https://archiveofourown.org/works/64866487

There was, she figured, absolutely no need for them. She was inside all day, everyday, her only companion being Frank, who had seen everything there was to see, and the dogs, and they couldn’t care less. 

And it was very, very nice. 

Her pajamas were all loose, comfortable, and, unlike normal times, they would not stay on only at night. More and more, she would only change out of one pair to immediately put on another one after her shower. 

She had shorts and sweatpants she wore when she changed out of the PJs, comfortable dresses and cute rompers, and they also did not require underwear. 

Karen never said all of this out loud, it was just a decision she made organically, and, if Frank noticed, he didn’t say anything. 

But he got the habit of resting his hand on her butt whenever they sat together on the couch and he put his arm around her, or when they lied in bed, either to sleep or just because, his hand would rest on the curve of her hip, sometimes caressing, sometimes with drumming fingers, when he was restless, sometimes squeezing a bit. 

And she was, absolutely, not complaining.

Her next decision, and mission, was to make all of her comfortable clothes even more comfortable. One particular pair of high waisted sweatpants was the sacrificial item, and Karen sat on the floor one day, scissors in hand, examining the waist of the garment. 

“Shit”, she breathed after a few minutes. 

“What?” asked Frank, not really knowing what she was doing, distracted with his Hunger Games book, a loan from Leilani.

“It’s sewn in”, Karen explained. “Will I ruin this if I just take the stitches out?”

Frank looked away from the book and towards her, sitting on the floor. 

“You gonna wear it if you don’t?”

“No”, she said after some consideration. 

“Then have at it.”

It took a while, and the pants definitely weren’t the same after she was done with them. What was once a high waisted loose pair of gray sweatpants were now like pajamas, without any sort of form fitting feature, or anything that would keep it on in case she forgot to tie it. Trying it on, Karen looked at herself in the mirror. 

“Well. I can’t wear it outside ever again, but this is much much better.”

After that, every short that squeezed her just a little more than she deemed necessary, every pair of sweatpants that had an elastic in its waist, any sports bra that came with a removable padding, it was all altered, to become the most comfortable it could be. She did ruin a pair or two, but mostly, she did a good enough job with the rest.

And then, when there was nothing she could do to her own clothes anymore, Karen started wearing his. 

First, hoodies. Large enough to cover her hands, shoulders that stopped almost at her elbows, she would prance around the house in them, zipped all the way up or simply thrown on over a simple t shirt and shorts.

Then, shirts. Frank would look for something, just to find that Karen had been faster, and fished it out of his drawer first, and was wearing them over her altered sweatpants - even better, over nothing.

His sweatpants, but only once, because they were way too large on the waist, and she had to keep pulling them up. 

“Hold up”, he said one night, when she got up from the couch to get the takeout dinner they had ordered. Karen looked at him, and he pulled the hem of her hoodie to make her come closer, and then zipped her up, because the shirt she was wearing underneath it was flimsy, light colored, and the outside hallway light was way too bright, transparency was a tricky thing, and there was no bra in sight. 

Karen smirked, shaking her head. 

“Men.”

“No, not ‘men’”, Frank argued, without any heat. “Just don’t think you should give the poor guy a nosebleed, is all.”

.:. 

She dressed up to take Pookah to the vet, for his shots. 

Well, not as much “dressed up” but “dressed normal”, with items she would not wear inside, clothes that were meant for going outside of the apartment. 

Including underwear. 

Frank stayed behind, took Lady for her walk and bathed her once they were home again. He had just finished preparing lunch when Karen and Pookah came back.    

“Hey”, he greeted, from the stove, while she walked in. “How was it?”

“All good”, she said, closing the door behind her, shedding her coat. “He’s fine, the doc says he’s very healthy.”

“That’s good”, he said, lowering the heat of the stove. 

“Let’s go, baby”, she said to Pookah, maneuvering him on her arms to avoid putting him on the floor. “Bath time.”

The puppy was getting big enough that he didn’t fit in the sink anymore, where he would take his baths before. Now, he used the bathtub, just like everyone else.

