let me entertain you

New Year’s Eve: 

The bass of the club speakers pounded in your skull, sparking a fresh wave of annoyance within you. This was not how tonight was supposed to go. You were supposed to be somewhere nice, celebrating the new year with your loving and loyal boyfriend of four years, Ben. But Ben was an asshole who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants long enough to realize he had butt dialed you while he was knee deep in “the best pussy he’s ever had”.  

You rolled your eyes at the memory. You weren’t even that upset about it – Ben had become a dull and predictable aspect of your daily routine. The spark that had ignited your affection for him had died out months before you found out he was cheating. It was a brutal wake-up call, though.  

Your life, you realized, had become entirely too comfortable, which limited your ability to grow as a human being. The few weeks without Ben leading up to New Year’s Eve had taught you a lot about yourself, but you couldn’t help feeling a little lonely when you looked around and saw happy couples everywhere. 

Your sister was happily married to her high school sweetheart. Your mom and dad were disgustingly in love with each other, even after almost 30 years together. And your idiot baby brother had chosen tonight at dinner to announce his engagement to Kim, his girlfriend of 3 months.  

After the obligatory congratulatory toasts, your mother’s attention had fallen on you. You had tried so hard to get out of the room before she could open her mouth, but your mom had spent enough time with you to know your tricks and had managed to corner you by the bathroom. 

“Sweetie, I want to introduce you to someone. My OB/GYN has a new set of interns, and one of them is very cute.”  

“You’re worried about my,” you paused for effect, “vaginal health, Mom?”  

 “No, of course not, though you should probably get it checked out after the whole Ben fiasco. I don’t even want to think about where he put his pe-” 

“Okay, thanks for that, Mom. Really. I just have to pee now.” You slid against the wall until you could grab the doorknob and slip into the bathroom, effectively shutting the door in your mom’s face. You had hidden yourself in the bathroom for 15 full minutes before finally facing your family again. Then, Sammy had the bright idea to take all the siblings out clubbing to celebrate his engagement.  

That’s how you ended up here, surrounded by sweaty, drunk partygoers who apparently had so much to celebrate. It was 10 minutes to midnight, and you were doing everything in your power to make it to the exit before you had to be surrounded by sweaty, drunk, kissing partygoers.  

The club was so packed you had barely made it five feet before you gave up your efforts, deciding to chug the rest of your drink when the clock struck midnight as your midnight kiss. You watched the dance floor from your vantage point on second floor balcony. An overwhelming presence next to you had your back stiffening.  

You turned, ready to tell the guy off, but you lost your voice somewhere between “Fuck off, buddy” and “Not interested”. You definitely knew the guy from somewhere, but you couldn’t put your finger on where that might be. His size was intimidating, and you could tell he was absolutely ripped, but his eyes weren’t those of a drunk asshole. In fact, the look on his face told you he recognized you from somewhere, too.  

“Do we know each other?” You had to yell over the music for him to hear you.  

“You don’t remember me?” He was smiling, and you knew that smile, but you couldn’t put your finger on how you knew it. You studied his face, trying to remember. Dark hair and eyes, strong eyebrows, and a big nose.  

“Oh!” You exclaimed suddenly, “You’re Eagle!” 

His eyebrows furrowed. “What?”  

“You were the TA for my Psych class, right? Like six years ago? Frank, right?” You grinned at him.  

“You do remember!” He smiled wide for a second, but quickly furrowed his eyebrows in confusion again. “What did you call me? Eagle?” 

“Oh god,” you groaned, running your hand over your face. “We used to call you that. The girls in the class, I mean. You know what they say about men with big noses?” 

Frank let out a loud laugh, throwing his head back.  

“I didn’t think anyone in those classes even knew I existed. That was the easiest job I’ve ever had. The professor wouldn’t let me do anything, and I still got paid.” 

“So, I don’t have you to thank for the A, then?” 

“Sorry, I guess you did that on your own.” He shrugged, sipping his drink and smiling. “Did you come with someone? Where’s your date?” 

You raised your cup to your mouth, gulping down a mouthful of alcohol in response.  

Frank chuckled and nodded. “Ah, I see.” 

The clock began chiming, starting the 60 second countdown to the new year.  

“Where’s your date?” 

Frank smiled and gulped down the rest of his drink, copying the response you had given him. You raised your glass, and he clinked his against yours in solidarity.  

When the countdown got to 10, you awkwardly shuffled back and forth on your feet. The couples around you were gravitating towards each other, grabbing each other’s hands and holding their drinks up in the air. You and Frank watched as the clock hit 0, silver and gold confetti floating down from the ceiling and coating the kissing couples on the dance floor.   

Your brother seemingly appeared out of nowhere, tugging his fiancé behind him.  “Hey! We’re going!”  

You nodded, turning to Frank. “I have to...” you trailed off, pointing towards your brother with your thumb, “but it was nice to see you again. Happy New Year, Frank.” 

“Yeah, I’ll see you around.” He grinned, nodding. 

You waved at him as you walked towards the exit, wondering if you’d ever see him again. Fortunately for you, you didn’t have to wonder for long.  

A few days later, you parked your car in the mall parking lot, sighing as your mother continued her rant from the passenger seat. 

“All I’m saying, sweetie, is that you should get out more. When’s the last time you left the house besides New Year’s Eve? What about one of those dating apps?” 

“I don’t want to date anyone right now, Mom. I’m trying to find myself, you know?” 

She scoffed. “Oh, please.” 

You followed her into the mall, clutching the items you had bought for Ben before the untimely death of your relationship. Your one and only plan for the rest of your week off work was to return the gifts, but your mother had insisted on going with you, claiming she had some shopping to do. You couldn’t imagine what she could possibly need this soon after Christmas, but you didn’t want to argue with her about it.  

 It took forever, but you were finally at the last store you needed to make a return at. It would’ve been an easy in and out if your mom hadn’t stopped to look at every single sweater in the store. The sound of your name being called perked you out of your thoughts. 

“When I said see you around, I didn’t realize it would be this soon after.”  

Frank walked towards you, clutching a return receipt in his hand. You waved your receipt back at him. 

“You didn’t like a gift?” You asked, eyeing the receipt.  

“Oh, uh,” Frank scratched the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly, “No. I bought it for someone, but it didn’t end up working out.” 

Your eyebrows shot up. “Wow. Same. I think we may have more in common than I thought. Same girl that left you alone on New Year's?” 

“The one and only.” He chuckled, shuffling his feet.  

The sound of your mother’s voice so close to your ear startled you. You hadn’t noticed her standing next to you. 

“Who’s this?”  

She had a devious smile on her face, and it took everything in you not to outwardly groan. 

“This is Frank. He was my-” Frank cut you off, reaching forward to shake your mom’s hand. 

“Friend in college. Nice to meet you. We were just talking about regrettable Christmas gifts.” 

“Oh!” Your mom eagerly shook his hand, sending you a wink over her shoulder. “Well, I’ve been trying to tell her she needs to get out more. You know, her boyfriend ch-” 

“I don’t think he’s interested in hearing about my love life, Mom.” This conversation derailed far too quickly for your liking. 

“Honey, I’m just trying to help. Frank is very handsome.” 

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You probably resembled a tomato more than a human being. 

“Thank you, Mom. Very helpful.” You gritted through your teeth. Your mother was nothing if not sneaky. She sent you a smirk and turned back to Frank. 

“It was lovely to meet you, Frank. I hope I’ll be getting to see more of you soon.”  

You gaped at her as she made her way back towards the cashmere sweaters, dreading having to look back at Frank. When you finally faced him, he was clearly trying hard not to laugh in your face.  

“I’m sorry,” You groaned, running your hand through your hair, “My mom can be very forward.” 

Frank let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “It’s okay. It sounds like she just wants you to be happy.” 

“She has an interesting way of showing it. I mean, being single on holidays isn’t that pathetic, right? Plenty of people are single. Like Emma Watson! She’s been single since forever and she’s thriving! Oh god, you probably don’t want to hear this either. I’m sorry. I ramble when I get nervous.” 

You regretted ever getting out of bed this morning. This was turning out to be the most embarrassing day of your life, and it wasn’t even 10am yet.  

Frank’s face had turned thoughtful. You were a little afraid to ask him what he was thinking about. 

“I have an idea,” he finally said, glancing between you and your mom, who was holding up a blue sweater and talking to an employee. 

“Okay?” You cocked your head to the side. 

“What if we dated?” Your eyes grew wide, “Just for the holidays, I mean. We show up together at events or parties and it keeps the questions at bay. Like a, um-” 

Frank searched for the right word, and you couldn’t help the word that came out of your mouth.  

“A holidate?”  

Frank snapped his fingers and pointed at you. “Exactly. A holidate. It’ll get your family off your back for a little bit, and you won’t have to worry about being single. For the day, at least.”  

You didn’t say anything for a long time, trying to fully comprehend what he was offering. 

“What’s in it for you?”  

“Same as you.” He shrugged. “My family’s like yours.” 

“And it’s just for the holidays?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“What about the smaller holidays? Like 4th of July.” 

“I’m fine with whatever you want to do about those.” 

“What if one of us meets someone we like?” 

“Then our problems are solved, right?” 

You studied him for a moment, weighing the idea in your head. You stole a glance at your mother, who was now standing out of Frank’s direct eyeline and smiling at you and Frank. 

You turned back to Frank, holding out your hand. 

“Deal.” 

The smile he gave you as he shook your hand sent a shiver down your spine. 

Valentine's Day: 

“Frank, you are not getting my mother flowers. She’s never going to let you leave.”  

“I can’t show up to dinner to officially meet your family without bringing something. My mom raised me better than that.” 

You were currently standing in the flower section of Kroger, picking out flowers to get your parents for their anniversary. Every year, they hosted a family dinner on Valentine’s Day to celebrate their marriage and the family that came out of it. This was officially your first go at this holidate thing, and Frank kept insisting that he had to bring flowers. 

“If you absolutely have to get flowers, don’t get red roses. My dad called dibs on those 30 years ago.”  

Frank grinned at your compromise and picked up the bouquet of tulips he had been eyeing. You had to give it to your mom, Frank was handsome, but the holidate deal was strictly platonic, so you turned and headed for the checkout lane.  

When Frank caught up with you, he was holding not one, but two bouquets. The tulips he had picked out for your mom were bright yellow. The other bouquet had a dozen red roses in it, and it had been carefully wrapped in expensive-looking brown paper.  

“Who are those for?” You couldn’t help but ask.  

“Well, I can’t get my holidate’s mother flowers and not buy my holidate flowers too. That’s just unclassy.”  

You followed him in stunned silence. You hadn’t been expecting that.  

When you finally arrived at your parents' house, you were nervously applying and reapplying your lipstick in the passenger side mirror. You didn’t know how your family was going to react to Frank. Obviously, your mom would be pleased, but you didn’t want to sit under your sister’s scrutiny for too long. If anyone was going to figure out what you were doing, it would be her.  

“You’re nervous.” Frank pointed out, watching you from the driver’s seat. “Why?” 

“I’m not nervous.” You scoffed, ignoring how easily he just read your body language. 

“Yes, you are, but you shouldn’t be. I’m the perfect gentleman. Parents love me. You’ll see.” 

He smiled at you and jumped out of the car, running around to open your door for you.  

“See? Gentleman.” 

You led Frank around to the side door, hoping for a subtle entrance. This plan was almost immediately foiled when your mom busted through the door, Cheshire grin planted on her face. 

“Frank! It’s so good to see you!” She brushed past your open arms, pulling Frank into a hug.  

“Hello, ma’am. These are for you.” He held out the tulips, smiling. 

“Oh, you.” She muttered, taking the flowers from him. She rushed through the door, calling out to your dad.  

“I think it’s safe to say that I've won over your mom.” He chuckled. “You ready?” He held out his hand in question. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” You sighed, intertwining your fingers in his. 

Dinner was as dramatic as you expected it to be. Your dad had kept up the “tough” act for a whole 30 seconds before Frank managed to win him over. All it took was a subtle nod to your dad’s “impeccable grill set-up" for your dad to shake Frank’s hand and ask him for help grilling the steaks. 

Speaking of grilling, as soon as Frank had exited the back door into your backyard, your sister immediately pulled you aside, demanding to know anything and everything about Frank. You kept your answers short but put enough detail into your responses that it seemed to win her over. Your brother had waved at Frank when you introduced him, and that was the end of that interaction. If only the rest of your family could be as relaxed as your brother was about the men in your life. 

When everyone sat down for dinner, your dad gave a long-winded speech about love and had everyone toast to your mom, who never failed to cry before dinner was served every year. Frank mixed in well with your family, holding conversations on his own with everyone at some point. 

The dramatics really amped up during dessert when your sister announced she was pregnant with her second baby. The room filled with gasps and excited squeals, mostly from your mom, and you watched as your mom wrapped her arms around your sister, teary eyed and smiling wide.  

When everyone had finished saying their congratulations and gathered in the living room for the annual “anniversary slideshow”, you settled against the back wall, content to observe the tradition from afar. Your mom snuck up beside you, pointed look on her face.  

“Don’t say it, Mom.” You mumbled, resting your head on the wall.  

“I wasn’t going to say anything!” She insisted, raising her eyebrows.  

“You were about to point out your lack of grandchildren from me, and I’m asking you to drop it, please.”  

“Oh, fine.” She joined your dad on the couch, snuggling into his side and pressing play.  

Your brother and his fiancé were also snuggling, whispering into each other’s ears and quietly giggling. It was sickeningly cute. Your brother-in-law was slowly rubbing your sister’s stomach, even though she wasn’t anywhere near showing yet. It was all annoyingly cute, and you sighed, wishing you could be anywhere else in the world. 

Frank sidled up beside you, bumping your shoulder with his. He was incredibly warm, and you couldn’t help but lean a little closer to him. You told yourself it was just because your parents kept the house cooler in the winter to save money.  

“What are you doing all the way over here?” He asked, lips so close to your ear that you couldn’t ignore the shiver racing down your spine.  

“I’m just standing.” You responded nonchalantly, pretending to be engrossed by the pictures on the screen.  

“Yes, but why are you so far away from everyone?”  

You didn’t respond, finally turning your head to look at him. His face was inches away from yours. You blinked, looking between his eyes. He was fully concentrated on you, and it was making you squirm. He was an expert at focusing his attention fully on the person he was talking to. This was something you had noticed about Frank before, but it never failed to affect you.  

“Do you want to go?” His voice was soft, full of concern.  

“Yes.” You breathed, trying not to look at his lips. 

“Okay. I’ll cause a distraction. You bolt out of the house, and I’ll meet you in the getaway car out front. But grab some of that pie on your way out.”  

He was smiling, obviously just saying something to make you laugh. You tried to stop the wide grin from forming on your lips, but when he was smiling at you like this, it was impossible not to match it. He was getting too good at reading you. 

“But seriously,” he started, still smiling, “I’ll say my friend accidentally cut his finger trying to seduce his Valentine’s date with a meal or something.” 

Frank did exactly that, and he handled it with such grace and confidence that even you caught yourself believing him for a moment. When he closed the car door behind you and began to walk around to the other side of the car, you studied him.  

There had to be something you were missing. This guy, who was seemingly full of green flags, was having the same relationship troubles as you? It didn’t make any sense. There had to be something seriously wrong with him. Otherwise, there’s no way in hell anyone would let him slip through their fingers.  

When he climbed in the car, he looked at you expectantly. “Where to, Miss Daisy?” 

“Want to get ice cream?” You asked, mouth watering at the thought. 

“What Miss Daisy wants, Miss Daisy gets.” He chuckled at his own joke, pulling away from the curb. The silence with Frank was comfortable, and you found yourself more relaxed than you had been in months.  

When you walked into the ice cream shop, you immediately regretted every decision you had ever made. You stopped mid-stride, and Frank very nearly ran into you trying to stop himself behind you. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, scoping out the store. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but then again, to any normal person, it would seem like that.  

But you were focused on the couple sitting in the back of the parlor, sharing a bowl of ice cream. It was Ben, and he was spoon feeding ice cream to the girl he had cheated on you with. Frank narrowed his eyes at them, trying to put the pieces together.  

“I suddenly don’t have an appetite for ice cream,” you mumbled, turning back to walk out the door. Frank’s brow was furrowed, and the expression on his face read as pure confusion, but he followed you through the door without question. 

You had almost made it to Frank’s car when you heard your name being shouted behind you. Ben was slightly jogging to catch up with you, and you made a show of rolling your eyes.  

“Hey! Wait!” Ben called, waving his arm. 

Frank’s posture stiffened beside you, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him as he lightly pulled your waist closer to his side. Another shiver slid down your spine. You were going to have to get rid of that side effect as soon as possible.  

“Hey, I just saw you leave the shop. I wanted to see how you were doing after, you know.” Ben was slightly panting. He eyed Frank’s hold on your waist, standing a little taller than before.  

“I’m fine, Ben. Thanks. Bye.” You responded, looking anywhere but his face. You were not going to cry in front of Frank, and you certainly wouldn’t be giving Ben the satisfaction of an emotional breakdown at his expense.  

“Who’s this?” he asked, finally acknowledging Frank.  

“Frank, this is my loser ex-boyfriend. Loser ex-boyfriend, this is Frank. Are we good? Can we go now?” You asked, losing your patience. 

Frank stiffened, a signal that told you he had caught on to the situation. His hand crept across your waist and settled on your stomach, pulling you fully against his front. His movement was slow, barely noticeable to anyone else, but the trail Frank’s hand left behind would be burned into your memory forever. 

Ben looked between your face and Frank’s, scoffing. 

“Oh, I see. He’s the rebound.” Ben nodded to himself. 

Anger coated your tongue. You opened your mouth, ready to scream, when Frank’s voice cut you off. 

“Buddy, why don’t you fuck off, okay? She’s clearly not interested in having this conversation with you.” 

“Okay, buddy.” Ben responded, putting his hands on his hips. “I don’t think this is any of your business.” 

“You made it my business when you upset her.” Frank’s deep voice reverberated through your chest. “We’re going.” He opened the car door, guiding you into the seat with a gentle push from the hand on your waist.  

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You eagerly climbed in, squeezing the seatbelt as you buckled it. Frank joined you seconds later, starting the car and carefully pulling out of the spot. Your eyes didn’t leave your lap until the car was safely on the road again.  

“Are you okay? God, that guy’s such an asshole. Sorry about the ice cream.” Frank gripped the steering wheel with one hand, resting his other arm on the windowsill and running his hand through his hair. 

“I’m fine.” Your voice was meek compared to Frank’s deep one. 

“You’re not, but that’s okay. You’re allowed to be upset.”  

You stayed silent, counting the streetlights as you drove past them. Frank didn’t pry. He put the radio on a low volume and quietly hummed along to the Sum-41 song playing. After a while, he turned into a gas station parking lot, pulling into one of the spots in front of the store. You looked around, confused. 

“Stay here. I’ll be right back. Lock the door.” He moved to get out of the car, but stopped when you made a noise of discontent, raising your hands in the air in question. 

“Wait! What are you doing?” You asked, exasperated. 

“I promised you ice cream, didn’t I?” He smiled, climbing out of the car. Your fingers fell along the arm rest, pressing the lock button. You couldn’t help the smile that crossed your face as you watched him walk away from the car. 

Easter: 

Easter was a holiday that you hadn’t celebrated until you were a few years into your adulthood. Your parents didn’t press religion onto you or your siblings when you were growing up, but your sister had married into a somewhat religious family, so the annual Easter egg hunt they hosted had become a regular part of your Easter plans. 

When you called him, Frank had insisted that his family could spend the day without him. You hadn’t spoken to him much since Valentine’s Day, but you smiled when he immediately said he’d be there, holidate ready.  

He showed up, sporting a button-down shirt and slacks. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and he had let his hair grow out a little. You tried not to stare as he opened the car door for you, ever the gentleman.  

“Have you been okay?” he asked, lightly tapping the steering wheel to the beat of the song playing on the radio. 

“Actually, yes.” For the first time in months, you didn’t have to lie when someone asked you that question. Ben was a memory you had all but forgotten about.  

“That’s great. I'm glad you called. My family was trying to force me into dressing up like the Easter Bunny for my nieces and nephews.” He shuddered at the thought. 

