mmemarvel

You wake in a firm and unfamiliar bed, the sheets scratchy against your skin and the room reeking of industrial cleaner. Your eyes slowly blink open, a yellow blurry light blinding you from the bedside table. You groan, suddenly feeling a rush of heat and ache at the back of your skull, and you lift your hand to soothe the sensation.

“Nah, don’t touch that,” a gruff voice replies. Suddenly you shriek, unaware of another’s presence in the room. A manly voice isn’t exactly a comforting sound right now. The last thing you remember is bleeding in the passenger seat of a car, and just before that, a manly voice saying he’s about to stab you, and let you bleed out in a desolate New York alleyway.

You look over to see Frank sitting in an armchair in the corner, his eyes scanning over your form searching for signs of pain.

“Frank? Oh god… W-what happened?” You ask confused, eyes wide with fear. Your is head spinning as you try to recall everything before waking up here, but you only remember bits and pieces, and a sense of fear surges through your veins as you try to piece it all together.

“Nothin’ bout that right now. How ya feelin’?” He replies, eyes softening as he slightly leans in closer. “Want me to call a nurse, getcha some meds for the pain?”

You disregard the question, becoming increasingly aware of the persistent pain in your skull.

“My head's fuckin’ throbbing,” you whine.

“Yeah, well ya got four stitches in it. I’ll call ‘em,” he replies. Reaching to push the nurse call button next to your bed anyway.

You speak while it rings, “Holy fuck,” you mumble to yourself. “W-what happened? I- what happened to that guy?”

Frank pauses, a look of disappointment and regret splayed across his features. Suddenly the nurse picks up the other end of the line as his mouth opens to reply.

“Yes? How can I help?” The female voice says through the speaker at your bedside.

“Hey uh, she’s awake. Can we get some pain meds? Her head is hurtin’,” Frank says into the microphone.

“Of course, be there shortly,” the female voice replies.

You sigh, feeling a low sinking feeling in your gut as you slowly piece together your memories of that fateful night.

“How long have I been here?” You ask, biting your lip as your hands nervously fiddle in your lap, your arms littered with bruises and scratches.

“Two days, you’ve been in and out, mostly sleepin’,” Frank says with a soft expression.

"Two days!? My- what about my cat Leo!? oh my god, he's probably starving!" you cry out as you frantically attempt to reach your phone on the bedside table.

“Ay, ay, relax,” Frank says, softly laying you back down in the bed, “I unlocked your phone with your Face ID and called your friend Claire a few hours after you got out of surgery,” he begins, his tone softening as he tries to be understanding of all the fear you’re feeling. “Told her what happened,” he continues, “She came by while you were out, got your keys and has been takin' care of him’,” he says, passing your phone to you anyway in case you wanted to contact Claire yourself.

“Jesus-“ you reply, exhaling an anxious, shaky breath. “Thank you, Frank.”

“‘Course,” he says, sitting there silently, posture softening as he watches you pick up your phone and begin furiously typing away a storm to Claire. For the next few minutes you text Claire to check up on Leo and let her know you’re okay. You put your phone back down and finally meet Frank’s eyes.

“Sorry. Thank you Frank, seriously.” You fiddle nervously with your hands. “I- I could’ve died if it weren’t for you,” you add, your eyes getting watery.

“Don’t worry about it, doll,” he says casually, “everything’s okay now.”

Another beat of silence.

“How did you know to come find me?” You ask, your voice slightly shaking and your eyes getting watery with tears as you meet his gaze.

You see him physically soften seeing your upset face, his shoulders easing by an inch. He leans in, planting his elbows on his knees, his face becoming level with yours as he gets nice and close.

This action alone almost makes you forget your question, your breath hitching softly from his close proximity. This is the closest you’ve been to him while conscious and seeing the way his forearm veins pop with the pressure of his body against his thighs makes something short cut within your brain.

“I was parked outside the restaurant, sitting in my car for a few minutes trying to find somethin’ on the nav. Then, I saw the fucker grab you,” he replies gruffly. His voice drops even lower, and softens. “I’m really sorry for what happened, what- what that fucker did to you, it ain’t right,” he adds, his hand eager to touch you, wipe the tear that rolls down your cheek, but he doesn’t.