“Ugh!” Frank heard from the kitchen, as Karen shed her clothes in the bathroom, followed by huffs and puffs. 

“You ok in there?”

“Yeah.”

Extinguishing the flames, Frank put the lids on the pots, to keep the food warm, and walked to the bathroom. 

He found Pookah sitting in the empty bathtub, playing with the little rubber duck they had gotten for him, while Karen took her clothes off, her hair already back down from the bun she had put it to go out. 

“Honestly”, she said, standing back up after lowering her jeans down her legs, hands going to her own back, to unhook her bra, sighing in relief when it came off. “I don’t think I can get used to wearing these anymore.”

She stepped off her underwear and balled all the clothes up to throw them in the hamper, stepping into the bathtub with Pookah and turning the shower on. 

Frank stood there watching as she let the water fall on her, soaking her hair, the heat tingeing her skin red, the dog playing around with the toy and the water, waiting for his turn to be bathed. 

They talked while she filled the tub with enough water for the dog’s bath, and, when she was done, took Pookah in a towel, to dry him while she finished her own shower.

He was trying to brush the dog, dodging him while he tried to bite the brush, when Karen emerged from the shower, towel wrapped around her hair, and walked to the wardrobe. 

“Oh, so much better”, she sighed, throwing on one of Frank’s shirts herself, on top of bare skin. “Four months of wearing comfortable clothes only, I don’t think I’ll want anything squeezing me ever again.”

“Except for me”, Frank said, looking at her, releasing Pookah. 

And rescue him she did. Like he had done with Lady, Karen picked him off the street, bruised and traumatized, she rescued him and fought, fought for him, fought him, fought the world to bring him back, to make him whole again, to keep him. 

And there he was. After all that shit, after losing his babies, after losing the only woman he had ever come close to loving, after knowing, deep in his bones, that he was nothing but a dead man walking, that there was nothing left for him in the world if not rid it of the people that took his heart right out of his chest and shot it dead in a park. There he was, potty training a baby pitbull, house training a former fight dog, organizing the spice rack in a tiny kitchen in the middle of New York City, swinging in a hammock in a fire escape, swapping Harry Potter stories with the neighbors’ kid, sorting laundry, pulling blonde hair strands from his shirts, watching as Karen did her nails on the coffee table (green nail polish, because he had mentioned it was Frankie’s favorite color, and she remembered that is was supposed to be his birthday, asked if he minded.

“He would find it funny”, he said, after shaking his head. “Lisa painted his nails once, made a mess of Maria’s things, it was a whole situation”).

And it was all because of her. Because of Karen, who saved his life in so many ways, so many times, who gave herself to him so fully, so openly, so honestly, who sometimes would fall asleep on the couch, hugging a pillow to her, her shirt riding high on her waist, leaving her bottom exposed to him, covered in flimsy underwear, her hair spread around her head, tumbling over, tips almost touching the floor, socks on her feet. 

And oh, Lord, he loved her. Loved her like he didn’t think he would be able to love anymore. 

Different than the love he felt for Maria. That had been new, his first time ever loving someone so fiercely, their future a promise he never questioned, it was pure, dare he say innocent. Maria showed him everything that was beautiful in the world, she gave him his children, she taught him how to love. 

Karen found him in the dark, she found him broken, torn apart beyond repair, but still she picked up the pieces, helped put him back together, held his hand through the pain, she bled and cried for him, with him, the love he felt for her was no less worthy, it saved his life. 

And he would protect it. With his life if he had to, enough of running.

“Enough, now”, he said against her hair, and she stirred, turning around in her afternoon nap, cracking an eye open to look at him. 

“What?” 

“D’you wanna go to bed?” he said instead of voicing his musing.

“Hmm. No”, she sighed, turning to face him, eyes remaining closed. “I want to stay here”, she decided, settling more comfortably, already falling back asleep. 

Frank sat on the floor in front of the couch, lifted his hand and moved some of her hair off her face.

“Me too.”

.:.

She sat on the couch with Lady one afternoon, a blanket around both of them, and watched some romantic movie on TV.

“This is in London”, she told Lady, who looked up at her with interest. “It’s very far away, across the ocean. Remember when I showed you the ocean?”