Your head whipped around. “You have siblings?” you asked, genuinely surprised. He had never mentioned them before.  

“I have a brother and a sister, like you. They both have a million kids. I love them, but they couldn’t pay me enough to dress up in a giant, fuzzy bunny costume.” 

You threw your head back against the headrest, laughing loudly.  

“You never told me that!” 

“You never asked.” He responded, raising an eyebrow at you and smiling. 

“Hmmm. Let’s change that.”  

You spent the drive asking him every question you could think of. His favorite color was purple, even though he didn’t own anything that even remotely resembled the color. He didn’t have a favorite tv-show because he didn’t ever turn the tv on in his apartment. He loves dogs, but never adopted any because he thinks they should have a big backyard to run around in. He has a perfect attendance record at work because he never gets sick.  

When you pulled up in front of your sister’s house, you still had a million questions for him, but your mom’s waving hand at the front door forced you out of the car. Frank grabbed onto your hand as you walked up the driveway and squeezed it. You tried not to blush. Why did he have to be so God damned dreamy? 

He pulled his hand away to give your mom a hello hug. She winked at you over his shoulder, and your eyes stung at the thought of the holidate deal coming to an end. She was going to be heartbroken. She really liked Frank. You and Frank hadn’t discussed how long you’d be each other’s holidates, but you knew he would eventually meet someone else and have to put an end to your deal. 

“Frank, I’m so glad you’re here. Uncle Steve was supposed to be the bunny, but he fell off his motorcycle last night and can’t walk without crutches. What a shame. But we really need an Easter Bunny.” She shook her head sadly, clasping her hands together.  

The cackle that came out of you was obnoxious, but you didn’t care. This was the best thing that could’ve possibly happened. Frank looked back at you, eyebrows raised.  

“You didn’t mention that your family also did the ‘dress up like the Easter Bunny’ thing.” He muttered, expectant look in his eyes.  

“You never asked.” You responded, wiping the tears gathering under your eyes. Another fit of giggles had you gasping for air. You clutched your stomach, taking deep breaths, and then immediately busted out laughing again when your mom appeared with the bunny head in her hands. 

You spent the afternoon laughing every time Frank walked by you in the costume. He looked so defeated, but he was putting on a good show for the kids, who loved him. When it was time for dinner, Frank fell into his seat next to you. He looked exhausted, but the grin he sent you was to die for.  

“You could’ve told her no, you know?” You said, patting his hand. 

“I know, but it made you smile, so I didn’t want to.”  

Frank said this nonchalantly, but you felt his words in your gut. The chime of a knife on a wine glass stole your chance to respond. Frank lightly ran his fingers along your hand, and you spent the entire speech and prayer focused solely on the feeling of his skin against yours. If someone asked you about the speech, you’d be at a loss for words. You didn’t hear a word of it. 

After dinner, you had drunk so much wine that you excused yourself to the bathroom. Your sister busted through the door approximately 30 seconds after you had entered the bathroom, slamming it shut behind her. 

“Okay, it’s not like I’m in the middle of peeing or anything.”  

“Oh, shush. I need to talk to you.” Her hand subconsciously rested on her stomach. She was showing a little bit, and her lilac dress showed off her baby bump perfectly. 

“What is so important that you couldn’t wait for me to finish peeing?” 

She smirked, leaning against the door. “It looks like it’s going good with Frank.” 

“Oh my god. This could definitely wait until I was done.”  

“We’ve all noticed it. I mean, come on. The bunny suit? He did that for you, not the kids.” 

“Yeah,” you mumbled, trying your best to nod enthusiastically. 

Your sister’s face fell. “What? Is he not good in bed or something?”  

“What? No! I mean, I don’t know. We haven’t-” 

“Oh, is he one of those wait til marriage kind of people?” 

“No! Well, I don’t know.” You threw your hands up in exasperation. You couldn’t imagine Frank being bad in bed, but that was something you had been strictly not thinking about. 

“What are you hiding?” She asked, eyeing you. You should’ve known she would see through this eventually. You rested your elbows on your knees, dropping your face into your hands. 

“It’s not...real.” You finally mumbled. “We’re just faking it on the holidays for our families. A holidate, ya know?”  

“A holidate.” She repeated, voice full of confusion. 

“A holidate.” You sat back, looking up at her. 

“But he doesn’t look at you like it’s fake.” She shook her head, crossing her arms. 

“That’s the point. It’s an act. You can’t tell anyone, especially Mom.” You pleaded with her. 

“This could end very poorly.” She said after a pause, concern lacing her words.  

“I know.” You nodded slowly, then sent her a playful glare. “Can I wipe, now? In private?”  

Your sister left, quietly shutting the door behind her. You stood in the bathroom for an extra few minutes, contemplating the decisions that led you to this point. When you finally rejoined Frank at the table, he was engrossed in a conversation with your dad. He didn’t look at you, but he grabbed your hand, pulling it into his lap. Your sister sent you a pointed look, which you promptly ignored. The pattern Frank drew into your skin burned so hotly that it felt like a brand. 

4th of July: 

The 4th of July was always a huge affair for your family. Your parents rented a cabin on the lake and invited everyone and their grandmother to spend the weekend there, and this year, you were being upgraded to your own bedroom, courtesy of Frank’s presence. In the years you were with Ben, he had never joined you for the 4th of July celebration, so you had always been stuffed into a room with someone else. But not this year.  

When you called Frank, it was the first time you’d actually spoken in over a month. The few text check-ins barely counted as a conversation, and they were usually brief. You had nervously paced around the room as you listened to the ringing on the other line, hoping it’d go to voicemail. It was a big step, even if it was technically fake. Not only would Frank be spending the night with you, but he’d also be sharing a bed with you, which was a terrifying thought. 

Frank picked up, panting into the phone. His grunts were downright sinful, and you momentarily forgot what you were calling him about.  

“Am I interrupting something?” You asked, mind immediately jumping to the worst conclusion. 

“I’m at the gym, but I didn’t want to miss your call. What’s up, buttercup?”  

You explained the situation, pacing back and forth around your kitchen when you got to the ‘one bed’ part.  

“Of course, I’ll come. I wouldn’t miss it. Do you want me to stay somewhere else?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?” 

“I can tell you’re walking a hole into your floor right now. We don’t have to share a bed if you don’t want to. I can stay at a hotel or something.”  

“No! I mean-” you paused, closing your eyes, “I just meant that if you would be uncomfortable, you don’t have to come. I didn’t want to pressure you into anything. I don’t mind sharing a bed if you don’t”  

You bit your lip, waiting for his response.  

“Cool. I’ll drive. What time are we leaving?” 

And that was that. Frank picked you up in his car, so giddy about the trip that he was practically bouncing up and down. The drive there wasn’t too long, but you spent the time catching up with Frank. Besides the occasional text, you really didn’t talk to him often when it wasn’t a holiday. After the conversation with your sister on Easter, you had set boundaries with yourself. You only let yourself think about him some of the time, and you certainly didn’t reach out to him. It was better if you distanced yourself from him on the regular days of the year.  

Frank insisted on unloading the car himself and wouldn’t let you lift a finger to help. He even carried your purse in for you. Your mom hugged him so tightly you winced out of sympathy for the poor man. Frank was a big man, but your mom could summon the strength of three grizzly bears when she wanted to. 

Frank said his hellos, shaking your dad’s hand and asking your sister about her pregnancy. Being only 2 months away from her due date, she was fully showing now. When you finally made it to the room you were sharing with Frank, you were so nervous you started to gnaw on the inside of your cheek.  

The bed was big, but so was Frank. He’d take up at least two-thirds of the space. You didn’t let yourself think about tonight, or the rest of the weekend. That was a problem for future you. Your brother bolted past the doorway, stopping only to invite you both to swim in the lake before he took off again. He was only a couple years younger than you, but he had the energy of a 12-year-old boy.  

“Do you want to go?” Frank asked, flopping onto the bed. He propped his head on his hands, which were stretched behind him. His shirt had risen up, giving you a full view of his happy trail. Your mouth dried at the sight. 

“Oh, sure.” You finally responded, shaking the thoughts from your head. “Do you?”  

“Whatever you want to do is fine with me. Your mom’s not going to make me dress up like a giant firework, is she?”  

You stifled a laugh, reaching for your swimsuit. “I don’t think so, but you never know with her.” 

Frank closed his eyes, settling into the mattress.  

“You can change. I won’t peek. Holidate’s honor.”  

The idea of being bare in front of Frank was not something you had prepared yourself for, and you could feel yourself begin to sweat. You slowly closed the door, which increased the heat in the room to suffocating levels.  

You studied Frank, whose eyes remained closed. He looked peaceful in this position, unbothered by the trials and tribulations of life. You slowly unbuttoned your shorts, pushing them down your legs. Your gaze remained on Frank, blissfully unaware of what he was doing to you. Heat pounded between your thighs, and you couldn’t help the image that popped into your head of Frank’s head dipped between. You bit your lip, watching as Frank shifted his hips on the bed and cleared his throat.  

The sound of your brother’s footsteps stomping past the closed door startled you out of your thoughts. A cold wave washed over you, chilling you to your bones. You hurried to put the rest of your swimsuit on, almost falling over in the process.  

You stepped out of the room, taking a deep breath. This weekend was going to be rough, and you had only been there for 15 minutes. When Frank joined you outside, you had to look away in order not to groan. Frank was unreasonably fit, muscles bulging in places you didn’t even know muscles existed. You focused on rubbing sunscreen into your skin, looking everywhere but at Frank.  

He stopped behind you, grabbing the bottle of sunscreen off the table. You froze when you felt his hands gathering your hair, moving it in front of your shoulders. He squirted sunscreen on his hands and began lathering it across your back and shoulders. You watched the group of people gathered around the lake, taking turns swinging into the water off a rope. The only thing that stopped you from turning around and slamming your lips against Frank’s was the horrible awkwardness that would settle between you for the entire weekend if Frank rebuffed your advances.  

His hands worked their way down your back, stopping millimeters above the waistline of your bikini.  

“All done.” His voice was husky in your ear. You slowly turned around, looking up at Frank. He brought his hand up to your shoulder, rolling the strap of your bikini between his fingers.  

“Purple.” He observed. “I like this color.”  

He stepped around you, taking your hand in his and tugging your arm. You tried not to stare at his ass as he led you down to the lake.  

Later, after hours of swimming and eating the burgers your dad had grilled for everyone, you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Even though the lake water had been freezing, and you had spent most of dinner leaning into Frank’s natural body heat, you had taken an ice cold shower. Frank was in the room, already showered and probably in bed. You prayed that he would be asleep when you finally got the courage to enter the room.  

You took a breath, stepping out of the bathroom and making your way down the hall. When you stepped into the dark room, Frank was lying flat on his back in bed, scrolling through his phone. 

You crawled into the bed, doing your best to avoid touching Frank. Frank was broad, though, and your shoulder ended up touching his no matter what position you laid in.  

“Jesus,” he mumbled, turning on his side and facing you, “you’re freezing.”  

You cleared your throat. “I’m fine.”  

He gave you a flat stare, pressing his shoulder into yours. You pushed back, settling against him. Your body seemed to have a mind of its own. Frank was warm, and you really were freezing after your cold shower, so you relaxed into the touch, shutting your eyes. The back of Frank’s hand brushed yours as you fell into a deep sleep next to him.  

The next evening, you watched as Frank and your dad set up the firework area that everyone would be gathering around soon. Your sister lounged in the chair next to you, fanning herself.  

“Why don’t you just date instead of faking it? You act like a couple already.”  

“Because that wasn’t the deal, and who says he even sees me like that?” 

“Do you see him like that?”  

 “I don’t know. No.” You shook your head. “It’s not like that.”  

“That suggestive sunscreen job I witnessed yesterday says differently.”  

You didn’t want to argue with her, so you remained quiet, watching Frank’s back muscles flex as he lifted a piece of wood and chunked it to the side. When he made his way back to you, he was coated in sweat, which somehow made him even better to look at. He smiled at you, stopping to press a kiss on the top of your head. Your sister shot you a look when he continued walking towards the cabin. 

When it was finally dark enough to shoot off fireworks, your dad counted down, setting off a huge firework when he got to zero. The night took a turn for the worse shortly after that.  

It had started with your brother jokingly shooting a firework near you that landed a little too close for comfort. Frank had a competitive side apparently, thus began an outright firework war that ended faster than it began. You ran for the cabin, stopping when you heard the unmistakable sound of Frank grunting in pain.  

He had fallen to the ground, clutching his hand to his chest. You turned on your heels, bolting to Frank and falling to your knees in front of him. His finger was missing, and you did your very best not to puke all over your severely injured holidate.  

“Oh my god. Oh my GOD. Frank!” You faintly heard the sound of someone calling an ambulance behind you. You clutched the sides of his face, trying to figure out what to do. Your brother was searching the ground around you, and you balked in horror when you realized he was looking for Frank’s finger.  

“Is it bad?” Frank asked, grunting when he tried to lift his hand. 

“Is it bad?” You repeated, incredulously, “Yes, it’s bad. Where the fuck is your finger, Frank?”  

He barked out a laugh, and then groaned at the movement.  

“You’re the only person who’d get mad at someone with a missing finger.”  

“This is totally karma getting us back for lying to my parents on Valentine’s Day!”  

The ambulance arrived shortly after that, and you jumped into the back with Frank before the paramedics could tell you any differently. You spent hours in the waiting room as Frank had his finger surgically attached, drinking shitty coffee and flipping through the months-old magazines on the table. When the doctor finally told you he was ready to be seen, you had to stop yourself from running down the hall towards him.  

He was in a recovery room, lying on the bed in a hospital gown.  

“How are you feeling?” You asked, plopping down on the chair next to the bed. The hand that had lost the finger was wrapped in pounds of gauze, propped up on a pillow.  

“Like shit.” He grumbled, taking your hand in his uninjured one. “I totally ruined your family’s holiday.” 

“Frank, my brother is the one that shot your finger off. You didn’t ruin anything. I’ve gotten about 75,000 texts asking for updates on you since we got here. They’re not worried about the holiday, they’re worried about you. ” 

“This is the worst holidate ever.” He moaned, exaggerating his eye roll.  

You giggled, resting your chin on your free hand.  

“At least you still have all your extremities.”  

He chuckled, looking at his injured hand. 

“Thanks for staying.” He squeezed your hand as he said it, looking over at you. 

“Holidates don’t leave holidates behind.”  

Halloween: 

Halloween was something you hadn’t officially celebrated in years, but your brother was finally getting hitched, and you were actually pretty excited about it. Frank was coming as your plus-one and holidate, even though technically the event wasn’t holiday related. It was the same weekend as Halloween, so Frank had insisted on joining you. He had even gone as far as pointing out that it would be strange for you to show up to the wedding alone, considering how long he’d been attending family events with you. 

Your mother had done all of the hotel booking, so you and Frank were sharing room again, but you weren’t as nervous this time around about that. The weeks after the finger incident had changed something between you and Frank. At first, you basically lived on his couch, waking him up throughout the night to give him the medicine his doctor had prescribed him. You had to help him button his shirts for work, a task you still thought about daily, and stocked his fridge with meals that he wouldn't have to fuss over with his injured hand.  

It was now a fairly regular occurrence to hear from Frank throughout the day. A random text every few hours, or a phone call during his lunch break was something you’d grown used to in your daily routine. You still didn’t know what you were doing. The idea of actually dating someone was terrifying, but you couldn’t decide if it was worse than the idea of not seeing Frank.  

Frank’s voice coaxed you out of your deep thoughts. 

“I can’t get this bowtie to sit right.” Frank called from the bathroom.  

You moved towards his voice, clutching the front of your dress.  

“Zip me, please.” You mumbled, turning your back to him. He obliged, running his cool knuckles up your spine as he zipped the dress up. You focused on the bowtie, undoing the ridiculous knot he had wound into it while trying to fix it.  

“You look great. Beautiful.” He sighed, looking you over. 

You smiled. “You’re only saying that because the dress I’m wearing is purple.” You didn’t mention that you had picked this dress out specifically because of the color. 

“I can like the color and also like you in the color. They don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”  

You retied the bowtie, patting his chest when you finished. “You look good, too.”  

“You’re making me blush.” He chuckled, leading you out the door.  

Your sister met you in the lobby, holding the newest addition to the family in her arms. She had gone into labor in the middle of September, bringing your nephew into the world a short 6 hours later. Frank’s first interaction with him had been so annoyingly adorable that your mother didn’t stop sending you meaningful looks for hours afterwards. 

The ceremony was short, but as weird as you expected it to be. Anything your brother was involved in guaranteed a strange experience, but Frank didn’t seem to mind. He spent the ceremony clutching your hand between his and toying with the fabric of your dress.  

The reception is when it got really interesting. You finally escaped the dance floor, where your dad was thoroughly drunk and had been whipping you around in circles for what felt like hours. You stepped off the raised floor, heading directly for Frank, who had been watching you dance with a bemused expression on his face. 

“That looked fun.” He observed, passing you the glass of water on the table.  

You gulped it down, all too aware of Frank’s heated gaze. You could always tell when he was looking at you. A fiery shock would slide down your spine and settle deep in your bones when his eyes were on you. You never got used to it, but tonight you decided to welcome the feeling.  

Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe you were just tired of sitting on the relationship fence with Frank, but you leaned over him, giving him an unrestricted view down your dress as you set the empty glass down on the table. He remained unfazed, glancing over your shoulder at the dance floor. 

You tried not to look disappointed. You had spent so much time with him that maybe you had created a false narrative about him. It had been 10 months since you’d reconnected, and he’d only ever been affectionate with you when you were in front of your family. Which, you reminded yourself, was the deal.  

You shook your head, ridding the thoughts from your head. You held out your hand in question, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Dance with me.”  

A goofy smile spread across his face. “It'd be an honor, ma’am.”  

You led him across the dance floor, swaying to the music that had changed from fast paced to slow and romantic. Your steps were clumsy and awkward, but that didn’t deter Frank.  

“Let me lead.” He mumbled, looking down at your feet.  

“I can’t not lead. I always lead.” You respond, trying and failing to relinquish your control. 

“Let me lead.” He repeated, squeezing your waist. “Relax.”  

You took a deep breath, following his steps as best you could. It was rather nice, dancing with a man that you could trust to guide you around the dance floor. With Ben, you’d always had to lead. He was a terrible dancer. Frank, though, was a natural.  

He effortlessly led you around the floor, pulling you closer every time he spun you around. Your chest was fully pressed against his, and he smiled as he rested his forehead against yours. You couldn’t hide the ridiculous smile that mirrored his. On any other occasion, you would pull away and stick to the holidate rules, but tonight didn’t feel like a holidate date, so you stayed exactly where you were, cheesing so hard your cheeks were beginning to hurt.  

His eyes darted down to your lips, and then quickly returned to your eyes. You couldn’t help it. You leaned in, just barely grazing his lips with your own. It didn’t qualify as a kiss. It barely qualified as anything, but the expression on Frank’s face had you reeling back. You couldn’t tell if he was upset, confused, or mad, but you opened your mouth to apologize anyways. 

“I’m-” 

The feedback from the microphone cut you off. Frank’s grip on your waist tightened as you whirled around, looking toward the stage. It was time for the ‘father of the bride’ speech, and you couldn’t believe how unlucky the timing was.  

You didn’t look at Frank as you made your way back to your family’s table. Instead, you grabbed your nephew out of your sister’s hands, rocking him in your arms as the speech began. You didn’t need to look up to know Frank was staring at you. He hadn’t stopped since you’d barely kissed him moments before. Heat traveled up your neck and across your cheeks. You felt like crying, but you didn’t know why. Did you just ruin possibly the best friendship you’d ever had by misreading the situation? 

The speech finished, and you went to hand your nephew back to your sister, when the worst possible thing that could’ve happened, happened. Your nephew, cute and as bubbly as could be, decided he wanted to projectile vomit all over your chest. You didn’t move for several moments, trying to comprehend everything that led to this moment. 

