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A silk shirt? Frank felt ridiculous in it. It was cream with an abstract floral print that was made up of grays, dark green and blues. All spanning up and over his chest from his left hip. The word ‘flamboyant’ came to mind when he’d taken the time to stare at himself in the mirror before leaving his apartment.
The sales woman had insisted the shirt with some nice jeans was fashionable. Perfect for casual events that weren’t just a get together and weren’t quite black tie worthy. Frank was almost second guessing himself for not just being himself. An expected tee shirt and his jacket would have served just fine.
Frank kind of wanted to blend in. A little. He didn't actually care what people thought about him, but the less people that pinpointed the dark cloud the Punisher usually carried the better. He just felt like he’d traded his normal vibe to one that said ‘brooding peacock that likes cock’.
Now Frank didn't actually care if people knew he was bisexual or even that he was wearing fancy bedsheets. No, what he cared about was the fact that he cared. Since when had he gotten stressed out about what he was wearing?
The answer was never. Not even on his goddamn wedding day when he should have been worrying about making his shotgun marriage radiate believable, radiating love. One that he totally wasn’t trading in instantly for a real gun to escape.
Still, Matt couldn't see. The man he’d been casually hanging out with, platonically in the flesh and very much not platonically in the privacy of his own head. He didn't give a shit what he wore on any given day the same way he never had before. Frank had bought the fancy shirt anyway for… something. Maybe just to show Red that he could fit into his world that went beyond his vigilante stuff and stitches.
People watched Frank walking down the street. Raised their eyebrows in disbelief at him. Some let the corners of the mouths turn down in an unknown show of emotion. He felt the need to pop out his collar for confidence and comfort before remembering his stupid silk shirt didn't fucking have one.
Matt's bedsheets were silk. Frank knew how much the man appreciated them and found comfort in their texture. It was what had sealed the deal on buying the suggested shirt, because like the smitten fool he was he found himself wanting to be that too.
Frank knew he was so screwed. The next thing he knew, he'd end up down on one knee. Feelings were a lot different than jerking off in the shower to Matt’s sweat covered abs or plump ass in his tights.
Horror and anxiety swelled in Frank’s chest at his thoughts, as he reached the fancy restaurant Stark had bought out for the night. All to celebrate Peter earning his two bachelor degrees. Somehow Matt had developed some kind of paternal bond with the little nerd of a green bean. Spiderman seemed to make friends with everyone though like some social butterfly. Including fucking Deadpool.
As out of place as Frank felt reaching the velvet draped poles and black awning, if Wade Wilson was going to be there he’d be just fine. Knowing the walking talking dead, he’d probably show up in a fluffy unicorn onesie. Hopefully a red one because the odds were always high he’d shoot the guy. The best part was Matt never protested him putting a few in Deadpool when he was being extra annoying.
Frank mentally braced himself, seeing Nelson and what had to be his girl casually chatting in front of the French restaurant. She was dressed to the nines in a knee length high waisted black pencil shirt and white long sleeved blouse. Thankfully, Matt’s bestie was a little more down to earth wearing a fancy looking beige cardigan with a sleek black turtleneck.
Both of their eyes turned to him as he came to a stop in front of them, versus brushing right past them like he would have in almost any other scenario. He wasn’t exactly keen on going inside until he needed to this time. Yeah, Parker seemed like a good kid that worked hard and graduating with two degrees was awesome. Frank just wasn’t really a hybrid Stark college frat party kinda guy.
“This looks… fun,” Nelson offered, his smile more of an amused frown eyeing up his outfit.
“Not the word I would use, but okay,” Frank replied flatly, refusing to feel like an idiot. “Matt, inside?”
Nelson had slowly become accustomed to Matt and his friendship. It helped that they'd started off as reluctant allies. Now, they were just another dirty little secret that he preferred to pretend didn’t exist. The same way he did with Matt being Daredevil. However, when it came up casually instead of dramatically, it wasn’t a big deal anymore.
“Wouldn't you like to know handsome,” the woman hummed, resting an elbow on Nelson’s shoulder.
If Frank recalled correctly, this woman had to be Marci Stahl. She seemed to fit the bill and was hanging all up in Nelson’s space, even as she looked him over with a grin. He could tell she was studying him, sizing him up, instead of checking him out. Nelson didn’t seem to pick that up, his jaw dropping as he turned his face to her.
“Hey!” Nelson protested.