By the time the movie was ending, she was lying on the couch again, on her stomach, her shirt again riding up, leaving her bottom exposed, a feast for his eyes. 

Hugh Grant was making a speech in front of a crowd, and Julia Roberts was sitting there listening, Karen was watching, and didn’t see when Frank walked behind the couch, bent and bit down on the flesh of her ass.

“Ouch!” She complained, turning around, looking at him while he placed a kiss on the same spot, to soothe the sting. “Frank!”

“Sorry”, he said, moving towards her face, placing a kiss on her lips this time. “You were kinda asking for it.”

“Oh, sure”, she said, a slight smirk, moving back towards her movie. “Blame the victim.”

She lied back down, and Frank moved his hand to turn her face to his, for another kiss. She blinked at him when he let go of her. 

“You’re beautiful”, was his explanation.

She smiled, and turned to lie on her back, to better look at him. 

“I’m also just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to bring her some Oreos”, and a look of utter innocence and manipulation. 

Chuckling, he squeezed her ankle and moved towards the kitchen, to get said Oreos. 

Stretching before getting up, Frank sat on the bed and listened.

It was the TV, but it was not a movie or TV show, and it wasn’t the normal pace and cadence of the news.

Walking out of the bedroom, he heard a woman telling her audience to take a deep breath in, hold it for a while, and then release it. 

Karen was sitting on the floor in front of the TV, the couch was slightly askew, the coffee table pushed to the wall to make room.

“What are you doing?”, he asked softly, and she glanced behind her for a second to look at him, turning her head back to the TV right after. 

“I’ve been eating too much junk”, she said, low, as if she would disturb the class if she spoke too loud. “And they say we should keep exercising, so I’m trying.”

Yoga. She sat there with her legs crossed for a while, then followed instructions to move like this, arms this way and legs that way, breathe, count, stretch, turn, hold it, and Frank found himself a bit… Hypnotized. 

The movements were slow, measured, she took long breaths in and out, her hair was up, but the ponytail followed her movements, fell when she moved her head, the woman on the TV instructed and Karen followed, her skin gaining a certain tint. 

And Frank watched. He didn’t mean to stare, but he did, standing there with a coffee mug in his hand while she bent to touch her toes, her legs stretched, the shorts she was wearing very tight on her thighs, the very loose and nearly transparent shirt not hiding the top she was wearing beneath it. 

It was a few minutes of this. He didn’t know how many, exactly, but it was a few of them, and he tried to leave her be, let her do her thing, stop staring. 

But then she stood up, her legs together, and bent over to touch her toes again, back straight, hair falling over to touch the floor, and he rolled his eyes, sitting the mug on the nearest surface. 

When she straightened up again, breathing deep, her eyes were closed and her cheeks were flushed. Still following instructions, she locked her fingers and lifted her arms high, not noticing when Frank walked to her. 

She yelped, preciously, when he took hold of her hands, brought them down, bent his knees and folded her over his shoulder, carrying her away from her online yoga class, leaving the instructor with the soothing voice speaking to the empty living room. 

“Frank!” She laughed over his shoulder while he walked with her back to the bedroom, where the bed remained unmade. “What are you doing?” 

He maneuvered her around in lieu of an answer, bringing her to sit on the bed, kneeling on the mattress himself and trapping her between his arms, forcing her to lie down, her face still red from exercise, eyes searching his, surprise and mischief on her smile. 

Frank looked at her face, admiring not for the first time how good looking she was, and reached to tug on her hair tie, asking silently that she let her hair down, and she did, pulling the elastic band off with ease, while he ran his hand a bit lower, tugging on her oversized shirt, making her laugh when she had to bring it over her head, moving down again to try and remove her shorts. 

She smiled and she laughed and she kissed him, arms and legs around him, breathing deep again, teeth against his skin, skin warm under his hands, soft and sleek with sweat, her nails on his scalp, on his shoulders, and he kissed and squeezed and moved and pressed, slow, no need to rush, there was nowhere they needed to be, the day was only beginning. 