Your sister wouldn’t stop apologizing as she took the baby from you. The anxious ringing in your ears was back, and you couldn’t breathe. Tonight was going so poorly, and you were so overwhelmed with Frank that frustrated and embarrassed tears began pouring down your cheeks. You could feel Frank’s hand wrap around your wrist as you turned towards the exit, but you shrugged him off, moving out of the reception hall and towards the elevators in the lobby of the hotel. 

You knew you’d have to face him eventually, but all you could think about was getting out of there, away from his overpowering presence. When you finally got to your room, you couldn’t stop the overflow of tears. Your dress was ruined, probably cursed to smell like baby puke forever, and your makeup was so smeared it would have to be completely redone if you wanted to return to the reception. 

You decided you had had enough of dancing. You stripped your dress off, stepping into the boiling hot shower. You wiped your face, staining the white washcloth black. Your fists squeezed into tight balls as the bathroom door opened and shut.  

“Are you okay?” 

Frank’s voice was soft, and tears welled up in your eyes again at the sound of it. He was always so nice.  

“Why do I feel like you’re always asking me that?” You finally responded, resting your head against the cool tile of the shower wall.  

“You’ve had an off year. We all have ‘em. Are you okay, though?”  

The sympathy in his voice caused even more tears to fall down your face. You couldn’t even figure out why you were crying anymore.  

“I’m...I don’t know.” You mumbled, wiping your cheeks. “I don’t know. Is that okay?”  

“Of course. But you’re allowed to not be okay. I’m here for you either way.”  

You groaned, closing your eyes. “Happy fuckin’ Halloween.” You mumbled. 

You turned the shower off, drying yourself off with the towel hanging on the wall of the shower opposite the shower head. You opened the curtain, clutching the towel to your chest. Frank was sitting on the toilet lid, leaning against the back of the toilet, looking directly at you. His gaze was hard to read.  

“We don’t have to go back, do we?” You asked, stepping out of the shower. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” He stood, moving to lean against the counter next to you.  

You gazed at your reflection. A few tear paths, stained with mascara, were scattered across your cheeks. You rubbed them with the palm of your hand, trying to wipe away any of the remnants of tonight. 

“Beautiful.” Frank mumbled, looking at you through the reflection of the mirror. 

“What?” You asked, meeting his gaze. 

“You’re beautiful, even when your makeup is all over the place.” 

“Oh.” You breathed, turning away from the mirror to face him. 

He took a step forward, towering over you. His hand cupped your cheek, and he swiftly leaned in, pressing his lips against yours. The spark was electric, snapping the restraint in both of you. You pressed against him, opening your mouth for him to explore. He groaned, wrapping his arms around your waist.  

You didn’t let yourself think of the consequences as you dropped your towel, fully bare before him. He pulled away, looking your body up and down, before reconnecting his mouth with yours. You pulled on his bowtie, undoing the knot you had tied so many hours earlier. The buttons on his shirt slid apart easily, and suddenly Frank was tugging his shirt off, dropping it to the floor behind him. He cupped the back of your knees, hoisting you into the air as you gripped his back and wrapped your legs around his waist. 

He carried you into the bedroom, grunting as he fell on top of you on the soft mattress. His tongue made its way down your neck and onto your chest. He licked a path down your sternum and onto your stomach, planting kisses along the way. His path downward stopped suddenly as he lightly kissed and sucked on your hip, leaving what was sure to be a mark the next day.  

He lifted your legs, resting them on his shoulders. He looked up, lustful and heated in his gaze.  

“Can I?” He asked, squeezing your thighs. 

“Oh, please.” You responded, spreading your legs wider for him. 

He dove in, tongue lapping at your cunt. The moan you let out would surely wake whatever unlucky neighbors you had on either side of your room. You arched your back, giving him more access. His tongue made slow circles up your slit, settling just below your clit. He left kitten licks all around it, grinning every time you moaned. You scoffed when you realized what he was doing. He was teasing you. 

You let out a frustrated whine, arching your back further. 

“You need somethin’, darlin’?” He asked, punch drunk on your pussy.  

“I need you, Frank.” You whined, looking down at him. 

His gaze darkened, and you were almost afraid of what would come next. He finally, finally, circled your clit with his tongue. You saw stars, letting out the most uncouth moan you’d ever heard yourself make. He flattened his tongue, licking from your clit to your cunt and back again. Your legs began to shake, and he tightened his grip on your thighs. 

He drew figure eights with his tongue, sucking and licking you until you were so close you thought you might explode. He ate pussy like a man starved, and when your orgasm finally crashed over you, white-hot and all encompassing, you thought you might never reach that level of euphoria again. 

He rested his head on your thigh, grinning as he watched you come down from what was probably the best orgasm you’d ever have in your lifetime. Your heart was racing, and you let out several unsteady breaths. Your entire body was numb, and you couldn’t feel anything but bliss inside of you. Frank had wrecked you with his tongue, and all you could think about was doing it again.  

He crawled up your body, hovering over you. He ran his hands through your hair a few times before settling his gaze on yours.  

“Let's do that again.” You sighed, skin buzzing where he touched you. 

He chuckled, pressing a kiss onto the bridge of your nose. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you. He was still wearing his dress pants, and you wiggled with discontent.  

“You’re too clothed, sir.” You said, grinning. 

“Yeah?” He asked, sitting back on his heels. 

“Yes.” You replied, watching as he slowly removed his belt. The sight of him kneeling over you, removing his clothes, was drool worthy. You had to remind yourself to close your mouth as he got off the bed and dropped his pants to the floor.  

The front of his briefs were stained with wetness, precum soaking through the fabric. Your mouth watered and you swallowed thickly as he stroked his hard cock, stepping out of his pants and underwear. Frank naked was a sight to behold. His cock was veiny and long, and your legs widened out of sheer shock.  

He smirked, pumping his cock again. You bit your lip to hide the moan crawling up your throat. He leaned over, pulling a condom out of his wallet. 

“Do you always keep condoms in your wallet when you’re a plus one to a wedding?” You ask, genuinely curious. 

“Only when my dates are incredibly sexy and wear my favorite color.”  

“Oh, so this happens often?” You tried to sound seductive instead of insecure, which is the feeling that began bubbling in your chest. 

“No. Not until tonight.” He shook his head, eyes following the curve of your hips and settling between your thighs. He slid the condom on and crawled over you again. 

Relief washed over you, and you spread your legs wider, inviting him to use you as he pleased. Your groans filled the room as he pushed into you, inch by inch until he was fully inside of you. It stung a little, considering how long it had been since you’d had sex with anyone, but he didn’t move, cradling your face and waiting for you to give him a signal that he could positively fuck you into the mattress.  

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling his mouth to yours. His thrusts started slow, but the heat in your kiss sent another shock to both of your systems, and soon he was pounding into you. Skin met skin in a sinful, symphonic rhythm that overtook the room. He grunted into your ear when you lifted your hips, allowing him to push deeper into you.  

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him with every deep thrust. Your heart pounded as he thrusted into you, over and over, pushing you closer to the edge. Your moans got louder, and that seemed to motivate him into fucking you harder into the mattress underneath you. He dipped his head into your neck, sucking the sensitive skin and leaving small marks in his wake. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears of pleasure rolling down the sides of your face. You’d never been fucked this good before, and the only logical reaction your body could think of was to cry. 

He kissed the tears, smiling as you clenched around him. He reached down, settling his finger on your sensitive clit. It took about 3 seconds before your body couldn’t handle the overwhelming pleasure washing over you. You moaned loudly, orgasm shattering through you. He groaned, squeezing you tighter against him. You both met your highs, hearts pounding wildly in your chests as you came.  

His thrusts slowed, until he finally stopped, breathing hard over you. Your body was so blissed out that it took you several minutes before you could open your eyes. Frank kissed your nose again, pulling out of you. You both groaned with oversensitivity. 

He disposed of the condom, falling onto the bed next to you. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, still breathing heavier than normal.  

You could barely hear him. The pounding in your chest had moved to your ears.  

“Mhmm.” You sighed, snuggling into the comforter under your head. “You?” 

“I’m in awe of you. I always am.”  

He grasped your hand, pushing the covers back and helping you crawl under them. He settled next to you in the bed, running his fingers through your hair. Your heavy eyelids tracked the movements, watching him watch you. The expression on his face was unreadable, but sleep was fast approaching, so you couldn’t find it in yourself to question it. You could barely keep your eyes open, the last thing you remember being the soft press of Frank’s lips on your forehead. 

// 

A pounding at the door woke you from your deep slumber. The hotel room was filled with daylight, and you shielded your eyes as you tried to find your bearings. Frank was next to you, lying on his stomach and hugging the pillow under his head.  

Another knock at the door had you jumping to your feet, grabbing an extra blanket and wrapping it around yourself as you made your way to the door. You opened it to your very concerned-looking sister.  

“You’re alive.” She observed, glancing over your blanket wrapped body, “And naked.”  

“Yes, thank you. Is that all?” You gritted your teeth, unintentionally snarling. 

She looked over your shoulder at Frank’s sleeping form and back at you. 

“Didn’t you agree with me that this would be a bad idea?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yes.” 

“And you did it anyways?”  

“Yes.” You rolled your eyes, itching to slam the door in her face and crawl back into bed with Frank.  

“You’re going to get hurt. Or hurt him. Or both.” She stated, matter-of-factly.  

“I haven’t thought that far ahead, yet.” You admitted, leaning your head against the doorframe. 

Frank shifted behind you, and you looked at your sister incredulously. “Are we done?”  

“Check out is in an hour. That’s all I wanted to come tell you.” She said, floating down the hallway towards her room. You closed the door, rolling your eyes again.  

You turned, intent on forgetting the entire interaction, when you noticed Frank sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Hey.” You said softly, moving towards him.  

“Hey.” His response was blunt, voice hard and cold. He stood, sliding past you. He didn’t even spare you a glance as he rifled through his bag, quickly getting dressed. You sat on the bed, watching him move around the room and gather his stuff.  

You didn’t know what to say, or why it had gotten so awkward all of the sudden. You chewed your lip nervously. He finally looked over at you, resting his hands on his hips.  

“Can you check us out on your own?” He asked, seemingly annoyed.  

Your brow furrowed. “Um,” You started, trying to figure out where his coldness was coming from, “Yeah, I can do it.”  

“Okay.” He nodded, lifting his bag. “I’ll see you in a few weeks then?” His voice had softened a little bit, but the expression on his face was still cold.  

“Yeah.” You responded, not knowing what else to say. He walked out of the hotel room, not sparing a glance behind him. You watched as the door clicked shut, and you took a deep shuttering breath. Tears prickled behind your eyes, and you didn’t know what else to do besides packing your stuff. When you got to the lobby 20 minutes later, Frank was nowhere to be found.  

Thanksgiving: 

This was probably the most nervous you’d ever been to see Frank, even more than Valentine’s Day when you’d officially started being holidates. You had barely spoken to him since Halloween, which bothered you more than you thought it would. You’d grown so used to his daily texts and phone calls that the radio silence was increasingly frustrating. When you’d texted him to ask if he was still coming to your parents' house for Thanksgiving, he’d sent a simple ‘yes’ 12 hours later.  

You were perplexed by Frank’s behavior, but you chalked it up to overthinking your night with him. You’d never agreed to anything more than holidates with him, and you couldn’t just assume that Frank would be different with you after having sex with you. You had simply misread the signals he’d been sending you, and that was your fault.  

Your mother hadn’t stopped audibly sighing since you’d shown up on the front porch alone. You hadn’t talked to Frank about riding together, so you’d texted him that you were driving yourself. He hadn’t responded, and it was now 15 minutes past the time he was supposed to be here. 

“Are you sure he’s coming, honey?” Your mom asked, fiddling with the oven mitts on the counter.  

“He said he’d be here.” You muttered, trying not to look at the clock again.  

Your phone buzzed, and you read a text from Frank: ‘I’m outside.’ 

You walked out to the front porch, where you met Frank, who was holding two bouquets of flowers in his hands.  

“More flowers?” You asked, looking at the beautiful array of orange, yellow, and red flowers he had picked out.  

“Of course. You know I never show up empty handed.” 

“I’m surprised you showed up at all.” You couldn’t keep the bite out of your tone as you said what you’d been worrying about since Halloween.  

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Frank didn’t raise his voice, and for that you were glad, but the tone was definitely sharper than you were used to.  

“I just meant that you haven’t been very communicative lately. If you met someone else, that’s fine, but I need to know that stuff so I can tell my family we broke up.” You crossed your arms and shuffled your feet. 

“Is that what you want?” He asked, eyeing you. 

“What?” 

“To break up.”  

“We’re not together, Frank. It’s not real.”  

He inhaled sharply, nodding.  

“Okay.” He said finally, handing you both bouquets. He turned, stalking back towards his car.  

“Where are you going?” The tremble in your voice was entirely too noticeable, and you kicked yourself for being so emotional over this non-relationship. 

“Home. We're not fake-together anymore. Remember? Tell your mom sorry for the inconvenience.” 

He climbed into his car and pulled away from the curb at an alarming pace. You stood there, dumbfounded, watching his car until you couldn’t see it anymore. The tears that you’d spent the last few weeks holding in finally made an appearance, and sobs began to overwhelm your body.  

You had totally fucked everything up, and now you had to go inside and tell your family that you and Frank had broken up. The thought of it made you cry even harder.  

The door opened behind you, and you felt the soft embrace of your sister around you.  

“I’m so sorry, honey.” She mumbled into your back, squeezing you into a hug. 

“I don’t know what happened.” You said, clutching the flowers to your chest.  

“I know, sweetie. I’m sorry.”  

She held you for longer than you care to admit before you finally went inside to deliver the news. 

Christmas: 

You layed on your parents’ couch, watching as your mom slowly decorated the Christmas tree in the living room. You usually helped her, but you’d been a wreck since a few weeks ago at Thanksgiving, and your mom hadn’t asked for your help, just your company. 

The tree came together perfectly – it always did when your mother was involved – and you tried not to think about Frank, or the fact that you hadn’t been able to sleep or eat since you’d seen him last.  

When your mom sat on the couch next to you, she sighed, which was always a sign that she had something important to discuss. You tried not to outwardly groan.  

“Honey,” she started, taking your hand in hers, “I know you miss Frank, but you can’t let this ruin your happiness. He is very handsome and nice, and I don’t know what happened between you two, but I need you to remember that you deserve a kind and forgiving love like the rest of us. If he can’t offer that, he’s not worth your time.” 

The overwhelming urge to come clean to your mom about the entire thing ate at you as you listened to her. You responded before you could lose the nerve. 

“Mom, I made a mistake.” 

She nodded, leaning forward to listen to you.  

“Frank wasn’t really my boyfriend. We were faking it, so that you and dad would stop worrying about me. Except, I think I really fell for him, and then everything went to shit, and I think I accidentally fell in love with him, and I don’t know what to do.”  

Your voice cracked, and another wave of tears fell down your face. The only thing you could manage to do lately was cry, and it was beginning to drain you of your will to function.  

“Oh, honey.” She chuckled, squeezing your hand against her chest. “We don’t care if you have a boyfriend or not. We just want you to be happy, sweetie. And I’m sorry if it came across like we were trying to marry you off. We just wanted you to find someone who could make you as happy as we make each other.” 

She pulled you into a hug and rubbed your back in a soothing pattern as you cried into her chest. 

“You know, we’ve never seen you as happy as you were with Frank.” She murmured. 

“It wasn’t real, Mom.” You muttered, shaking your head.  

“You can’t fake that. He looked at you like you hung the moon. And you looked at him the same way. Even if it started as something fake, that’s not something you can fake for long.”  

You stayed quiet, mulling over her words.  

“You should call him.” She suggested, shrugging her shoulders. 

“I can’t call him. We fake broke-up.”  

“You can do anything you set your mind to.” She stated, raising her chin. “I didn’t raise you to give up so easily.” She flicked your nose, smiling. “Do you want some hot chocolate? I’ll make it the way you like.”  

You sent her a small smile, nodding. “Yeah, thanks.”  

After she made it to the kitchen, you pulled out your phone. You weren’t going to call him, you weren’t insane, but you could text him. 

You asked him if you could talk and watched as the bubbles next to his name appeared, disappeared, and then reappeared on the screen. Your phone buzzed, and an uneasy feeling settled in your gut.  

‘Yes. Can you meet me at the Christmas tree farm off of Jones?’ 

You jumped up, pulling on your boots and yelling at your mom not to make the hot chocolate.  

“Where are you going?” She exclaimed, briskly walking into the living room. You were already a foot out the door. 

“Frank!” You yelled behind you, running to your car.  

The drive was frustratingly long, and you didn’t remember there being so many stoplights in town, and of course you hit every red light. 

When you pulled into the lot, you spotted Frank’s tall frame looking over a sad-looking tree. You got out, slowly making your way towards him. When you finally stopped next to him, you were convinced you might bite a hole through your cheek.  

“This looks like Charlie Brown’s tree.” You stated. 

“There aren’t any good ones left. I waited too long to get a tree.” He responded, shuffling his feet. You still hadn’t looked at each other. 

“Why’d you wait so long?” You asked, stalling. 

“I wanted to get one with you.”  

You looked at him, eyebrows raised.  

“With me?”  

He nodded, finally meeting your gaze. You didn’t know what else to do, so you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug. His arms tightly surrounded you, breathing you in for the first time in weeks.  

“I missed you.” He whispered, squeezing you for emphasis. 

“I missed you, too.” You murmured. 

When you pulled away, tears threatened to spill on your cheeks for what felt like the millionth time in the last month.  

“What happened?” You asked, confused at his behavior the last two times you’d seen him.  

“You told your sister sleeping with me was a bad idea, and I know I wasn’t supposed to hear it, but I took it as you didn’t want to be with me, and I freaked out. I thought we would be together after Halloween. Like seriously together, and then when you said that, I thought maybe I had been misreading everything since I met you. And then I realized what a dumbass I am, because the sad look on your face when I left on Thanksgiving told me that you actually did care about me. And then I didn’t know what to say to you, so I didn’t say anything. But what I should’ve said was ‘I’ve been in love with you since Easter, and I want to be your holidate for the rest of my life, if you’ll let me.’” He finished by throwing his hands up in the air.  

You smiled, eyes glistening. “Remember when I was the one who rambled when I was nervous?” You asked, giggling. 

He threw his head back and let out a loud laugh.  

“I do remember that, yes.”  

“Would it help if I said I came here to tell you that I fell in love with you a long time ago? And that I’m an idiot for ignoring it for so long? And that I love you so much that these last few weeks have been absolute hell for me?” 

He grinned, cupping your cheeks. “Yes, that does help a little bit.” 

“Are you sure?” You asked, leaning into his hold. “I could grovel more if you need me to. I came ready for anything.”  

“I’m sure, sweetheart.” He softly pressed his lips against yours, and you physically felt all of the pain of the last few weeks leave your body. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you.  

When you finally broke away, you were breathless and on cloud nine. You nodded towards the tree he had been looking at.  

“I like this one. Wanna get it?” You asked.  

He chuckled and nodded. “What Miss Daisy wants, Miss Daisy gets.”  

You giggled, pulling him into another kiss.  

If you’d told yourself a year ago that you’d be here, kissing Frank Castle in the middle of a Christmas tree lot, you would laugh at yourself. Frank wasn’t what you were expecting, but you had learned over the last year that the best things in life usually come when you least expect them to, and that when you have something good, you shouldn’t let go of it. You weren’t planning on letting Frank go anytime soon, or ever if you could help it, and the way Frank refused to drop your hand, even when you tried to get into your own car to drive to his house, told you he wouldn’t be letting go of you either.  

End Note: I really hope you enjoyed this! If you want to see this in a series with other Marvel characters, let me know! Also, can we please figure out how to get Jon into a romcom. I need that in my life IMMEDIATELY.

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Frank Castle was not an easy man to get along with. After years of military discipline, coupled with the fact that his behavior was the product of the worst kind of betrayal and corruption, Frank knew he was a little rough around the edges. This hadn’t stopped you from waltzing into his life with absolutely no regard or tolerance for his bullshit.  

Frank watched as you meticulously cleaned the weapons in front of you on the table. Your attention to detail was enough to make a Marine envious. He still didn’t know where you learned it all, because you certainly weren’t ex-military like him. 

“Are you gonna stare at me all night, or sit down and help?” You shot him a pointed glance before returning to your work, mumbling under your breath about the audacity of men. 

