daredevilkink | Daredevil Prompt Post #11

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Daredevil Prompt Post #11

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Part 4: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7789528/chapters/18066619

"He escaped," Matt said evenly. As he spoke, he tried his best to evaluate the slave officer who was interrogating him. She was a young, ambitious woman, but she was obviously scared. She was too new to the job to have such a big task in front of her. "It's obvious why."

"Is it?" she asked, getting very close. "Why don't you explain why then, Mr. Murdock."

"The truth's out," Matt replied coldly. "Or whatever version of it that people think they have. He's smart. He understood that this meant he would be taken back."

"Why would we take him back?" she asked. Matt found the feigned ignorance to be utterly ridiculous. Even without his senses, it was such an act. "You are legally hsi owner."

"I know what the conflict of interest here is," Matt said coldly. "No matter the result of this case against me, I won't be allowed to keep him. I know that and I think that he was smart enough to know it too."

"He also knew the consequence of running," she said, her tone steady. Matt heard the fear underneath her cocky tone and almost felt bad for her -- almost. She was young, and it seemed like she was being hazed, thrown into a case that was far too big for her. "Do you think he understands what will happen to him when he's caught?"

"I'm not him," Matt told her, keeping his tone even. "I can't imagine what he's thinking, but I can guess that he feels he has little to lose."

The interrogations didn't end with the young woman. No, they went on and on for hours. The slave office, the police, they all had a million and one questions for him. He complied respectfully, refusing to answer any about his identity as Daredevil until he had a lawyer present, of course. Then, a young cop confused him by saying words he hadn't expected to hear.

"There's a lawyer here for you, Mr. Murdock."

Foggy walked in and sat across from him.

"I pulled a few strings and got you one of my firm's best lawyers," he said. "She'll be here in about a half hour, but I wanted to speak to you first. I can't stay involved due to my clear conflict of interest, but you are going to be denying all of Emery's claims that were made about you."

"How can I deny things?" Matt asked, confused at the notion. "The proof he has is pretty concrete Foggy. It won't be hard for them to prove it."

"Start thinking like a lawyer again," Foggy replied. His tone was firm, but Matt did not miss the tell-tale signs that Foggy was actually begging. "If it was a crime, Matt, could we create enough plausible deniability?"

"Maybe."

He did have a point. True or not, there was a chance that a good lawyer could create enough reasonable doubt to his identity. Still, it felt wrong.

Tears sprung to his eyes, but he fought them down. He wasn't sure he could handle this.

"Do you know where Frank is?" Foggy asked, reaching across the table and touching Matt's shoulder. The touch made tears much harder to fight off. "Any idea?"

"No," Matt admitted. "I don't know where he is. I told him to get out."

"You really care about him, don't you?"

"I do," Matt admitted. "I know that he's a really messed up guy, and that he's done a lot of terrible things, but the world's done a lot worse to him, and yeah...he means something to me."

"I don't know what we can do for Frank yet," Foggy responded, after a moment, "but I know the firm can help you. It'll be okay, Matt."

Thank you~ <3

There's a boner coming up in the next part ;D

I'm so excited you're still liking it, and oh gosh I cried a little when I read your line about Matt collecting his meat. :D Honestly, writing this fic is brightening a lot of my days, too! The next part will be up real soon, so I hope you enjoy it~

Thank you!! The next part will be up soon ;)

A!A: This chapter was a bit of a struggle to start, and it's gearing up to be pretty long, so I'm going to post this part while I finish it! (This is ~1600 words, and Matt and Foggy haven't even interacted yet, yeesh.) But, the first boner of this fic is here and there's a timeline now! The bulk of this chapter takes place around "Shadows in the Glass"/"Speak of the Devil"
___________________________

"Wait -"

The door whooshes as it closes behind the Devil, and in a way, Foggy's relieved - at least he doesn't have to worry about the man noticing his boner anymore. He locks the door to hopefully prevent any more surprise visitors and leans against the wall, willing it to go away, because, honestly, he's embarrassed himself enough tonight. At least his would-be robber isn't conscious to see it.

"Doctor's office?" Foggy mutters. "Really, Foggy?" The first time anyone feels him up in a month, and that's the cleverest thing he can think of. He wants to blame the job, because it truly does eat into his free time like nothing else, but he hasn't gotten that tongue-tied since high school. No, this started in the last few days. He needed to take the first day after their meeting off for his ribs, and, well, he was curious. So, yeah, his browser history full of grainy Devil videos on Youtube would give him away in a heartbeat. Not that those could compare to meeting the vigilante with a clear head. Or feeling the weight of his hands on his hips. No one can blame him for getting hard after being pushed up against the counter and felt up by a muscular guy, right? Anyone who knows him knows Foggy likes men, too, so it wouldn't exactly be shocking. They definitely wouldn't be able to judge him if they ever saw the Devil in action, either, because damn.

He shakes his head, thinks about his smelly great-aunt Patty, and pulls out his cell phone.

---

Thankfully the mugger doesn't see him coming, because Matt is very, very distracted by the phantom warmth on his hands and the steady beat in his ears. He knows it's Foggy's. He's as sure of that as he would be if the man were standing right next to him.

Which is weird. There are three full city blocks separating them, and Matt's only ever managed two with Karen before her heartbeat started to mesh with the sounds of the city. Yet Foggy's is distinctive, if not faint, to his senses. He tells himself it's possible that he's imagining it, that he's remembering the pattern to match the scent of spices and cured meat that still clings to his nose.

Matt hands the woman her purse and scales the fire escape without a word.

(The beat fades to nothing a block later. He pretends not to notice.)

---

"I better not have to see your mug one more time this week, Foggy," Brett grumbles as he walks past his partner and the now semi-conscious robber being hauled out of the shop.

Foggy, now thankfully without an erection, attempts a smile. It's a tad wider and shakier than usual. "You should be glad you don't have to drive me to the hospital this time."

Brett rolls his eyes. "My mom would have thrashed me if I hadn't - which reminds me, you do this again, and she might be down here every day to walk you home. She was already all over me to check on you this morning."

"What can I say? She loves me and my corned beef." It's on her standing order, and if he rounds down the price for her now and then, well, he's his own boss, and she's a sweet lady. Plus, she was part of the reason his shop was successful to begin with. Mrs. Mahoney has a lot of friends in Hell's Kitchen, and most of them became his first regulars. It almost feels like he's paying her her share when he slips a few slices of this or a few slices of that in her order on the house.

