Chapter Text
His senses come back to him slowly, like the gentle roll of summer breeze. First there is the warmth, which envelopes him from behind and lights up the skin of his back. His own heart beats just out of time with the one that he can feel behind him, which sends lovely pulses of reverberation through the cage of his ribs and the muscles of his arms. It reaches his ears alongside the rush of blood and breath, and further away, of city traffic in the world outside.
Again a hand lies near to his face. In the late night hours, after taking the long, slow way home, Frank had taken a shower long enough to bankrupt Matt's landlord. Even still, the scents of smoke and gunpowder linger on his skin. They bleed into his own, tinged with the easy scent of sebum oil.
Matt slides his good hand overtop Frank's and pulls it to his chest, skirting his fingers around the rough knobs of Frank's knuckles. The skin is as uneven as the bones themselves, both telling a violent history that Matt knows that he will accept.
Frank exhales against the back of Matt's neck. Awake.
"What're you thinkin' about?" He asks, his voice rough despite its airiness, lofty with lingering sleep.
Matt loosens his grip on Frank's hand even as his fingers still trail over the back and further, up his wrist, "What makes you think I'm thinking about anything?" He hums appreciatively when Frank presses his hand more firmly over his sternum.
"'Look on the back of your head." Frank says with a half-chuckle.
Frank is relaxed, sighing contentedly as he shifts over the blankets. He leans forward and presses a kiss to the smooth space behind Matt's ear; something that prompts Matt to melt closer to him, rolling from his side onto his back. Frank's arm under his neck slips free to instead circle Matt's head. His fingers graze Matt's forehead and the side of his face.
Matt's eyes half-lidded, his smile wide, he answers, "I'm thinking that I'm getting used to waking up with you like this." His hand follows the trail of Frank's arm to his shoulder, grasping the muscle.
Frank smiles, himself, adding another layer to the sound when it caresses Matt's ears, "Oh, yeah?"
Matt hums to confirm it, tips his head back in the hopes that Frank-- "We might need to start sleeping together on a more regular basis," --will kiss him.
"Oh, I don't think that'll be a problem." Frank takes the hint, bringing his warm, lightly-slick lips to Matt's. They work against, and then into, each-other's mouths without haste, but also without delicacy.
Matt turns completely in Frank's arms, and this time he knows to appreciate it when Frank loops Matt's broken arm over his own back and holds it there. Enough time has passed that manipulating the limb no longer hurts, but the gesture speaks to an effort to keep Matt comfortable that makes his heart soar.
Matt's next kiss lands on Frank's cheek, breaking for air even as Frank tries to catch his neck between his teeth.
"What will you do now, Frank?" Matt asks, his expression torn between excited ( lips working his collarbone, little sounds in Frank's throat that die before they leave him vibrating across his skin ) and thoughtful. An interesting quirk of his mouth, a shallow furrow in his brow.
"What'll I do? I dunno, Red," Frank seems intent on leaving his mark, something that Matt isn't about to discourage. Still, it appears that he wonders, himself. "Same as always, I s'pose. Try to hold on."
Frank's hands roam-- walking fingers --up Matt's body in a way that makes him arch with the touch, bringing them closer again. Middle-to-middle, legs getting acquainted.
Matt sighs into the space above Frank's head. When he speaks next, it's tinged with arousal, "We make a good team."
Frank snorts into his neck and Matt shudders, something involuntary and ticklish.
"'Getting sappy on me?" He asks, laves his tongue over a fresh bite before he presses a kiss to the side of Matt's jaw.
"Maybe," Matt's good hand rises to cover Frank's mouth, a buffer between not only that mouth and his skin, but between that mouth and coherent thought. "But I'm wondering if we can't still be a good team."
When it appears that Frank won't immediately swallow Matt down again if he should let him go, Matt removes his hand. Frank feels curious, his gaze prickling, when he leans back, when Matt takes his chin into his cupped hand.
"Daredevil could always use allies, and you're--"
"An ex-Marine with violent tendencies." Frank supplies. Matt squeezes his face.
"Surprisingly competent when you aren't holding a gun." Matt corrects him.
"I'd say that I'm plenty competent with a gun."
Matt releases Frank's chin, instead tracing his finger down the line of his throat. "Maybe if you're into extrajudicial execution." He feels Frank's throat fill with air and a retort, and so Matt quickly adds, "Which I'm not, and I can probably train it out of you."
Frank sighs, and he drops his head to the mattress. Deflating, almost, and Matt follows until he can lie over him, propped up on his good elbow and leaning heavily into Frank's chest. It rises for some time and then falls; measured breathing.
"You remember that night we met? We fought like we were sparring until you caught me by the throat." Matt tips his head back, and he smiles when Frank fits his hand to his neck again, barely any weight behind it. "I thought I could do it forever."
Frank flexes his fingers and Matt can tell that he relishes in the way Matt swallows under his palm. Frank clears his throat. "Are you askin' me to fight with you forever, Red?"
Matt's smile widens, a grin with all of his teeth, "You and me, Frank."
Matt feels it throughout his entire body, close and loud as if it were his own, when Frank's heartbeat stutters. When it returns it's that much faster, just underneath Frank's sharp inhale when he surges forward to meet Matt's lips with his own. Frank's hands slink up Matt's shoulder blades and pull him down until they can get no closer, until there isn't any turning back.
Matt asks it against his cheek, hot puffs of air into the quietest, surest of words, "You and me, Frank?"
Frank smiles, turns his face until he's sure that Matt can feel it in just the way that he can, and he answers, "You an' me, Red."