It was Matt, as her official emergency contact, who first heard that Karen had been admitted to Metro General. When he first called Frank, he didn’t even know anything besides that. It took Frank half an hour after that to get away from the construction site (last time he worked at that one, if he could help it), and he was on the bus to the hospital when Matt called again. “Someone poisoned her coffee,” he said, then sobbed loudly before adding, “They don’t know if she’s going to make it or not.”
They’d both remembered, too, what had happened last time Karen had been in the hospital, when the nurse had turned out to be on Fisk’s payroll. He stormed in and ended up yelling at the poor receptionist when she initially refused to even confirm Karen was there. Lucky for both of them word got up, Matt came down, and basically lawyered Frank past her.
The situation was as it had been when she’d first been rushed to the hospital after collapsing in her office. Nor had it changed when Foggy lawyered his own way in with no news, even though he’d dropped in on the Bulletin en route. “Want to hire Jessica Jones?” he asked. “We know she isn’t on anyone’s payroll.” He obviously did not want Frank looking for the responsible party himself, maybe didn’t want Matt doing so either.
They hadn’t made a decision, and the situation still hadn’t changed, when the nurse finally insisted they get out. “She’ll be just fine tomorrow morning,” she said, and Matt nodded slightly; she genuinely believed there was no danger, at least.
“And don’t you two dare go to the roof,” Foggy hissed as they left. “I’ll call Danny and have him go there with strict orders to send you home.”
Never mind that neither of them were going to sleep. Instead when they finally got into the apartment, for nearly a minute they both just stood there, trying to get themselves together enough to do anything.
Then Matt pulled Frank into a hard embrace and burst into tears all over again. “I can’t lose her,” he wept to Frank. “I can’t take another loss.”
“Neither can I,” Frank murmured into his hair. “I have nobody without her, Red. Nobody.”
“That’s not true,” Matt snapped. Then he thought about it, and hastily added, “I mean, you have the Liebermans, and Mr. Hoyle, and…”
Frank never knew why that was what caused him to kiss him. Maybe it was just to shut him up.
Then they were going all hot and heavy, no holds barred, and when they broke apart, Matt gasped, “Still want to suck your dick. Like a lot. Right now.”
Frank gave it another moment's thought, then said, “Should at least suck yours first.”
“You put your mouth on my dick and I might just come in it within two seconds.”
He meant it as a warning, but Frank just chuckled, “I don’t have to worry about my lack of technique, then.”
For good measure, he spent time getting his mouth on Matt’s throat and chest and stomach first, everything he’d spent the last month and a half wanting from only a few feet away, and only now did he admit to himself just how much. So his first experience of sucking another man’s dick lasted barely half a second before he was coughing jizz onto the floor (that was going to be a bitch to deal with), but the crazy sound alone that came out of Matt was worth it.
So was the slackened look on his face even as he pushed Frank against the wall and went directly for his fly. And Karen hadn’t been kidding; he went at it with a wild hunger that was probably also caused by the day’s events, but maybe not entirely. It turned Frank on, and made him feel full, somehow, though it also broke his heart a little. He didn’t last much longer than Matt had.
Once again they were left getting their bearings, Matt looking too wiped to even stand back up. Several minutes passed, as the full implications of what they’d just done sunk in.
Then Matt said, “We shouldn’t kill whoever did it. Because probably someone else paid them to, and Karen will want to know who. As will the cops, but…”
“All right,” said Frank, the decision made. “If she lives.” Because if she died…well.
And no, they were not going to talk about if they’d try to stick with each other if she did. Frank couldn’t stand to think that far ahead. He didn’t think Matt would bring it up.
Fill: Even If We're Just Dancing in the Dark 18/?
They’d both remembered, too, what had happened last time Karen had been in the hospital, when the nurse had turned out to be on Fisk’s payroll. He stormed in and ended up yelling at the poor receptionist when she initially refused to even confirm Karen was there. Lucky for both of them word got up, Matt came down, and basically lawyered Frank past her.
The situation was as it had been when she’d first been rushed to the hospital after collapsing in her office. Nor had it changed when Foggy lawyered his own way in with no news, even though he’d dropped in on the Bulletin en route. “Want to hire Jessica Jones?” he asked. “We know she isn’t on anyone’s payroll.” He obviously did not want Frank looking for the responsible party himself, maybe didn’t want Matt doing so either.
They hadn’t made a decision, and the situation still hadn’t changed, when the nurse finally insisted they get out. “She’ll be just fine tomorrow morning,” she said, and Matt nodded slightly; she genuinely believed there was no danger, at least.
“And don’t you two dare go to the roof,” Foggy hissed as they left. “I’ll call Danny and have him go there with strict orders to send you home.”
Never mind that neither of them were going to sleep. Instead when they finally got into the apartment, for nearly a minute they both just stood there, trying to get themselves together enough to do anything.
Then Matt pulled Frank into a hard embrace and burst into tears all over again. “I can’t lose her,” he wept to Frank. “I can’t take another loss.”
“Neither can I,” Frank murmured into his hair. “I have nobody without her, Red. Nobody.”
“That’s not true,” Matt snapped. Then he thought about it, and hastily added, “I mean, you have the Liebermans, and Mr. Hoyle, and…”
Frank never knew why that was what caused him to kiss him. Maybe it was just to shut him up.
Then they were going all hot and heavy, no holds barred, and when they broke apart, Matt gasped, “Still want to suck your dick. Like a lot. Right now.”
Frank gave it another moment's thought, then said, “Should at least suck yours first.”
“You put your mouth on my dick and I might just come in it within two seconds.”
He meant it as a warning, but Frank just chuckled, “I don’t have to worry about my lack of technique, then.”
For good measure, he spent time getting his mouth on Matt’s throat and chest and stomach first, everything he’d spent the last month and a half wanting from only a few feet away, and only now did he admit to himself just how much. So his first experience of sucking another man’s dick lasted barely half a second before he was coughing jizz onto the floor (that was going to be a bitch to deal with), but the crazy sound alone that came out of Matt was worth it.
So was the slackened look on his face even as he pushed Frank against the wall and went directly for his fly. And Karen hadn’t been kidding; he went at it with a wild hunger that was probably also caused by the day’s events, but maybe not entirely. It turned Frank on, and made him feel full, somehow, though it also broke his heart a little. He didn’t last much longer than Matt had.
Once again they were left getting their bearings, Matt looking too wiped to even stand back up. Several minutes passed, as the full implications of what they’d just done sunk in.
Then Matt said, “We shouldn’t kill whoever did it. Because probably someone else paid them to, and Karen will want to know who. As will the cops, but…”
“All right,” said Frank, the decision made. “If she lives.” Because if she died…well.
And no, they were not going to talk about if they’d try to stick with each other if she did. Frank couldn’t stand to think that far ahead. He didn’t think Matt would bring it up.