"Look," Brett says, exasperated, "give her a call tonight and tell her you don't need me shadowing you. If it wasn't for this, she was going to have me stop in to ask you to call tomorrow anyway."

---

Foggy does. The first few minutes consist of him convincing her that, yes, he's fine, and no, he doesn't need a police escort, and no, Mrs. Mahoney, you don't have to call my parents, I'll let them know in the morning. The last few, however, aren't about him at all. One of her friends, Elena (Mrs. Cardenas, who he remembers comes in for sausages and small bits of steak when her budget allows it), is... not doing well. He admittedly noticed her absence in the last few weeks, but she never had come in as regularly as some of his other customers. He never would have guessed she was living in a wrecked apartment with a head injury. Foggy hates slumlords.

"I'll stop by and check on her when I can tomorrow, okay, Mrs. Mahoney?"

---

Part of him regrets his promise the next day. He doesn't have any problems with actually going to see Mrs. Cardenas despite the rough part of the Kitchen she lives in, and although he isn't as close to her as some of his other regulars due to the language barrier and her less frequent visits, he doesn't feel too awkward stopping by.

The problem is the Devil. Or, more accurately, what the TV was saying about him. Foggy nearly sliced his fingers off earlier when that guy Fisk called the vigilante a terrorist. A terrorist. There was just no way, and he told his sister that when she freaked out at him for his carelessness.

("Mom and Dad will kill me if you end up in the hospital again," his sister muttered, switching off the mounted TV for good measure.

"The Devil's the reason I wasn't there last night. He's a good guy," he stressed.

"Yeah, yeah, you told me first time. Watch what you're doing this time, will ya?")

Foggy's glad she didn't ask about the most recent incident. It's one thing to try to convince himself that the touching didn't mean anything, but he knows that she'd call bullshit.

He just can't see how the Devil could be a terrorist of all things. Twice the guy helped him without gaining anything, and yeah, he didn't have a light touch with Foggy's attackers, but there's no way that the man whose hands were so gentle against his ribs and hips was as bad as Wilson Fisk said he was. It sounds stupid, but Foggy knows he's right.

---

Matt goes to see Father Lantom the next morning, because it feels like his whole world has been violently ripped away from him, and he needs the comfort of his faith. They speak about the Devil, about Rwanda. It's enough and not enough at the same time, and he finds himself lingering when any other time, he would already be on his way to the office.

"Is there something else on your mind?" the Father says.

Matt hesitates. There is, yes, but it's not - well, he purposefully hasn't brought it up yet in any of his confessions. "It's not related."

The Father hums. "You've confessed to unrelated matters before."

"This is different," Matt settles for after a moment. It's not a lie. Foggy is different in so many ways, and it baffles him. "There's - a man."

"A man you have desires for?" Father Lantom's voice is neutral, but it's difficult to fool Matt's ears. The neutral tone is tinged not with disgust, but with something more positive than negative.

His cheeks flush regardless, because he didn't mean it that way. "No," he says decisively. "I - helped him. Twice. The first time he was hurt, and I made sure he was okay before I left."

"Of course."

"The second time, he was hurt again." Matt pauses. There's no way to phrase what really happened without sounding like he's attracted to Foggy, and he knows what the Father will think if he backpedals at all.

Thankfully, Father Lantom lets him work through it silently.

"I wanted to make sure his original injuries weren't worse," Matt says a minute later. "I... lingered there. To make sure he was okay. He told me his name. We talked, briefly."

"So he does have a name."

Matt nods. "Foggy," he says, and he's not even sure what to make of his own tone.

The Father sips on his latte. "Are you asking me what I think, or are you just telling me?"

"I don't know." It's the truth.

"Will you check on him again?"

"I barely know him." He doesn't check on any of the people he helps except for Karen, but he sees her every day anyway.

"I don't think he would mind," Father Lantom says, finishing his drink. "I think this might be good for you, even."

"Good for me?" That can't be right. He knows what Stick would say if he'd told him about the way his hands clenched every now and then, missing Foggy's softness. If anything, Matt should try harder to stay away.

"To be honest, I think you're lonely."

"I've been alone most of my life," Matt snaps, his shoulders suddenly stiff and his hands clenched around his cane. "I've managed."

"Having friends won't invalidate your accomplishments," Father Lantom says calmly. "You're allowed to want companionship, Matthew, and it seems to me that this man wants to be your friend."

Ignoring the first part, Matt shifts his tense grip on his cane and grits out, "Foggy doesn't know me very well." And he probably wouldn't want to if he knew how hard it was for Matt to refrain from touching him. "But thank you, Father."

He needs to get back to his cases.

That's almost a "go fuck yourself"

I think it's like a canon fact that Frank's ass is absolutely gorgeous. Like "Hulk is green and the Punisher has a sexy ass".
It was sexy in the comics, it was sexy in the video game, it was even sexy in the crappy 89 movie where it was one of the few good points.
They wouldn't break that kind of tradition.

Stick never taught Matt. St agnes transferred Matt to a long term mental health facility was poorly funded and mainly just pumped him full of drugs to stop him screaming.

He spends a number of years practically catatonic due to constant sensory overload and drugs making it even more difficult for him to concentrate and block the stimuli out.

Along comes high school / college / lawyer age Foggy to volunteer who coming from a large family has several relatives with autism, so recognises sensory issues and decides to try working with this 'hopeless case.' He does a ton of research and puts Matt on a sensory diet (a treatment for sensory processing disorder), massage, decreasing sensory input, meditation, deep pressure (including firm hugs, therapy vests, weighted blankets) and helps Matt learn to cope in a non Stick the dick way.

Bonus points:

Matt is soothed by the sound of Foggy's voice, loves listening to his heartbeat, and absolutely laps up every bit of affection Foggy gives him after being largely neglected.

He's instutionalised so has to be retaught basic tasks like dressing, washing, etc, as he hasn't been allowed to do them for a long time.

He's been practically catatonic since he was 10, so in many ways acts that age or younger.

Foggy is is first real attachment since his dad, and Matt latches onto him with the desperation and devotion of a young child to a parent.

Catching up on the academic stuff isn't as difficult since he was way ahead of his peers when he checked out of life, but he was never that good at the social stuff, so is very inept at that.

He may still get his high school diploma, go to college, and become a lawyer, but he's not 'cured.'He still has a number of issues after being instutionalised so long. Less from the sensory issues than the neglect suffered.

