Collateral Damage
// after dealing with another hit, franks available and his first thought is to come apologize for missed calls and absence
“Aye,” He called over loud enough to grab the shopkeeper's attention.
“You’ve got any mixed bouquets? Got someone m’ visiting.” nodding along to their foreign words, he quickly checked the time, still indirectly watching the assortment of flowers get packed
Handing a twenty for it blindly, he didn’t care to stay and collect the change and instead walked straight.
Reaching three blocks down, he turned a corner to the apartment’s barred entrance. A few floors above, he noticed a familiar dimmed lamp. “C’mon, pick up.” Frank mumbled, dialing.
Finishing inspecting photographs and files, you huffed irritably. A total of five hours sitting at a stationary position opening and closing tabs, and occasional business conversations. To make things better, there wasn’t any lead on the case you picked up. ‘Barracuda’ both sounded and looked fictional; you weren’t very willing to question it though.
Everything else remained untouched, food items set out for dinner preparation sitting in a pile on the kitchen counter. Even when working remotely, the urgency of finishing tasks instead tending to your own needs was a problem. A little one, but a bad one.
Slumping back into your office chair, pushing away from the desk, your gaze drifts up to the ceiling.
In slow blinks you attempted to rest your sight from the laptops moderately high brightness. Right beside, your phone suddenly buzzed. Stretching out with a tired yawn, you picked it up, chest instantly tightening at the contact name.
Castle.
You perked upward halfway at the sight of the unexpected call. Last time Frank came, he was in desperate need of suturing his bicep from a dagger stab. It was terribly rushed. Only bits of memories were remembered, the rest being foggy except Frank biting down on a rag as you removed shrapnel from the open laceration while the only antiseptics lying around was a half pint of vodka.
Giving yourself a few seconds grace, you bit your bottom lip in contemplation. Pressing the accept button, your tongue grazed upper teeth in a discreet smile.
“Frank?” You answered, gentler than intended.
“Thought I’d call before disturbin’ your peace,” He hoarsely started, “I owe you one.” putting it clean and simple.
You scoffed.
“You know you really don’t… C’mon, Curtis has fixed you up many more times before me.” Realistically, he trusted himself with you because of the closer proximity. At least that was the reason in your mind.
“Eh, he’s dealt with me for years... Done me too many favors to count. I don’t do drop off delivery either.”
Eyebrow quirking at his comment, you shut the laptop, pushing the curtain out of frame to peer outside. Frank was already fixated on your window, giving a small gesture. You watched as he slowly lifted the bouquet in the air enough to see, a silent invitation.
“I suppose I can buzz you in,” faking skepticism in your tone, you stepped over to push the buzzer.
“Atta girl.”
Counting the seconds nervously, you paused at the familiar knocking pattern. Heels pushing off the ground to look into the peephole, Frank looked like a wreck. Unlocking the chain latch and knob, he stood on the welcome mat, a satisfied smug growing. Leaning in closer as the door opened, you both maintained eye contact until he cleared his throat.
"Put these in a cup for me, daffodil."
He murmured, wrapping one arm around your waist loosely with a light kiss to the forehead. Gaze wandering to your lips momentarily, he eventually let you entirely slip from his grip.
Closing the door as soon as he entered, Frank sighed as you looked back concerned.
"You worry me, Frank... Like seriously, you’re bloodied with cheap bandages on your face, and is this really your way of making it up?” You swallowed hard realizing how much you raised your voice.
He shook his head at the expected scolding, going in to scoop you up.
"I'm here now, n' I'm all yours, yeah?” He cooed, jaw tightening as he stared intently, expression unreadable. “I know, I know, that wasn’t right. Be mad at me all you want.”
Ignoring his prior request, he nabbed the bouquet from your fingers, placing them firmly onto the countertop. Frank shushed your incoming comment, gripping you from picking them up again.
Hand caressing its way back down, hungry for a longing feel, his calloused fingers rubbed circles around your wrist. Carefully, he lifted your arm, spreading kisses down your hand to your forearm.
“You’re such an asshole.” Weakly protesting only drew him closer, Frank's temple touching yours, asking for permission. A fervent desire.
Taking in the faint whiff of cologne and sweat on him made the feeling all too intoxicating.
It tore through your anger, subsiding and replacing it with need. Stubbornly succumbing, your hands flew to cup the sides of his face, mouth colliding with his, frantic and demanding.
Groaning at the sudden move, Frank moved to cup your silhouette, his other hand tangling in your hair. His coarse and bruised lips slowly retracted before tenderly returning the affection.
“Call me whatever you want, doll.” He rasped with a deep chuckle.
Teeth grazing over the curvature of your cupid's bow, the sweetness rapidly reverted back to sloppy reckless abandon.