“Jealous?” Frank asked with a huff, tugging at the buttons over his stomach because he felt the farthest thing from handsome… more like he belonged in the funky music videos he liked to watch.
“You're a very handsome Foggy Bear,” Marci placated the guy. “Brooding danger isn't my style. If anything it’s Matt. He’s at the bar with some kind of stick up his ass. Try to get it out before dinner starts without replacing it with another.”
Nelson grimaced. A repulsed look took over his face. Frank lifted his chin in acknowledgement and walked inside, ignoring his horror at the idea they were involved like that. It would probably be the same as Matt’s, despite how much they always flirted. If it wasn’t for their fun back and forth he knew he wouldn’t have shown up, even if Peter had invited him directly one night the three of them were waiting together on a Brooklyn drug drop.
Walking inside, his eyes quickly adjusted to the low yellow lights that created an atmosphere with its dark blue walls and warm wood tables. He saw more people than he expected spaced out, talking with champagne glasses in their hands. Including Stark himself and a few kids that looked Peter’s age.
Frank wondered how many others in the place had super powers. Surely not all of them. So when he spotted Wilson, actually dressed in a black on black suit that was complete overkill compared to everyone else, he mourned the possibility of shooting him with the handgun in his waistband just for shits and giggles.
Finding Matt at the bar was easy enough. He was alone aside from two barkeepers that were busy working. Frank instantly knew something was wrong with him, even if he had no idea what. It’d been two days since they had hung out. Anything could have happened. It could just be Catholicism giving his brain a wedgy too.
“Heya Red,” Frank said, brushing up against him as he sat on the stool beside him.
Matt turned his empty tumbler around in his hand, but didn’t pick it up. Frank took a second to appreciate the guy’s look. He was wearing a dark blue knit sweater and cream colored slacks. The odds were Nelson had picked out his clothes, telling him Red probably hadn’t wanted to go out tonight.
“So there’s a stick up your ass I’m supposed to be removing?” Frank prompted, teased, singling a barkeep and just ordering a beer after Matt asked for two more fingers.
“You actually came,” Matt pointed out, deflected, reaching over to pat his wrist and his face instantly twisted into confusion, feeling the cuff of his shirt. “What… what are you wearing?”
“Fucking bedsheets,” Frank muttered, wishing he could find the will to yank his wrist out of Matt’s hold as he caressed it for a better feel and pinching some of the fabric between his fingers. “Shut up.”
Matt smiled. A small and soft smile. It was Frank’s favorite, just beating out his charming sly one because it was rare and innocent.
“I’m glad you came,” Matt said, letting his hand rest where it was on his wrist. “Peter will be too. I know he didn’t think you would.”
“I didn’t come for the kid,” Frank said, taking the dark honey colored beer mug from the barkeep with his left hand. “I mean, good for him, but…”
“Are you saying you came for me?” Matt interrupted, rubbing his shirt sleeve between his fingers again and Frank continued to let him because… well this was kinda what he’d gotten the shirt for in a way.
“If I was coming I wouldn’t be so goddamn tense,” Frank offered, taking a sip, hoping to keep lightening the mood because it was better for Matt to confess things in his own time.
“Oh, I can take care of that. I’ll suck the cream right out of that dick,” purred a voice right behind him. “I bet it’s thick.”
Frank almost snorted beer out of his nose due to taking a big approving swig of his fancy beer and being taken by surprise. Matt’s hand grabbing his elbow as his right hand instantly went for his gun, was the only thing that saved someone from getting shot. A good thing because he was distracted with his eyes watering, choking down the burn in his nose and the sudden extra salvia in his mouth from the instinct to spit his drink out.
“Back off Wade,” Matt said simply as he composed himself, and glancing behind him Deadpool in all his swagger was far too close for his own good.
“Look at him, you know, with your other four senses,” Wade said, dismissively making Frank scowl. “I’ve never seen Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome look like a creamy, fruit flavored popsicle. Yum.”
“Not in your entire goddamn life,” Frank told him flatly, wiping off his mouth with the napkin that appeared on the counter.
If he was capable of being disturbed, Frank would have been disturbed. No way in hell would he ever be any kind of involved with someone like Wade. He barely tolerated his existence, mostly because he could appreciate the crazy fuckers skill and at times his dark humor was amusing. Offering sexual favors was a sharp left turn from that.