Fiercely protective Foggy.

Whoa, this is DARK...

Why Elektra? Karen seems more appropriate.

In what way is Karen more appropriate in of itself? Elektra was Marta's tragic love (because she tried to get him to kill someone) and she no doubt can use her looks if she needs informarion à la the classic femme fatale.

I did say "seems", didn't I? I don't remember...

Anyway, it's nothing inherent. Just an impression. No need to spit with indignation on anyone.

DA

No need to come in and question a person's prompting choices, either.

I asked why. It's not a crime. It's also not an insult. You seem to be having a very bad day, my friend.

I mean, that's not a bad idea to keep Matt busy

I'll raise a glass to 89 and its naked sewer meditation. A bold and unique approach that should be used more with male action stars. I'd love to see Jon Bernthal doing that

"Can I borrow your first aid kit?"
"Sure, what're you looking for?"
"Your suture equipment"
"my what?"
"If you dont have any, butterfly bandages will hold me until I can get my kit from the dorm"
"... I'm waiting for the punchline but I have the sinking feeling that there isnt one"
"Um, april fools?"
"Goddamit, Matt, show me the wound"

He hates potatoes. He hates all Irish dishes made from potatoes or with potatoes.

He'll drink like an Irishman. He'll go to Church like an Irishman. He'll be damned if he eats potatoes like an Irishman though.

"Your self-hatred manifests in some pretty strange ways there buddy, doesn't it."

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Frank!! Are you okay?” Jack exclaimed. Frank gave a light laugh.

“Could you be anymore of a Catholic, Jack?” He replied then grinned, a hard thing that was probably a bit viscous. “But yeah, I’m okay. You should see the other guys.” Frank unconsciously clenched his bruised fist. Jack’s instinctively looked towards them. The instant Jack’s gaze met his fist his nostrils flared.

“You get them? You need help?” Frank’s grin grew. Jack’s expression turned bright with a peculiar light.

“No, but thank you for the offer.” Frank unclenched his fist. Jack nodded,the hard expression on his face morphing into concern again.

“If you ever need help, Frank, let me know. I know this isn’t the nicest of neighborhoods. Sometimes you gotta defend yourself.”

“Thanks again but I handled it. I was a Marine after all.” He replied and gave a light shrug. “We still going to the game?”

“Really that’s up to you. You look awful to be blunt.” Frank smiled again. He had made the same assessment that morning when he saw his reflection. His left eye was swollen and he is lip was split but he could see and then there was what his clothes his, bruises and a few scrapes.

“I could use it after last night.” He said honestly. Frank needed to rest at least a few hours and reassemble. He could also admit he liked Jack. They got along well. It beat passing it at his safe house eating a can of beans for the next few hours–he also made a note that he needed to buy food.

Food also sounded good too. He rubbed a bruise under his shirt and motioned that they should get moving. A bruised torso was definitely worth the illicit cash and weapons he had taken. He also may have left a body or two. Maybe not, one shot one kill wasn't his goal that night. Fair was fair.

The game was an hour away but they were taking the subway. It would be packed and crowded. Good to blend in. A few people shot him a few looks but with Jack’s own slightly bruised face he didn’t feel too conspicuous. On the bright side, there was a bit of space for them in the subway, not too much because New Yorkers were New Yorkers.

On their way their Jack talked about how he apparently won the tickets in a bet. Frank was apparently the first person he had asked. To Frank this meant two things, either Jack didn't have many friends or he thought they were better friends than Frank thought.

“You rooting for any of the teams this season?” Jack asked. Frank shook his head.

“Not particularly just whoever is doing better. Like I said I'm pretty much unopposed to any game because it was either that or finding a book I hadn't read in the middle of nowhere.”

“Come on, not even the Yankees? This is New York!” Jack joked. Frank shook his head. “Frank, Frank, Frank, we need to cultivate some team loyalty while you're here. Otherwise it will be a lie when we wave our pennants.” Frank snorted and laughed when he had an image of himself with a Yankees cap while sniping.

Jack shot him a curious look. He shook his head.

"I just had an image of myself in a Yankee's hat and with my gun." He snorted. "While I was in the service, I mean."

"I don't think that's what Uncle Sam had in mind at any point." Jack said with a smile. Frank glanced at the station. Jack took a glance as well. "Soon we'll have some over priced beer, hot dogs and probably a hat since it's going to be sunny today."

"Great. Now if I sign up again my vision can be complete." He deadpanned. Jack laughed.

They arrived at the station and exited. Frank disliked the crowd and the pushing. It set him on edge but he tempered his reactions by concentrating on moving forward. Jack seemed to sense his dislike and tried to place himself as a buffer. Good man, knew there was as reason he liked him, Frank thought.

Finally they made it past the main crowd packed at the entrance. Frank followed Jack to the gift shop and helped him buy Matt some souvenirs with raised logos. Frank did end up buying a hat, it was sunny as Jack had commented earlier. He didn't need sunburn on top of his bruises.

They took their seats after standing in line for food. He thinks it would've been nicer before but everything before the Park was something like a weird dream where he had a family and home. Now he was a different person, alone and somehow making a friend who he sparred with in preparation for his revenge.

In time he would have to drop this friendship too. This was temporary. Everything was temporary now except for his mission. Frank knew there were only two ways it would end: his death or arrest. He tried to shake off the train of thought.

He focused on the game and eating the overpriced nachos he had bought. Beer helped as well. Instead of making him angrier he relaxed. Jack's enthusiasm for his team was a big part of that. Frank found himself complaining or rooting for the Yankees along with Jack.

By the time they left, one inning left but they didn't want to be sardines again, they had drunk a bit more than was probably wise for a hot day but they weren't shit faced and Frank knew his own tolerance.

“You heading home?” Jack asked him as they entered the train. They snagged two seats.

“Yeah.” He said.

“If you don't have any plans today you should head over to my place and eat dinner. Matty’s on an overnight field trip. I didn't really want him to go but he really wanted to go. Hope he's having fun.” Jack said.

“You worried about him?”

"Always.” Jack said with such conviction that if anyone had ever doubted Jack as a father it would have cast those feelings aside. “I always worry about him.” Jack leaned a bit towards him, shoulders touching. Frank didn’t really notice until he shifted a bit away.

