i'm on fire | frank castle
only you can cool my desire oh, oh, oh i'm on fire.
synopsis: two guilty puppies riding very different highs but the same warmth of intimacy in a relationship, even after a short time apart.
warnings: small age gap implied, mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood/violence, swearing, flirting, an especially touchy - almost needy frank.
authors note: frank castle bruce springsteen girls rise - a reupload, new and improved version of something i posted on an old account.
this night out weren't your thing, you would’ve preferred going home to frank over both city and bar hopping with a group of old college friends.
the train from manhattan to brooklyn was rough, and most of the group looked the picture of it also - it was part of what made you decide to sober up.
the bell rang above your head as you entered what would turn out to be the worst dive bar of the night - everyone was quick to agree this was just a pit stop, a footrest if you will for those who's shoes had clearly taken a toll on the night, but you knew once they got too comfortable you'd be stuck.
it was a mixture of nicotine coated wallpaper, torn leather booths and smashed overhead lights from past bar fights that made to slip into the bathrooms, which only seemed to be worse.
no where exactly felt quote unquote safe to call frank, but if the bathrooms meant you didn’t need to do it in front of a group of thirty something year old, entitled looking wall street guys who had stared you down upon entry - then so be it.
your phone rang for so long you originally grew worried of losing signal, the ringback tone felt like a form of impending doom before a sharp second of silence, "hey, baby."
"need you to pick me up." it practically fell out of your mouth, accompanied with a whiny almost anxious tone of voice.
"baby, what's wrong?" he asked in a hushed tone, the engine revving as he picked up the speed - a quiet tap on the screen signalling he likely placed you on speaker phone to pull up your location.
"nothings wrong, i just… we're at some dive bar in manhattan i've never been to, it might just be me but it doesn't feel right in here."
"you’re on bedford, right baby?" he asked, staring at the small blue pin floating above a bar on bedford, "can you remember maybe what signs are in the widow or, was there any awning?"
"navy awning to go with the blue open sign on the door."
he gave you the option of staying on the phone to him until he got there, but you declined in order to use the time to subtly announce your departure before frank would actually get inside the bar to pick you up.
you'd be wrong to assume he felt even remotely neutral about simply picking you up - he was beyond anxious, imagining the headache you'd give him about turning up in the state he was in, but you came before any ER visit.
he was out with the plans to go back to your place to shower off and put his clothes on a cold wash before he got your call, frank and his usual lack of patience for disrespectful people had landed him in a fight and a half - he weren’t bothered about his night going sideways if it meant someone made it home safely because he stepped in.
frank could hold his own no matter how unexpected, it was why he drove away with working limbs adorned in a couple cuts and bruises that he knew you’d ice and stitch up if he kissed your ass just enough.
he'd purposely parked a block or two away after passing the dive bar your location shown you were residing in, it looked as rough as you described and he weren’t looking for any more damage to his car.
the bell signalled his entrance into the place as he let the door slowly close behind him as he stood there, watching as you were trapped in a one sided embrace.
your friend, so far past drunk she swayed herself and you in the snug embrace, unknowing of both the relieved and helpless face you shot franks way - the snorted laugh and lines around his eyes pleasing you deeply with a warm feeling in your face and belly.
"how the fuck d'you get yourself into these situations, bunny?" he snorted, little to no worry in his voice now that you stood in front of him.
"could ask you the same question, franky." you retorted with an unexpected bluntness as you grabbed your bag, walking backwards towards the door as he followed you.
it was like leading a guilty puppy back to the remains of its wrong doing, his eyes glassy, almost big in a sense - unsure wether he wanted to apologise or eat you with his staring.
"stepped in for a girl baby, she looked scared." he explained, reaching behind you to open the door, refusing to let any mannerisms go undone, "looked like she had people to get home to - i ain't hurtin'."
while frank could play the part of an animal hiding his pain, even you knew the cuts as scrapes you couldn’t help but stare down hadn’t made a dent on him as you watched him exit the bar, "cars a couple blocks away, walk ahead of me."
you did as asked - occasionally walking backwards in order to talk to him as you made your way to the safety of his car, particularly enjoying the passing of warm white street lights catching his face, but not without a jab at how his boots made him sound like he was marching around the for once quiet streets of manhattan.
frank was happy to take whatever you threw at him, especially when it was his leather and brass belt in the loops of the suede shorts you wore that he'd caught you twice now trying to tug them back down from their incessant trip upwards.
he pulled you to a halt in front of his car, looping his fingers into the back loops of your shorts in order to do so, only letting go when you turned to face him.
the cars taillights lit up as he unlocked the vehicle, though neither of you moved.
you tapped the pointed toe of your boot against his squared toe box a couple times, focusing on the rythm of your action and a piece of faded pink gum fused to the pavement next to you both, "you're definitely alright?"
your view of the gum and both of your boots was quickly changed, one of his hands gently grabbing your face with ease, tilting your vision up to him.
he knew you'd ask, you physically couldn’t help yourself when it came to him possibly being hurt "i'm fine, you sounded scared on the phone so you came before showering. got it?"
you nodded, your focus bouncing between his eyes and his mouth as his thumb rested just beneath your bottom lip, not daring to possibly ruin the blend of lip products you wore that were luring him in further. at least, he wouldn’t ruin it that way.
the embossed buckle of the spare belt he wore was cold against your lower stomach where your shirt had ridden upward, as his fingers curled their way back into the loops of your shorts, to both keep you close and press your back up against his pontiac while his head dipped just low enough to kiss you.
combined with the alcohol it was a little hazy — from being up against the car and his hands wandering to the sharp snap back to reality as you harshly landed with a small bounce into his lap after he swung open the cars door and collapsed into the drivers seat, the heel of your boot turning on the radio and sending bruce springsteens i'm on fire, blaring through the car and half of the block.
he deeply groaned into the crook of your neck, peppering kisses and suckles that made you lean into him just right while he took it upon himself to ensure your legs were draped over either side of his and comfortable.
he found it physically impossible to wipe that almost shit-eating grin off of his face in reaction to the whine of his name you breathed when he'd pulled away to close the car door with a gentle slam, you wouldn’t think he was hard up under you himself.
frank, regardless of the irritated palming his hands performed against your shorts that he mentally labelled quite the cock block, was clearly in a prideful, hazy state of his own for how he caused your whining and how breathless you were.
he tilted his head back, heaving as he allowed you to wipe any lipstick transfer off of him with your dampened thumb pad while his hands reached up beneath the back of your shorts with a firm squeeze as you planted your hands on his shoulders, "should be taking you to the ER, if anything."
frank and going to the hospital was one of your most common disagreements, no matter how extreme of a state he was in as he shook his head, "'s a couple stitches baby, you can do 'em for me."
you weren't exactly pleased about the fact he genuinely expected you to use what basic first said knowledge you had, but you were easy after a couple drinks.
that and, when it came to you, frank weren’t above begging as he nuzzled into your neck for a second time now, grinning as your arms willingly wrapped around his neck, "please baby," he murmured into the side of your neck leaving only the most delicate pecks over what was already reddening and bruising skin of your neck from his earlier suckling, "i like you fixing me up, y'know that."
he'd grin, muttering about how much he loves you against your cheek with kisses adorning your jaw the moment you finally gave in, agreeing to save him the ER visit.