“Come on, Peter’s trying to go steady with MJ and Logan skipped off to Madripoor,” Wade whined, throwing his head back dramatically. “Am I really going to travel half way around the world for a hook up? You need to relieve a little tension, I…”
Matt shot upright, standing between their seats and his hip pushing into his side before slipping behind him just a bit. It put space between Wade and him, which Frank definitely appreciated. Yeah, he was self-healing and probably didn’t have any diseases, but he couldn’t help thinking ‘ew’ to the idea of the guy touching him. He really, really, should have worn his jacket.
“He said, no,” Matt said slowly.
Frank could tell the man was internally seething. It made his insides go warm and fuzzy, because there was no denying Matt was being protective even if he was trying to wrap his head around that fact. All of it was a little strange really, because usually he tolerated Wade a lot better than he did.
“Calm the devil down Daddy,” Wade said playfully, seeming to surrender. “I didn’t know your baby girl was taken.”
“Baby girl?” Frank repeated dumbly, turning around, completely baffled at the idea of being referenced as ‘baby girl’ because ‘what the fuck?’.
“Taken,” Matt said over top of him, one word sounding as unmoving as a steel beam.
“If you guys get hammered and go fuck in the bathroom later can I watch?” Wade asked, waggling his non-existent eyebrows over Matt’s shoulder at him in undeterred typical shameless Deadpool fashion.
Again, not on his entire goddamn life wanted to leave Frank’s mouth. He wasn’t given time to answer, but that was fine. Matt seemed to know his answer. While they probably didn’t count as best friends, more like something else, the other man had started to understand him.
“No,” Matt answered for him, continuing to stand where he was.
“Come on Double D,” Wade protested lightly. “You two squeezed into a stall swapping handsies would be hot enough. Omg have you been able to get the big bad on his knees for the devil? I might just cream my pants watching that.”
“Spend a lot of time thinking about other people’s sex lives, ya pervert?” Frank asked, hoping Matt couldn’t sense a blush at the suggestion of them doing either of those things.
“Eh, it’s called being a voyager,” Wade shrugged, tapping the gold handle of his black cane against his shoulder. “... and you kinda remind me of Logan. If he was like a foot and a half taller.”
Frank didn’t know what to do with that information. He knew he was talking about the Wolverine and yeah, they had a few things in common from what he’d heard about him, but you couldn’t just replace one muscled dark haired asshole for another. Honestly, it sounded like Wade had a crush on the guy, which was none of his business.
Matt clearly thought the same by not replying to him. Although he might have sensed Peter jogging their way before Frank caught a glimpse of the kid speed walking, glancing around hesitantly. He was wearing a friggin green brown plaid suit vest with a matching paisley tie. Suddenly, he felt normal because at least he didn’t look like he’d fallen out of the 1860’s.
“Wade!” Peter hissed under his breath as he approached them.
The kid came to a squeaking halt beside Matt and Wade in his loafers. He seemed annoyed until he turned his attention to Matt, then to him. A wide smile took over his face.
“I’m glad you could make it!” Peter said brightly, genuinely seeming happy about their presence. “Frank you… you look nice?”
“Right?” Wade interjected, but Peter made a scolding noise that basically translated to ‘zip it’.
“Sorry guys. I’ll be over in a few or why don’t you come sit at the table? We’re waiting on a few more people. Just let me...” Peter trailed off, pointing at Wade before his smile dropped and he grabbed the man’s bright red tie.
Frank was impressed by Peter, wrapping the tie around his hand and physically pulling Wade away from them. Thank fuck. Scolding the guy as he was dragged across the room with a smug look on his face. It really showed off his hidden strength if anyone non-super powered was paying attention… or that the jabber mouth was a docile little bitch that was in need of a leash.
Suddenly, Frank had a feeling that the interaction had been a deliberate act for Peter’s attention. It was that or just to make Matt and him uncomfortable. Why? You never could actually know with Wade. Everything and nothing had a reason when it came to Deadpool. Predictably unpredictable was the way he looked at the crazy fuck.
“So,” Frank cleared his throat, spinning back around and deciding to wipe the beer off the exposed vee of his chest. “Taken huh?”
His peripheral vision allowed Frank to see Matt turning and tilting his head just a fraction, seeming to listen to him wipe himself clean. The focus on the warning that was Wade, had taken his attention away from the liquid slipping down between his pecs. He let the napkin linger beneath the low hanging collar of his shirt, in his chest hair, hoping the guy was paying attention… then cursing himself. Self-conscious that his heart rate might have ticked up like a traitor.
“Care to elaborate on that counselor?" Frank questioned, drinking his beer to mask the sound with a swallow.
