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The bedroom felt like it was 110°, hotter than a New York City summer should’ve been.
But that didn’t matter to Frank and Karen.
They had kicked off the sheets hours ago—rounds ago, even— and now all that remained was them, entangled skin on skin.
Their breathing was still settling to normal levels, chests still heaving as they lay, nearly drifting off. A thin sheen of sweat shimmered on Karen’s brow as her flushed and lazy smile shone back at him. She always seemed to find the perfect way to curl herself under his arm, in the kinds of positions he couldn’t believe were actually comfortable.
But that was Karen, finding the odd way around.
And Frank considered himself part of that history of hers too, almost proudly, as she smiled at him in the dark, fingers skating over his still-hot skin.
It’d been a few years since they’d been like this— though there was nothing quite like this, he thought. The ease between them, all the cards on the table, the warm thrum of familiarity that drew them together like magnets? It had never been this strong.
But things had changed a lot, and the fears and worries that had been there at the beginning had faded with time. They’d put a couple of years between them and the headlines, only doing out-of-town small jobs and the occasional hometown gig. The locals didn’t recognize him much anymore with his new lumberjack look— though there had been the occasional convict outing themselves in broad daylight.
Runners, he called them.
But those were few and far between these days. Far enough that Frank didn’t immediately shoot down Karen’s offer to move in permanently, instead of trying to assure her he’d be out of her hair with the next job.
The prospect of lazy afternoons like this one might’ve helped convince him.
“Have you, um,” Karen seemed to lose her resolve, big blue eyes dropping to the comforter as she picked at a loose thread in the fabric. “Have you thought about whether you want to go to the thing at Matt’s next week?”
He’d been wondering what she’d been trying to sweet-talk him for. Cooking his favourite dinner and cleaning up, the cozy cuddling on the couch and letting him pick the move. The signs were all these, practically lit up in neon lights.
Those coy, quiet little Karen Page ways of trying to get what she wanted out of him.
“The party?”
He parroted back, watching the faint cringe spread across her face as she nodded.
It was no secret Frank Castle would have rather been anywhere but a party.
He could just picture it now: sweltering, all these people crowded in like sardines, in what would have been considered a larger-sized apartment for the city. Who did these things in the summer and thought it was a good idea? Probably people with better air conditioning than this, he’d hoped, at least.
Frank could just imagine the buzz of the chatter, nervously tugging at his collar until his eyes happened upon that familiar shade of blonde…
“Hey,” Karen said with a smile. A real one, soft and a little sad, stretching end to end as it cut through his thoughts. “We don’t have to go if you’re going to be miserable.”
Frank replied with a stubborn shake of his head and an innocent look, “Not miserable.”
“Huh, weird. Could have sworn that was your ‘I’d rather be anywhere but here’ face,” Karen shot back with a grin, swatting at his shoulder playfully with the back of her hand.
“‘M never miserable with you, Karen.”
He could help but mirror the smile that formed in response, huffing a grumbly laugh that underlined hers. That warm, breath chuckle that swam through his ears. He could’ve listened to it for hours.
And Frank did, when they could get away with it.
But back to the matter at hand— that hot, rashy feeling starting to fade the more he looked into those big blue eyes. Shaking his head, he sighed. There was no saying no to that face.
“So, what time is he supposed to…?” he gestured, not really knowing how these sorts of functions worked.
It had been a while since Frank Castle had been to a civilian party— a surprise party, no less.
“Get there?” Karen guessed. “I mean, Matt’s in charge, so it’s really anybody’s guess.”
Frank nearly asked her if he was supposed to be here. If she’d told his friends that they were seeing each other, or if they’d think it was weird he was here. Not that their opinion would have necessarily mattered, but these were Karen’s friends. They were practically as close as she had to family and—
“Uh, space cadet? Earth to Frank?”
Karen’s eyes glittered, catching him off guard as he sputtered, “Sorry, what were you saying?”
“The party?” Karen leaned in towards him and lowered her voice, “Listen, we don’t have to stay too long. I know you’re not big on crowds, but it’s only going to be ten people and at night.”