Frank couldn’t stop himself from grinning a little. Your smart mouth had gotten both of you in a lot of trouble, but it was one of the reasons you were such good friends. You could dish it out and you could take it.  

Frank sat with a wince. His back had been beaten to hell a few weeks prior, and he was pretty sure his ribs had only just begun healing, but he wasn’t going to complain. Thus was the life of the Punisher. 

“You make sure they’re all unloaded?” Frank questioned, though he knew the answer to that question already. He didn’t know why he liked teasing you so much, but he couldn’t help himself. 

You sent a glare across the table, scoffing.  

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” You asked, cocking your head to the side. Frank watched the rise and fall of your shoulders as annoyance coursed through you, sending a tingling sensation directly into his chest.  

“No.” Frank said firmly, “Was just a question.” 

“Hmm.” You answered, rolling your eyes.  

Frank knew you liked the teasing too. He was completely in the dark about why you enjoyed it, but nonetheless, it wouldn’t be your relationship without all the teasing. 

Or the pining. Or the filthy dreams you have about her you sick fu- 

“Frank, are we doing this thing or not? I can’t clean all these guns by myself. Do something.”  

Your comment startled him out of his dirty thoughts. You were staring at him with a bewildered look on your face, probably wondering why the hell Frank couldn’t seem to focus lately. 

Frank quickly grabbed a gun, double checking that the weapon was actually unloaded before beginning the cleaning routine he was so familiar with. 

It wasn’t his fault, really. He couldn’t help that your legs kept him so distracted during debriefings that he never heard a word you said. He also thought it was rude of you to wear your hair the way you do, because it made him dizzy when you walked by and he could smell your shampoo. Really, if Frank thought about it, it was your fault he was so out of it, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. 

He certainly wasn’t going to be the person to ruin whatever this was between the two of you. He liked things the way they were, so instead of daydreaming about your legs like he constantly wanted to do, he did his best to ignore the festering feelings bubbling in his chest every time you walked in the room. 

It was better that way. 

The plan for the evening was simple. Get in, shoot the motherfuckers who were trafficking women, and get out. They’d never see Frank or you coming, and New York would be better for it tomorrow. It was a normal, run of the mill mission that you and Frank had worked dozens of times before. Frank trusted you with his life, and you offered the same trust to him, albeit with a little sass. There shouldn’t have been any issues.  

So, of course the plan went to shit as soon as it began. 

Neither of you had expected such a large operation to be booming right in the heart of New York City. Frank watched from behind a pallet of crates as you snuck around the structural framework of the warehouse roof, disappearing behind beams faster than any normal person could track. His job was to cause a distraction as soon as you found the women so that you could lead them to safety without endangering them further, but he couldn’t move past the bad feeling bubbling in his stomach. 

Your eyes found him in the darkness, sending him a wink before disappearing around a beam. Frank, who normally would charge headfirst into the array with guns blazing, was horrified to realize that he was considering calling this off. You were out manned, out gunned, and vulnerable if any of those men happened to look up and see you, and that sent a sinking feeling through his chest. 

Minutes dragged by as he waited for your signal. The longer he waited, the more restless he became. The men he was supposed to be focusing on were growing more rowdy by the second, and if he didn’t step in soon, someone would surely see you. 

Gunfire was his first indication that something was wrong. Screaming was the second. 

Frank catapulted into action, rolling into a standing position and taking aim at the first man he saw. Most of the men in the room didn’t know he was there until a round of bullets ricocheted through them.  

“Frank!”  

Your voice carried through the warehouse, echoing off the walls directly into Frank’s chest. That was not the signal. Something had gone very, very wrong. 

He ran, plowing through another group of men with such ferocity that the metallic tang of blood would probably coat his tongue for hours afterwards. The warehouse was huge, and there were hallways in every direction. Screams echoed around him, sending him into a furious scramble through room after room, shooting everything that moved. His thoughts felt disorganized and messy. He couldn’t focus on anything but you, you, you.  

You weren’t anywhere, and it was driving him to madness. The trail of bodies he followed through the building made him simultaneously proud and sick to his stomach. You were always able to hold your own, but you shouldn’t have had to do this part alone. 

Somehow, the eerie silence that had crept in was even worse. When you were screaming, at least he knew you were still alive. Now, he was in the dark and his instincts didn’t know where to begin. 

He finally made it to the back of the warehouse, where a single door swung on its hinges leading to the harbor outside. The unmistakable scent of gunpowder and sweat engulfed the room. Frank’s eyes caught on the gun you’d been so meticulously cleaning earlier that day. He tried not to think too hard about what kind of trouble would have caused you to drop it. The sound of screeching tires tugged his attention back to the door. 

He didn’t hesitate. He ran as hard as he could, praying to a God that he didn’t believe in anymore. Anyone, anything, to make sure you were okay. 

He hadn’t run far when he came across another group of men, guns pointed directly at him. He would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so worried about you. He didn’t care that they had guns shoved in his face. This part of the job was a cakewalk for him. He easily took out the men, only to realize how fucked the situation truly was. 

A group of women stood huddled a few feet away, clearly terrified of him. He moved towards them, causing a ricochet of cries to erupt from the group. This is why you were the one in charge of getting them out of situations like this. To them, he was just another violent man. He needed you. 

“Are you with her?” One croaked in his direction, voice wobbling. She held her chin high, though Frank could taste her fear in the air around him. 

“Where is she?” He demanded, immediately regretting the tone of his voice. He couldn’t think straight, and it was grating on his nerves that he hadn’t found you yet. 

She flinched, raising her hand slowly to point.  

“Frank!” A muffled cry echoed across the pavement. 

He turned, horrified as he watched masked men shove you into the back of a van. His heart seized, forcing a grunt from his throat. The van was too far, already screeching away in the opposite direction. He raised his gun, then lowered it. He couldn’t risk hitting you.  

“Fuck!” He shouted, slamming his gun down on the pavement. He crouched down, holding his head between his hands for a moment before straightening again. “Fuck!” 

He felt both deathly calm and dangerously on edge. He needed to get these women to safety. He needed to go after you. His vision went red at the thought of what they’d do to you. He would rip their heads from their bodies when he got his hands on them. He would paint New York red with their blood. He’d hand deliver their heads to the NYPD with a reminder of how shitty they were at their jobs. He would do anything to bring you back to him.  

He repeated the license plate from the van like a furious mantra, dialing Micro with shaking hands. It was probably stolen, but still worth looking into. Micro was less than enthused to be getting a phone call at one in the morning, but Frank couldn’t find it in himself to care. He had to do something.  

Even less enthused to hear from him was Matt Murdock, who he hadn’t spoken to in months. While they disagreed on almost every choice the other made, Matt could hear the desperation in his voice as he explained the situation. Frank knew Matt was close by and wouldn’t allow innocent people to get hurt.  

“Listen,” Frank lowered his voice to seem less imposing to the women who had silently watched him having a meltdown over the phone, “A guy’s going to be here soon. He’ll be in a ridiculous Halloween costume, but you can trust him. He’ll help you. I have to go after- I have to get her back.” 

Frank gasped for air. He needed to go after you, but you’d be absolutely furious at him if he didn’t make sure the women were okay first.  

The woman who’d originally spoken nodded, opening her mouth to say something and then stopping herself. 

Frank did his best to be patient while she worked up the courage to speak. His restless energy felt palpable, hanging in the air, suffocating him. The longer he waited, the more likely it was that he’d find you dead. He could not let that happen. 

“She threw herself in front of us. They grabbed her instead of us. She did it on purpose.” 

Frank’s heart felt like it might burst out of his chest. That sounded exactly like something you’d do. He cursed you for your recklessness but couldn’t be too upset. You’d chosen to put yourself in danger, rather than let their victims continue to bear the brunt of their violence. Warmth, and a little bit of rage, tingled in his chest. 

“I have to go after her.” He repeated, voice hoarse with sorrow. 

The woman nodded, understanding the quiver in his voice for what it was. What it meant.  

“Red will be here soon. You’ll know him when you see him.” Frank nodded once, eyes glazing over as he calculated exactly how he was going to find you. Micro was searching, but that took time he didn’t have. 

“The men...,” the woman began, huddling closer to the women around her, “They mentioned 10th Avenue when they thought we weren’t listening. It’s another warehouse, I think.” 

Frank swallowed thickly, thanking her softly. He knew what he’d have to do, and he didn’t hesitate to run headfirst into danger to get you back. Thus was the life of Frank Castle. 

The block felt completely abandoned when Frank finally made it to the warehouse district of Hell’s Kitchen, but he knew they were somewhere nearby. As soon as they’d seen the white skull on his chest, they knew they had Punisher-shaped targets on their back. Fucking cowards. 

Frank wanted nothing more than to comb the entire block looking for you, but he knew that would waste precious time. He needed to fucking relax, but his body was screaming at him to go, run, find. Every military instinct he’d ever learned warred in his mind with the desire to find you. To save you. To hold you. It had been hours since he’d last seen you, and every minute that went by was eating at his soul. 

He grounded himself in the pain radiating from his ribs. If they hadn’t already been busted up before tonight, they were surely broken now. He didn’t care. The pain helped him focus on the task at hand.  

He searched for the van, finding it sloppily tucked behind a building. Frank didn’t think they were that stupid, but he’d learned a long time ago not to underestimate the idiocy of desperate and terrified men. 

There. A flash of light. A curtain being carefully closed. Less than half a second, but Frank clocked it with ease. Anyone else might’ve missed it, but not Frank. He was certain of what he’d seen. Within seconds, he was moving around the back of the building, ready to rip anything that moved in half.  

Soft voices carried through the glass of the windows. Frank only counted two, but he couldn’t be sure. Your voice is what he was searching for, and he hadn’t heard it yet.  

His patience finally wore thin, sending him into another furious rage as he kicked the door off its hinges. The two men inside jumped to their feet, scrambling for their weapons. It didn’t matter. Frank was on them before they could let out a squeak. He fired a bullet at one, making sure it hit its target before grabbing the other by the throat and slamming him into the reinforced concrete wall. He resisted the urge to dig his thumbs into the man’s eyes. 

“Where is she?” He grunted, slamming the man’s head against the wall again. 

“In there! IN THERE!” The man groaned, pointing toward the closed door across the room. 

Frank threw the man to the ground, watching the light leave his eyes as he fired his gun. And fired. And fired. The clip was completely empty, but Frank didn’t care. The men deserved worse than what they got.  

Frank hurried to the door, pushing against the creaking wood, terrified of what might be on the other side. 

You were on your side, curled into a tight ball. Your eyebrows were furrowed, jaw clenching and unclenching. Dried blood coated your skin, but Frank couldn’t tell if it was yours or someone else’s. The sight broke his heart. 

He fell to his knees in front of you, running his hand over your hair. Tears streaked your cheeks as you grabbed his shirt in a tight fist. 

“What did they do?” He couldn’t see any bleeding wounds, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t hurt you. 

“It’s fine, Frank.” You gritted your teeth as you tried sitting up. 

Frank softly nudged you back toward the ground, scrambling to figure out his next steps. 

“It’s not fine.” He responded, softly cupping your cheek. “What’d they do to you, sweetheart?” 

Your face crumbled. Pain echoed through Frank’s entire body. Fresh tears escaped your eyes, and Frank couldn’t think of anything to do but wipe the tears away with his thumbs. 

“Take me home, Frank.” You pleaded, unable to answer his question. 

Frank didn’t hesitate to lift you into his arms, holding you close. The blur at the edge of his vision finally subsided when he felt you nuzzle against his chest, breathing a thank you. The pounding in his ears didn’t stop until he was setting you on the couch at the safehouse you’d been sharing for months. 

“Anything hurt?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the cushion. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, which was a new phenomenon for him. He’d never thought so hard about what he should be doing with his limbs until you waltzed into his life. 

“No, just a little rattled ‘s all.” You shook your head, grabbing his restless hands and pulling them to your chest. “What about you? Your ribs still fucked?” 

A shy smile played on Frank’s face.  

“Yeah, they’re always fucked.”  

Frank wasn’t lying. His side had been screaming at him for hours, but that was something he could worry about later. 

“What happened, sweetheart?” He asked, unable to hide the crack in his voice. 

A look of pure terror struck your face. You sat up, wincing at the sudden movement. 

“Did you get the women out? There was a group of them in the back. I tried to get them out, but I-” 

Frank held up a hand, silencing your worried rant. 

“They’re fine. Red's handling it.” 

“Matt?” You questioned, cocking your head to the side. “He was there?” 

“I called him after...,” he paused, clearing his throat, “After you were taken.” 

“Oh.” You said softly, nodding slightly. A shadow hid in your eyes, but Frank was too much of a coward to call you on it. 

“I’m so sorry.” He finally said, squeezing your intertwined hands. “I thought I’d have to tear the city down to find you. Those women are the only reason I knew where to look.” 

“Don’t apologize, Frank.” You sighed, dropping your forehead against his shoulder. “Just don’t treat me like I’m breakable after this, okay? I can handle myself. I lost control of a situation ‘s all.” 

Frank scoffed, anger flaring under layers of concern.  

“Lost control of a situation?” The gruff tone he was using pulled your gaze to his again. “You threw yourself into harm’s way, without backup. That wasn’t losing control, that was just stupidity.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in anger, but you kept a tight hold on his hand.  

“It was either me or them, Frank. What would you have me do? I won’t let innocent people get hurt. You would’ve done the same thing.”  

Frank shook his head. “You don’t get it, do you? You were so far up your own ass back there that I barely made it in time to get those women. If you’d followed the plan, we wouldn’t have had to do any of this.” 

“That’s not fair, Frank. I did what I thought was right. I couldn’t just leave those women.”  

“Right?” Frank stood, dropping your hands and stomping across the room. “For who? Not for me!”  

Frank realized he was being unfair, but he was so angry at you for risking yourself that he couldn’t stop the word vomit from bubbling out of his mouth.  

“My family’s gone. They’re gone. My friends barely fucking tolerate me. I only have you. You’re my entire life, and you decided tonight was the night to be a fucking superhero? I was right there. I could’ve helped! And now you’re staring at me with those ridiculously beautiful eyes of yours, expecting me to understand your reasoning for almost getting yourself killed? Get the fuck out of here.” 

He waved a hand, pacing back and forth as you stared blankly at him. 

“You...” You started, narrowing your eyes at him. “You think my eyes are beautiful?” 

Frank momentarily paused his pacing to shoot you a narrowed look before continuing. 

“That’s what you got from that, huh?” He chuckled, shaking his head.  

Frank tried to ignore the way your chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace. What the fuck was he doing? 

“Well, you’ve never called me beautiful before.” You pointed out. “What the fuck does that mean, Frank?” 

Frank clenched his fists, unable to stop himself. 

“It means that I love you, and you’re so fucking aggravating sometimes that I can’t remember why I love you, and then you look at me the way you’re looking at me now, and it feels like coming up for air after drowning. I look at you, and I can breathe again.” 

Frank dropped to his knees in front of the couch, eye to eye with you. The conversation he’d had with himself earlier about keeping things casual with you felt a million years away. He couldn’t hold it in anymore, especially after almost losing you. The weight of what he’d almost lost, what he’d already lost, was too heavy, and he was tired. 

“You don’t have to love me back. But you can’t put yourself at risk again, sweetheart. I can’t lose another person. I can’t lose you.” He added, pleading. 

The room filled with silence, and Frank’s heart began to crack. He’d ruined it, and now he was going to pay for it. 

“I’m sor-” He started. 

You surged forward, pressing your lips to his in a bruising kiss. He didn’t let himself second guess it. His hands cupped your cheeks, pulling your face against his even harder.  

He finally had you in his arms, and he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon. Or ever. And from the way you wrapped your arms around his neck, he figured the feeling was mutual.  

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"I-I don't even know how to answer that. I didn't even see him! I was just coming back home when all of a sudden I felt a thud, and coffee was sprayed all over my windshield. It was bad, Y/N." You couldn't help the chuckle of disbelief that came out as Sarah explained what happened. "It's not funny, I didn't think I hit him that hard until I got out of the car and he had blood dripping down the side of his head," Sarah sorrowed.

"Holy shit, Sarah, I'm sorry that happened. I know it's been a lot this past year with David and everything. I’m sure that was probably the last thing you needed," you said sympathetically.

The past year had been hard for Sarah; her husband David mysteriously died at the hands of the government for something he did, all you knew was that he did something brave. David was a good man who helped you out when you needed it a year and a half ago. He was able to give you a new last name, a new address, and, more importantly, a new life free from your abusive ex. It was a sad day for you, too, when David died, but you knew you'd help Sarah out with anything she needed.

"That's not even the worst part," Sarah sighed. You sat down when you heard her tone shift more seriously. "When I invited him to give him a new cup of coffee, he asked about David, and I didn't know how to respond. All he asked was what he does for work, and I didn't know whether to lie that he's still here or to tell the truth."

"That's the most normal response you could have had. It's a random man you just met in your home who unknowingly asks the worst question about your husband, who happened to pass away a year ago. It sounds like you handled it the best you could have, Sarah." You reassured her.

"But, I didn't," Sarah groans. "I ended up talking like David was still here and then admitted to lying about him being alive-" she abruptly stops as you hear her breathe heavier.

"Sarah, I'm coming over, okay? I promise you didn't do anything wrong, and it's not like you have to see him every day or ever again after your insurances work it out." You say as you get up to put your shoes on to make your way over to her house. That's one nice thing about living down the street from Sarah, you don't even have to drive over.

"No, Y/N, it's okay, you don't have to come over. He's actually still he-" you cut her off from making excuses to stop you, zoning her out as you went to grab your keys before you left.

"Oh, oh, you hear that, Sarah?" you ask as you hold your phone to your door as you lock it, "I already locked the door, and would you look at that, I'm outside! So I'm coming over, sorry!" You hear her talk over you as you act like you're losing signal and hang up the phone.

You make your way over to her house, and as you go to walk up her driveway, you notice someone in their garage. Great, of all things to happen today, I doubt what Sarah needs is some jackass breaking into their garage.

You make your way up her driveway, trying to figure out who it could be. "Um, excuse me, what do you think you're doing? I don't think the family that lives here would be appreciative of some dumbass breaking into their garage." You firmly say as you fold your arms across your chest. You can clearly see that it's a man with slightly curly, medium-length brown hair.

He slowly gets up, as you imagine he can feel the daggers you're shooting into his back. He still hasn't turned around as your patience wears thin.

"Listen, I think it'd be best if you just got out of here, and maybe I won't call the cops-" you're interrupted by Sarah as she comes running out of the house.

"Y/N, Y/N, it's okay! This is Pete, the guy I hit like two hours ago! He's not a burglar." You're facing Sarah as she makes her way towards you. "He's just trying to fix the garage door that decided not to open all the way." She's standing next to you when you comprehend who exactly the mystery man is. Pete. Not a random burglar.

You turn back towards him to apologize for the outburst, but any attempt to speak has disappeared since you're able to clearly look at him now as he faces you. He's handsome and more muscular than you originally thought from your first glance. Your eyes unwillingly look him up and down as you struggle to apologize for assuming he was robbing Sarah.

"Oh, Pete! I am so sorry for assuming you were here for nefarious reasons when you were just being helpful," you ramble. "I'm Y/N, Sarah's friend and neighbor, right down the street. I'm sure you can understand me being on edge after Sarah called me and told me she hit someone with her car in her driveway. I'm rambling, sorry." You awkwardly cut yourself off as you look to him.

He lets out a chuckle as he uses a torn rag to wipe his hands off any grease that may have transferred from the garage. "It's okay, I understand. I'm Pete Castiglione." He held out his hand for you to shake.

Your soft hand meets his rough and calloused one as you greet him. Your eyes look up to meet his as he gives you a smile. You feel your cheeks immediately go red as you release his hand.

"Nice to meet you." You quickly look to Sarah and then back to Pete, "I heard you got hit pretty hard with your coffee going all over the windshield." He laughs as he looks at the ground and back at you.

"Yeah, as hard as someone can get hit at five miles per hour. I wasn't paying attention and just happened to walk right in front. Totally my fault. Sarah was kind enough to give me another cup of coffee." Pete explains.