“Shut up,” Matt parroted him from earlier, slipping back onto his stool with a grin and Frank tried to ignore the bloom of emotion he wasn’t ready to name.
—--
Everyone was an adult, perfectly capable of getting themselves home after the party came to a drunken end with loud music ready to be exchanged for a club. Stark had paid for a whole herd of Lyft's to drop them all off wherever they wanted anyways. Frank supposed that’s just what rich fuckers did when they didn’t have to worry about a dime. It was actually kinda generous when he thought about it.
Frank was thinking. Thinking over time. He wasn’t drunk, not enjoying drinking as much these days. Particularly in a crowded place.
Peter’s party had topped out at thirty-two people. Frank had barely touched his fourth beer after two hours. Matt had breezed past buzzed by the time his chocolate raspberry souffle had been served. He’d gotten the same, not having any clue what would be good.
The car they were in took a right, taking back into Hell’s Kitchen. Frank had given the driver Matt’s apartment first, because he stayed sometimes. Although he wasn’t sure he was going to tonight. He just wanted to make sure the guy got home safe.
It had nothing to do with the fact Matt was blind. Frank just didn’t like the odds of a drunk Red walking through the city after dark, coming across a mugging or something worse. Drunk Daredevil was bound to unleash a volcano of pent up anger no criminal wanted to get in the way of.
“Silk does for the skin what diamonds do for the hand,” Matt said, right hand continuing to play with the loose fabric of his shirt.
Frank had been staring out the window at the passing lights, desperately trying to ignore Matt having slid into his personal space. A hand landing on his hip that moved over onto his stomach, where his fingers toyed with the bottom button of his shirt. He’d tell himself he made a good call on the stupid thing later, considering the hyper fixation the guy had given it whenever he accidentally brushed it with his skin.
“You wanna translate that for me?” Frank asked for a distraction, because he had no idea what the hell that meant.
“You’re pretty,” Matt said bluntly and Frank blamed the warm weather for the flush he didn’t expect at the bold comment.
“You’re blind,” Frank argued, maybe deflected, itching to brush Matt’s fingers climbing up the seam of his shirt but not enough to do anything about it.
“You like it when I say things like that,” Matt claimed, accurately much to his concern and Frank’s mouth failed to form unknown words as it moved to deny it.
“You know you’re basically feeling me up,” Frank settled on pointing out in case Matt was too drunk to notice.
“You like that too,” Matt countered, thumb tracing the vee of his collar before softly squeezing his left pec.
“Gonna be a long ride,” Frank muttered trying to keep his breathing calm as he batted Matt’s hand off his chest. “God, you’re a horny bastard when you’ve had a few. Quit it.”
“Isn’t that why you wore it?” Matt questioned, and fuck him for being that perceptive. “I like touching it. You’re pure temptation now.… and I’m pretty much always horny.”
“I knew you were a slut,” Frank said, Matt’s claim of always being horny possibly explaining why he always leaned towards flirting. “If you want to rip my shirt off, you can do it when you’re sober.”
“You can do it for me,” Matt tried, whispering into his ear, and while that did sound fun...
“No,” Frank said stubbornly, rubbing his warm ear with his shoulder. “Something’s bugging you. I didn’t press for details, but I’m not down to be you’re fuck buddy because you’re an emotionally constipated ass looking for some stress relief.”
Frank wished he was. It was easy to fuck a stranger or someone he didn’t really care about like Beth. The problem was, he liked Matt and wasn’t going to fuck up the friendship they’d finally formed, because the guy didn’t want to use his hand.
“Rude. You’re my only relief,” Matt commented, and it sounded as odd as his next words. “... and my problem.”
“Oh, well thanks,” Frank said, happy to focus on the familiar claim, wondering what the hell he’d done recently to piss Matt off this time.
“Everyone kept asking if I was bringing Heather or a date,” Matt huffed, slouching back in the seat defeatedly and scowling. “I wanted to say I was bringing you.”
Wiping his mouth off, really trying to tell his stupid heart that had the possibility of meaning other things, Frank sympathetically patted Matt’s knee. Okay, maybe a bit mockingly. The guy couldn’t have any idea what he was actually saying at this point.
“You’re gonna regret saying this shit in the morning,” Frank warned him, checking the next street name they passed. “We’re almost there.”