“I- I almost died…” you whisper to yourself, slowly recalling your intense fear from that night. “What happened to him?” You ask, afraid the answer might be that he’s still out there somewhere, plotting a way to finish the job once you return to work.

“He ain’t gonna be a problem anymore,” is all he says.

“What does that mean?”

“‘S a conversation for another time doll, you just woke up. Doc said we gotta limit your stress,” he states matter-of-factly. This caused a strike of fear in you — what on earth could Frank have done to the man?

Suddenly the nurse enters the room holding a tray in her hand and a soft smile splayed across her face.

“Hey hun, how your head?” The small woman replies, her scrubs making a funny swish sound with each step she takes.

“Never had any complaints,” you retort with a cheeky grin.

She laughs at your remark, and Frank gives a surprised, but amused chuckle and disapproving shake of his head. At least you could crack a joke despite the situation.

“Kidding, hurts pretty good,” you say.

“Here, this should help with the pain,” she says, passing you a cup with multiple pills and a small cup of water.

“Thanks,” you reply before tossing back the pills and gulping the water down. Only then does it hit you how dry your throat was and you chug the rest in the cup eagerly.

“Need anything else?” The nurse asks, assessing your stats on the monitor next to you.

“More water?”

The nurse smiles and nods, leaving to refill your cup from the fountain in the hall, before returning and nodding towards Frank.

“You’ve got a keeper here hun. He didn’t leave your side once, insisted he be here when you wake up,” she says, stretching her arm out to you to pass you the cup “you picked a good man,” she adds before walking out the door.

You quirk your brow and awkwardly freeze, holding the cup just under your lip. You look at him, his eyes averting to the floor. His demeanour shifting to embarrassment, and he leans back in the chair with an awkward smirk.

“What… did she mean by that?” You ask him, confused.

He shrugs awkwardly, his hand rubbing the back of his head as his eyes look away to the floor.

“The uh- the only way they’d let me stay, to uh- keep an eye on you, was if I said I was family or a… partner, hope that’s alright,” he replies, eyes flicking back and forth between the floor and your eyes.

“Oh.”

He looks disheartened by your response and quickly pivots, “Sorry uh- I can go, you can call up Claire or somethin’ if ya want, don’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he begins, standing from his chair, fearful of making you uncomfortable.

“No!” You cry out, your hand lurching out to grab his forearm.

“No- sorry, I- please don’t go,” you say, your voice containing a tremor with fear and embarrassment. Frank nods, sitting back down in his chair, and you drop the hold on his wrist.

“‘S alright,” he replies, scooting his chair slightly closer to your bedside and leans back against the chair.

There’s a beat of silence between the two of you, both of you averting your eyes, a tension you both have yet to decipher.

“When did they say I can go home?” You ask.

“They said when you wake up they’ll have a doctor come visit you and if you’re good enough, they’ll send you home with meds. Nurse is probably findin’ you the doc right now,” he replies, his voice gruff as always, despite the newfound softness to it. There’s a newfound softness to his eyes too. Usually there’s a cold and distant look that you recall in his irises, you saw it every time you served him at the restaurant, but it’s barely there now.

“How bad are my injuries? Aside from what I can see right now,” you ask, eyes flicking down to the bruises on your arm.

“Not too bad, no concussion or anythin’. It’s just the stitches and bruises,” he replies, “Why, sweetheart? You feelin’ pain anywhere else?” He says, his voice cracking with worry.

“No, no, I’m okay. Just wondering.”

He nods.

A few hours later a doctor comes by, checks up on you, and gives you the okay to head home as long as you’re supervised over the next day or two just in case.

Frank, the gentleman that he is, drives you home and helps you climb the stairs to your 4th floor apartment. When you get to your apartment, you unlock the door and you’re quickly greeted by Leo running towards you, screaming a meow so long, that is resembles an opera singer holding a high note. You chuckle and bend down to pet him.

“Hi Leo-baby!” You squeal, picking him up into your arms. He purrs loud and rubs his head against your arm.

“Claire!” You call out, but there’s no answer. “Claire?” You repeat lower this time.

You’re met with silence so you walk further into the apartment. Frank steps inside and shuts the door, standing at the front door awkwardly as you put Leo down and walk to your room, only to find it empty.