“Yeah. Kids do that.” He said and tried not to think about his own. He shifted in his seat, there shoulders were touching again. Jack didn’t move away. Probably wouldn’t do any good, the seats were a bit small.

“Don't know how you do it.” Jack replied a moment later.

“I don't have a choice.” He thought about his plans, abstract as they were. “Everything I do now is for them. For their memory.” Jack nodded and they sat in silence for a moment. The heavy tension in the air between them before Frank replied:

“We can get dinner. I need to burn off this beer and I don’t have much for dinner except a can of beans.” Jack started to snicker before seeing his expression.

“You’re kidding.” Frank glared for a moment. “You’re not! A can of beans? Really? Even I kept more than that when I was a bachelor.”

“I was busy.” Jack laughed. “Okay, we’ll get dinner then. Won’t be much. Maybe a good sandwich. At least you’ll sober up enough to get more food after.”

“A sandwich is fine.” Frank replied and shifted in his seat. He was slightly drowsy from the beer and the ride was lulling him a bit. He needed to wake up enough to be aware of his surroundings. He was sure that the Dogs he had ambushed yesterday hadn’t seen his face but he couldn’t take the risk of being completely off guard in public.

"Hey, our stop is coming up.” Jack replied. Frank stood up. Their seats were immediately pounced upon by a few standers. They made their way to a residential street. The apartments were old in the building they entered, worn but not neglected. Jack’s apartment had the same appearance, it was worn but well cared for otherwise and a bit small.

"The man’s home was clean, not that he expected a sty. Frank was just expecting some mess that people normally had. Everything in a place and set in a way that reminded him of the kid’s blindness.

They had dinner. It was a simple sandwich but it quenched the hunger he had developed once the stadium food had passed. A glass of water had sated his thirst that had risen in the heat. He meant to leave after, thank Jack and leave but the heat, beer and activity from last night made him lag.

Instead he found himself sitting next to Jack on the couch and watching the late afternoon news before he felt sober and awake enough to head out. Despite his bruises they agreed to meet tomorrow for another spar.

Frank bought supplies and headed to his safe house. He turned on the scanner. The thing had already practically payed for itself last night. He lied down and listened.

Most of what he heard was nonsense but what wasn’t, code for drug and organized violence, helped paint a picture of territories and activity centers.

He had picked up enough to learn that the Irish were in the same line of business as the Dogs. After he had realized there was the Cartel, newish, but they were also moving heavily to gain traction in Hell’s Kitchen. They were all rivals. Direct rivals, not simply incidental ones, and they fought for territory.

There was a high probability they would meet and fight...not caring who was caught in crossfire…He fell asleep gazing at the weapons he had seized and the thought of buying more. His dreams were filled with the red of blood and the heat of the day’s sun.

***

“What do you think about mixed martial arts?” Frank asked Jack as the man tapped his newly bandaged fists together. Jack frowned.

“In what way?” Jack asked and leaned against the stage to the ring.

“In us fighting. You know anything else than just boxing?” Frank asked and wondered if he could teach Jack some more if he needed to spar with different moves.

“I know some but dabbling isn't really my area.” Jack answered with a shrug. “Don't really have the time or money for many other classes. It was useful in training but not really learning in depth. I’m a boxer.” Then he grinned. “You ready to call it quits, Frank?”

“Never.” Frank said emphatically then added “just thought we could use a change in pace. I will beat you, I'm close.” Their last round was a close call. Frank felt like he was almost, if not quite, back up to speed. Sparing seems to have helped a process he thought would take longer.

Jack grinned, eyes bright. “Close isn't it though but you know what? I'm game. We can try some other things.”

“You'll be the underdog now.”

“Trust me I'm used to it.” Jack said and dropped his gloves into his bag. He was going to work the bag. Frank pulled himself up from the edge of the ring. Jack helped him, laughing at his groan as his tired muscles protested.

“Go on home, Frank. We’ll do mixed but until you’re in top shape I think I’ll have less of an advantage than you think.” Frank feigned a punch in response, too slow and clunky to be serious. Jack blocked it with a laugh and feigned a hip check. It surprised Frank and he tumbled a bit

Jack grabbed at him to steady him. Hauling him up against him. Frank looked up. “Thanks.” he said. Jack nodded, his eyes locked on his with the movement. Frank realized how close he was to Jack.

A moment passed, they stood still, sweat dripping down both their faces and realizing they were the only two in gym that late in the evening. Jack licked his lips. To say something? He could feel Jack's breath. Frank wasn’t sure -

A siren rang, passing quickly, but it caused them to both jump back. Jack licked his lips again and looked at him. It was a curious thing, and Frank figured he probably wore its twin.

“Mixed martial arts. Yeah. We’ll do that.” Jack said. Frank nodded. He didn’t reply. They had plans to meet already.

The barber had cut a little more than he would have liked. Frank ran his hands over the sides of his head. Maybe he should have gone with another haircut but it didn’t feel right. He had been a Marine too long. He should have done it himself.

He glanced at his watch. He had to go soon. He grabbed his gym bag. He walked briskly to the gym. The heat of the day was dissipating as the sunset but it was still warm out. Frank caught his reflection on one of the passing buildings’ windows and knew he had a fine sheen of sweat on him.

Frank wiped at his brow irritably. He reached Fogwell. The gym was hardly any better temperature wise but strong fans around the room gave the impression of a breeze. That is if you didn’t mind if a breeze smelled like old leather, sweat and the faint scent of musk from the many men who spent their days there.

The room was almost empty. Most of the regulars left at sundown at the latest. He scanned the room. Jack wasn’t there yet. He went to the locker room and changed. The splashed some water on his face and wiped away the sweat. The water at least helped him feel cooler.

He exited the locker room. There was maybe one man still at the gym, doing a set of lifts and was clearly a beginner. He left a few minutes later. He didn’t bother throwing an inquisitive look at Frank. Had Jack cancelled? He wondered as the man left when he came back from the locker room. He saw a shadow forming on the door. Frank stood up.

“If it isn’t Mr. Victory.” Frank goaded as Jack entered the gym. Jack grinned, the shiner on his left eye looking worse for a moment. “Caught the fight. Good job. I had no idea you could hit that hard. O’Donovan’s face looked like he got hit by a brick in the slow mo.”

“I have been told I give a hit as well as I take it.” he said. He shook his head. “Sorry I missed a bus when picking up Matt.” Frank shrugged.

“It’s fine. Go get ready. Can’t warm up if you’re not ready. It wouldn’t be fair.” Jack rolled his eyes and eyed him.