"And now I'm using him to fix my garage." Sarah laughs, "I don't see how this works out evenly for you, Pete," she says as she realizes he's the one helping her when she hit him.

"It's nothing at all, really. I've fixed plenty of things. Just thought I could help Sarah out since I'm already here." Pete says as the rag he holds flails around.

"That's sweet," you say as you make eye contact with him and hold it for a couple of seconds.

Sarah looks between you and Pete before she clears her throat, "Alright, well, I'm going to start getting dinner ready. Pete, you are more than welcome to stay. I can't thank you enough for your help today." Sarah sincerely states.

"It's really no problem. I'd hate to intrude. I'm almost done with the garage, and then I'll head out, but thank you." Pete's head lowers as he declines. You can't help but marvel at him as he rejects Sarah's offer. He had been hit by a car and was now fixing Sarah's garage. Who was this man?

"Okay, well, don't be a stranger, Pete." Sarah pleads when she wraps her arm around mine. "Actually, do you mind coming over sometime this week to sign a release form? It basically just says that you won't sue me if you suddenly have chronic back pain years down the road." She asks, but Pete is already agreeing before she finishes explaining.

"Of course, I don't mind at all." Pete agrees. Sarah nods her head in thanks as she starts turning us around to walk back to the house.

"It was really nice meeting you, Pete. If you need anything and Sarah isn't home, my house is the last one on the right on this street." You smile warmly.

Pete smiles back, "Thank you." He says as he nods his head. You look back at him one more time before heading into the house with Sarah, and he gives you a wave goodbye. You blush as you chuckle to yourself.

Sarah unwraps herself from your arm to open the door into the house. As soon as you step in, you shut the door by backing into it and closing your eyes.

"Sarah, he is cute. Why didn't you mention that over the phone? I would have driven my car over here and hit him myself." Sarah laughs as she takes in my beet-red face.

"I'm sorry! I don't really pay attention to that stuff, really, but you are right, he is cute. And a good guy. I mean, fixing my garage door when I hit him? Who does that?" Sarah exasperates.

"I don't know, but I am glad you hit him. You need to let me know the next time he's over, or maybe I'll just stay here every day," you whisper as you start planning your week out.

"Look at you, you're practically a teenager again!" Sarah lovingly points out.

You smile to yourself, but it slowly falls when you remember how your last relationship ended. "The idea of it is nice, but it's never going to happen. I'm not sure if I'm ready for a relationship." You slowly stand up and walk over to stand across from Sarah at her island.

"Y/N, relax. You just met him, and who knows if he's actually going to come back. He could leave after fixing my garage and never return. You don't have to get yourself worked up." You nod your head, coming back to your senses.

"You're right, I don't even know why I started thinking that to begin with." You weakly chuckle. Sarah stops what she's doing and grabs your hands.

"And when you are ready for something like that, I am here to analyze your new guy, overthink your outfit choices with you, and romanticize every new moment you have. That's all I want for you," Sarah squeezes your hands as you look up at her.

"Thank you, Sarah. I appreciate you so much," you whisper. "Now, how can I help you?" Sarah lets go of your hands as she shoos you off, not wanting you to help her make dinner.

You look out the window as Pete walks past to leave. You watch as he makes his way to the end of the driveway, turning right. You can't help but hope that this isn't the last you'll see of Pete Castiglione.

---------

It's been about three days since Sarah's freak car accident, and still no sign of Pete. To say you were disappointed was an understatement. You'd hope that at some point, Sarah would text saying he was over, but it hasn't happened.

You stood in your kitchen, chopping some vegetables to go along with your mom's famous meatloaf. It's the easiest thing to make during the winter that helps heat up your house to keep the cold out.

You notice how slowly your sink is draining and go to turn on your garbage disposal to clear anything clogging it. You flip the switch, and nothing. You wait a couple of seconds, thinking that maybe you flipped it weird, but you try again. Nothing.

You groan as you realize that you're going to have to call someone to come over to fix it, which is the last thing you want to do. You quickly place the meatloaf into the oven and set the timer for an hour. You start to look to see if there was anyone in the newspaper when you remembered how handy Leo, Sarah's daughter, is. You needed to go over to check in to see how Sarah was doing anyway.

You walk over to Sarah's house and notice her car safely parked away in her newly fixed garage. You smile softly as you think about how sweet Pete was to do that for her.

You knock once and then enter the door, seeing Sarah in the kitchen. "Hey, Sarah, where's Leo? Do you think she could come over and help me fix my garbage disposal? It stopped working for some reason." You don't notice how Sarah was engaged in a conversation when you make your way over. You stop in your tracks as you see Pete get up from the floor, assisting Leo as she stands. Your eyes widen as you take in Pete's newly shaved look.

"Your garbage disposal, too, huh?" Pete asks as he smiles at you.

"Pete, what a nice surprise," you say warmly as you feel your smile grow wide. You quickly look to Sarah as she clears her throat.

"Hey, Y/N, Pete just came over, not even ten minutes ago, and decided to help Leo with fixing the sink." Sarah's eyes go wide as she over-enunciates the ten minutes, so you know she was about to text you to come over. You give her a nod as your way to tell her you understood.

"You must have some sort of skill for knowing when something needs to be fixed," you laugh. Sarah nods her head in agreement, but Pete almost seems like he's been caught.

"Just happen to be at the right place at the right time or right place at the wrong time." He jokes as he starts to change the subject. "You said your garbage disposal wasn't working? I can head out with you to fix it." He begins, but you're already shaking your head.

"Oh no, I couldn't ask that of you, especially since you just fixed Sarah's. I know how handy Leo is, so I was just coming over to see if she wanted to make a quick buck by helping me." You smile at Leo as she walks towards you.

"I would love to make some money, but I need to do my homework, sorry, Y/N!" Leo says as she runs upstairs.

"Well, it looks like Leo's busy. Let me grab my tools, and then we can head over to fix your disposal," Pete says as he turns around to clean up the towels on the ground and place his tools back in the box.

Sarah smiles widely at you and gives you a thumbs-up. You place your head in your hands as you cover your face to hide your red-tinted cheeks.

You hear Pete get up and make your way closer to Sarah. "Do you need anything? I can bring dinner over tomorrow if that would help you out?" You offer as Sarah rubs her hand over your arm.

"Thank you, but I think I can handle dinner this week. I appreciate it, though." You smile and nod at her. "You guys should head out, it's getting late." You look at the window and see the sun still high in the sky. You look at her, confused, knowing that it's at least another hour before the sun starts to go down.

You start to protest, but Sarah cuts you off as she makes her way over to her front door. "Thank you again, Pete, for helping Leo. It would have taken her way longer by herself." He once again makes it seem like no big deal to help them out.

She opens up the front door, "Good luck fixing the disposal! I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N.," Sarah says as she ushers you both out and closes the door behind you, but not until after she gives you a quick wink.

You can't help the laugh that passes your lips, "oh gosh," you groan as you move your hand over your face. "Are you sure you're fine helping me? I'm giving you an out and will not be upset with what you decide," you say as you hold your hands up in defeat.

"No, it's the least I can do. I actually enjoy fixing things," he says as you fall into step beside each other.

"I believe you! You've fixed a garage door and a sink, all in what? A week? What's next? Well, besides my disposal, I guess," you joke as he laughs.

"You got anything else you need to fix?" He asks as he looks at you.

"I'm sure I can find something to break," you tease as you look up at him, making your way down the street. You make small conversation as you walk towards your house. "Here we are," you say as you hold the door open for Pete to enter.

He takes a look around, "what smell's so good?" He asks, as you remember the meatloaf you put in to cook while you were at Sarah's. You briskly walk towards the oven to see if you'd ruined your dinner for the next couple of days.

"That would be my mom's famous meatloaf, I know. Meatloaf can be quite controversial, but when I say this is the best meatloaf in the whole entire world, I mean that." You say as you pull it out and unwrap the foil. It was cooked perfectly with no sign of it being burnt anywhere.

Pete walks to stand across from you, "I'm sure there are worse things in the world than meatloaf." You gawk at him.

"Am I hearing a tone in your voice? Do you, Pete, not like meatloaf?" you stand with your arms crossed.

"It's a loaf of meat, I don't think you can fight with me on this," he explains as he throws his hands up.

You scoff, "Alright, I see how it is. Well, I'll change your mind by letting you have some after you fix the garbage disposal." You smile at him as he goes to inspect it.

"It's a deal. Now, let's see what the problem is." Pete looks into the sink with a flashlight to see if anything could be blocking it. You watch him take his time troubleshooting what the potential issue could be.

When he seems unsatisfied with his findings, he goes to turn it on, and once again, nothing. "That's what it is," Pete says as he turns to look at you. "Lucky for us, this is an easy fix. Since there's nothing when you flip the switch, it's the plug that's loose. It shouldn't take me long at all to fix it."

You sigh in relief that it's an easy solution, "Oh, you have no idea how relieved I am to hear that. I was worried I might have to call some guy in to fix it." You hear Pete begin to say something before he stops himself.

"You don't need to call a guy to fix things anymore," He says as he looks at you. You can feel the tension held between you.

You break the tension by taking a step back and clearing your throat, "Yeah, I got Leo to help me out," you say as you both erupt in laughter.

"You're right. That girl's going to be some kind of engineer in the future." He comments as he looks back towards the sink.

"Oh, tell me about it. She's one of the smartest girls I know." You say as Pete begins to get the tools he needs to fix the disposal. "How can I help? Is there a flashlight that needs to be held?" you offer, hoping he'd say yes.

Pete looks at his tools before looking back at you, "Yeah, I do actually, if you don't mind." You shake your head and make your way beside him on the floor. He hands you the flashlight as your fingers graze against one another. Your breath hitches in your throat as you smile at him.

Pete kindly explains how he's fixing your sink and going through the steps with you in case, for some reason, he can't come over to fix it. You nod your head as if you're listening, but you can't tear your eyes away from him. He's focused on what he's doing and slightly sticks his tongue between his teeth in concentration. You don't hear him ask you to move your flashlight closer, and you're only broken out of your trance when you notice him turning his head to face you. You didn't realize how close you were until now.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" you ask quietly as your eyes move from his lips back to his eyes. He nods his head once in response.

He goes to push the hair that had fallen in your face back, but his arm gets cut on a sharp piece of metal sticking out from the sink. He lets out a groan as he recoils from under it.

It takes you a second to realize what happened until you see the blood dripping from his arm, "Oh my God, you're bleeding," you say in shock.

"Jus' a scratch, don't worry about it," Pete says nonchalantly as he gets up from the floor.

"Come on, let me patch you up," you say, gently holding onto his arm and guiding him towards your bathroom. "Stay here while I grab my med kit, real quick," you instruct as you place your hands on Pete's shoulders to lower him to take a seat on the counter.

"You really don't have to," Pete says again to stop you from wrapping his cut. You give him a knowing look before you disappear to get your first aid kit. You make your way to your room and grab it from under your bed. You hesitate as you take a deep breath, but smile as you realize that for once, you're not bringing it out to soothe your black eye or your busted lip. You're getting it to help someone else.

You walk back into your bathroom and don't look up as you get the supplies needed to help Pete's cut.

"This might sting a little, but I promise this is to help you. I'd hate for it to get infected because of my sink," you calmly say as you softly take his arm to clean him up. "I know it always helped me to think of something happy. Just to take you out of the moment for a bit," you share as Pete sorrowfully stares at you. He catches on to a lingering sadness behind your words as you fix him up quickly, as if it were something you'd done a hundred times before.

"How d'you know how to patch this up? That's better than anything I would have done, and I've had to patch myself up quite a few times." Pete asks as he marvels at your wound repair skills. Your hands still as you finish washing them in the bathroom sink.

"Everyone has something to hide, right?" You give him a small smile as you pat your hands dry. "Now, I'm sure you want to get home, so I won't keep you here any longer," you say, beginning to turn to walk out of the bathroom, when you notice Pete has a couple of dots of blood on his face that you're sure he got when he cut his arm so swiftly. You turn back around and grab the towel hanging on the hook next to the sink. "You have a little something- here, let me get it." You move closer to him and gently wash away the speckles of blood.

You don't realize how close you have gotten until you look at him to see if there are any other spots you may have missed. You're still holding the towel close to his face when you feel his eyes watching you closely. Your breath softly hitches in your throat as your eyes move to meet his.

You don't know what comes over you, or if there was some sort of expectation to be met that you set up in your head when you realized he was going to come over, but you slowly lean in, eyes closed, and don't stop until your lips meet his. The towel in your hand, close to his face, has slowly dropped as you adjust yourself to be even closer to him.

It must have been two seconds before he started reciprocating once the shock of you kissing him had worn off. His hands moved from the counter to hold onto your waist as you intertwined into a dance.

You feel his tongue softly graze your bottom lip, begging for entrance when you abruptly snap out of your fantasy. You suddenly move back from him so quickly that he leans in to meet where you had gone until he opens his eyes, realizing you've taken a step back.

You close your eyes in embarrassment as the hand holding the towel rests against your forehead and your other hand on your hip, "Pete, I'm sorry. I'm not really sure what came over me?" You ask in confusion, realizing you've never once done something as strange as kiss a man you met briefly three days ago in your bathroom, patching up a scratch he got from your plumbing.

"It's okay, really," Pete says, moving to get off the counter and stand across from you.

You move the towel away from your face as your eyes move to look at him. You can't help but notice your red cheeks that you see in the bathroom mirror. You let out a chuckle and watch as a smile grows on Pete's face. You both start to laugh over your little moment shared not even a minute ago.

"Do I have any more blood on my face?" Pete jokes as he moves his head side to side. Your laughter comes down to small chuckles as you examine his face just to double-check, appreciating the humor Pete seems to have.

"You are all good. You are officially cleaned up from the attack of the disposal monster." You laugh as you look towards the supplies still out from your med kit and go to put them back, with Pete still standing next to you. "I want you to know I really appreciate you coming over and fixing my sink. You had no reason to come over and help me, but you still did, and that means a lot." You look towards him and give him a full smile.

He nods his head in his own way to say 'you're welcome,' as he scoots past you, heading toward the doorway of the bathroom. You look over the sink again to make sure all your supplies have made their way back to where they belong. You look up to make your way to your bedroom to put it back when you make eye contact with Pete standing in the doorway.

"I think I know what else I was going to do! You have to try my mom's famous meatloaf!" You say, emphasizing the 'you' as your eyebrows lift and eyes widen in excitement.

His head hangs low as he slowly shakes his head and then looks up, "No, I don't want to hold you up any more than I have." You scoff as you fling your hand forward to brush him off.

"You're completely fine. I haven't had company in a long time, so you're not intruding at all." You warmly say as you pass by him to put the first aid kit back where it belongs. You walk to the kitchen to get two plates out to share some of your dinner with Pete, when you hear him clear his throat.

"Listen, I'd love to stay, but I got some things I have to do." He says apologetically.

You look up at him as you suddenly feel embarrassed to assume he had nothing else going on, "Oh yeah, I totally understand! Uh, let me-" you say, trying to busy yourself to distract from the feeling of disappointment coming over you.

Pete notices the shift in your demeanor and quickly tries to rectify it, "You know, maybe you could make me a, uh, a plate to go, huh?" He says, smiling at you. You stop and smile back at him, knowing he would stay if he could.

"Yeah, I can definitely do that." You say grabbing some Tupperware from your cabinet and giving him a generous amount of your prepared dinner. You make your way towards him and reach out to give him his food, "Now, unfortunately, you happen to be taking my favorite tupperware, which means I'm going to need this back." His grin slowly grows as he realizes where this is going and takes the container. You walk over to your stack of Post-it notes and grab a pen, writing your number on it. "So, you will have to see me again, I know, but this is the best I can do." You say, walking back over to him and placing the sticky note on the box.

"I don't think seeing you again will be an issue," Pete says quietly, as you both think over the night you've had. You walk past him to guide him towards the door. You hold it open for him as he makes his way out, but not before he turns back around to face you.

"I know I've said it a ton of times, but thank you again, Pete." You walk up to him with the door resting on your back. You place your hands on both of his arms to steady yourself and lean on your tippy-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. You place your feet back on the ground, looking up at him as he towers over you.

"I meant it when I said that you don't need to call someone to come over and fix things," he whispers as he leans down closer to you. Your faces are closer to each other than they were moments ago.

"I know," you whisper as he closes the distance and gives you a gentle kiss. You eventually lean back, "Have a good night, Pete."

"Good night, Y/N," he says, watching as you walk backwards into your house. You smile and give him a small wave as he waits until you close and lock your door. You place your hands on your cheeks to feel how hot your face is as you once again melt into the floor.

You have a smile on your face the whole time getting ready for bed, and before you fall asleep, the last thing you think about is Pete.

---------

Once again, Pete seemed to have fallen off the radar and hadn't been around in a couple of days. You kept looking at your phone, hoping that a text from him would magically appear. Why didn't you ask for his number? If you had done that, you would have looked for something to break and hoped that you'd gain the courage to ask him to come over for a real dinner. The type of dinner where you could get to know each other.

There was something magnetic about Pete that just couldn't keep you away. You weren't sure if it was because he seemed like he would protect you if anything were to happen, or if it was just the fact that he's the first guy you've started to like after your last relationship. Whatever it was, you wanted to see him again.

The first thing you did the morning after Pete came over was go to Sarah's house and let her in on every detail. She couldn't believe how bold you had gotten, and to be honest, you couldn't either.

You used to be scared of your own shadow, thinking it was him, coming back to finish what he had started a year and a half ago. It took a while for you to come out of your house and not immediately go back in once you thought you saw a glimpse of a person. Sarah and David were there to help ease and reassure you that you were safe.

Then one day something happened. You didn't want to be scared anymore or think that he had some control over you, so you ventured out. You went to the grocery store for the first time instead of having Sarah pick stuff up for you.

Soon, a grocery trip turned into taking a walk in the neighborhood and having a girls' night out with Sarah. It felt good to be back to normal, and that's what Pete made you feel like, normal, which is why you couldn't fully grasp what you were hearing on the news.

You usually had a cup of coffee, some cereal, and watched the news before going on your walk, and today was no different, besides the fact that you slept in a little past noon. It was a Saturday, which meant you could relax a bit since you always had dinner with Sarah, Leo, and Zach.

You walked over to your couch, turned on the TV, and switched to the news. The headline read, "The Punisher Returns," but the pictures they showed were of Pete and what you assumed to be a picture taken no later than this morning.

You dropped the remote and held your hands over your mouth as you processed everything you were hearing on the news.

Pete is The Punisher. But The Punisher is dead? No. He's alive, and Pete Castiglione is Frank Castle, but Pete is not real. The Pete you know is Frank, and Frank is The Punisher.

You remembered when Frank Castle was on trial a year ago for killing gang members and criminals on the streets of New York. You never watched the CCTV because other things were happening in your life, and all you were doing was trying to survive them. The only thing you knew about Frank Castle, other than the fact that he was on trial and had supposedly died, was that his family was brutally murdered in a shootout in Central Park in front of him. You couldn't imagine the pain or what that could do to a man.

When his trial was going on, you secretly hoped that maybe there was a way for him to get a lesser sentence by proving the insanity plea. When that fell through, you stopped listening for updates, knowing that it probably was not going to end well for him, but here we are. He's alive and well and just so happens to be a part of your life.

Is it bad that knowing his true identity as Frank Castle didn't change the way you feel about him? You still cared for him even though the Pete you knew was gone. It's a confusing feeling when what you think you know about someone ends up being the complete opposite.

You had to turn the TV off. You just needed to see Pete- Frank and just try to understand the predicament he's in.

Should you tell Sarah? You're sure she's probably watching the news, but maybe not. Saturdays are busy with Zach's new soccer team, Leo's robotics club, and her preparing dinner for you and them tonight. You should text her; she probably knows what to do.

You turn around to go grab your phone from your table when you feel a cold breeze. Did you turn on the A/C last night by accident? You walk closer to the table, and as you do, the floor gets colder and colder. This isn't the A/C. There's a window or a door open, which is weird because you always make sure they're closed and locked.

You go to see if any windows in the kitchen are open before checking your back door to your porch. You walk around and notice nothing unusual. All your kitchen windows are closed, so it must be your back door, but you hadn't gone out yet, nor did you leave through that door yesterday. So how did it open?