Leo, curious as ever, walks over to Frank and sniffs his boot. Frank freezes and watches the cat look up at him, before Leo rubs against Frank’s leg affectionately. Frank cracks a tiny smile, before dropping it quickly when he hears you return.

“Oh sorry, he’s very friendly. Weird for a cat, I know,” you joke and Frank nods.

“It’s alright,” he replies. “Where’s your friend?”

“I think she’s at work,“ you reply.

“Ah,” Frank says, still standing awkwardly at the door, his lips pursed and shoulders tight.

You kick off your shoes, leaving them at the door and inviting him to do the same.

“No I uh- I should get goin’,” Frank says, his hands sitting in his pockets nervously.

“Right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have expected you to stay like that. I barely actually know you…” you say with an awkward breathy laugh, nervously running your hand through your hair on the side opposite of your stitches.

“You have someone that can come stay with you? At least until Claire comes back?” Frank asks sweetly.

“Uh yeah, my friend Jane lives two doors down. I’ll text her, should be fine.”

“Alright.”

Feeling sad at Franks departure, you pick up your phone and begin texting Jane. You briefly explain your situation, how you were in the hospital and are currently in need of company, and she replies quick, agreeing to come over in 10 minutes.

“Okay, she’ll uh- she’ll be here in a few,” you reply, looking down at the floor, seeing the grime caked up on Franks heavy boots. You avoid his eyes as an attempt to hide your sadness of him leaving, but your tone gives it away.

“Are you gonna be okay?” He says, taking a step toward you.

Your breath hitches, the two of your only a foot or two apart in your narrow hallway at your front door. Franks eyes scan your face, his heavy brow creasing as he practically stares though you. His eyes then flick down to your lips for a fraction of a second, but you catch it, and it makes your cheeks flush. Only then do you notice that he’s wearing the same clothes he did the night of the attack, and your heart softens; he really didn’t leave your side. With the limited distance between you, his musk wafts towards you, flooding your senses and filling your mind with racing thoughts. In addition to that, you finally are able to analyze his features close up, seeing the flecks of gold in his brown eyes and the slight scar on his upper lip.

“Oh- yeah… I’ll be fine. Thank you again Frank, you didn’t- didn’t have to stay and do all that,” you say, shrugging, pretending it doesn’t mean as much to you as it actually does.

“Of course I did, sweetheart,” he says, standing there awkwardly, the tension thick like a waxy syrup between the two of you. “I… don’t work on Saturday. Want me to bring you somethin’?” He suggests sweetly, a fleeting attempt to see you again, and an excuse to calm his nerves about your recovery.

“Sure. Can you bring me a chocolate milkshake?” You ask with a cheeky smile.

“A chocolate milkshake? Psh... Yeah- yeah sure, I can do that,” he says with a grin, slightly making fun of your childish request. “See you Saturday at five then?” He asks, holding his hands together in front of his hips.

“Yeah.”

Leo rubs up against Franks leg again before flopping down on the floor and showing his tummy while purring.

“He wants you to pet him,” you state, gesturing towards Leo.

Frank chuckles awkwardly, “oh- I uh, I ain’t much of a cat person,” he says, slowly crouching down.

“He ain’t much of a cat,” you joke.

Frank gives you a playful ‘tsh’ sound, before petting Leo’s side awkwardly and then standing once again.

“Alright uh- yeah okay, gonna get goin’. You rest up, yeah? See you in a couple days,” Frank says as he reaches for the handle and disappears behind the door. The moment it clicks shut, Leo stands and rubs against your leg, but you barely notice him after a rush of confusing feelings hits you. You felt scared. You felt embarrassed. You felt awful for having Frank stay for so long to watch you. But most of all, you felt like a teenager with a crush, and that made all the other feelings ten times worse.