“I’m locking you in here next time”, she said after, lying on her stomach, an arm tucked close, his hand running up and down her back. 

“Won’t be necessary”, he said, the tip of his nose touching hers. “You just blindsided me, that’s all. Give me a warning next time.”

“A warning. That I’ll be trying to do yoga in the living room.”

“Yeah. A chance to prepare for those shorts.”

She smiled, moved to kiss him again, long and lingering, backing away before he was ready to let go. 

“I’m gonna take a warm bath. Let me know if you want to join me.”

He still stayed in bed while she filled the tub, unwilling to let go of the warmth, the lazy feeling that was settling over him. But the smells coming from the bathroom were nice, and he supposed he could use a bath, so he got up and walked to her, finding her spreading foam on her arms.

“Room for one more?”

Frank was standing in front of the sink, shirtless, cleaning up after giving himself the haircut he said he needed, and she found herself staring. 

Shirtless Frank was anything but new to her, and she had seen him with many different hairstyles.

But there was something about that particular scene.

Maybe it was the light. Maybe it was the fact that it was gloomy and rainy outside, and the bathroom light, combined with the warmth of the apartment, created this cozy, lazy, indulgent feeling, or perhaps it was just Frank, and sometimes she would just be hit in the face in how, well, hot, he actually was.

He had shaved his hair off. So short he was practically - effectively - bald. His face was also clean shaven. His sweatpants rode low on his hips, and again, that light, that simple over-the-mirror low intensity light bulb, created shadows over him that made him look so… Appetizing. 

She kept staring, eyes running on the dips and swells of his chest, the tightness of his muscles, the flexing of his arms as he moved to clean the sink, the curve of his neck, and the surprising lack of hair on his head. 

Karen started and Frank noticed.

“What?” He asked, lifting a hand to his head to rub on it, and Karen’s eyes went to his bicep, noticing how the muscles moved, and she felt her toes curling. “You don’t like it?”

She blinked, surprised, and shook her head, smiling. 

“No, it’s not that, it’s just…” She took a step inside the bathroom, the tiles cold under her feet. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”

His hair had been getting a little out of control, lately, reminding her of when he had resurfaced for the first time, ambushing her in the street, the most dramatic way he could find of “saying hello” - actually asking for a favor. When he said he needed a haircut, she thought he meant the trim he usually got, and she liked it, was used to seeing him like that. She never expected this radical change, and it did suit him - a whole lot - but she was caught off guard. 

Karen spent so much time staring at him that Frank caught on.

“Did I miss a spot?” He asked, somewhat sarcastically, running his own eyes over her, standing there in nothing but her underwear, and she shook her head, lips curving in a little smile again, taking a step further towards him. 

“No, I don’t think you did…” 

Inches from him, she lifted her right hand to run it up his neck, around his ear, exploring this new style she had never seen on him - maybe a picture or two, but never face to face. Her left hand stopped on his chest, fingertips running the expanse of his collarbone, delicately, her toes wiggling lazily, and his smirk made her blush a little.

“You like it, then?” 

Karen nodded, smiling, and Frank dipped his face a bit, catching her lips on his in a slow, lingering peck, his own hands lifting, teasing the waistband of her underwear, the other one mapping the location of the clasp of her bra. 

“It’s reminding me a bit of… I don’t know, the time when you were this…” she started, practically melting right there in front of him. 

“What?”

Eyes running around his face, she shook her head, still taking him in.

“This dangerous man, you know?” He lifted his eyebrows. “The positively very bad guy I should stay away from.”

“Hmm. Great job with that, by the way”, he said, smirk back in place, hand squeezing her waist, and she smiled again, running that hand around his shoulders, now, the other one still feeling around his abdomen, turning her head to the side to allow him to place a kiss on her neck, closing her eyes at the feeling of his hands, which grew a tad impatient, squeezing. 

“I don’t think anyone can blame me, really. What was a girl to do, when you kept coming to my rescue every chance you got?” 

“A girl should thank me and move on with her life.”

“Hmm, we are not having this conversation again”, she decided, tossing her head back when he moved to run his lips on more of her neck, hands full of her, now, pressing her to his chest. 