“I’m going to regret underestimating your shocking amount of nobility or I wouldn’t have ordered those last few drinks,” Matt complained, head lolling towards him and there was a pinched look of disapproval to the set of his mouth.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Frank asked, pretending to be affronted.
Frank didn’t have any nobility left in his opinion. He had integrity and morals. Maybe some decency. None of which counted as chivalrous behavior to him. If he was noble for not wanting to fuck a drunk guy when he was sober as a bird, oh how the standards had fallen while he was overseas.
“It means I expected the way your heart rate jumped at Wade’s comments and the word ‘taken’, on top of that shirt, to lead us into my bed,” Matt pouted. “... or you wore it to torture me like an asshole because there is no other reason to wrap yourself up in my bedsheets.”
“I bought this overpriced colored whorish napkin in a store, thank you very much. Now stop pouting you big baby,” Frank reprimanded him.
“Are you going to spank me?” Matt asked, smiling far too confidently and god he was ridiculous… Frank loved it.
Scooting back into his space, somewhere Matt’s cane fell to the floor. Frank grabbed the man’s thigh, trying to keep control of the situation. He wouldn’t put past this version of Matt to climb straight into his lap. Now that was a thought. One that distracted him long enough for a hand to end right back up on his chest, squeezing his pec and making his breath catch as the guy started to lean into him.
“Hey! No fucking in the car! I’ll charge your card extra for dry cleaning,” the Lyft driver suddenly inputted, shaking Frank’s vision from Matt’s lips.
“Worth it,” Matt dismissed without missing a beat, eyebrows raising up from behind his glasses and his hand slid down to bracing himself on the top of his thigh way way too close to his crotch.
“Where’s a spray bottle when you fucking need it,” Frank said, tugging at his shirt for a little air as he pushed Matt back to his side of the seat with his forearm. “Goddamn.”
“It’s a good idea,” the Lyft driver continued over Matt’s grumble as he slumped back into his seat again. “I’ve got one for my critters. Warning, if he likes water he’ll just end up playing with it.”
“Meow,” Matt said dryly, unexpectedly, and then he snorted as if he’d surprised himself, causing him to start giggling. “Wait, no, you're a dog person. Woof? Woof. Barking sounds weird. Should I whimper for head scratches and treats?”
“Holy shit,” Frank laughed out loud in disbelief. “Wow. Fucking hell. Where did that come from?”
It sounded more like something Wade would do. Matt had gotten up to go to the bathroom a few times and Frank wasn’t babysitting the guy, but he didn’t recall them hanging out. If anything, the dumbass had been talking up some blond kid that looked Peter’s age. Both of which had suspiciously disappeared one after the other, before reappearing in the same order later.
Frank had focused on keeping quiet himself throughout the party or talking about bullshit with Barton, who had surprisingly been there. A small blessing because they got on pretty good for an ‘Avenger’. Who, like Matt, was one bad day away from becoming him. It helped keep his teeth from grinding every time his friend left him alone with Nelson shooting curious glances across the empty seat.
“Gross,” the Lyft declared, pulling over and coming to a slow stop that had Frank looking around to see if they were getting kicked out for Matt’s sudden perversion. “We’re here. You guys have… fun.”
“Thanks,” Matt responded, oblivious to the driver sounding sick at what he had to admit was some seriously messed up role play. “I’ll try. I didn’t expect him to play hard to get. I know he’s not celibate. I can tell. He…”
Frank escaped out the door on his side. More like scrambling to get away from whatever might be said. He hadn’t considered Matt being able to pick up on his sex life because none of it had ever happened around him.
“Shit,” Frank hissed at the information, rounding the trunk to pull Matt out of the car before he said who even knew what but hey at least Stark was the one that would be charged for whatever depravity left his mouth.
Frank showered every day, but sometimes they ran into each other on roof tops without planning. After a hook up late at night when he was just killing time waiting for a target or drop that Red wanted to interrupt or help with. He was guilty of jerking off a few times as he started to think of Matt as more with just a wipe down before going off to meet him. God, he didn’t typically get embarrassed, but he felt it in his face for the first time since he was a teenager taking to the time to realize the fucker’s nose easily picked out any dried come lingering on his skin.
Matt was already climbing out of his side of the Lyft as Frank reached him with plans to open the door for him. He was humming, happily, and he grabbed his elbow as he stepped up onto the sidewalk. It was a sneaky bullshit move to touch him, but he went along with it. As far as the driver knew, he was just another blind guy. If he turned the drunk disabled man away, talk about being a dick.