“You got a new cut?”

“It was overgrown. You would think I was more of a punk that a former marine from that mop.” Jack tugged at his own hair, short and straight.

“I think it was like mine right? You call that a mop? Jeeze.”

“Marines.” He shrugged. “Go get changed.” Frank beckoned. Jack disappeared into the locker room. Frank started working on a few stretches. He remembered what it was like at first, when he first started out and wished he still had that physique without all the scar tissue as some of the stretches pulled on from not quite forgotten wounds.

Jack emerged. His shirt looked new. It certainly fit him closer than the previous items he sparred in. Those had been looser.

“That new?” Frank asked to confirm.

“Yeah.” Jack shrugged though he looked pleased. “I thought maybe it was better for today.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” He took a look at the shorts. They were good. Jack knew at least some basics. Good. They each worked on their warm ups. When they began to spar it was tougher than Frank had expected. When he thought he said he knew a little more of other techniques, Frank thought Jack had meant a cursory passing in some techniques.

Frank clearly should have asked for a better explanation when he has asked Jack. He pushed Jack away. The man grinned, a savage thing. Frank knew exactly why Jack knew more than a few moves. He liked to fight.

The Murdocks have the Devil in them. He recalled. He upped his game.

“That all you got?” Jack grunted from the floor. Frank grinned he had him pinned. Jack tried to wiggle out but Frank just readjusted his grip. “Damn. Fine. I give up.” Frank let him go. Jack fell back, on him for a moment, before rolling off, standing up and offering him a hand. Frank took it.

Jack smiled at him. He looked sheepish and laughed with a shake to his head. “You beat me.”

“Told you I would.” Though he preened he was honestly surprised by the victory.

“You did. You rest up for the day?”

“Nah. Just a good day, I guess.” Frank said and resisted the urge to touch his bullet wound. Scar now, but all the same he didn’t want to draw attention to it. He felt almost like himself again. He had noted the muscle gain and his increased stamina but nothing like before, still he wasn’t going to spit in the face of a good day. Frank stood straighter.

Jack smiled again and shook his head. “That’s good. I think we should celebrate. No? You finally beat me.” he grinned. “Though not at boxing.”

“You want to just out brawl, Murdock?” Frank asked half joking.

“Not today,” Jack replied.

“I still won. What do you mean by celebrate? A beer? I don’t think I want one right now.”

“No,” Jack agreed. “Something.” He didn’t seem to push on it. Since it was his win Frank guessed he was supposed to choose.

“Lunch? Next Yankees game?” Frank asked. “Might convince me to at least give them a better chance.” It would be in a few days.

“When’s the next game?” Jack paused to think. “Yeah, I can do that.” He frowned. “You mean at a bar right? I can’t really-” Afford tickets and food, Frank thinks he wants to say.

“Yeah. I don’t like shitty hot dogs that much.” Jack nodded. He seemed relieved. Frank wondered how often people got annoyed with him for that. He stretched and felt his muscles protest the movement. Looks like his wind had passed.

Jack followed the move and copied it. It seemed to help. “That’s fine. I gotta train a bit too.” He motioned for his bag near Frank’s. “Can you pass me my water?” Frank pulled the bottle from the worn bag. Jack drank appreciatively from it. Frank licked his lips and went to get his own bottle. Better.

“How are you upcoming matches?” Jack shrugged.

“Same ol’, same ol. Nothing I’m too excited about.”

“Your chances good?”

“Yeah. You looking to bet?” Frank snorted.

“No.” he laughed. “Just asking.” Jack smirked.

“I’m going to win.” his tone would be cocky on anyone else but as Frank had fought the man he knew it was truth. Jack knew his fighters too. If Frank were a betting man he would definitely place his money on Jack

Frank gave a faint nod. “I believe you.” He thought. “You know any good bars for my victory meal?” Jack named a few. They made plans. It was good. Frank took his time in loosening his fatigued muscles.

Jack hit the punching bag. Each hit was a precise move with calculated force. His muscles conveyed his power and in the ring it was clear he was also fast. Battlin’ Jack.

Frank wondered just how much of the Jack in the ring was with in the man he had spent time with at bars and with his son. Frank finished his routine and headed to gather his things. He walked out of it a few minutes later. Jack’s punches had the room resonating with the thumps from the bag

He neared the door. The thumping stopped. “Your new cut looks good Frank.” Frank nodded

“Thanks. Have a good night, Jack.” Jack wished him a good evening too Frank was halfway down the block before he realized he was smiling. It had been a good day.

The game was a few days away. Frank decided to give one hit on the local scumbags again. He could prepare for a few days and then strike. He needed to find more leads. Frank thought he had pieces of the right puzzle but didn't have the whole picture. He needed answers.

It didn't quite work out that way. Frank hit a local bar. He was listening to the chatter around him. He was pretending to focus on the screen in front of him when a couple of low level boys spouted shit about a recent shipment. It was in Spanish.

He knew enough to get the gist. Frank definitely got enough to confirm that the Dogs and Irish were direct competition. Yeah they were fighting over turf. How about Central Park. Maybe a bit about product? He didn't hear more.

He wanted to follow the punks when the screen in front of him changed. It was an old fight. A recap of Jack’s previous matches. He saw the same ferocity he had against the bag, he blocked, he worked well against his opponents.

He drunk his beer quickly. He lost the punks. Fuck. He left the bar. He had info but nothing new really. Except for that other dealer. He hadn't heard anything about them anywhere. The cops were keeping quiet about him.

Maybe he did have something. He thought. He went back to his safe house. He slept. !

He met with Jack at a small bar he noted a few tourists and relaxed minutely. A couple near the bar have him the distinct impression from Wisconsin. The male half of the pair turned and glanced outside. His green shirt had name of the state.

Frank took a small table. He glanced at his reflection on one of the mirrors on the wall meant to make the place look larger. He brushed his hair back and cast a glance at the door before turning to the menu.

Jack joined him a few minutes later. Frank brushed off his apology. Jack wasn't late. Frank had gotten there a bit early.

“You see anything you like?” Jack asked as he motioned to the menu. Frank nodded.

“Yeah. You? Let me guess you're a regular too.” Jack laughed.

“No, I came a few times before. They're good but not my kind of regular place. Too far from home for it.” He yawned. Jack looked tired.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Long night. Matt couldn't sleep until two and then he woke up around five.”