Catching his mouth on hers, she kissed him, deep and slow, full of that familiar hunger that started to flare from deep inside her, hands running over his back, his arms, up his neck, exploring, feeling warm, feeling melty, she was always putty in his hands. 

“Oh no”, she said against his mouth, and her voice came out breathy and slow. “You shouldn’t kiss me.”

“Why the fuck not?” 

Karen turned inside his arms, and he immediately hugged her to him, dropping his mouth to that’s spot under her ear, and she looked at them in the mirror above the sink, pressed together, skin to skin, his strong arm around her torso.

“I haven’t showered after coming back from Lady’s walk. I could have the virus on me.”

His other hand rose and grabbed her jaw, sweetly and firmly angling her face to his, and he kissed her again, and her knees nearly buckled from the intensity of it. 

And then he let go of her, turned her to face him, and he looked so dangerous just then, looking at her like that, like he was about to consume her, like she was prey, she loved it, loved it, loved it, shivered all over when he pushed her, hand on her stomach, making her step back towards the shower, stepping with her, closing the shower curtain behind them, kissing her under the spray of water, peeling underwear and bra off her, letting her take his quickly soaked sweatpants off him, pinning her against cold tiles, maneuvering her any way he wanted, making her bite down hard on her own lower lip, the water was cold before they were ready to step out of the shower. 

And Karen was lazy for hours and hours after that, a bit sore from their shower, she felt that high for the rest of the day. 

“Stay here with me”, she asked him, borderline whining, from under the covers of the bed when he started to walk out towards the living room.

“I’ll just feed ‘em”, he said, that raspy quality of his voice making her want to wrap herself around him all over again. “And then I’m all yours.”

She heard him filling the puppies bowls with food and refreshing their water, and then he was walking back in, looking all big and brute and strong and perfect. 

“Gotta watch those eyes, Kare”, he said, almost in a warning, and Karen reached for him, sat up to kiss him when he knelt on the bed and pulled him on top of her, hands roaming, moaning when he squeezed the flesh of her hip just hard enough, like he knew she liked it.

“If I knew a haircut would have this effect on you”, he said, moving to get himself under the covers with her. “I’d have done it sooner.”

She enjoyed his attentions, like she always did. Especially when he acted like this, with a little bit more force, his touch a tad heavier than usual, Karen enjoyed that immensely, and did her best to show it to him: he liked it when she got vocal, and so she did, just to have him shushing her, telling her to be quiet, even if he didn’t mean that at all. 

And he left her feeling good, good enough that she felt like jello the rest of the day. 

“Hey”, he said, hours later, running his fingers through her hair, her head resting on his legs while they lounged on the couch. “Could you make some of that brownie of yours?”

“Yes”, she said - breathed, more like it -, moving to sit up, kissing him once, twice, three times. “I’d say yes to anything you asked right about now.”

Frank smiled. “Dangerous thing to promise.”

“It’s true, though”.

She got up, making her way to the kitchen, Pooka running after her to try and bite her sock out of her foot, Lady remaining behind on her spot by the couch, enjoying Frank’s scratches on her ear. 

Karen made him his brownie, lost her sock to Pooka while she mixed the batter, watched as Frank sat on the floor, teaching the puppy how to sit and stay and lie down. 

(Lady, staying very true to her name, learned all the tricks and commands extremely quick, and needed less lessons than her baby.)

When her timer pinged, Karen took the brownie out of the oven, cut it up into squares and took it to the living room, in it’s own baking pan.

“Hmm”, Frank said when she gave him a warm piece. “So good. Thanks, sweetheart.”

“You’re very welcome”, she said, kissing him again, sitting back on the couch, looking for the remote.

She was wearing a big long sleeved T shirt. It was complete with a hoodie, but it was of a very light, flimsy material, it would not warm her on a truly cold day. She wore it with loose pajama shorts and socks, and, some twenty minutes into her tv show, Frank turned to get another piece of brownie, and put his open hand on her thigh, sliding it until he was grabbing her ass, and squeezed, making her wince, and then dropped his face to bite on flesh, like he loved to do. 