You start to panic as you try to remember if somehow you went out the door and forgot to close it, but you didn't. Your stomach drops as an uneasy feeling continues to grow. You need to grab your phone and run over to Sarah's.

You walk to the table and head straight to the spot where you left your phone, but nothing is there. Your phone is gone. Is this really happening? Are you still asleep? Your heart is beating faster than ever as you realize someone is in your house and you need to get out. You don't even have shoes on, but that's not stopping you from running like hell out of here.

You avoid going to the back door that's probably open because if it is, someone might be waiting there. You run out of your kitchen and turn the corner to leave through your front door.

You're about to unlock it when someone grabs your arm and yanks you against them. You try to scream, but their hand smacks up against your mouth, muffling any noise you could have made.

Their arms are wrapped around you with their hand still over your mouth, holding you back right up against their chest. You try to wiggle your way out but they're strong.

Before you can fully comprehend or try to look back to see who they are, they bang your head against the wall, knocking you out cold.

---------

You slowly start to come to your senses, feeling something dry against the side of your head. You move your hand to try to feel what it is, but you can't. Your arms are wrapped tight against something wooden. Your face scrunches in confusion with your eyes still closed as you try to get up from this seated position you're in. You're stuck. There's something tightly wrapped around both of your legs against something hard. You really can't move, and your head is throbbing. Is there something over your mouth, too?

"Ah, she's awake," you hear someone gruff as their footsteps sound louder, getting closer to you. "The little princess is waking from her slumber." You haven't opened your eyes yet, hoping that when you do, this will be just some crazy, realistic nightmare you've conjured. The footsteps stop as you can feel someone looming over you. You feel their rough hand push your hair back from your eyes, but shortly after, they yank your head back, forcing your eyes open. "Wake up! We got things to do, Y/N." You know that face, and you know that voice. This can't be happening. He found you.

After all this time, thinking you had finally escaped, he came back and found you. You can't help but cry knowing that you'll never have a life without this monster looming quietly behind you.

You try to subtly look around to see if there's anything around that you could use to get out of your restraints, but he's placed you far away from any table or window.

The thing that sucks is that if he had done this a year ago, you would have been prepared. You never went anywhere, including other areas of your house, without something to protect yourself, whether it was a knife or your gun that you kept loaded in your bedside table. However, you decided that enough time had gone by, started to let your guard down, and live the life you want and deserve. All good things must come to an end at some point.

"You've been asleep for hours, Y/N. I guess I've only gotten stronger since the last time, which means I don't really know my own strength." He slowly shows a mischievous smile as he creeps over towards you. "You got a nice place here. It took me a while to find you, with your new last name and everything. Nice touch, by the way. If anything, it just made the game more rewarding when I finally found you. And here we are." You maintain eye contact and don't break. You survived this man by yourself for years as he tormented and beat you, and you're going to survive again. "You're so quiet! Nothing to say?" He leans forward and laughs, "Oh, right, let me take this off for you." He rips off the duct tape over your mouth.

"You don't scare me." You bite back, grinding your teeth together.

"Y/N, now I know that isn't true. Come on, don't be like that. We were in love together at some point," he drones on.

"Go to hell," you say, spitting at him. He slaps you hard before you can close your mouth. He gets closer to you and brings the knife you didn't know he had close to your face.

"No! You don't get to do that! I'm in charge here. You're gonna regret that." He brings the knife to your cheek, but before he has the chance to cut you, your phone starts ringing. Both of you turn to face your kitchen counter at lightning speed. You see the clock in the distance and notice that it's now 5 o'clock. Dinner with Sarah.

He goes over and grabs it. "Who's Sarah?" he yells.

"A close friend who is going to walk over here if I don't answer that phone. So if you want this 'night' to go the way you want, I need to answer it." You say. The only reason you're explaining is because Sarah knows your voice, especially in distress. She'll know something's wrong and hopefully get help. What you said was true. If you don't answer, she will walk over. You're not sure what he would do to her if she did, but you can't let another life be ruined by him.

You see him contemplate his options as you try to explain to him how serious you are if he doesn't let you pick up the phone. He walks back over with your phone in hand, "If you say, anything- anything, I won't hesitate to kill you, Sarah, and anyone else involved." He was now eye level with you, "Do you understand?" he yelled. You shook your head curtly. "Good," he said, smiling again. He answered the phone and put it on speaker.

"Hey, Y/N, you have me worried. Are you still coming over for dinner?" Sarah asks as you hear her trying to corral Leo and Zach to sit at the table. You let out a small smile, knowing that you might not be able to see Sarah or Zach or Leo again.

"Hey, Sarah, I'm actually not feeling well." He brings his knife closer to ensure you don't get any 'funny' ideas. "I'd hate it if I got you and the kids sick if I came over." Your voice wobbles as you feel the sharp edge of the knife.

Sarah waits a couple of seconds before she responds, "Aw, I'm sorry you're not feeling well. I can bring you some leftovers tomorrow, if that works?" He shakes his head no, signaling to tell her that it doesn't work.

You're caught off guard, "Uh, uh, I don't think I'll be better by then, so you don't have to save any for me. I'll be fine." You excuse.

"Okay, well, I hope you feel better. We'll miss you tonight. Just make sure you get plenty of rest so you can come over sometime." Sarah says before you both say your goodbyes. He hangs up the phone and throws it on the ground.

“Now, we’ll have no more distractions.” He goes to your living room and grabs your side table, bringing it over and placing it right next to you. You didn’t notice the black duffel bag he had with him until he slammed it on the table. “The fun can finally start. I hope you’ll stay awake for it.” He says mockingly.

You watch as he pulls out a tool pouch and unravels it. Some of the tools he has, you’d never seen before, each one sharper than the last.

“I’m sure you’re wondering what all this is for, so let me explain.” He takes out one of the knives and cleans it with a rag. “While you were here playing perfect neighbor, I was learning all the ways I could make up for lost time with my beautiful girlfriend, without getting caught, of course. A gun is too quick and way too easy to trace. What better way to make your life a living hell than by cutting it in you?” He mocks, looking over you.

“Go ahead, you killed me a long time ago.” You say not willing to let him scare you. He rushes over and grips your chin roughly in between his hands.

“I didn’t think a dead body could scream,” he says as he brings the knife and slashes your arm. Before you let out a scream, he holds his hand against your mouth. “I knew I was forgetting something.” With his hand still over your mouth, he grabs the duct tape next to him, tearing off a piece. “I want to take my time with you, and if you’re screaming like a bitch, it'll be over.” You can’t help the tears that cascade down your face, finding it hard to believe that you were free from him not even two days ago. “Don’t cry, Y/N, you know you deserve this for leaving me.” He roughly wipes the tears off your face. “Now, let’s have fun!” He says as he turns around to grab a different knife.

You watch as he constantly goes back and forth between knives to carve on your skin, each one sharper and going deeper than the last. When he didn't get the reaction he wanted, he'd punch you until you let out a muffled scream. You never thought that today would be the day that you died, and he won.

---------

As soon as Sarah picked up the phone, she knew something was wrong. There was a distinct pattern whenever she called you. It never took you that long to answer the phone, and if it did, you'd tell her what you were doing. You especially never missed out on dinner with her, Leo, and Zach, and you sure never denied leftovers, saying that if you ever did, something is wrong. What if that was your hint to her?

Sarah didn't know what to do, and she really didn't want to worry Leo or Zach if it was nothing. Their day was already busy enough, and she hardly had any time to relax.

There was only one thing she could think to do, and that was to call Pete to see if he could check up on you. She knew you both liked each other, so if anything, she'd be doing you a favor by asking him to check on you.

She grabs her phone from her purse and goes to click on Pete's name. She waits as it rings, but he doesn't pick up. She debates calling again but decides to leave a message to make sure he knows what she called about.

"Pete, I think Y/N's in trouble. She was supposed to come over for dinner tonight, but I called her a couple of minutes ago, and she just didn't sound right. Could you check on her for me? I would, but I got Leo and Zach here. I'm sure it's nothing, but I just have this weird feeling. Thank you." She explains quickly, trying to keep her voice down over her children's bickering. She turns her ringer on just in case Pete decides to call her back as she goes to put dinner on the table.

Frank watches Sarah's call come in, but with everything going on about his identity, he didn't want to answer any questions she may have for him. He waits to see if she leaves a message to confirm his thoughts, but instead, as it comes in, his blood runs cold.

You, Y/N, the only woman who he's grown close to since Maria died. In trouble. He sees red. All he knows is that he has to make sure you're okay. He couldn't care less if people caught a glimpse of him anymore than they already had. He needs to see you.

Frank grabs his pistol and checks to see if it's fully loaded before he heads out. He reaches the stairs when he hears David behind him.

"Whoa, whoa, Frank, what are you doing? You can't go out there. Everyone knows you're alive, and they're gonna be looking for you." David pleads as he steps in front of him to try to stop him.

"I don't care. I need to go to Y/N," he says as he goes to push past him.

David goes to stop him again, "Y/N? Like my neighbor, Y/N, whose house you came back from not too long ago? What's the deal with you two?"

Frank lets out a gruff yes, "The deal is that nobody goes after her, okay? Not on my watch." He says, itching to move past David.

"What happened to Y/N? Is she okay?" David asks, knowing your history.

"I don't know. Sarah called and left a message saying that she might be in trouble." Frank barrels past him because he knows that with every second they spend here talking, there is a second you could be hurt.

"Frank, if something is wrong with Y/N, it's probably her ex-boyfriend. He was an abusive asshole who tormented her for years when they were together." Frank couldn't process what David was telling him. The way you carry yourself, he never could've imagined what kind of hell you went through. You were sweet and nurturing, even though your life had been ripped from you. "I helped her get away from him by deleting any evidence of who she was before and changing her last name. If she is in trouble and it's because of him, don't show any mercy." David explains to Frank. He gives David a nod of acknowledgement before he runs out the door to you.

---------

You can hardly keep your eyes open, with one being swollen shut. All you know is that he is still here in your house, torturing you. You slowly slipped in and out of consciousness, not being able to handle the pain.

Your duct tape is still on your mouth, and your restraints have only gotten tighter as you fight against them. You've started to lose hope that anyone was coming to help you.

You feel him slap your cheeks, "C'mon, Y/N, you gotta stay awake." He says as he places his bloodied knife down on the table across from you. "Don't you wanna know why I'm here? Or how I found you?" You tilt your eyes to look up at him. He looks down at your mouth and laughs, knowing you can't respond.

He stands up and starts pacing in front of you. "I'll tell you. After you left me and disappeared off the face of the earth. I was miserable. The only person I truly ever cared about left." You roll your eyes, not believing a word coming out of his mouth, "The last name change made it quite difficult to find you." He smiles, pointing the knife towards you. "Until you fucked up. Were you a little too comfortable, Y/N? I mean, it looked pretty comfortable when you walked down this very street with another man." Your eyes widen as you realize he had found you days ago, waiting to pounce on his prey.

"Did you really think you could share a life with someone else? I'm all you are ever going to have, Y/N." He started to tear up as he stopped in front of you. "And that hurt seeing you get so close to him when you're with me. You don't understand how hurtful that was, and I'm here to make sure you do." He walks closer, "Every cut, every bruise, and every punch I give you just shows how much I love you. I'm hurting you so badly that I'm risking going to jail, that's how much I love you, Y/N. You just don't get it, and I'm not gonna stop until you do." Tears fall faster as he gets closer to you. He has the knife pointed at an untouched part of your cheek. He's about to go deeper when the door slams open. "You bitch!" He yells as he walks behind your chair, but not before slicing your cheek.

You pray with everything you have that it's not Sarah and that she called someone else. It doesn't take long for whoever it is to reach your kitchen by the sound of their heavy steps coming closer.

"Let her go," Pete- Frank growls, holding his pistol with his finger close to the trigger. The relief that you feel wash over you is hard to describe as you start crying even more, gaining your second wind. You look over Frank, dressed in all black with a bulletproof vest on. He came prepared and, more importantly, he came for you. You watch as Frank's eyes briefly look over you, looking at every cut, every bruise, and every injury caused by the monster behind you. His eyes briefly soften before hardening again, looking back at him. "I'm only going to say this once, let. Her. Go." Frank gruffs.

"Oh, is this him, Y/N? The guy who walked you back to your place? Fixed up your sink? Kissed? Did she tell you about me, huh?" No one says anything in anticipation of who was going to make the first move. You feel him get angrier behind you. "Of course not. I'm the only one who gets to have her. No one else." He yells, jabbing the knife in Frank's direction.

You can see the gears turning in Frank's head if he's able to make the shot without hurting you, but the way he's angled behind you, it'd be a slim chance.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you not to hurt a woman?" Frank snaps, knowing he's right in front of you and can't do anything. He tries to take a step forward, but as he does, you feel the wet, sticky blade pressed against your throat.

"One more step and I swear I'll slit her throat," He monotonously says, pressing the knife deeper. You watch as Frank takes a step back. "Get your gun off me, now," he barks.

"You know, I can't do that," Frank states, not willing to move his finger off the trigger.

"Is the knife not convincing enough?" He slams his knife down on the side table, and you suddenly feel cold metal pressed against your temple. "I guess a gun will have to do." He says nonchalantly.

You close your eyes as you try to think of how this night has a good ending. You saw Pete- Frank again, or for the first time, and that was enough, knowing that there was something there. You open your eyes and notice Frank has his arms held up in surrender and his finger off the trigger.

"You know, a knife actually is convincing enough," Frank says as his eyes briefly look to you and to the table. You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, not knowing what he's looking at. "Make it easier for you not to get caught. No serial number to trace back, just a cut. I mean, hey, that knife can probably cut through a lot of different things." You start to pick up on the different words he enunciates as you follow his line of sight. The knife. He placed it on the edge of the table closest to your right hand.

Your hand can only move so much, and you try to push the limit to grab it as you watch Frank, but he subtly shakes his head no to get you to stop. He must be watching you.

"You wouldn't believe the trouble I had to go through to make sure each blade was different." He says as Frank slowly nods his head. You go for it as he explains how he could leave a knife here and no one would be able to know it was him. He must have forgotten about DNA and fingerprints.

Your hand reaches the very tip of the blade as you grasp it, trying to make sure he can't hear the knife moving. Lucky for you, he's animated and talking loudly over how this night was supposed to be 'perfect.' You slowly angle the blade to start cutting away at the rope. The only thing is that it's thick, and you're not quite sure how not to make it obvious.

"Shame your night got ruined," Frank says. You stop what you're doing. Did he really say that? "I mean, your first mistake was letting Y/N talk to Sarah. That's why I'm here. Her tone of voice tipped her off to call me. Shouldn't you have thought of that?" Frank asks as he looks at him.

"Not a mistake. Letting Y/N talk to her stopped her friend from becoming another body. Bummer you're involved now, buddy." He said. You feel him get agitated at what Frank is saying, but you don't stop. You feel one layer give way as you find your energy returning to your body.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night. It's just a little sloppy. I mean, you go out of your way to find her, and you tie her up in her kitchen? You didn't think to get her somewhere else?" Frank briefly looks down to check your progress.

Behind you, he starts to get antsy. Frank's words are bothering him. You can feel the agitation start to seep out of him.

You feel another rope give way; there are only two more layers, and this hand is free. You start to build your momentum a little more as Frank continues to distract him.

"If I'd taken her somewhere else, whose to say a cop wouldn't have pulled us over? This was the best place for this. For making sure that Y/N knows I love her." He says flaling the gun in his hand around.

"Love her? You got a shit way of showing it." Frank scoffs.

"You know what it's like to be entranced by her. Imagine having that, and then it's ripped away from you because she leaves. Erased. Gone. Untraceable. When all you did was love her?" He explains.

"Was it love when you beat her unconscious so badly she didn't know where she was or what her name was? Or was that when you did it the second? The third? The fourth time?" Frank says, looking at you sorrowfully.

How did he know about that? You feel the last pieces break apart on your last rope. You're almost free.

"I love her! No one else is going to have her. And if I can't have her, then no one can." He screams, pointing the gun towards Frank, away from you. The rope breaks, and my hand is free.

"Now, Y/N!" Frank yells as you grab the knife and plunge it past your shoulder into his chest. He screams out, dropping the gun held in his right hand, not before a shot rings through your house. You reach further down the side table and grab another knife to cut yourself free from the chair.

He's still on the ground, groaning in pain. You get up from the chair and make your way to stand over him. You see red as you start punching him. You ignore the pain as it rattles throughout your entire body from the damage he created, but you refuse to let him win. You're hitting his face, his chest, and stomach as you unleash the anger you've held inside for the past four years. He took everything from you before, and he's not going to take it from you now.

You don't know how long you'd been fighting him until you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you back. You collapse in exhaustion as you let the tears stream down your face. Frank places his arms around you and pulls you in tighter to his chest. He shushes you as he feels your body shake.

"He's not going to hurt you anymore. I got you." Frank says, rocking you back and forth. He presses a kiss against your forehead as you hear sirens outside your house. You pull yourself away from him as you begin to feel every cut he made. You look over and see how unrecognizable he is.

"Oh my God, did I kill him?" You say as you look at him on the ground. Frank notices you going into shock as he grabs your face, forcing you to look at him.

"No, he's still alive. You didn't kill him." Frank growls. You slowly nod your head as Frank pulls you up. "Let's get out of here, okay?" He doesn't let go of you as you make your way outside.

"Frank, you need to go. You can't be here. They'll arrest you." You say as you push him away. "Please, I need you to go."

"No, I need to stay here with you to make sure you're okay." He says as he moves your matted hair out of your face.

"I'll be fine, please, go. They're almost here." He hesitates. He knows he needs to leave, but you need to be safe. "I need you to be able to come back when they're gone, and if you're still here, then they're going to take you." You explain to him. He looks at you as he places his forehead against yours.

"I'm coming back for you," he promises. You nod softly as you pull back. Before he goes, he gently grabs your cheeks and kisses you. You try to savor the way he feels in case he can't come back. He breaks apart and gives you two more small pecks before he runs off.

You're standing in the middle of your lawn as cop cars swarm around you. They run up to you to see if you need an ambulance. You must look bad, judging by the gasps and shocks you hear as people look over you. You try to answer their questions about what happened, but your mind goes blank. You’re about to answer when a single shot is heard from inside the house.

Only one officer stays with you, as the rest storm into your house, guiding you towards the ambulance where the paramedics look over you.

You've almost made it to the hospital when you hear over the paramedics' radio that "the other one" didn't make it. You don’t have the strength to ask if that call was related to yours before exhaustion takes over.

---------

You spent three weeks in the hospital recovering from all the damage he caused. He cut you over a hundred times. Not all of them big enough to cause long-term damage, but just enough to serve as a reminder. He broke your jaw and gave you a bad concussion. The doctors say you were out for at least four days before you came to.

Sarah visited you in the hospital every day, and once you started feeling better and looked more like yourself, Leo and Zach came too. They'd keep you updated on things happening at school, how Zach's soccer team was doing, and Leo's robotics team getting first place at their competition. You were so upset that you missed seeing all these moments, but you were glad that you're still here.

When you woke up, there was a bouquet for every day you were out. Not just small flowers you got at the grocery store, but ones filled with your favorite flowers. They continued every day you were in the hospital until you left. You had an idea of who was behind the flowers, but you didn't want to get your hopes up.

The police came in and asked questions, informing you that he had died. He suffered a single gunshot wound to the head. You thought he had done it to himself, but they ruled out suicide pretty quick due to the angle of the shot. They asked if anyone else was there, but you weren't sure what to say. You wanted to protect Frank and let them know he saved you, but you didn't want them to twist the story around him. You simply said you couldn't remember, and if you did, you'd let them know.

Frank didn't come to see you at the hospital. You knew he couldn't, but there was still some part of you hoping it'd be okay for him to come once. You talked with Sarah about him, the first time asking if she had heard from Pete, not knowing if she had seen the news. She had softly informed you about his real identity, about him being Frank Castle. You told her that you knew and that it didn't change what you thought of him. Sarah agreed, especially after everything he did to help her out around the house and with Zach.