“You need to be elsewhere?”

“He went to school -his choice, not mine. He will be tired but probably able to sleep tonight at least.”

Frank nodded. They ordered and turn to chat about the game. It was nice. His food settled in his stomach well and he really enjoyed Jack’s company. They were friends, he realized. If only for the moment.

He'd repay him for this slice of normality where Frank didn't need to be on guard all the time or at least fully. It was safe because it looked normal, was normal to any outsider not in his head.

The Dogs, the Irish, the Cartel, Rand and the new drug runner. Frank had a lot of shit to clean up. Just not now. He let the tension in his body easy and ordered another beer.

When evening came Frank went out to do a reconnaissance. He looked for dealers. It was easy to spot the small exchanges. Small time dealers didn't really know anything.

They were easy pickings for money and to scope out the territory of a group. It wasn't perfect but he had a rough overlay of the groups’ territories over a few square blocks.

Bikers were the Dogs. The Caucasians were probably the Irish- dressed more normal and less junkie stereotype. The Latinos were probably with the Cartel.

Like he said not perfect. He spotted several players he couldn't identify or was comfortable grouping into the others. Still he thinks the independent players he did confirm were that mystery drug dealer.

He didn't take them out. It was too risky still. He felt good and thinks he can take them (they wouldn't be too armed) but he would rather get more information. Luckily he had patience and money talked

He did a quick calculation of his funds. Yes money talked and walked. He turned and headed to his safe house.

He caught a punk mugging a couple and took him out of commission. It had been a good day.

He caught a punk mugging a couple and took him out of commission. It had been a good day.

He met with Jack for sparring a few days later. In the corner was Matt, sitting with some school books. He scowled in his direction.

“Hi, Frank.” Matt greet dourly.

“Hi, Matt. How’s school?”

“Fine.” He replied and he could feel the full extent of the glare behind the glasses.

“Really? Doesn’t sound like it.”

“It’s *fine*.” He repeated.

“Where’s your dad, kid?”

“In the bathroom.”

“Uh huh. I’ll just wait for him.” Kid scowled.

“Dad told me you beat him.”

“I did.” He said proudly. “Told you I would.” Kid’s scowl intensified.

“Liar. You cheated.”

“I didn’t Beat him soundly.”

“You did! You didn’t box. That’s cheating!”

“Look, I’ll concede that I haven’t beaten your dad in boxing but I beat him in my own game.”

“Cheating.” He repeated.

“Matt!” Jack snapped as he came out of the locker room. Both he and kid jumped. “Don’t be a poor sport. You want to be punished?”

“Yes.” Frank laughed. “I want to learn more boxing.” Jack’s exasperated expression made it clear he knew he had messed up with his las punishment. “He cheated though!” He pointed toward Frank. He was off by a few degrees but he was still pretty accurate.

“It’s not cheating if I agreed to that fighting style. Otherwise it would be cheating if he switched midway through boxing.” Matt opened his mouth. “Homework.” Jack ordered.

“But-”

“Matthew.” Kid pouted and pulled out his books.

“Sorry about that, Frank.” Jack said with a smile. Frank shrugged.

“It’s fine. I know how it is.” Jack sighed, clearly not wanting to make the moment anymore awkward.

“You ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Beat him, Dad!” Jack’s disbelieving look had him laughing as Jack rounded and barked.

“Matthew Michael Murdock! Homework!”

“I am!” Frank lost the fight. Jack helped him up and slung an arm around his shoulder.

“Next time, Frank.” He called as the kid jumped and ran to them and crowing in support of his father. Frank smiled. When the kid reached them he realized Jack hadn’t moved his arm. He let it slip to direct Matt to a nearby bag, his tone serious as he started to scold him for poor sportsmanship again.

“You want to help?” He asked Frank. Frank blinked in surprise.

“You want me to help with boxing?”

“Can I learn something else too?” Matt asked, eager.

“That okay, Frank?”

“Yeah, I can help with a few moves, stretches mostly but it’ll help your form.” Kid brightened. Jack smiled at him. Frank grinned and helped Matt warm up. He wasn’t dressed for PE but he didn’t care nor Jack.

He couldn’t meet for the next week. He was disappointed. The sparring had improved his form a lot and he felt the difference as he stalked the neighborhood and learned more gangland territories. He was firmly able to identify a few dealers for a few gangs. It was good.

The unknown dealer had a more contested network. He couldn’t tell how he recruited them. He just knew he needed to be put down even if he wasn’t responsible for the loss of his family. He was dealing at a rate that meant the gangs were going to start openly warring with each other if past experience was any indication.

He couldn’t risk it. There were too many innocents in New York for all it was full of shit. (Innocents everywhere and God have mercy on all their souls.) He could almost make it through the night and he thinks he could take on several men alone without a gun. With a gun Frank was one of the best.

He almost tested it out. He had to get some downtime though, recover and process what he had. Exhaustion made people slip and fail to recognize patterns. Adrenaline would help but Frank wasn’t in a fight it was just reacon now.

“Can you believe Matt’s history teacher told me he wants to hold him behind? He doesn't think that Matt can do the work.” Jack groused. Frank shook is head and took a swig of his own beer.

“Matt is in top of his class despite the accident. Do you know how quickly he learned Braille? I mean he struggles like anyone who lost their sight would but he can read! My boy makes sure he understands what he reads. I’m not the smartest man but I can tell you Matt isn’t wrong. He has a print copy of his assignments so I can help him. He’s rarely wrong.

“And this stupid prick wants to act like Matty is some sort of struggling kid. If he were I would be thankful but he isn’t. People just see a blind kid and think dumb!” Jack throws his fist against the arm of his sofa. The whir of the fan dominated the silence that ensued when Jack took another swig of his beer.

“I take it you told him to fuck off?” Frank asked after a moment.

“You're damn right I did.”

“Good.” Jack looked pleased by his irritation. Then he stood up.

“I'm going to get another beer. You want one?”

Three down each, a fourth wouldn't change much. He glanced at the time. “Yes.” It was early enough. Frank noted he wasn't swaying. Probably the advantage of having to stay on his feet while taking several blows. Form was always good he thought as he trailed his eyes down.

Yes. Jack was a good choice in sparring partner. He was glad to have met him. He had helped his recovery. He opened the bottle which was why he was there. He needed to stay in Jack’s good side.