“Ow”, she said, not serious at all, making a face, moving to make room for him by her side on the couch, gasping when he dipped his hand under her shorts.

.:.

Frank slept on his stomach, arm flung around her, face on the crook of her neck, while she watched the show he had interrupted earlier. They had retreated back to bed, and she was propped against a thousand pillows - she had bought more after the lockdown, figuring that if they were going to spend so much time inside, they might as well be comfortable - her leg curled against one of his own, her fingertips running up and down his back, gently, just a feather of a caress. 

Looking down at him, she wondered if it actually was his haircut that had put her in such a mood, because it was no news to her how handsome he was, how in shape he was, how attracted she was to him, but they had been together for months and months, now, and it had been a while since she had felt this… Thirsty.

Someone shouted, on TV, and there was a bang, screams, and Karen quickly grasped the remote, lowering the volume, but Frank stirred, groaning, his hand squeezing her again, settling more comfortably against her, and, again, she watched the muscles working under his skin. 

“Hello, darling”, greeted the elderly couple that were always on the window of their first floor apartment of the building next to theirs.

“Hello, Mrs. Cosio! Mr. Cosio, how are you?”

They recognized Frank from the news immediately. He was walking past their window one day, before he moved in, and Mrs. Cosio waved him over, and after disappearing from the window for a few seconds, came back and handed him a plate of something warm that he later found out were pastelitos. 

“Good job on all those criminal people you got rid of”, she whispered, winking at him. Mr. Cosio always offered him a beer.

“They’re nice”, Karen told him. “But they know everything about everyone on this street, so be careful.”

“Whassup Miss Page?” Went the delivery boy from the Thai place. 

“I keep telling you, Atid”, she said, taking the bags from his hands. “It’s Karen. How’s school?”

Karen was invited to the ceremony when Atid’s parents, Sanoh and Kasem, got their citizenship.

“I always tip him way too much”, she told Frank over delicious Pad Thai. “Because he’s saving to help pay for college.” 

Frank would talk to Mr. Salae - Atid’s father - about marriage and its challenges sometimes, when the man would complain about his wife.

(“You married?” He asked Frank once. And he hesitated. 

“Uh… Widower.”

Mr. Salae patted his hand.

“Me too. Before Sanoh.” And then he pointed at Karen, who was walking towards the restaurant to meet Frank.

“She fix your heart.”

That was before Frank ever got the courage to let himself feel what he already felt for her.

And he was right.)

Overall, there were so many people that would greet Karen with care and love and happiness, and she would tell him all about them, even the guys who would try to flirt, either unaware of her relationship with Frank or choosing to ignore it.

The result was that he began to feel himself a part of that small community, that two or three block radius, even before he was confined inside because of a virus. 

“But you know”, told him Victor, the highly intelligent six year old from the apartment directly above them, while Frank sat in his hammock and the boy hung out with his legs dangling from the fire escape. “They will make a vaccine. We have to help, staying home, but they will find a cure.”

“Too bad you can’t help them, kid”, Frank said, his eyes scanning to make sure that the small child was not about to fall from where he was perched, one floor above. 

“I would, too. But I still have school. But when I grow up, I’ll be able to.”

He would share Karen’s Oreos, and she would spend hours talking to him when his parents needed a break, baby sitting from a floor away.

“Bob and Don wanted him for so long, they were so happy when the adoption finally happened.”

Some of their neighbors - most of them - knew who he was. There was one that avoided him, a couple from the street over that would turn around and walk away when they saw him, but most of them were fine with it. Some of them didn’t connect the dots at all.

He saw it in his face when Ray from the bakery finally figured out who he was, his eyebrows shooting up when Leilani walked by with her mother once and went “hi, Mr. Castle!”, and Frank was afraid, for a minute, that he would not be welcome anymore, but then he got two extra croissants, and a “have a nice day, Frank”, with a vigorous nod, and that was that on the subject. 

Karen’s presence, he knew, was a big thing on his favor. She was loved by these people, and she was also not shy about her feelings for him. She served as a proxy, he imagined, and the people that were so fond of her looked at how much she liked him, and how much he liked her, and that served as proof enough that he was worth being welcomed among them.