Saturday

Ever since being released from the hospital, you’ve been resting up, having baths, and trying to do as many low energy tasks as possible to keep your mind from spiraling and your body from taking longer to heal. You’ve been hanging out with Claire and Jane until you’ve been feeling good enough to be unsupervised, yet despite that, Jane still visited for hours on end just to keep you company. Most of your pain, cuts and bruises have since disappeared. All except the hand-print shaped bruise on your hip from where the man grabbed you and threw you against the ground. Every time you catch a glimpse of the slowly fading mark, you feel a twinge of panic, like someone dropped an anvil onto your chest. You have yet to leave your apartment out of fear of another attack. Every scuff of the chairs in the apartment above, or footsteps in the hallway have made you antsy. You’ve been getting groceries and takeout delivered to your door ever since Frank left.

Today you’re even more restless, rendered fidgety and unable to stop thinking about seeing Frank again at five.

You’ve told Claire and Jane the story more times than you can count, running back and forth between them for advice on the situation.

They both think he likes you, as more than just a random waitress he saved the life of. However, Jane not having met Frank personally, agrees with the theory that he stayed at the hospital because he took pity on you, or felt some sort of obligation to stay. Claire believes he definitely likes you, though you refuse to admit to her that you like him back. From how you described his manner when he was just a customer at the restaurant, to meeting him personally at the hospital and seeing how much he worried about you, she said she has no doubts about his feelings for you. Despite her saying that, Jane's theory continues to run through your mind each time you think back to Frank. How embarrassing it would be to make Frank uncomfortable, and discover he doesn't like you???

You spiral out of control with anxious thoughts all day. Rearing closer to five pm, you’ve been standing in front of the stove for the past twenty minutes, not really keeping an eye on the time, while waiting for the lasagna to finish baking — a simple thank-you dinner for when he shows up. When you texted Claire that you we're making him a home-made dinner she replied, 'yeah, you're not sure if you like him, my ass.'

When the timer goes off, you hear footsteps approaching your door, causing your throat to tighten, and your limbs to lock up just like it has every time you heard heavy footsteps in the hallway. As you quickly put on your oven mitts and place the lasagna atop the stove, you hear a heavy knock on your front door. You turn off the oven and run towards the front door. You peep through the eye hole, and you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were even holding as you see Frank.

You unlock the door and step aside to welcome him in.

“Hey, got your milksha-“ he begins before you cut him off, grabbing his arm, pulling him into your apartment, and quickly shutting and locking the door. “Uh- everything alright, sweetheart?” He asks, his muscles going taut with anticipation, his eyes flicking around your apartment, scanning like always. Looking particularly for any signs of danger due to your tense demeanour.

“Yeah- sorry, I uh, I just didn’t want Leo to get out,” you lie as you both seeing him napping on your couch.

“Okay… uh- here’s ya milkshake,” he says, passing it to you, the condensation coating your palm as you grip the cup.

“Thanks, I uh- I made lasagna for dinner, want some?” You reply, acting nonchalant, waving your hand in the direction of the kitchen. Only then do your eyes take in his appearance. He’s freshly shaved, his stubble long gone, his hair more neat than you remember, and he’s wearing dark jeans and a tight black t-shirt. The sight makes you freeze, and he clears his throat when he catches your eyes on him.

“So that’s what the smell is,” Frank says, grinning down at you, causing a wave of relief to flow through you. “Sure doll, love to.”

You smile and tell him to go have a seat in the living room/dining room. He undoes his boots, leaving them at the door, and stalks over to the dining table. Your cheeks flush as you recall the sight of him, looking more cleaned up, well rested, and smiling. It makes butterflies erupt in your stomach as you cut up squares of the lasagna, but you also feel a rush of nerves. What if he was only here out of a feeling of obligation like you and Jane theorized?

While you cut up the food, and Frank sits himself down on at your dining table, Frank hears a small "mmmrr?" sound come from the couch a few feet away. He sees Leo stand up and do a big stretch, and when Leo catches the sight of Frank, he jumps down, runs over to him, and rubs against Frank's legs yet again. Frank smiles and looks down, bending down to pet the top of Leo's head.

"Hey, bud."

Leo meows, causing Frank to smile.

You walk into the room holding two plates, both squares of lasagna topped with cilantro and parmesan, looking far from a low-effort meal.

When you place the plate down in front of Frank, he lets out a low whistle.

"You did all this?" Frank asks, looking up at you as you stand close. When his eyes meet yours at the close distance, you both flush and look back down at the plate.