“What do you expect out of people now?“ He asked. Jack frowned

“You mean with Matt?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know. It’s the worst. Most people won’t care, treat him normal and help him but sometimes. You know I really pray to God for guidance and forgiveness then. You know?” He growled.

“I guess. God and I haven’t really been seeing eye to eye for a while.”

“Have faith, Fank. Have faith. It keeps me going.” He ran his finger along the neck of the bottle. “It keeps me going when everything is seems unfair. Matt will never pay for his medical care. We got that as a settlement. Our lawyer, which is another expense I have to worry about, says he doesn’t think anyone is going to get charged.” He looked angry.

“They said Matt is at fault too. He shouldn’t have saved the life of the man. Can you believe it? They bring those chemicals, unsecured, in our home. They drive their trucks which needed repairs here -the driver wasn’t found at fault, I don’t blame him- but they still blame my son!”

“Calm down, Jack.” Jack’s grip on the bottle loosened. “I think you’ve had a bit much.”

“I can drink more and be fine.”

“Yeah but I asked the wrong question.” Jack relinquished the bottle. Frank took one last drink of his own and went to dump them in the kitchen. He found two clean cups and filled them with water. When he returned Jack was reaching for the remote and turned on the television.

“Is it okay if I sit with you for a bit?” Jack nodded. He chugged the water. Frank drank his slowly. After a few minutes Jack spoke again.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. I understand. It’s not the same but I get it.” Jack closed his eyes. Maybe it was in prayer.

“Thank you for understanding.” He smiled at him, a strained thing.

“Don’t mention it, Jack.” Frank gave him a light punch to the arm. He was aiming at friendly but knew it was awkward. Jack caught it. He didn’t push it back. He squeezed lightly on it.

It was- Jack kissed him or maybe Frank kissed him.

It was - Frank found himself on unfamiliar ground for the first time since he woke up. He had had groundwork laid out. Now he had stepped off- lost off the course. They pulled back.

“Frank.” Jack breathed and this time Frank did initiate the kiss. He surged toward him and Jack didn’t push away. It wasn’t a make out session, maybe they were too old for that but it was-

Jack pulled away. He looked at the time.

“Frank. What are we-?

“I don’t know.” He replied. Jack licked his lips.

“I think we had too much beer.”

“We didn’t have much.” Jack took a breath.

“Do we-”

“Talk about it? I guess.” The alcohol was too prominent in his blood to make him comfortable.

“Later.” Jack said.

“Yeah.” He went to stand. Jack caught his arm and pulled him back down.

“Stay. You drank more than me.”

“You sure?”

“You asked the right question now.” Frank stayed. They sat next to each other, watching the local network. Jack didn’t have cable. It was comfortable, he realized. He was comfortable around Jack.

Jack placed a hand on his thigh. Frank didn’t move it. It was a lull almost. Just sitting there, he thinks they both felt the awkwardness of this change but it was nice.

Frank didn’t know what he was doing. The false calm of the alcohol faded after a while. He just felt raw. He thinks Jack may have dozed a bit because a loud commercial. He smiled at Frank, a bit strained but genuine.

“It’s fine.” Frank said, unsure of what else to say. Jack glanced at the clock and jumped.

“Shit. I have to pick up, Matt.” He murmured. “I’m going to be late.” Frank stood. Jack grabbed his keys. He juggled them awkwardly.

“Go get your kid, Jack. I’ll see you at our usual time?” He asked. Jack paused then nodded.

“Yeah. I’ll see you.” He licked his lips. “You still have to beat me.”

“And you beat me too, Jacky boy.” Jack smiled. He motioned for him to exit with him.

Frank went back to his safe house.

Contains: BDSM, light spanking, threesome

Also at http://archiveofourown.org/works/7918642

Jessica Jones was a professional voyeur.

It was in the job description, sure, but the truth was that Jessica loved it. She liked watching, observing and taking in every single detail. That was why private investigation suited her so well; it was not just that she had the skill, but it was also because she enjoyed what she did.

Jessica loved watching in general, but even more - Jessica loved watching Matt and Luke.

Luke was all power. Even when his abilities weren't apparent, his entire body screamed power. He stood in front of Matt, who knelt in front of him. He leaned over and stroked Matt's hair, gently, brushing it back from his eyes.

Matt was powerful too, in his own way. His entire body was regulated, as if he controlled every muscle in his body with sheer will. Maybe he did. His physical and mental strengths were strange, compared to someone like Jessica, at least. Brute force was her thing, but Matty, well, Matty was something different.

"You doing okay, baby?" Luke whispered.

"Yes, sir."

"Good," Luke said, firmly.

Luke tilted his head to the side and smirked at Jessica, who watched the pair of them eagerly. He then turned his gaze back to Matt.

"You can get up."

Matt immediately rose to his feet. Jessica loved the way that his chest rose and fell with his deep breaths, because his new black leather collar rose and fell too. The silver tag bounced lightly against Matt's skin. Luke had picked it out and she just loved it.

"Bed," Luke said firmly. "Get your clothes off and I want to find you hands and knees when I get there."

"Yes sir."

Matt immediately moved to the bedroom.

"You just going to watch for right now?" Luke asked Jessica then, winking.

"That a problem?" she asked in reply.

"Not a problem by me," he asid, chuckling lightly. "Matt's been such a good boy for us, especially lately. I think we need to let him come tonight."

"Are you going to fuck him?"

Luke's look answered that question,.

"Going to give that boy what he's been wanting all week," Luke said, grinning. "Should I grab anything out of the toy drawer?"

Jessica sauntered over to the locked drawer that they kept their play items in. They kept it out of the bedroom just for moments like this. Surprising Matt was hard, and it was just so much fun! She broke the lock (yeah, that was about the fiftieth one) and opened it up.

"Use this."

She grabbed a paddle - their thin, red one.

Luke nodded. They both knew Matt well. It was a light, thin paddle, and not one of the heavy duty implements that was broken out for a real punishment session. Matt liked pain during sex, though. He was a grade-A masochist and the pain helped him focus his senses.

"Go on," she said. "I'll catch up."

When Jessica joined them in the room, Matt was on his hands and knees, naked on their bed. His back made a pretty curve, all the way down to his ass - which was, in fact, magnificent. Luke was standing behind him, stripping off his clothes.

"You know Jess is here now, don't you baby?" Luke growled.

"Yes," Matt gasped. "Yes, sir. I can hear her and smell her..."