She was lying on the couch one afternoon, with Pooka on top of her belly watching the TV with so much attention it was like he was actually enjoying the show, when Frank’s cell phone pinged with a text. 

It was a photo, from the bakery. 

“As per Miss Page’s request and suggestion”, it said. “We now have pain au chocolat! You can order it on it’s own, or a combo, which includes a small cappuccino and a blondie. We call it ‘the Karen’s special’! ;)”

“Oh, that is so sweet!” She said when Frank showed her the text, and then replied to the bakery, promising to stop by later to try it. 

“How come everybody you meet just loves you so much?” he asked, placing her legs on his lap on the couch, massaging her ankles. 

She smiled, dismissively. 

“It’s definitely them, not me. People here are amazing.”

He looked at her, lying there on the couch with her legs on his lap and Pooka on top of her, texting with the people from the bakery around the corner, forwarding the photo to people, and his heart felt so full of love for her that he answered his own question. 

Was he not, after all, one of those people that had just fallen into her orbit, and was privileged enough that she deemed him worthy of keeping close?

He definitely understood why everybody lit up at her presence. 

“You’re not gonna believe this”, she said when she walked through the door, later, Lady in tow, a big, good smelling paper bag in her other hand. “Ray didn’t let me pay!”

“How come?” Frank asked, moving to help her with the dog, the bag and her coat. 

“He said they had many people today ordering the Karen special! And, as a thank you for the suggestion, he said that my order today was on the house. It was a forty dollar order!”

“You spent forty dollars on pastries?” he asked. 

“Well, I didn’t, because I didn't pay, but yeah. They named a menu item after me, Frank.”

“I thought they’d be much worse”, Karen said, after they wired the neighbor the money and collected the neatly packed masks. “These are good, look!”

She put one on and they were, indeed, much better than they both had expected. Not fancy or in any way tech advanced, but a simple cloth mask that covered mouth and nose without leaving gaps. All of them black. 

“I think I’ll order more”, Karen mused, while Frank put one on. As far as masks go, this was not the worst he had ever worn, not by a long shot. 

That night, Frank lied awake in bed, his finger twitching, unable to sleep. They had cooked a big dinner together, looking for something to do to spend the time and use the things they had on the pantry, trying to avoid spoiling food. 

Karen had also stayed awake for longer than usual, but now she breathed slowly, sleeping by his side, and Frank had given up keeping his eyes closed, and now stared at the ceiling. 

After what seemed like forever, he looked at the window and noticed that the sky was starting to become a tad lighter. When he checked his phone, it told him it was 4:34 in the morning. With a glance at Karen, he got up, careful not to wake her. 

After silently dressing, Frank picked up his phone from the bedside table and carried his shoes to the living room, stopping to pick up one of the masks they had washed before starting on dinner. The radiator had dried them all completely, leaving them warm and crisp feeling. 

Closing the apartment door silently behind him, he locked it and then moved quickly down the stairs. 

He couldn’t take a proper breath in, with the mask covering his mouth and nose, but the fresh air that made it through his lungs when he inhaled deeply were enough to make him feel better already. Looking at the empty street before him, Frank set off for the first jog he had in years. 

Ever since he came back from his last tour, he favored other ways of exercising. Jogging was neither possible nor efficient after the whole mess, but it felt good, it felt natural, to run without hurry and from nobody, not chasing anybody. Run for the sake of running. 

He was on a break by the river, almost an hour later, when his phone pinged. 

“Ok”, said Karen’s text, in reply to the one he had sent her before he left the apartment, letting her know he was off for a run. “Have fun”, and then, almost as an afterthought, “Be careful. Don’t touch anything and don’t take off your mask.”

“Yes, ma’am”, he replied. 

Frank ran for a good while. Not counting the time, or the miles, or his heartbeat, he just ran, took breaks, walked and then ran some more, looking as the morning made the city brighter, noticing how strange it the streets looked, so empty, even this early. He ran and he wished he could take off his mask, but he didn’t, happy that at least he was able to breathe some fresh air and not see any walls around him, for a change. 