Sarah was there with you when you were discharged from the hospital. Surprisingly, you didn't need any crutches, but they still wheeled you out just in case your strength hadn't returned.

Your house had been cleared to be ready to move back in, but you couldn't imagine yourself being there, where everything had happened. You thought you could, but as you got closer, your throat tightened, and you thought your heart was going to beat out of your chest. You couldn't catch your breath. Sarah picked up on the panic attack you were having and stopped the car.

She told you that you were going to stay with her. She turned around and made her way back to her house. She asked if you could make a list or if there was anything in your house that you needed besides the necessities. You couldn't think, so you just shook your head no.

Sarah brought you inside and immediately took you to the guest bedroom upstairs. You'd stayed here plenty of times before when you and Sarah stayed up late drinking wine and talking about life. You couldn't believe the circumstances of why you were staying here this time.

It didn't feel real. He had come back and almost ended your life, but he didn't, and he wouldn't get the chance to do it again. You survived, but why did it feel like he still won? You couldn't help the sobs that racked your body as you tried to sleep. You heard Sarah come in a couple of times with what sounded like a suitcase and other items you needed, but you were too exhausted to acknowledge her.

It must have been three or four days until you felt like you had rested enough to leave the guest bedroom. Leo or Zach would come in and bring you food those days and just sit to talk with you. All they knew was that something had happened, but they didn't know the circumstances, which is good. You couldn't traumatize them with something that had nothing to do with them.

You felt bad for how long you had stayed with Sarah, even though she constantly reassured you that it wasn't a bother. You told her that by the end of the month, you'd go back to your house. You needed to at some point, and you had grown more comfortable with the idea of going back when you realized there was no way for him to hurt you again. She was hesitant to let you back, but understood the meaning behind you living in your house. Who knows? Maybe you'll get a dog or a cat to keep you company.

The first couple of nights sleeping in your own house were rough. You were tormented by nightmares that were so realistic you thought you'd been tied back up in that chair in your kitchen. When it happened, you'd call Sarah, and she'd drive over to pick you up to go back to her house.

When you were at home, you thought about Frank and wondered if he was okay. You watched the news constantly to see if there were any updates on him, but there weren't. You guessed that no news was good news.

Before you knew it, two months had passed since your accident. You were doing better. The nightmares were less frequent, but a longing to see Frank grew. Where was he?

You decided that for once you were going to make dinner for Sarah, Leo, and Zach, just as a way to thank them for everything they did for you. You had found a recipe that sounded good that you hadn't tried before. You decided to make it for yourself to test it out to make sure it actually tasted good. You didn't want to make a meal for them if it was awful.

You'd gotten the groceries earlier in the day and were just about to start making dinner when there was a knock at the door. You looked at the time, seeing that it was 4:30. It must have been Sarah. Sometimes she'd come over after dropping Zach and Leo at their extracurriculars to hang out.

You walk over to the door and quickly unlock it, sporting a big grin on your face. You opened it, and to your surprise, it wasn't Sarah, it was Frank. Your smile fell for a moment as you couldn't comprehend if it was actually him standing there, but it quickly grew as you realized it was. He was dressed in a black hoodie with a hat underneath to conceal his identity.

"Can I come in?" Frank asks as he looks around to see if anyone has followed him. You nod your head as you open your door to let him in. "Thank you." He says as he makes his way inside. You close the door and lock it behind him.

"Do you want to come sit down?" You softly ask, hoping he'd stay. It'd been so long since that night, and now that Frank was finally here, you're not sure what to say.

"Yeah," Frank agrees as he removes his hat and hoodie. He waits for you to pass him so he can follow you. You make your way into your kitchen as you motion for him to sit at the barstool. He sits down as you stand across from him, leaning against the counter. "How are you doing?" He asks as he directs his gaze over you, checking to make sure you're okay.

"I've been better." You joke as you only let out a chuckle, "I think I've spent two full days in my own house since everything happened. The nightmares aren't as often as they have been, thankfully." You say as you fold your arms over your chest and look at him.

"That's good. You're getting better." He says solemnly. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I should've been here sooner than I was. Maybe I could have stopped him from hurting you." You begin to shake your head as you see him start to work himself up. You walk over towards him and place your hand on his arm.

"Stop, you don't have to do that, Frank. You got here as fast as you could have." You counter as you start to console him. "You didn't know about my past or who I was hiding from. If anything, you saved me." He looks up at you, "If you weren't here to distract him, I don't think I would've been able to escape. I don't even know what would have happened." You can't help as the tears start to fall faster.

Frank stands up and pulls you into him. All these emotions you had been holding back, like the fear of him not actually being dead has consumed your every thought, each second you're alone in your home.

You pull back from him as he moves his thumb to wipe away your tears, "I thought that knowing he was gone was going to be some big relief, but all I can think about is what if he isn't dead?" You cry as Frank starts to console you.

"Shh, Y/N, he isn't coming back. He's dead, and no one is ever going to hurt you again." He says as he presses a kiss against your forehead. "You're not gonna have to worry about anyone coming in here or taking advantage of you. I'm here." He pulls away and moves the hair out of your eyes.

He waits a moment, “Does it bother you?” He asks. You give him a confused look as you’re not sure what he’s asking. “That I’m Frank Castle, a now-alive but used to be dead convicted murderer?” He asks with his head facing down.

You take a second, “No.” You say, looking at him as he looks down at you, shocked. “You, being Frank Castle, saved my life. No offense, but I’m not sure Pete Castiglione sounds like a guy who knows his way around a gun.” You joke as you both let out a laugh. "Thank you for my flowers." You smile up at him as you place your hand on his cheek.

"Of course," Frank says softly. He leans down and waits to see if there's any hesitation, but you surprise him by meeting him in the middle.

Your soft lips press up against his weathered ones, wrapping your arms around his neck. He wraps his hands around your waist and pulls you up, causing your legs to wrap around his waist. Your noses brush against each other as you try to find the perfect angle.

He places you down on the counter without breaking the kiss as his tongue swipes against your bottom lip. You open your mouth slightly to grant him entrance, moaning as your tongues entwine. Your hand grips onto the hair that has slightly grown out since you'd last seen him, eliciting a groan to escape his lips.

You feel his hands start to move down to your shirt to remove it, but your body doesn't look like it did before. There are all these new scars that you had chosen to forget because you couldn't stand to look at them. You move your hands to grab his and redirect them to your face, not wanting him to see what he had carved.

You move your hands to grab onto his shirt to take it off. You break the kiss as Frank quickly removes his shirt. You look at him as you run your hand over his sculpted body. You bring your face close to his chest as you kiss him. Frank grabs onto your hair and gently pulls you back to his mouth. Your tongues fight for dominance as his hand brings you even closer to him.

You pull back as you hop off the counter, but not before grabbing his hand to guide him to your room. When you make it, you bring him closer to you as you sit down on your bed. He towers over you as he brings his head down to kiss you again.

Your mouth opens as you let out a moan as his hand moves towards your breast. You're now fully lying on the bed as he hovers on top of you. "You're so beautiful, Y/N," he whispers as he holds himself over you, moving his finger over your face. You smile at him before your hands move to the back of his head and pull his lips to yours.

His hands move further down to the hem of your shirt to remove it, and before you can think of anything, you break apart to throw it off of you. You watch as Frank slowly moves to rest on his side next to you, looking over you. You look at his face as it slowly falls as he zones in on your torso.

Frank can't even count the number of scars that litter your body. Each one is unique in its length and size; some even look to go deeper than they should be able to. You slowly start to move your hands to cover yourself up, but Frank grabs your hands and places them where they were beside your head.

He moves to hover over you again as he goes to kiss and erase any pain or memory associated with the creation of your scars. He takes his time as he lovingly caresses each spot with his tongue. You can't help the tears that start to escape as you realize no one has ever been this sweet or gentle with you.

When Frank is done removing the evil hidden behind each scar, he comes back to look in your eyes. "I will always protect you, no matter what." He wipes your tears and traces the outline of your jaw. Your hand holds onto his cheek as you pull him closer to you. The only thing you wanted was to be as close to Frank as you could.

His hands move down to remove your jeans and underwear as he pushes his own off. You can't help but look down and marvel at how big he is. You go to move towards him, but he softly pushes you down.

He makes his way down your stomach as he reaches your center. You watch as his tongue slowly swirls around your clit, causing a warm sensation to spread throughout your body. Your back arches and your eyes roll back into your head as Frank's tongue continues to massage your center as if he’s done it before. He's speaking an entirely new language you hadn't experienced, and to say it was the best you ever had was an understatement.

He could feel you get closer as your walls clenched around his tongue. If there was one thing Frank was going to do, it was to make sure that you came. He continued to move his tongue in the way that caused your body to jolt every time. He worked you through your orgasm as you gripped his hair and moaned out his name.

When he came back up, you grabbed onto his back and smashed your lips against his. Your tongue infiltrated his mouth as you tasted yourself on his tongue. He moaned into your mouth as his tongue fought for dominance.

His body covered yours as he moved to align his hard member against your entrance. He moved back as he looked into your eyes, making sure it was okay. You nodded your head and bit your lip in anticipation.

He slowly moved in, allowing your body to get used to his length. You bite his shoulder to stifle the noises escaping your mouth. "Fuck Frank," you moan as he hits a spot you'd never experienced before.

He gradually increases his speed as he moves to place your leg against your shoulder, hitting another angle. Your vision starts to blur as you see stars. No one had ever made you feel like this.

He feels you getting close as your walls squeeze around him. You see Frank close his eyes as you realize he's getting close. "Look at me, Frank, please," you plead breathily. He opens his eyes as you hold onto the back of his head. You both see the pleasure cross over your features as the warmth spreads all throughout your body, reaching the top of your head to your toes. Your moans blend together as you feel his hot seed spread within you. He places his head between your neck and shoulder as he tries to even his breathing.

He kisses your shoulder before he gently pulls out of you, feeling his cum spread out on the sheets underneath you. You marvel as he begins to try to get up, but you grab his arm. He looks at you in concern to make sure everything is okay, but you just pull him down to kiss him one more time.

He pulls back to look at you and gives you a small kiss before he gets up. You see him walk over to your bathroom and hear him turn on the sink. He comes back out with a washcloth in his hand. He makes his way over to you and gently washes away any evidence of what you guys had done.

He goes to put the washcloth back in the bathroom and walks back into the room. You see him hesitate, not quite sure what to do.

"Can you please stay?" You ask quietly as you look at him through your eyelashes. He walks over to where you are on the bed and slides in next to you.

"I'm gonna stay for however long you'll let me," He says as he pulls you close to him. He runs his finger over your shoulder as you snuggle close to him.

"Then you're going to have to move in." You say as you angle your head to look up at him.

Pain was a familiar to Kwei.

He's recalled pain through the stories scrawled and written across his body in scars. Three-clawed slashes from dangerous creatures. Broken skin healed over from traps set by Yautja of other clans, usually bad bloods. Scars from prey that escaped him. Scars from those that lined the walls of his ship's trophy room. He could recall each prickle and red-hot scalding stab of pain he's felt from a single glance. Kwei has felt so much before.

But nothing like this.

The dull, bottomless, helplessly growing ache in his chest that came with holding his own blade against his brother's throat. The same blade that sliced cleanly through flesh and set blood free from the confines of skin and muscle.

His fondness for Dek had done this to him. Had it been any other Yautja ordered to do this, they would've sliced Dek's head off in a heartbeat.

Watching the panicked, almost pleading, disbelieving gaze etched onto Dek's petrified features only deepened the sinkhole that opened in his stomach. His brother's mandibles had flared out in snarls and loud growling shrieks… but Kwei knew better. His growls weren't a warning to Kwei. They were cries for mercy— a concept shown by next to no Yautja. Worthy prey was hunted. Yautja were predators to all.

And above all else, weakness was not tolerated among their kind.

Fragility was not accepted. The frail and feeble were cast aside.

Yet Kwei could not stand the thought of doing the same to his very own brother. Dek, who stuck his neck out for him, even when they were stupid children. His brother, who lost a fang saving him from a deadly children's toy. The one who stood beside him longer than their father had ever been around.

Kwei disobeyed his father. He raised his own blade against him and sent Dek away. Far away— to Genna, where he could hunt and bring back his trophy. He would honor the family. Him. Kwei.

"Bring it back home," Kwei had said, clutching his severed arm to his chest before saving his brother from Njohrr. His memory would be honored by Dek's Kalisk trophy.

Now he was here. Fighting off the call of dhi'ki-de just long enough for him to watch his ship disappear into the sky. It was an honor in itself, wasn't it? He felt that it was. Dek would be safe inside of his ship. The cruel, harsh lands of Genna would test his brother, but that little runt was nothing if not resilient. A good fighter, a good hunter…. a good Yautja. Dek would be a good Yautja. Maybe Genna would whip the stubborn, ignorant arrogance out of him, and whip some common sense in.

An airy chuckle slipped from his mouth. Blood followed shortly after, speckling the insides of his mandibles with green, glowing blood. This pain didn't matter at all. Not when Dek was out of Njohrr's grasp.

Kwei could die like this… really, he could.

He was content knowing he protected his brother.

He was at peace.

The Yautja laid out on the padded medical table is… big, to say the least. But your ship told you that he was rather average for a Yautja. It made you wonder if he was an Elite yet or just a blooded hunter. Unless you could see his trophies, then you'll refrain from putting too many labels on him.

…Armor makes you think of Elite. Just not quite Elder status since he's clearly got some youth to him. That, and the lack of accessories you've seen elders adorned with.

But blooded also makes sense— you're getting off track!

You tentatively glanced at his severed arm. Technically, you could reattach it. What irked you was the damage. It was badly burned. So you were going to do the easier thing and give him a new one. If you kept the lopped off limb in some Weyland Yutani Corporation Regenerative Juices ™, they might make a dent in the damaged flesh.

You hoped it did. You didn't want to be on the receiving end of a Yautja's wrath.

All of his armor was set aside in preparation for your little operation. What he was left in were some plain fabric clothes. Simple enough to protect him from the elements, and practical for his armor.

Plasma cannon! Cool. These were one of the weapons you never got the chance to see up close without the fear of three dots locking onto your form. The metal was smooth to the touch and had an appropriate weight to it.

Your eyes flitted back to the Yautja as he shifted. You held your breath for a moment— had the anesthesia seriously worn off already?

Fortunately, it hadn't, and he settled rather quickly, his head gently lulling to the other side. His dreadlocks fell away to expose the rest of his neckline, where lighter lines alerted you of scars long healed over. The 'hair' on his head interested you more than the scars. They were considerably thinner compared to the thick, hefty ones you've seen in your few encounters with Yautja warriors. Some had them, some didn't. They were just as varied as humans were, in all honesty.

His shoulder guards and arm gauntlets were placed beside it. As were his weapons. In reach, if he suddenly decided to bypass a bunch of drugs meant to keep him unconscious and numb and beat your ass. No point in locking his stuff up— you'd love to keep your head on your shoulders instead of pissing him off.

With all of his things taken care of, you did one final sweep to check his injuries. Most of them healed rapidly thanks to your ship's immaculate medical abilities. You'd be absolutely screwed without them. As you ran your hands carefully over the healed wounds, you took note of how hot he ran. You weren't worried that he was running a fever— more so curious as to why his body radiated such heat. To add onto your many satisfied curiosities, you found that his skin was an odd mixture of roughly textured and smooth skin. Almost like an alligator's hide with a lot more give. The color, a reddish-brown, was deep, with lighter hues around the center of his face.

And his face… he had a strong set of mandibles on him. It felt strange, viewing a Yautja so closely. They weren't a species known for being friendly and outspoken. No, they… they were private. Secluded, only venturing the vast universe for hunts. You heard they reserved their faces for family and, in rare cases, worthy opponents. His fangs were big. A quick comparison told you that they were larger than your pointer fingers.

The Yautja took a particularly deep breath, his exhale lightly shaking his mandibles in his medically induced slumber.

"Excuse me for just a second," you murmured under your breath, removing the last bit of armor he had. It was a simple neck piece that slipped beneath the rest of his shirt, the former of which you promptly whisked away. "I've got to make sure nothing pokes you while you shift around."

His muscles were firm. He could crack your head like an egg with his remaining arm if he wanted.

Then again, couldn't all Yautja do that to you?

Ah, right, you had a job to do. Weyland should've killed you by now for your thoughts. They always had a mind of your own and ran on for far too long.

You gently moved his dreadlocks out of the way so they didn't catch on the metal tools you had set out. But with how heavily sedated he was, and how much blood he lost, you weren't too worried about him waking up anytime soon. Whatever cut his arm off ended up cauterizing some of the marred flesh. It prevented him from bleeding out right away.

A soft sigh fell past your lips, your gaze sweeping over his form.

"Who did you piss off, big guy…?"

You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, getting straight to work on attaching his new arm. Yautja weapons were no joke. They used some sort of laser technology for a lot of their shit. This clean slice was clearly done by a blade.

It took you hours to connect this refined prototype of yours. The ship's advanced medical systems found the nerves and muscles you could work with. The cauterized wounds had to be reopened for the new cybernetic augmentation. Flexible, durable, and strong. Weyland Yutani lost a good synth technician. Or an insane one. You liked brushes with death a little too much for your own good.

The time it took was worth it. It made you feel better about yourself that you relied mostly on your own handiwork instead of letting the robotic little pinchers take over and do your work for you. You weren't going to be like those assholes at Weyland who could repair busted synths in a matter of seconds. You were human. You made things more complicated for yourself because you could.

Besides, when are you going to get the chance to simply observe a Yautja like this again?

Kwei doesn't wake up like he thought he would.

Last he checked, he was crumpled up and discarded in his desert biome of a home, trying to ignore the call of dhi'ki-de

So, what in Paya's name was he doing on a medical bed?

It was like bags of lead were set all over his body to keep him from moving. Even blinking took more effort than it normally would've. Kwei's mandibles spread out gently, almost like he were stretching them, before settling flat against his mouth. He was able to glance around once his eyes fully adjusted to the dim lighting of the medical room.

It was unlike his own ship. Cooler tones and sleeker designs, although clearly the interior has seen better days.

Kwei's chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. With each second that passed, he felt the weight easing from his abdomen. Whatever made him so numb and limp was swiftly leaving his system.

His yellow eyes landed on a figure's back. Small, too small to be a Yautja. Smooth skin, a body not fit for constant fighting. It was a human. Kwei knew one when he saw one. They were… annoyingly persistent. In the few trips he's made to earth, Kwei had claimed a few skulls for his own trophy wall. They were good prey and good warriors. He's never been disappointed during his fights.

Most traveling humans had translators in their ships, didn't they? The smart ones, if he remembered correctly.

"Ooman," Kwei slowly spoke, his clicks and murmurs taking on a slightly raspy edge. He must've swallowed half of Yautja Prime's deserts from how scratchy his throat was. "Release me."

You glanced over your shoulder at the sound of his voice. It was deep, not that you expected anything less.

"Huh. You woke up quick…" You swiveled around in your chair, arms folded across your chest. "You're not restrained. I'm not trying to experiment on you or anything like that… just wanted to make sure you didn't die when I found you. You alright?"

He failed to answer. Kwei glanced down at his body. True to your word, he wasn't restrained. He also wasn't without an arm anymore, which stunned him. Here he was thinking that he was experiencing the fabled "phantom pain" he's heard from Elders and those who lost limbs during hunts.

He sat up. Quickly— far too quickly.

"Woah, hold on! Not that fast, come on!"

You scrambled out of your chair to reach him, brushing aside the very real danger of any Yautja being approached so rapidly would've folded their assumed aggressor in half like a lawn chair. You might as well be looking death right in the eye while you're doing this.

The only thing that comforted you was that he was still recovering from the affects of your anesthesia. Which means he's going to fall over if he gets up too fast!! Fuck!!

Your hand shot out to steady him, palm pressing against his chest so he didn't fling himself off of the damn table. You didn't exactly have the time to fear the snapping of his mandibles and enraged glower while you prevented him from smashing his face into the other side of the table. Why were Yautja so hard to calm down?!

A deep growl rumbled from him in response to your touch. The message was loud and clear: "Hands Off", which you weren't stupid enough to ignore. You removed your hand from him, your concerned gaze morphing into an annoyed glare. If he kept moving around so carelessly he was bound to damage the goods.