"Yeah, sort of a thank-you thing, i guess," you reply, setting your plate down in front of another chair. You pick up Leo from the floor, cradling him in your arms.

"I'm gonna go put him in my room. He's a menace around food," you joke.

Frank nods as you plop Leo in your room and shut the door. When you walk back in, Frank is facing the other direction due the position of his chair, and seeing his rippling back muscles practically explode out of his tight t shirt, it almost makes your knees weak and your eyes bulge out of your skull. The main issue you face is that Frank is so effortlessly manly. His mannerisms, the way he speaks, how he carries himself, all embodies that of a strong, independent, caring man, and that makes it all the more difficult for you to hold your composure when you sit down. Thoughts of him haven’t left your mind since he first stepped foot in the diner, but they’ve worsened after he saved you and took care of you in the hospital.

There’s a tension-filled silence, full of unspoken words and feelings as you gaze into each other’s eyes.

"Go ahead," you say as you pick up your fork and point it at his plate, "eat."

Frank nods and quickly does as you've instructed, and the moment the piece of lasagna hits his tongue, he genuinely lets out a sigh of relaxation, and his shoulders drop. He smiles contently and takes another bite.

"Wow." He mutters.

"Wow?"

"Yeah, wow," Frank restates with a look of contentment.

You giggle, and when you do, his eyes flick up to you, and soften even more seeing your toothy smile and wrinkled eyes.

You two exchange small talk over dinner, you begin to ask him about his day-to-day, learning where he works, and what he does in spare time. He fails to mention where all his cuts and bruises originate, specifically the one shiner you recall commenting on one night at the diner. You just assume it's from working at the construction site, an accident-prone job no doubt.

Suddenly, an hour and a half has flown by, unnoticed by either of you as your conversation ceased to end. At this point, you've migrated to the couch -- Leo and the dirty dishes long forgotten, that is, until you hear Leo let out an obnoxiously loud whine for attention.

"Hold on, I’m gonna go let him out," you say to Frank from across the couch.

"Sure," he replies, looking a little antsy.

You bring the dishes over to the sink, and then head to your bedroom door. Leo immediately darts toward the dining room to look for food, but when he finds none, he decides to seek attention from Frank.

"Just gonna wash these dishes quick!" You call out from the kitchen.

Frank just nods as Leo climbs up into his lap, making himself comfortable as he loafs there.

As you're rinsing off the dishes you hear a few footsteps behind you, making you shriek and spin around, only to see Frank.

"Hey, hey, thought I'd lend a hand... You okay?" he asks, standing there while scanning your features for signs of pain or fear. Your behaviour today has him worried and on-edge.

"Oh- I- yeah, sorry," you reply.

"Hey," Frank says, taking a step toward you, standing behind you as your wet hands scrub a plate in the sink. He places his hand on your shoulder softly, barely grazing your skin in your tank top, getting you to turn more towards him slowly.

"What aren't you tellin' me?" he asks, his grip firm but soft, fearful that if he holds any tighter that he'll scare you.

"I-..." you begin, the words getting stuck in your throat as your breath hitches. "I'm scared Frank."

"Scared? Of what, pretty girl?" he asks, rubbing his thumb in soothing back and forth motions.

"Of- of leaving..." you say, eyes avoidant as they well up with tears.

"The apartment?" he clarifies.

you nod.

"Because of him?"

you nod again.

"You don't have to worry about him anymore, honey," he says softly into your ear.

"He could- could be plotting to finish the job the moment I go back to work! He- he could do so much worse!" you begin rambling hysterically, your tears begging to flow down your cheeks.

"hey, hey... c'mere," he says, forcing you to turn and fall into his chest, your salty tears smearing across his tight black tee. His heavy arms come up to wrap around you as he presses his cheek against your forehead. His hands rub soothing circles on your back as you slowly try to breathe in and out. “He ain’t comin’ back, okay?”

“How do you know?” You ask, thinking Frank beat him and left him in the alley for the rats until the cops or ambulance found him writhing in pain.

“Because I killed him.”

You freeze and tense up. His soothing circles on your back stop.

“Y-you killed him?” You say, a twang of fear in your voice. You step away from Frank, so far until you hit the counter behind you.

Frank stays put, trying to figure out how to handle the situation.