Clothes cast aside, Luke crawled up behind Matt and Jessica moved to the head of the room to get a better look at them. They made a gorgeous picture, skin tones and sizes contrasting completely. Yet, despite these differences, she felt the same about them both. They were so strong.

Luke grabbed the lube and Matt arched up impatiently. Luke responded to this by grabbing the paddle from where he'd set it down and smacking Matt hard.

Matt groaned desperately.

"Patience, baby."

It only took a moment for Luke to get Matt ready. Both of her boys were extremely fast, and neither of them was patient.

Jessica stood there, holding her breath until Luke sank into Matt, slowly. Every single detail about them was emblazoned on her mind, and it made the hottest picture. Luke's little lip bite, the way Matt's whole body went limp... God, Jessica took in every detail she could. Matt's face tensed with pain and then resleased. Luke tugged his head back with a strong, firm grip in his hair.

Luke stopped for a moment once he'd bottomed out, and Matt moaned shamelessly, keeping his knees firmly planted against the bed. Jessica watched her Matty's fists curl into the blanket. Then, L uke began to move slowly. Jessica knew his style well. He could fuck without restraint, but most of the time that was reserved for her, or at least for times when he was pissed off. With Matt, Luke was always delicate, building a slow rhythm that toyed with their Matt's super senses.

"Talk to me baby," Luke moaned, as he began to thrust. "Now, Matty."

"Oh god," Matt moaned. "Please, sir. It's so good. I need more. Deeper, please. Sir!"

Luke picked up the pace, then he pulled out of Matt entirely. Jessica leaned close eough to get a really good look at his thick cock as it slid out of Matt's ass. Her moan was utterly shameless. Luke then picked up the paddle again and slapped it down on Matt's backside. Matt fell forward, losing his position flat on the bed.

Luke gave him a few good ones, peppering his backside with red splotches. Matt was unbelievably pale, especially in places that never saw the sun.

"Tell me how you feel baby," Luke ordered.

"Perfect, sir..."

Luke then flipped Matt onto his back. Matt was the most beautiful, pliant thing ever. Luke tossed the paddle aside and it almost hit Jessica. She crossed her arms. Matt moved with Luke. He was the most beautiful, pliant thing ever. He melted whichever way he was moved.

Matt wriggled underneath him.

"Stay still," Luke ordered.

Matt stilled. Luke then hiked his legs up high and entered him again. Jessica crossed the room to get the best she could. Briefly, she entertained the idea that she needed to start filming things like this, and then she went right back to watching.

As they moved, writhing together, the heat between her legs tingled up through her entire body.

"Okay, voyeruism is fun, but I am so done with this," she huffed, stirpping off her shirt. She undid herp ants and cast them aside as well. "Luke, I want to taste him, please."

"Of course, babe. Lemme finish..."

Jessica watched them, standing there in her underwear. She was so wet, god. They were too good.

"Don't you dare come, or she's not touching you, Matthew."

Luke's words had her moaning. Of course, it wasn't exactly fair that Matt's punishment would punish her as well, but who said that life was exactly fair. She watched, enthusiastically, as Luke thrust into Matt steadily, moaning louder each time. When Luke came, the bed rocked so hard that it slammed into the wall. They did more damage to their apartment that way. He pulled out of Matt and the whole room smelled of sex.

Jessica could only imagine how it smelled to Matt.

"Did that feel good?" she asked, joining them on the bed. She grabbed Matt's cock, which was hard and leaking against his stomach.

Matt arched into her touch.

"Oh yes, god, miss, yes..."

Jessica stroked him, her fingers working carefully up his shaft. Matt was so close to coming after being fucked so good, but at the same time, his self-control was better than that of anyone she'd ever met. He would hold back until he wasp ermitted. She crawled down his body and sunk between his legs. Luke eased himself over to the end of the bed to be out of there way. Jessica took Matt's into her mouth, just the head.

A few years back, sex acts like that were things she'd never even allowe herself to imagine. Now that she and Luke had Matt though, much had changed.

Matt moaned, struggling not to buck against her mouth. As soon as his pelvis began to move, Jessica dug her fingers into his hipbone to calm him.

Matt whimpered.

"You don't get to come until Luke tells you to," she said, popping off of Matt just long enough to speak. Then she eased her way back down, taking him all the way in. Matt wasn't going to last long, so she enjoyed it while she could, sucking him and then licking along his length.

"Let me hear you, Matt," Luke growled.

"Please, please sir."

Matt begged and Jessica drew it out of him. The pleas were music to her ears. Luke had to let the boy come sooner or later.

"Okay baby, you can come," Luke said.

Matt arched forward when he came, and Jessica swallowed with a grin. Then she pulled off and stared up at him. She knew Matt couldn't see her, but the beautiful boy could sense how she was feeling and she loved that.

"Beautiful."

"Sometimes doing is more fun than watching, huh?" Luke asked.

"Oh god yes," she said. "Speaking of doing, I need my boys to do something right now."

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Page 138 of 165

Daredevil Prompt Post #11

FILL- Rag and Bone Sympathy, Part 4/? Re: Self-Harm Matt, Angsty Matt/Foggy gen or slash

Fill - The Only Man - 23/? - Frank/Matt - slave au

Re: [FILL] Touch-Starved 2/?

Re: [FILL] Touch-Starved 2/?

Re: [FILL] Touch-Starved 2/?

Re: [FILL] Touch-Starved 2/?

[FILL] Touch-Starved 3a/?

Re: Frank/Matt, dat ass

Re: Frank/Matt, dat ass

Stick never taught Matt. Matt was sent to a residential mental health facility.

Re: Stick never taught Matt. Matt was sent to a residential mental health facility.

(frozen comment) Re: Elektra is not beautiful

(frozen comment) Re: Elektra is not beautiful

(frozen comment) Re: Elektra is not beautiful

(frozen comment) Re: Elektra is not beautiful

(frozen comment) Re: Elektra is not beautiful

Re: Frank/Matt, dat ass

Re: Frank/Matt, dat ass

Re: Confused baby Matt showered with love

[Humor] Matt has a horrible secret...

Re: [Humor] Matt has a horrible secret...

Fill 8/? : Frank/Jack Murdock: Matt gains another father

Fill 9a/? : Frank/Jack Murdock: Matt gains another father

Fill 9b/? : Frank/Jack Murdock: Matt gains another father

Fill: Watching and Doing - 1/1 - Jessica/Matt/Luke