"Be careful," you warned. "I don't want you ripping that thing out after I spent so long putting it on you. I connected it to a lot of your nerves, too."

Once more, he sat himself up, eyes locked onto the new metal arm he had. He saw where flesh met metal, where the material mimicked the appearance of his remaining hand.

Fearlessly, and almost foolishly, you rolled closer on your swivel chair, resting your arms on the busted back where the headrest was supposed to be. You were too focused on his new prosthetic to care. "Try closing your hand. It should work like a normal arm."

Five digits closed into a fist. The sight alone made your heart soar. You did wonderfully.

I'm a genius. And I didn't even need to use the shit they power their synths with. All I needed to use was his blood. You grinned to yourself, leaning closer to get a better look at the movements of his hand and arm. He tested it out and began bending the prosthetic at the elbow. Each digit and knuckle was also stretched and clenched. It barely made any noise at all, which you prided yourself on above all else. It wasn't loud or annoying!

Anyhow, you were glad he was at least paying attention to your hard work. You had already thought about the fact that his weapons would slip from his grasp if the arm was fully metal, so there was added padding around the hand and where his wrist gauntlet was supposed to go. No use in giving him a new arm if it pissed him off.

You couldn't keep your prideful comment to yourself. "Good, isn't it?"

His eyes immediately shot to you when you decided to open your mouth again. What, he didn't like the way you spoke Yautja?

You rested your chin on crossed arms as you regarded him fully. He was strangely good-looking. Pah, you're looking into things too much. You've basically stared at him for the past few hours. Of course you've gotten used to his features.

"Why am I here?"

"Hmph. I found you bleeding out when I was exploring."

He squinted at you, as if silently asking why you were doing that in the first place. With a soft sigh, you elaborated further.

"Yautja Prime has useful plants when it comes to making medicinal ointments. I figured I'd be able to find something more resilient if I checked on the drier regions of this place. I guess I did find something tough…" You shook the thought out of your head before you asked something you could end up regretting. "What's your name, anyway?"

He had a very serious look now that he was awake. Then again, when weren't Yautja serious? He was the picture of a seasoned hunter. Minus the part about being in pieces when you found him. His hardened features, furrowed, hairless brows, and a scowl. That's a hunter right there. A killer.

So how come the heat in his eyes lacked the lethal hostility Yautja commonly held within them? The kind you were used to seeing wasn't particularly present within him. Perhaps he had more important matters on his mind.

Seeing that he wasn't in the mood to go first, you introduced yourself casually after returning to your seat. He processed it, head cocking to the side subtly, mandibles lifting.

You gestured to him. "There, you've got my name. I'd like to know yours. It's the least you could do after I patched you up."

"Kwei," he finally said, posture still stiff and rigid as a board. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if a wrench would break if you whacked him over the head with it.

Uncomfortable? You internally mused, keeping your eyes on him and your thoughts to yourself. "Nice to meet you, Kwei. You're good at recovering."

Your ship, your rules. You're not going to peel your eyes off of him like a fool. You aren't that stupid. Worst case scenario— you inject him with some more sedatives and toss him back where you found him.

Still… I can't blame him. He probably thought he was as good as dead when he got it ripped off of him.

Now he was so full of… life. Square shoulders, broad frame, and a power that was left unspoken. The power imbalance was apparent here. You gave him what he was missing only hours ago. An upper hand. Any human who had a proper sense of self-preservation would've double-tapped him or ran the other way. You liked doing weird things for humans and other humanoids alike. What use was your skill if you didn't spread your knowledge and technology?

"Why did you save me?" he asked, having had his fill of your blatant staring.

Crossing one leg over the other, you told him why you did what you did. You'd have the same answers if you were in his position. "I wanted to. It's not very fun seeing others bleed out on the floor alone."

He then lifted his prosthetic arm, simply uttering a "Why?" through strong mandibles.

"Because I wanted to. I knew I could save you. By the way, if you still want your actual arm, I've got it sitting in some fluids that will hopefully heal some of the damages."

You pushed yourself across the room while in your swiveling chair. It's the most dangerous thing you've actually got on your ship since you never strap it down, meaning whoever sits in it during takeoff is just asking to die.

Kwei watched as you pulled a cloth away from a covered cylinder. Beneath it, through thick glass, was his severed arm, suspended in a thick blue liquid.

You left it uncovered and returned to the side of the medical bed. "Careful standing up. I might have to get you something sweet. Blood loss and all."

He stood up, which you raised an eyebrow at, and started to put his armor back on. Shoulder guards, wrist gauntlet, a sling of explosives, the collapsible long sword— the whole shebang. You'd think he's getting ready to kill someone. Whoever wronged him, presumably.

Watching him suit up was a good reward for all your hard work. He was quick with it, too. So you took it all in. The movements of a Yautja suiting back up. Each movement had purpose. Every strap that was tightened— all the mechanisms locking into place and armor seemingly melding against one another as he got himself all fitted out.

Eventually, Kwei noticed one of his items was missing. He slowly turned to you, and good lord, were his eyes very telling.

You stared right back at him to try and figure out what was missing.

Neck armor. You set it aside since it was literally soaked with that bio-luminescent green blood of his. You reached over to the nearby counter you set it on and tossed it over. "Here. That's the only one I had to move away. Happy?"

He said nothing the entire time he assessed all of his belongings. Checking if you took anything for yourself, if you hid a weapon of his to use against him, all of that petty nonsense. If he had some common sense about humans, he'd know that a lot of them didn't have the balls to mess with Yautja.

There wasn't a need for him to say "don't touch my things" again. That one look from him was your only warning.

Still, you explained yourself. You'd talk for the both of you. You got back to your feet, grabbing a nearby bowl of snacks to eat from while you watched him do his thing. Yautja were so interesting. You'd observe him like a performer on the side of the street at this point. "I had to move it because it'd mess with my scanners. Don't get your panties in a twist. And here, have this for being a good patient."

You stuck a dried apricot into his mouth without much warning, not caring if he swallowed or spat it out. He flinched immediately and snarled at you. You cackled and ripped your hand away before he could grab it and break it.

"Eat it!" You encouraged, popping the dried stone fruit into your mouth to show him it was safe. "We use it to help those who donate their blood. It's the least sweet fruit I've got on my ship right now. Drink some water, too."

You offered him his water skin back. He took it, none too kindly, but the tension in his shoulders you saw before had lessened.

After he drank, he refocused on you. Was he sizing you up? The hell are you going to do to him? Pull on one of his dreadlocks? Slap him?

Kwei let out a sound suspiciously similar to a huff and stalked away, turning on his heel to lean back against the counter you kept your supplies at. He crossed his arms—

Only to let out a hiss of pain. His new prosthetic arm had smacked against the side of the cabinet when he folded his arms over his chest. You approached him again, already grabbing at the metal to see what was wrong with it. Kwei didn't flinch away from your touch a second time. No, he watched. Like you did with him, ignoring his glares for you to keep your eyes elsewhere. Kwei observed it all with those light, opaque yellow eyes of his.

Your fluid movements as you inspected the metal arm interested him. So you did this as a job. You were familiar with it, weren't you?

A pyode amedha who worked with things that made others stronger.

A tender fleshed, pudgy, weak and slippery soft-bellied human was helping him. Why?

You were tiny. Smaller than Dek, even.

The reminder momentarily stunned Kwei, allowing you the ample opportunity to fidget with the arm. How could he let it slip from his mind for so long?

You busied yourself with correcting the sensitivity and rambling to Kwei, the one Yautja you were sort of set on pack-bonding wit. This guy was cool.

"Sorry, sometimes it can get kinda sensitive. I'll fix it."

Dek. He needed to return to where his ship used to be. He had to wait for Dek.

"Lift your damn arm. You weigh, like, a ton."

Kwei lifted his arm only to access his gauntlet. A few taps brought up a hologram of his ship's location. Genna. Destination reached. A mock-up of the planet showed a red dot pulsating on one of its continents, showing him that Dek landed on solid ground instead of the sea. Good. That was good.

"Thanks. Can you shift to the side a bit? I need to—"

"I need to return to Yautja Prime. Now."

You paused at his interruption, staring him down for a solid five seconds. "We never left. You can take a look— we're in a cave. Not too far from where I found you, but I know Yautja like killing things that can fight back."

He strode past you, brushing your hand off of his arm, walking around like he owned the ship. "I must go to where I keep my ship. My brother will return there and he isn't aware I survived."

You tagged right along. Trailing behind a Yautja was fun! You couldn't see past this behemoth's hulking form. Your eyes followed each sway of his fleshy dreadlocks as they brushed up against his back.

"Where's your brother? Is he on his blooding ritual?"

He glanced over his shoulder, the slightest twinge of surprise flashing through his features. "You know of it?"

"Ehh… my company sort of required we know about any humanoid species. Anyway, where'd he go? What's his name?"

Kwei took another turn. "You ask too many questions."

"I saved your life."

"I did not ask you too."

I should break his legs. You let out a loud groan. "Come on, I don't even want a repayment. I'm curious."

A guttural rumbling followed your groan. "His name is Dek. I sent him to Genna."

He spotted the cockpit, which he zeroed in on right away. His steps just barely shook the ground, thudding dully through the narrow hallways of your ship. Kwei was comically large compared to your normal-sized halls.

His words registered a second later. You rushed to his side when he planted his ass firmly into the captain's chair. "Wait, what? Did you just say Genna? You sent him to Genna?"

Is he making sure Genna kills him first?!

Kwei's hairless brows furrowed, one arched up in question at your surprise. "Yes. The Death Planet."

"I, I know what Genna is. I think everyone who knows about space knows about Genna."

Genna reminded you of a company you used to work at.

Your eyes flitted to the barely covered up logo on your stolen ship. Weyland liked plastering their corporation everywhere. It was almost on every wall in the ship, which definitely wasn't yours. It was a miracle and a half that you snatched it up from under the company's noses, but it was only because it was an older model they planned to decommission. You ran away from those fools for a reason.

"He definitely shouldn't be there. That's where my old company is," you quickly said, already sliding over to the nearby screen to look up the planet's current coordinates. Kwei, apparently good as new, followed, easily dwarfing your body in order to see what you were doing. "I previously worked for Weyland Yutani. They use alien creatures for weapons and they've dug their claws into that planet for the past two years."

He grunted, glaring at the pitiful controls of the cockpit's monitors and navigation. What a shitty ship. "He's doing his hunt. He won't care about humans. Many of you are pyode."

"I'm not soft," You lied straight to his face.

His shoulders subtly shook with a huff-like laughter. "We call you soft meat for a reason."

Alright, asshole. It was your turn for your brows to raise. "Alright, you got me. What's he hunting?"

"Kalisk," he clicked back.

Eugh.

This time around, you failed at hiding your grimace. Kalisks. Those things were tough creatures and deadly. Last you heard, that's what Weyland Yutani wanted from Genna. A Kalisk specimen to study because of their rumored regenerative powers.

You brought your hand up to your face, rubbing at your temples. Getting there would be a headache. "If you want to go to Genna to see him, then—"

"No," Kwei swiftly cut you off, leaning over you.

When the hell did he stand up? You thought, tilting your head back to look up at him. Oh my god he's fucking huge from here.

"He has to hunt. He needs to return here."

You stared up at him incredulously. He can't seriously be pulling this tactic. An intimidation show? Really? After you fixed his damn arm and kept him from bleeding out? You should pelt him with rocks for his audacity.

Your fingers hovered over the coordinates the ship automatically supplied to you. You slowly brought your hand back down after hearing his wishes. From what you knew about Yautja, they honored the hunt. Like no other. If he doesn't think his brother needs the help, then you definitely shouldn't stick yourself into their business. You've been testing fate and tempting death since you dragged Kwei in here.

Tongue darting over your lips, you relented, switching the screen back to the diagnostics and scans your equipment retrieved from Kwei. If Dek was coming back home with a trophy, it'd be a nice surprise (and relief) for him to see his brother waiting for him.

"…Alright, fine. I won't interrupt on his hunt… but I'm going to monitor what Weyland is doing."

His hunt is one thing. You don't know him yourself, but if Weyland gets involved with Dek to try and profit off Yautja weaponry, that's when you're stepping in. You know humans aren't supposed to have their technology. there's too many of your kind, and a bunch of synths, who would only use it to "better humanity", when in reality, they'd probably start a war using Yautja-made weapons.

"I'll head there if I find out that Weyland is trying to utilize your kind's tech, but I won't stop Dek from doing anything. Is that a deal?"

"…Acceptable," the Yautja decided, mandibles pressing back up against his mouth. He could still taste the subtle tartness that lingered from that fruit you fed him.He's never had anything so sweet before. And he's never had a human force-feed him. "I will stop you from reaching my brother if the need arises."

"If we even go there."

"I would decide. Dek went with my ship. Yours is inferior to Yautja-made designs."

"It's not my creation. I stole it."

He crossed his arms. His flesh hand settled upon the new, cold metal of his new arm. It appeared to weird Kwei out for a split second, as he raised his fingers from the chill. You hadn't gotten the chance to put the final, protective layer over the prosthetic, which would've granted the arm a slightly more realistic feel. You'd let Kwei decide if he wanted the synthetic feel or not.

He seemed to be focused on other things aside from your handiwork. Much to your disappointment. Kwei had leaned over to mess with your navigation.

"You don't exactly have a ship to go there."

"I have yours," Kwei shot back with a tone of finality. Fine, he did have a ship. "I will remain here until my brother returns with the Kalisk."

You smacked his hand away when he attempted to punch in some coordinates. "Cut that out. I've hidden the ship and I don't need you messing with where we are right after you woke up."

He decided to pull that intimidation shit again and stood right up from the captain's chair.

"I know my home planet."

…Maybe the Yautja figured out how to show off to each other a little too well. The intimidation thing was starting to work. The fact that he could pick you up and throw you across the ship also had your resolver wavering.

This is why I can't keep doing kind things. You sourly sat down in the seat beside the captain's chair. Kwei settled back down, eyes roving over the shiny, brand-new prosthetic you so graciously gifted him.

"Ooman."

You let your head fall back against your chair. "I've got a name."

"Pyode."

You glared. "What?"

"You craft limbs… can you craft weapons?"

Your gaze softened at his question. You nodded, sitting up straighter. It wasn't everyday that people asked about what you did for a living. "Yeah. Synths, limbs, and weapons. Picked up on a bit when I had an actual job. Why?"

He took out his long sword, giving a simple flick of his wrist to unsheathe it fully from its retracted state. The sword, almost fully black, sizzled with red-hot energy on the sharp edge of the blade. Kwei held it out to you expectantly.

"My sword was damaged in my last fight. Fix it."

"Prove your worth," is what he's saying.

You grasped the handle, finding it uncomfortable and heavy to hold. Yeah, you weren't made for combat. You were made to rot in a room and make cool cybernetic shit.

"…I thought Yautja weren't supposed to give others their technology."

Kwei turned to face you. His eyes bore into your own for what felt like an eternity. Another smartass comment died on your tongue, and you wondered if his brother dealt with this. The unyielding stare of an older, experienced, firm blooded hunter.

"Fix it," he repeated.

You held his gaze before lowering it, sighing at your own show of submission. He was too good at staring someone down. This really wasn't the whole "my ship my rules" thing you had going on anymore.

Kwei's chest appeared to puff out.

“He’s not going to have the same advantages as you, so you gotta take care of your little brother more than you would’ve anyone else, okay, Kwei?”

He still remembers his father’s Ooman mate.

Even though it’s been hundreds of years at this point, Kwei still feels as small and anxious as he had been when she had first come to the clan, under his father’s mighty arm as if she had belonged there, each and every time he’s made to recall her in memory.

Especially since Dek started courting his own Ooman.

“Feel that, Kwei? You’re little brother’s already starting to kick! He’s gonna be a fighter, and it’ll be your job to back him up. Promise me?”

Dek’s bearer had been a kind sort. In the strange way that only Ooman can be. Kwei had been grown enough that he was no longer in the direct care of the other females of the clan, kicked out of the nursery circles and already being kicked around by the other children his age. Everyone loved picking on the royal heir, after all.

His father had told him to bear it. To rise above, as his future subjects were merely testing him to see how grand a leader he would be, once they’d all grown.

At the time, it made sense.

At the time, it still hurt his feelings.

“Come here, sweetie, let me look at that bruise.”

Kwei’s own bearer had died at childbirth. It seemed to be in vogue, and spread a myriad of clan-wide justifications which insisted that to bear the fruit of the Clan Leader’s seed was not for a weak female. That his virility was too strong, his bloodline blessed by Paya, in such a way that to continue it meant death, and that that was simply something any female had to face, when propositioning him.

It was all fine and dandy, insofar as making him look more attractive.

To actually be the child of the dead female was less glamorous.

It weighed on Kwei far more than he ever let on. At the time, being the one true heir, he wondered if he would’ve felt less lonely and less targeted had his bearer been around to look upon him in pride and joy.

The other children’s bearers boasted about their offspring’s accomplishments, but all Kwei ever had to hear was that he was chosen. He had been set apart. And that everyone else expected greatness from him. Even as a child – they bowed and trilled and gave him a wide berth – claiming that one day, he would stand were his father stands, and they would all have to be in the habit of showing him due respect.

Yet, respect was…distant. Lonesome.

His father’s Ooman mate was the only one who seemed to notice.

“Come sit by me, Kwei, I’m making something for your little brother.”

There was an alcove she enjoyed sitting in. His father’s den was an excavated cave, carefully and meticulously carved out with all the pomp and circumstance a Clan Leader was deserving of.

His mate had the run of the place, more so than Kwei in some cases, but he often found her tucked away in a corner or a little-used room and the alcove. Often watching the desert sunset with some project on her lap.

Kwei would skittishly join her. At first. Curious. Wary.

But over time, it became it favorite routine.

He’d all but rush home. At times. Hobbling or crying or nursing a broken arm. The Ooman would send for Mekdah, which wasn’t ideal, so he endeavored to make sure he wasn’t too beat up. In order to mitigate sharing what had become his cherished ritual.

“I got you something today, kiddo,” she would say, once he’d been nestled at her side and chirruping contentedly. He’d look up to find her handing him a sweet, or a toy, or some other thoughtless, silly and childish thing that meant more to him than any accolade of his princely title.

“What is it?”

This time, it was some Ooman confection that he’d never seen before.

“It’s called a lollipop,” she grinned, “Human kids love it, so I figured I’d ask for some to share with you.”

“Father gets you human things?”

“All the time,” she laughed, though after a moment his words seemed to register to her as somewhat sadder, “Doesn’t he get you stuff, too, Kwei?”

He shook his head, easily, “Yautja have to earn it!”

“I’d say you earn it well enough,” she pouted somewhat, with her strange Ooman lips, “Tell you what – you keep being the adorable big brother you always are, and I’ll keep sharing all these nice things with you, okay? It’ll be our secret.”

“Sei-i!”

“You promise?”

“I promise!”

“Kwei.”

C’jit.

The Ooman would turn towards his father, innocently. While Kwei all put ducked in fear and shame and his father’s imposing form looming over them both. His disapproval firmly targeted toward Kwei as his fierce eyes shimmered over the Ooman confection in his hand.

“…Didn’t get those for him,” his father would rumble. He was always rumbling. A voice so harsh Kwei wondered how most were able to stand and listen to him without fainting.

“It’s just candy, love.”

“He needs discipline. Not sweets.”

“Alright, grumpy,” rising, the Ooman would pat Kwei’s head as he chirped unhappily at their broken reprieve. Her pregnancy was getting along by then, or maybe a Yautja infant only made her seem more huge than she ought to have been, “Why don’t you help me out, instead of thundering all over the place? I’ve been waddling around all day and Mekdah says I need my big strong mate to carry me around and massage my feet.”

Chuffing, his father barely moved to meet her halfway. Though he did begin purring as he lifted her in his mighty arms. Kwei had never seen him be so gentle with anything, before, and it made him stare in such a way that the Clan Leader would notice and send him a pointed glare.

Only his Ooman mate would think to smack him across the chest to rebuke him disciplining his own offspring. And get away with it. As his father would do little more than roll his eyes before carrying her away.

Leaving Kwei alone again.