“ I couldn’t let him live after what he tried to do to you. Knowing that if I let him live, he’d just do it to someone else, didn’t sit right,” he explains, his hands growing restless and then going into his pockets.

“Y-you murdered him…”

“He was about to murder you. I think I made the right call here,” he replies sarcastically with a snarky tone.

“Frank, you murdered someone!” You shout in disbelief at his lack of remorse. You’re flooded with the mix of relief knowing you’ll never have to fear that man again, but also terrified knowing Frank’s capabilities and seeing his lack of regret.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he says.

You gasp.

“W-what!?”

There’s a long pause. Your lip trembles. He sighs.

“I was in the military,” he replies, and you recall him mentioning that during your conversation from an hour ago.

Suddenly the realization hits you all at once. It explains the shiner Frank had at the diner, and the familiarity of his face. Frank Castle. You saw him on the news a few months ago, they called him The Punisher, he kills awful, worst-of-the-worst criminals. There’s a heavy pause and he knows you’ve figured him out.

“Y-you’re Frank Castle,” you emphasize on his last name.

He freezes and hesitantly nods, knowing you finally pieced it together. There’s a beat of silence as you try to process everything. You feel a sense of comfort, knowing a man so strong and capable has shown you mercy and protection, but you’re also afraid of said capabilities. You know there must be a danger that follows a man like him.

“Do you want me to leave? You never have to see me again, if that’s whatcha want,” Frank says, standing tall in your kitchen.

“I- I just need a minute,” you reply.

Despite the fact that you know Frank has killed at least 32 people, according to the news, now 33, you can’t find it within yourself to fear him, and that alone makes you feel worse. You feel an overwhelming sense of comfort and safety radiating from him. None of his victims have ever been women or children, or civilians in general. Only murderers, rapists, and child molesters according to the article you once read about the Hell’s Kitchen vigilante. Despite the violence that follows this man, it doesn’t change the fact that you want him, though you’ve been trying to convince yourself that your feelings are minuscule. You’ve wanted him ever since he stepped foot in the diner. Ever since he tried to intervene when that asshole was being a dick in the restaurant. Ever since he saved your life and rushed you to the hospital. Ever since he came to your apartment, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst your feminine decor, holding your requested milkshake. Even now, despite discovering who he truly is.

“Don’t go,” you whisper into the thickness between you. “Please.”

Frank steps forward, only a matter of inches between you as you stand against the counter and he towers above you.

“I want you to know that I only do what I do to protect people. I can’t let scumbags like him walk free jus’ so they can hurt someone else, least of all you, sweet girl,” he says, his hand coming up to wipe a stray tear falling down your cheek.

Without thinking, you lean forward and go up onto your tip toes, bracing your hands against his firm chest, and you kiss him. The kiss is short, but soft, before you pull away and begin to apologize.

“I’m sorry, I- I shouldn’t have just done that, I don’t know what I was thinking,” you blurt out, eyes unable to look at his, your hands coming up to cover your face.

“It’s alright.”

Your hands lower and your eyes flick up to him, only to find him looking down at you with a softened gaze and tiny smile. His hand lifts up once again, this time resting on the side of your neck, cupping your jaw. He tilts your head back up, and leans in to kiss you this time. You softly gasp into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his waist, palms flat against his mid-back. You feel his muscles flex under his shirt and it only makes you kiss him harder. He kisses you so softly, his lips pressing long and slow, sighing into your mouth. After a few moments he pulls back, and smiles down at you. He goes to speak but suddenly Leo jumps up on the counter and nudges you, causing both you and Frank to chuckle.

“You just can’t handle being left out for five minutes, huh?” You joke, petting the top of Leo’s head.

Frank uses his hand on your jaw to turn your attention back to him.

“Sweetheart?” He husks, asking to get your attention.

“Yes?” You ask, eyes gazing up into his.

“Do you want me to stay?” He asks, and you know that he doesn’t mean staying at your apartment, but rather staying in your life. He tries to play it off as understanding, that the idea of you wanting him to walk out of your life wouldn’t bother him, but the look in his eyes says otherwise.

“Yes. Stay, please.”

Frank smiles once again, bigger this time, placing his other hand on your waist.

“Okay.”