The worst part of close quarters, the part Karen might not even know herself, wasn’t the number of people or being able to trust them. Frank Castle wasn’t exactly looking forward to making small talk between worried glances and wide eyes at the Punisher’s arrival.
He felt like it might take away from the party vibes, as much as Karen tried to convince him otherwise.
Though, he really wasn’t that ashamed of his identity. It was much better than the devil horns, and custom coloured kevlar Red had been sporting lately.
After waiting a couple of beats for any kind of response, Karen added, “I swear, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t know we could trust—”
But this time, it was Frank’s turn to interrupt, cutting Karen off with a shake of his head.
“No, I want to be here. I want to meet your friends. I’m just nervous. I’ve been laying low for so long….”
It was a skin he couldn’t shed, the paranoid part of him whose skin itched in close quarters. Crowds he was fine with, crowds he could disappear into, even. But talking to people up close and make small talk—those little human traits he used to know so well… those were harder these days.
“I know.”
He’d been trying to ease his way back into society— small doses. Which was hard when Curt was breathing down his neck, trying to get him to come to meetings and talking about his feelings or some shit. And that was before he’d even decided to take Karen up on her offer.
Or rather, she wore him down enough to say yes.
Footsteps echoed in the hall, and Frank’s eyes locked on the front door as they headed in their direction. Karen pulled the sheets closer to her chest, leaning in closer as she asked, “What is it?”
He didn’t get to answer her.
There was a knock, a quiet “Frank?” and he could’ve groaned.
Karen stared at him curiously.
Speak of the devil.
All that talk of avoiding therapy speak, and of course, it had to be Curtis at the door, of all fuckin’ people. Karen wouldn’t have let it slip that he was staying here, so it must have just been Curt being his good ol’ nosey self.
“Damn it, Curt.”
The bastard.
Karen was halfway out of bed and reaching towards her sweatpants when Frank wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back into his chest with a squeak.
“Nope. As far as he’s concerned, we’re not home,” he murmured into her bare skin.
This was his kind of therapy and way better than talking about his feelings, as far as Frank was concerned. But Karen looked unsure, shifting in his hold until their noses were nearly touching. So he took to distracting her, trailing kisses across her skin.
“Oh.” Karen breathed, her breath hitching as Frank’s scruff brushed against her neck. “Are you sure?”
He couldn’t answer quick enough, “Dead sure.”
She feigned leaving with a mischievous smile, “We could invite him in. Hey, Cur—!”
With a playful huff, Frank decided to put her out of her misery, locking his lips to hers in a hasty bid to shut her up as she squealed. Karen seemed to get the hint, melting into his hold and running her fingers through the wiry hair on his nape. Her fingernails scratching the surface sent shivers down his spine.
It was enough to make him wonder if she was pushing for round two.
A few seconds later, the footsteps in the hall walked back towards the elevator and Frank all but let out a sigh of relief. Even as his phone buzzed with some guilt-inducing text message, no doubt.
“What’s with the disappearing act? It’s not like you to avoid Curt,” Karen murmured, her nose close enough to brush his cheek.
But Frank was happy to extend the honeymoon period a little longer.
“Trying to get some alone time before I have to be around people again,” Frank murmured, a warmth spreading in his chest the more he looked at her. “Figure I’ll hit my quota at this party of yours anyway.”
A coy smile flickered on her lips, but she still offered a cursory, “We don’t have to go to the party, Frank.”
“If you’re going, I’ll be there,” Frank assured, holding her gaze. “Where you go, I go.”
Karen squeezed his hands, “Even to Foggy’s surprise party?”
“Even to a stupid surprise party.”
This was their life now, after all. And Frank Castle wasn’t about to miss out on what might have been his only chance at this. As much as part of him wanted to run and hide at the thought of domestic bliss.
But he had to stop kidding himself.
“Then I’ll have to remember that if I want a kiss, I just have to run my mouth,” Karen added with a wry grin.
Frank smirked, “I’ll kiss you whenever you want, sweetheart. And other things, too, if you ask nicely.”