“I want a kiss,” Matt said, as they climbed the stairs to the front door of his building and he stubbornly came to a halt at the top.
“You’re testing my restraint Red,” Frank warned him, as the guy wrapped an arm around his shoulder to turn him and he realized Matt forgot his cane in the car that was now gone.
“Good,” Matt whispered. “One kiss Frank. Please. It’s not like you’re ruining my virtue.”
“You have virtue?” Frank teased and he loved the little smile that formed that did make him want to kiss the guy. “Red, it sounds like a bad idea.”
“Friends kiss friends sometimes,” Matt said and Frank seriously doubted that even if he hadn’t really had a lot of friends. “I kissed Foggy in college.”
“What?” Frank asked instantly, tightly, completely taken off guard and based on Matt’s smug grin that had been the whole plan. “Alright, fine big guy. You want a kiss, I’ll give you a kiss.”
Was it possible Matt had played him? Yes. It’d worked though, the little shit. It’d made him sound like the jealous one when he typically wasn’t that kind of guy.
Frank, filled with annoyance and confidence, gripped the sides of Matt’s sweater and pulled him up onto the top step with him. He didn’t hesitate to close the space between them like he would have any other time before, when he’d allowed himself to distantly think about the moment in theory. If the guy could handle kissing Nelson, who gave him shit all the time for just being himself, they could kiss once without doing any harm to their friendship.
Once was going to be a hard task, Frank decided instantly, breathing Matt’s breath in and cupping his face so they didn’t go too far. One of them, both of them, any direction or the other. A lot of crazy shit had been said over the course of the night. Things that felt a little deeper, powerful, than normal between them. He genuinely wanted them to keep their heads on for something seemingly intimate like this.
Matt’s lips pressing back hard against his, soft and tasting of whiskey, turned out to be something else. As different as the fingers scratching lightly, mindlessly, at the hair at the nape of his neck tempting him with the want to deepen it. Frank was guilty of indulging the want because an innocent good night kiss had always been his favorite. The domestic, reassuring dream of meaning something again. It was why he didn’t kiss just kiss anyone, unless they were naked in bed.
The thought pulled Frank away. Theoretically. He still held onto Matt and their lips continued to touch, chest touching, even though he’d given them just enough room to breathe.
“So that’s what it feels like,” Matt said quietly, lightly, seeming pleased with himself as their lips brushed with the movement.
“You’ve kissed men before,” Frank frowned, finally putting a little distance between them and starting to regret caving even just a little bit like a jealous bitch if he had to remind the guy of that.
“If you want to be modest about it I guess,” Matt shrugged, playing with the edge of his shirt on the sides of his neck again and that made about as much sense as everything else tonight. “... but I’ve never had my last first kiss.”
Frank’s heart fucking slammed into his sternum with enough force that a rush of air was pushed between his lips. Instinct told him to run away like a little coward. Lock the door, close the curtains, break out the liquor he kept for sanitizing wounds and pretend he had not heard that. He could dissect a dead human body for parts, but he wasn’t keen on dissecting that. It sounded too much like something he pretended he didn’t want.
“I hope it is anyways,” Matt told him. “You uh, you need to breathe Sweetheart.”
“I’m breathing,” Frank grumbled deeply, exhaling with awareness he hadn’t been and his skin burst to life registering the pet name.
“And I’m the emotionally constipated ass,” Matt said disapprovingly, shaking his head and taking his hand.
“What are you doing?” Frank asked, frowning at their hands as Matt opened the door. “I told you we ain’t fucking.”
“You can fix coffee, clean me up and let me cuddle,” Matt argued lightly, tugging him up the stairs. “I busted the stitches on my waist and knee when I broke Wade’s nose and foot in the bathroom.”
“Do I want to know?” Frank smiled at the image.
“Depends. Do you want to go to his orgie like he was going to ask since we’re ‘clearly’ not official," Matt asked, making sure to include air quotes as they reached his door. “I might have bruised his bottom two ribs too.”
“Damn. Thata’ boy Red,” Frank chuckled, closing the door to his place behind him and now Wade’s disappearance made sense.
“I’m prone to being territorial at times,” Matt muttered, throwing his keys onto the shelf and stripping off his sweater to reveal a huge smear of blood the thing had been soaking up.
“It’s hot,” Frank offered to ease his mind.
The smug smile he got shot told Frank things were probably going to be easier than they seemed to him. So he was an emotionally constipated ass with a bag of trauma. Sue him. It took one to know one.