The Sharpening

He watches afterwards, takes in the sight of the blood staining the egyptian carpet in the pristine office. Well, not so pristine anymore.

Once it all feels real, he breathes. Inhales sharply, not realizing he'd been holding his breath. Frank isn't affected by death, at least not this one, but his kill list is getting shorter and he's been having an existential crisis every here and there, avoidant of the fact he'll have to figure out what to do with himself once this quest for revenge is over.

For now, he breathes.

For now, he focuses on dealing with her.

Frank walks towards the floor-to-ceiling windows of the office, looks out to see Y/N on the roof of another building, standing besides a sniper rifle, barrel pointed at him. They stare at each other from a distance until she grabs her gear and turns her back.

Frank has some explaining to do, so the dead body is left to rot.

He finds her on the roof of his safehouse. Y/N stands perfectly still in the shadows, still enough to fool him into thinking that maybe, just maybe, she won't be too mad.

"That was my contract." Her voice is cold and professional, the first winds of a tempest.

"I know." Frank's response is as professional as it is stupid. And it just feeds into Y/N's frustration.

"It was ten million dollars, Castle."

"Yeah. And?"

"IT WAS MY FUCKING MONEY, FRANK!"

He should be concerned, should care about how she fucking roared at him loud enough for Murdock to hear. But honestly? Frank can't bring himself to give a fuck.

"You'll survive." He brushes off. Y/N can feel her frustration turn into rage, but she still tries to keep calm and make a point.

"And my fucking reputation?! Don't you think word won't get out that the Punisher stole my kill right in front of me like it was nothing?" She tries, but Frank just breathes out a chuckle and crosses his arm, deciding he wants to be funny.

"So? Listen, if you're thinking you can outmatch me and you want everyone in your business to think the same, that's a you problem, and you're damn straight delusional-"

Next thing Frank feels is a bullet in his thigh.

He falls to one knee with a pained cry, draws his firearm at light speed, and pulls the trigger. But no fire comes out.

"You should've counted your bullets, Castle. I did." Y/N shakes her head in mock disappointment and stalks towards him, gun pointed at his head. And now it's his turn to get fucking furious.

"The fuck is wrong with you!? You gonna kill me over a hit?"

"You know better than to get in between me and a contract." She spits harshly, gun under his chin before she orders. "Get that other knee of yours on the ground before I blow it out."

Frank obeys, tries his best to ignore the pain on his thigh, and how it gets worse with pressure and weight onto it.

"Thaaat's it, baby." Y/N praises before her tone turns condescending. "You look so pretty in that position, you know that?"

Frank's heaves, vibrating with anger. For a second, he tries reaching for the blade on his side, but Y/N raises her gun to his forehead.

"Keep moving and I'll unload the entire mag in you, and I know exactly how many bullets I've got left."

Frank let's out a shaky breath, knowing he fucked up but too stubborn to fully admit it to himself. Y/N looks at him for a long couple of seconds, and she can see him making mental calculations, trying to figure out how he's supposed to get out of this.

"What? You don't trust me, sweetie?"

He doesn't bother with an answer, and they keep up the unbreakable eye contact before Y/N speaks up again.

"You know Castle, I was 15 when my mother got me private medical lessons." She starts and, despite the pulsing pain, Frank is curious as to where in the fuck this conversion is going. Y/N rarely ever mentions any detail of herself, so suddenly he's very interested in whatever she has to say. "I already knew how to patch myself up so I was confused as to why she would hire a whole team of doctors to give me in depth lessons of the human body. I just didn't know how it would be... useful... for the family business." Y/N reminisces, before asking "Have I told you doctors make the best torturers?"

Both of them know the answer to that question, and Frank knows that underneath this ramble, Y/N is trying to control her emotions, so he indulges her with an answer.

"No. You haven't told me that."

"I should've figured it out sooner, but I only really found out when she brought me on a mission to extract intel. She made it clear: greatest amount of pain while keeping the target alive for the longest time possible." Y/N finishes with a deep breath before shaking her head slightly as if trying to shake away memories. She then caresses the scar on his cheek with her thumb, taking the time to look at him before hushing softly. "I could never hurt you, Frankie. Not in a way that matters."

That's when Frank understands what she's trying to say. That while she has an inhumanly accurate aim, the bullet she shot didn't go low enough on his thigh to damage his knee or high enough to hit his artery.

She hurt him, but she didn't incapacitate him.

She wouldn't kill him.

"Unless..." Y/N sings as she clicks off the safety on the gun and wraps her hand around his throat. "Unless the big bad punisher lets his ego get out of control again and thinks he can steal another one of my contracts. Is that going to happen, Castle?"

He sneers at her, anger clouding his vision again and making Frank reluctant to answer. But she knows he'll talk, and he'll talk real nice.

"...no." He mumbles. Y/N's not satisfied though, so she presses the gun hard against his temple, raising her voice to that soldier-like tone Frank used to hear in the marines.

"No what ?!"

"I won't get in your way. I won't-" He rasps, finally yielding before crumbling at the fury in her eyes. "I- I'm... m'sorry."

And that simple word makes her open the widest of grins, expression turning euphoric and leaning on unhinged, like it's what she needed all along. Frank knows how much she loves his apologies, even if she doesn't accept them.

Y/N doesn't hesitate to press a harsh kiss onto his split lip. Frank knows she can hear the whine he tries to suppress, that she can taste the blood on his tongue. She leaves him breathless, only parting to bring her lips close by his ear.

"I saw it." She whispers. "That night after I opened up your pretty cheek. I saw you."

Frank's eyes widen, and with a shudder, every bit of residual anger leaves his body.

Frank remembers when they met up a couple of months ago, remembers how pent up he was after their fight, remembers being hard while he stitched the cut on his cheek, and how he came in the shower afterwards, pleading her name and thinking of all the other ways she could hurt him.

And she saw.

He doesn't know how but she saw him.

"How about I leave you with a warning and a gift, huh?" Y/N proposes sweetly, pulling out the knife from Frank's side.

Later on, he'll pretend like he didn't nod so eagerly.

Y/N uses the knife to slice open the unscarred cheek. She takes in Frank's reaction, from his gorgeous whimper to the way his eyes are blown, and then focuses on how gorgeous he is when he's bleeding.

Before Frank can register, her tongue is on his face, licking from his jaw to the cut on his cheek, lapping up the blood before she absent-mindly comments with a smile.