when her hands rose to his shoulders, pushing it off, and he had to let go of her to get rid of the thing. When they reached the couch, he turned them around and sat down, her lips, slightly swollen already, making his insides twist, his blood running a little faster.

“C’mere”, he called, pulling on her hand.

She sat down by his side and he pulled her legs over his, taking the time to remove her cold socks, rubbing his palms on her soles. He was going to wrap them on the blanket they kept on the couch, but she pulled on his arm, making him lean towards her, pulling him by the neck when he was close enough, opening her mouth on his in the most delicious way, pulling him on top of her, settling her legs on each side of him.

Her body under his felt too good, too fast. He moved his arms to support his own weight, to pull back a little, but she arched towards him, tossing her head back and, suddenly, he was latched on to her neck, kissing and biting and sucking a little bit.

“Ma’am”, he tried, after a minute or two, pulling back again.

“Hmm, shh, no, no ‘ma’am’”, she interrupted, playing dirty, sucking his earlobe inside her mouth, running the tip of her tongue over it.

He chuckled.

“Don’t shush me”. It came out as a warning, almost.

“Why not? You shush me at least five times a day”, she said, looking at his eyes when he lifted his head to look at her, a stupid smile on, he could feel just how stupid it was.

“Do I?”

Instead of answering, she lifted her own head, capturing his lips with hers again, and Frank kissed her back. Because how could he not?

He should not, of course, but that was a problem for the city, for later. Not for here, for now.

For now, the problem is weather to keep kissing her, running his hands up her covered legs, her sides, a strip of skin under his fingers at the limit of her thick sweatpants and the hem of her top, or to work on warming her feet up.

Karen decided for him, moaning under him like that, both her legs tight around his, one of her hands under his shirt, going around his back, fingers working through his hair that way that made him shiver and moan himself.

Max, on the other hand, had other ideas. Frank had heard him whining a little, but had paid no attention until he felt his cold, wet snout on his cheek, the crying sounds right there by their side, one of his paws trying to pull his hand from Karen’s hair.  

“What, man, what?” Frank complained, looking at the dog while Karen went “aaw!” and reached her hand to pet him. “Go play, Max, come on”, he said, waving him off, throwing one of Karen’s discarded socks for him to fetch.

It worked for a few seconds. When Max ran to get it, Frank went back to his task, licking a path up her neck until he reached her mouth again, lifting one of her knees on his side to better adjust her against him, rolling his hips a little, enjoying the sound she made.

Until, there was Max again, licking his cheek, catching a bit of the fabric of Karen’s sleeve between his teeth and pulling, groaning, now.

“Oh, that’s just rich, isn’t it”, Frank complained, looking at him again. “What do you want, dude?”

Karen, with both her legs still around him, looked and reached to Max again, rubbing his ear.

“I think he’s a little jealous”, she said.

Max sat there, enjoying the petting, eyes almost closed, but not quite. He was watching Frank. Smug little bastard.

As an experiment of sorts, he turned Karen’s face to his again, touching his mouths to hers and, sure enough, his dog complained again, sticking his face between theirs, this time not stopping until he successfully separated him from Karen, climbing the couch and wiggling between them until Frank was off her and sitting on the other end, one of his feet touching the rug, and Max was settled on her stomach, a very solid barrier.

Karen laughed and Frank groaned.

“Awesome. Great, buddy, that’s just great.”

He got up, pecking Karen’s lips quickly, before Max could stop him, and pried the dog off her, walking towards the kitchen.

Opening the fridge, he got the big chunk of meat he had bought the day before and was planning to grill for them on the next day.

“I can’t believe I have to bribe you, now”, he said, taking the meat off the plastic and showing it to Max, who sat, already eager, waiting for instructions (a treat like that only came after he had performed some sort of task for Frank). “I’ll give you this. You’re gonna eat it. And then you’re gonna go to sleep. Got it?”

Max blinked, eyes fixed on his prize.

“Max. Eat it and then sleep. You got it?”

With a huff Frank took as an affirmative answer, he placed the prime quality beef on his plate by the door, watching as Max picked it up and went to gnaw on it on his prefered spot in the kitchen: in front of the stove, where was warm.

Frank washed his hands quickly on the sink and then turned to walk back into the living room, where Karen was still draped on the couch, turned around to watch them, a smile on her face. Her coat was gone, discarded on the floor.

Before he could say anything - think anything, really - she reached her hand out for his. When he took it, she pulled him back on top of her, smiling and biting that lower lip, hand inside his hair again, oh, shit, yes, there was nothing to think about. Nothing to say.

In the middle of the night, when he was having fun watching her squirm under him (after he drove like a maniac to the closest 24h convenience store to pick up a box of condoms), he realized that he does shush her a lot. When she let out a particularly loud moan, he placed his hand over her mouth, shushing her, watching as she closed her eyes, biting on the fleshy part of his palm.  

She didn’t seem to mind the shushing right then, with her right hand on the headboard to give her some leverage against him, the left one in his hair again, tugging so nicely.

He was definitely postponing that haircut again.