The sun was up when he turned to make his way back, at 7:15.

There was a bakery one corner away from home, and the smell of fresh bread lured him in. A man in uniform, a mask and gloves told him they just took a fresh batch out of the oven, and Frank bought a few, along with cheese and two cups of coffee (which they had at the apartment, but he figured these people were risking themselves to provide food for the neighborhood and try and keep their business alive, so what’s two cups of extra coffee?)

“Thank you so much for your support” said the guy, handing him the bag and the cup holder through a window. 

“Thank you”, Frank replied, happy for this little slice of normal. “You guys open tomorrow?” 

“From seven to seven.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Name’s Frank.”

“I’m Ray. See you, Frank. Have a good day.”

He walked the rest of the way, and had to balance his purchases in one hand while taking the key from his shoe, towing said shoes off and unlocking the door, walking in in his socks.”

“Frank?” Karen called from the bedroom.   

“I’m here” he called back, starting the new strange process of cleaning the things he brought home with him. 

After putting the warm bread on the designated bread basket and disposing of the paper bag, he transferred the cheese to a clean container and the coffee to the coffee pot, where Karen had not yet pushed the button to brew. 

After his shower, he walked to the bedroom, feeling much, much better than he felt before getting up this morning. 

Karen was still in bed, phone in hand, and smiled at him when he walked in. 

“Hi”, she greeted, and he walked to her. “Enjoy your run?”

“Hmm”, was his answer, lying down half on top of her, kissing her gently, closing his eyes when her hands caressed his hair. “I brought breakfast.”

“I can smell it”, she said, softly. “That show we wanted to watch is available on Netflix. Wanna eat on the couch and watch it with me?”

He made them egg sandwiches and brought it to the couch while she cued the new show on TV, and when he settled down to watch it, he didn’t feel restless or that itch that made him want to get up every five seconds. 

What a difference, a run made. 

.:.

He came back to the apartment on the fourth day with croissants and the usual coffee, sweating profusely, since he had not made any stops this time, nor did he walk, and the jog was just straight up sprinting.

“Kare?” he called from the kitchen.

“I’m here!” she called back, and he saw her hand waving at him through the window. She was in the fire escape. 

He had to deal with the sanitizing of the shopping and then a shower, so it was a few minutes before he walked to the living room window. 

Before he got to the ledge, she popped her head inside and smiled at him. 

“I got you something.”

When Frank ducked to climb out to the narrow fire escape, he saw what she had gotten: a hammock. 

Cream colored, she had tied it on the iron bars above head, it hung a good few inches above the floor. She had placed two throw pillows in it, plus a heavy blanket. 

“You’ve been feeling so cooped up, I thought this would maybe help a little.

Turning to her, Frank smiled and moved to kiss her. 

“You didn’t have to do that”, he said, a hand caressing her hair. 

“I wanted to. I’m only sorry it took so long to arrive, I ordered it almost a month ago.”

Frank looked at the hammock, swaying lightly in the wind, and thought that this small act, this simple purchase for his benefit made him a little more sure that she meant it, when she said she loved him. 

It was silly, he knew that, but there still was a little part of him that expected her to wake up one day and realize that all she thought she felt for him was nothing but the thrill of the danger, the forbidden, the very ill advised act of rebellion, or even misinterpreted feelings of concern and worry and gratitude.

The fact that she didn’t run away from him after they slept together for the first time, or asked him to stay after the second third fourth and so on, asked him to move in, gave him a key, made room for his things, made room for him, bought him a hammock. It all told him that yeah, she was serious about that love. 

“Maybe we can have breakfast here?” he suggested, and she beamed, nodding. 

“So you like it?”

“I do”, he said against her mouth. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Settle in, I’ll get the food.”

 They ate the croissants and drank the coffee while sharing the hammock, after adjusting the height a little bit. 

“This is so good”, she said around a mouthful of warm croissant, taking a sip of coffee, looking out at the street below them. 

Frank watched as the morning light caught in her hair, how it made her eyes shine just a tad bluer, accentuated the few freckles she had on her nose.