#kastlenetwork

You heard his too?

SUMMARY: Peter finds a photo of Karen Page in Frank’s hideout and asks him a very important (and completely uninvited) question.

Relationships: Frank Castle & Peter Parker, Frank Castle/Karen Page, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker

Additional Tags: Fluff and Humor, Found Family (too soon?)

Karen and Frank in San Francisco. Hiding from Fisk. Pretending to be married.

This new life is about to get complicated…Welcome to Chapter 5 of Karen Goes West!

Read it on AO3 ☕️💀💛

There are flowers outside his door. A simple assortment, all of them white, because on top of everything else she’s still got a fuckin’ sense of humor. Frank dips inside long enough to ditch the vest. Won’t need it where he’s going.

The spot looks the same. Bench might be more dinged up, and there’s some new graffiti, block letters bursting in neon: RESIST! A bit on the nose, but hey, it’s a piece of the city they haven't scrubbed clean, and that's something.

“Took you long enough,” she says from somewhere behind him.

Relief floods through him. Stay safe. He did her a favor, asked for one right back, and she delivered. 

He turns, tilts a glance at her. “Breakin’ curfew, Miss Page?”

Her mouth presses into a line like she's trying not to smile. He's been beat to shit, but this is a different kind of ache, bone-deep and familiar.

"Yeah, never been much of a rule-follower," she says, and the twinkle in her eye could be seen from outer space. She falters a little as she catalogues his fresh mosaic of cuts and bruises. "God, Frank. You look like shit."

"Nahh, this?" He laughs, or tries to. His ribs scream in protest. "Just a paper cut. I've had worse."

"I know," she says, and they're both somewhere else for a second, time stretching taut like a rubber band.

"I got your, uh. Your calling card," he says, pulling as much of an apologetic face as he can. "Didn't get you anything."

"Well, I'm a modern woman. I can buy my own flowers."

He holds his hands up in surrender. "Yes ma'am."

She ducks her head, teeth flashing. "Honestly? I wasn't sure you'd show. Thought I'd, I don't know. Used up all my favors."

He has to physically swallow down another laugh. "Come on, Karen. Can't shake me loose that easy."

It's a joke, and it lands, but the aftertaste lingers. Everything in between, all the words that never see the light of day, lined up right there on his tongue. She stares resolutely at the ground, graciously allowing him this moment of cowardice without an audience.

"Hey," he says, and the look on her face when she meets his eyes gets his heart kicking. "You need me, I'll be here. That's it. End of story. I will always come for you, you got that?"

She blows out a tiny breath. "Okay."

"Yeah?" he presses, needing her to understand. Knowing he won't be able to live with himself one millisecond longer if she doesn't.

She's smiling with her eyes now. "Yeah."

"Okay, then."

There's more to say. Intel to swap, plans to strategize. And beyond that, apologies. Explanations. Honest things, pulled out into the sunlight. But for now, she holds out her hand and asks: