[ Sure, he knows better. There's some sort of respect or bond among killers like them. It's dirty and low to get someone when they can't defend themselves, but never unfair. The only judge Frank figures is going to look down on anyone is the one that probably sits on Marc's shoulder 24/7 and pulling the reigns. Still, he can't help but tense and watch the man from the corner of his eye. They're both a little slow to react. What's wrong with you, Spector? ]
Listen, only thing good about freezing temperatures is slowing blood flow for shit like this. I don't gotta tell you with the adrenaline, I'm fuckin' exhausted. Second I loosen this, I...
[ He doesn't want to ask for help, but even the Punisher knows when to drop the act. It's Frank now. Frank Castle. A man with very few options. One of them can survive on their own but for how long? As much as he hates to fuckin' admit it, they have to work together. Be a team. ]
... I need you to put both hands over the wound and keep 'em there until I can get this thing off. Can you handle that, Marine?
[The good thing about Frank is that he keeps Marc on his toes so at least he won't let his guard down, and in a sudden survival situation like this, it's for the best. Despite their ongoing feud or whatever you want to call it these days, Marc doesn't want to see the guy bleed out in the middle of nowhere, helpless and undignified. Frank Castle is a prick but he isn't a terrible person by all standards.
Marc opts to get rid of the mask covering his face, the armored cloth slipping away like nothing and exposing his head to the elements. In truth, he's finding it more difficult to breathe deeply, and this helps. Still, his expression is hardened and steady as he regards Frank, ignoring the depth of the dank cave in his peripheral.]
Yeah, yeah, I know. [Marc still isn't sure if being a marine has helped gain at least a little respect in Castle's eyes, but they have more in common than either wants to admit. He scoots up closer, finding the source of the bleeding and pressing both hands onto it hard, not letting up despite how much it likely hurts.] I told you you should've grabbed a chute before that mess. You never listen to me.
[Not the time to argue about this shit but Marc can't help himself.]
[ As soon as he feels Marc's hand slide into place, he releases the bottom clip of the vest. Kevlar can stop a lot but not everywhere. Son of a bitch. He nearly doubles over and coughs. Frank pushes himself to undo the entire vest and tear it off over his head. Blood smears across the black skull painted onto the white shirt beneath, Frank's chest visibly struggling to keep taking in as many deep breaths as he is. Parachute might have slowed him a little. ]
Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, I'm sorry, Marc, not you, but fuck you...
[ He growls and laughs, it's completely manic. An animal caught in a bear trap that is fighting through the pain. Twisting away he drags the survival pack from around him and hastily takes out a roll of gauze, wrapping an impossibly long bundle around his trembling fingers before pulling it off. He turns to look up at Marc, somehow caught off guard like he's seeing his face within the suit for the first time. Not this close and being helpful. ]
Alright, Marine. You didn't kill me. Awesome. You got a few seconds. Shirt up, put this against the wound, wrap as fast as you can. Then when I catch my breath I'm gonna fuckin' strangle you...
[Marc keeps his eyes trained on Frank while he laughs like he's losing his mind already, and there's a quip on the tip of his tongue about the pot meeting kettle in this scenario, but he holds back, simply because he's more focused on the amount of blood that has soaked through. He isn't used to seeing The Punisher in white to begin with and he has a good feeling it's because of how much blood he's usually covered in on a daily basis.
He hasn't dealt with wounds like this in a long time - the benefit of being so stab-proof with Khonshu's help - but he's remembering vividly of what it was like when he was still in service. Good thing Frank has a pack readily available, and Marc doesn't argue when he gets some orders, as much as it's killing him not to tell Frank to shut up. The man is this close to bleeding out, after all.
He carefully lifts Frank's shirt up, peeling it away from the sticky blood and wound before taking over with the gauze. He's had to wrap up others before, in and out of his time with the marines, and seems to get the tape around Frank with practiced swiftness. He makes sure it's tight enough before tying off the end, moments later sitting back on his haunches, palms covered in blood.]
We should clean that when we can or you'll get an infection. [But for now at least the flow has been dealt with. Marc can't help but raise a brow over at Frank, a little taunting:] Waiting for that strangling now, I'm ready.
[ It's the pressure that he thought would feel the worse. Why does he always forget? As soon as the tape and gauze are tight again him, he lets out a slow breath. The adrenaline is still running high. Frank brings a hand to his side and then looks at his fingers again. Hell of a fuckin' show there. He drops his head back against the cave wall. Unfortunately for Marc, there's no slowing this guy down. He immediately begins to get back on his feet (or try). A bloody hand print is left smeared against black rock. ]
Yeah, yeah, in a minute, will you? Infection be fucked, I'm headed in further...
[ Ah, there's his car, and Frank shaking his head as he leans over the steering wheel. how many times has he been picking up degenerates lately? Seems the city is swarmed with new little vigilantes of all shapes, sizes, and, uh. Then there's Marc Spector. The window rolls down and he leans across. ]
Hey, I'm lookin' for some guy. About five-nine, couldn't smile to save his life, sometimes runs around in a mummy costume?
[ It's the black car with the front bumper installed. Possibly an illegal installation. Possibly a stolen and reconfigured cop car judging by the scanner still hooked up. Frank doesn't lay on the horn when he honks, and he sits back to stare up at the entire hotel. How the hell does someone just wind up here? With a sigh he shoves the passenger car door open. ]
[Oh, Steven heard that little utterance as he slips into the car... just grateful to be hopefully getting as far away from this creepy area as possible.]
And he was supposed to be gone, to be fair. But he is a sneaky old pigeon.
[ Ah, shit. Too late to offer an accommodating smile, huh? He flips the radio scanner off and chucks it to the back seat. Frank crosses his arms on the steering wheel. No one is escaping yet. ]
You look like you're in one piece. How the hell, Steven...?
[ There's few people Frank can feel sympathy for, but this guy (not you, Marc) is one of them. Even if he doesn't mean to come across as someone who is about to launch into a lecture. It's the tense body language. No helping that. ]
[ How can he not feel a little giddy? Frank Castle has been through a marriage, two kids, and hell of a long time of mourning. There's no real good time to convince yourself it's time to move on, or that you're ready. Sort of just happens. And Frank knew it wouldn't be normal, or make sense, or hit him like an oncoming train. It was gradual, wasn't it? ]
Oh, I'm ready for you to talk my ear off.
[ Until I know when to shut you up. He could calm down, let it all wash over him, and expect the worst to happen. Well, if Marc had the audacity to slip in unannounced, he was just asking for trouble. What left was there except letting the adrenaline and vodka curl back around his better judgment. Aha, no more photos, you're gonna kill him. ]
Hey, uh. I'll see you then. Just lemme know when I should head out yeah?
G'nite, little moon.
[ . . . ]
[ He does his usual that following day, sitting rooftop and scanning the streets. It's boring but he finds it's necessary, as well as passes the time. Tabs kept on Steven are to say good morning, see him later, but his mind shuts off for hours. There's no plans. A walk, dress down, be fuckin' normal. Be a proper human being. He's just waiting for a command. ]
[The little moon catches on something endeared in his chest and Steven can't stop smiling at that one text. Getting a pet name out of Frank like that feels so surreal and while he shouldn't get ahead of himself here there's so much to unpack just from the way this one conversation went. Steven needs to reread it all with a clearer head (while figuring out how to hide this entire thread from Marc's prying little eyes) but he has a feeling he's walking into something dangerous.
Well, he's meant to be fearless, isn't he?
He bids Frank good night and has a fitful sleep, unable to shut his mind off, but what else is new? Marc continues trying to prod and pry in the morning, asking Steven why he seems so nervous, but Steven does his best to reassure him that he's just fine. He needs a day to himself. Part of him feels guilty for it but Marc does eventually leave him be, withdrawing into himself, and Steven feels... bad. He'll tell him later, after he's already done the thing to make the other mad.
Steven has a modest job in a lesser known gallery near the heart of the city, but he actually enjoys it. It's honest work and that's been the most important thing to Steven, who refuses to use Marc's blood money for things like rent and food. It's never felt right to him. His colleagues are much nicer here too and don't mind his oddities. Apparently he's "quirky" in New York - something about his accent and general disheveled nature seemingly working for the underground art world. He'll take it.
He's understandably distracted all evening though and he's kicking himself for saying they shouldn't meet until after work. Frank hasn't been as responsive today and Steven's been busy tending to visitors, so by the time he's ready to leave, his nerves are at an all time high. He picks up his phone, shooting Frank a message and trying not to second guess everything:]
[ Trust me, as soon as he gets that text, he's already on his way out. It's weird to not be prepared for something, but Steven and even Marc have only ever really seen Frank "out of uniform". Sure, visiting his dogs, but he still feels naked. So maybe he doesn't have to tell Steven about the holster in the back of his jeans. It's a general precaution in the city, especially where he's headed.
If anything, the button-up with the sleeves rolled up - he's decided he actually looks approachable. Frank picks at the white shirt clinging to his chest and growls, and takes it back. You'll never be that approachable. I just look like Marc. ]
Yeah, on my way. Figured we walk if it's not too far? And it's nice out Aaaaand I dressed nice...
[ Feels like such a non-masculine thing to say but you'd be surprised by the guy who surrounds himself with guns and violence. And his version of tender. Come on, he's the guy who got the girl! Got everything! Still a soft, caged heart in there. There's just been no key for a long time, so it's time he brought out the spare.
[Steven suddenly wonders if he should have dressed up "nice" as well, though he's just getting off work and has no time to really worry about that. Last night was a bit of an unexpected whirlwind and he wasn't thinking about details like that, now left wondering if he looks... okay. Frank admitting to putting some effort in for this night is sweet and nerves seem to come flying back just from that simple text.]
You mean you put on something without blood splatter? Frank, I'm flattered :)
[It's easier to tease anyway and as Steven gathers his things to meet Frank outside, he also makes a quick pit stop to the restroom to check his hair isn't a complete mess, to splash some water on his face, and catch the look of judgment from the man in the mirror, whose arms are crossed and clearly skeptical of what's to come.]
It's fine, stop it with that look. It'll end up permanent. [Steven waves Marc off even though the man doesn't say much of anything as Steven hurries outside to wait for Frank on the sidewalk. He's a little fidgety and nervous but also quite excited to see him again.]
[ Hell of an invitation but it would put him that much closer to properly working alongside Julian; whoever Julian actually was remained to be seen, and Frank could only wonder if he waxed poetic in person as he did over the phone. Would he even be as patient with it, or finally snap and ask the guy to get to the point? Nah, that wasn't fair. This was a job and he was, for lack of a better term, currently employed. This wasn't weird to him. It was all part of the dance.
Frank wasn't even being paid for all of this and he still needed to meet his "boss". ]
Can do. Send location and we can meet halfway. We call that neutral ground. Maybe there's a diner, maybe it's the middle of nowhere. Guess we'll find out.
[Julian gives him a street name. Not his exact location, because that would feel weird for both of them, but it gives Frank some idea of what part of town Julian lives in and operates in, which is vital to getting some trust established so this can work.]
Let me know what you think would be a good meeting spot halfway between here and wherever you are.
[ There's a lot of options, but obviously the safest and more "neutral" ground is anywhere where they're not alone. Where anyone might overhear a conversation regarding religion or cops and think nothing of it. Yanno, like an IHOP on a Sunday. He tags the location and sends it back with not much else to say other than "Sunday, noon". They've got a couple of days and that's giving Frank another chance to wrap his head around everything.
And meeting Julian Concord.
There's no vision of him in his head, more of an unmolded figure with a tight posture (only constructed because of the way he talks, merciful but direct). He doesn't know what to expect but what Frank has to prepare for is this being a long con. No matter how generous, kind, and honest this man may be, there are much more terrible things people can do with a tighter smile. At least he has those of days to think about it...
And come Sunday, he's actually rather unwound. The coffee is basic and he has a couple of his pancakes and a strip of bacon. It's all just a normal day for the guy who had to resort to only one gun in a concealed holster, black coat thrown over the back of his seat. It was just a waiting game now and every time the door opens, he flicks his eyes up. Not trying to seem to eager to guess who Julian is going to be. ]
[Julian counts himself as blessed that his congregation holds services on Saturday night, so he doesn't have any scheduling conflict with Frank on Sunday. He sends Frank a text to let him know that he'll be wearing a tan blazer, so Frank can actually identify him at a glance, given the level of anxiety the other man seems to operate at.
He arrives two minutes early, because of course he does, hair still partially drying from the shower he took earlier in an attempt to wrangle his curls under control, still smelling faintly of oranges from his bodywash. His clothes are clean and his shoes are well-worn from having walked around town more than having had access to transport, his eyes bright and focused, face just neutral enough to not let anyone in on what he's thinking. Still, a genuine smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he spots someone who can only be Frank - the sustained eye contact when Frank looks up is a giveaway, and honestly, this is in fact what Julian thought Frank would look like.]
(con't. i am once again dragging you into my overflow. )
[ That one gets him more than "boyfriend". The one that makes him sit up in anticipation. Something more official than a title you could give to anyone, really. The smile is faint but doesn't fade. Now is a good time to busy himself getting food warmed up and checking on the dogs for the night.
It's all a big distraction. The only thing left is to unlock the door and tell Steven he can let himself in, so easily done he's then left just leaning against his own little kitchen counter.
[It says a lot that when Steven is upset the first person he thought to seek out was Frank. The unexpected news that he may have to leave the country for a little while has annoyed Steven, once again left in the dark by Marc's intentions, and he's frustrated. The man simply can't let Steven live his life in peace for one month before trying to uproot everything.
Maybe he's feeling a tad bit dramatic but whatever the case, he's happy to seek shelter and comfort with Frank for the evening. A part of him is also feeling petty glee at the thought because he knows Marc will hate it.
He arrives at Frank's apartment soon after, looking a bit disheveled as always, though that's just Steven, isn't it?]
Hiya, I'm home. [He calls out as if he lives here, automatically kicking off his shoes and sliding his work bag onto the floor. When did he get so comfortable being around Frank's space like this?]
[ Oh, he could get used to that. It brings in the biggest breath he can hold to savor the same air as those words. Frank shoves from the counter he was still helplessly stuck on, lost in this thoughts. It's difficult not to rush out and wrap Steven up in a hug - but Frank doesn't feel like stopping himself. And Steven feels do small and fragile against his chest once he does, kissing the top of his hair, his messy hair.
There's muffled excitement from the patio where the dogs watch their new friend arrive. Frank smirks and leans back enough to find Steven's face, brushing a few strands from his eyes. ]
Need a shower or anything? I think you'd be pretty cozy in a big shirt of mine. Just sayin'... I also think you'd look preeeeetty great.
[ Way to get the ball rolling. But Frank is eager to make Steven comfortable, happy, and his. ]
[He's immediately smiling once Frank rounds up to the door and pulls him into an embrace, his own arms coming around Frank's middle to hold him. This is much nicer than going home to an empty flat every evening, and he knows he could get so easily used to it if allowed. The open affection is sorely needed.
Still smiling, he looks up at Frank with a raised brow at that suggestion, though he's clearly not against it.]
A shower would be nice. Do I get pants with that offer too or am I walking around half naked tonight?
[Steven lets out an amused breath before leaning up enough to kiss Frank sweetly on the lips (something he's still getting used to doing without hesitation). When he pulls back his attention clearly moves to the patio, expression softening.]
Do I get to say hello first or will that just get them even more excited?
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Fuckin' right...
[ Sure, he knows better. There's some sort of respect or bond among killers like them. It's dirty and low to get someone when they can't defend themselves, but never unfair. The only judge Frank figures is going to look down on anyone is the one that probably sits on Marc's shoulder 24/7 and pulling the reigns. Still, he can't help but tense and watch the man from the corner of his eye. They're both a little slow to react. What's wrong with you, Spector? ]
Listen, only thing good about freezing temperatures is slowing blood flow for shit like this. I don't gotta tell you with the adrenaline, I'm fuckin' exhausted. Second I loosen this, I...
[ He doesn't want to ask for help, but even the Punisher knows when to drop the act. It's Frank now. Frank Castle. A man with very few options. One of them can survive on their own but for how long? As much as he hates to fuckin' admit it, they have to work together. Be a team. ]
... I need you to put both hands over the wound and keep 'em there until I can get this thing off. Can you handle that, Marine?
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Marc opts to get rid of the mask covering his face, the armored cloth slipping away like nothing and exposing his head to the elements. In truth, he's finding it more difficult to breathe deeply, and this helps. Still, his expression is hardened and steady as he regards Frank, ignoring the depth of the dank cave in his peripheral.]
Yeah, yeah, I know. [Marc still isn't sure if being a marine has helped gain at least a little respect in Castle's eyes, but they have more in common than either wants to admit. He scoots up closer, finding the source of the bleeding and pressing both hands onto it hard, not letting up despite how much it likely hurts.] I told you you should've grabbed a chute before that mess. You never listen to me.
[Not the time to argue about this shit but Marc can't help himself.]
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Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, I'm sorry, Marc, not you, but fuck you...
[ He growls and laughs, it's completely manic. An animal caught in a bear trap that is fighting through the pain. Twisting away he drags the survival pack from around him and hastily takes out a roll of gauze, wrapping an impossibly long bundle around his trembling fingers before pulling it off. He turns to look up at Marc, somehow caught off guard like he's seeing his face within the suit for the first time. Not this close and being helpful. ]
Alright, Marine. You didn't kill me. Awesome. You got a few seconds. Shirt up, put this against the wound, wrap as fast as you can. Then when I catch my breath I'm gonna fuckin' strangle you...
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He hasn't dealt with wounds like this in a long time - the benefit of being so stab-proof with Khonshu's help - but he's remembering vividly of what it was like when he was still in service. Good thing Frank has a pack readily available, and Marc doesn't argue when he gets some orders, as much as it's killing him not to tell Frank to shut up. The man is this close to bleeding out, after all.
He carefully lifts Frank's shirt up, peeling it away from the sticky blood and wound before taking over with the gauze. He's had to wrap up others before, in and out of his time with the marines, and seems to get the tape around Frank with practiced swiftness. He makes sure it's tight enough before tying off the end, moments later sitting back on his haunches, palms covered in blood.]
We should clean that when we can or you'll get an infection. [But for now at least the flow has been dealt with. Marc can't help but raise a brow over at Frank, a little taunting:] Waiting for that strangling now, I'm ready.
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Yeah, yeah, in a minute, will you? Infection be fucked, I'm headed in further...
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( I don't even know why *I* said Brooklyn? It was late. )
haha it's all good, i'm cool hand waving it as marc just being a distrusting ass
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( whoops, he's a stupid dime-flippy mess. )
comes with the territory~
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You sure? Here I was hoping to scrape you off the pavement.
So no juicy details on that or did you have a bad date?
[ He's still lingering nearby, somewhere, stalled. ]
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[He thinks that sounds fair.]
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Hey, I'm lookin' for some guy. About five-nine, couldn't smile to save his life, sometimes runs around in a mummy costume?
( ; for justneedsomehelp )
[ It's the black car with the front bumper installed. Possibly an illegal installation. Possibly a stolen and reconfigured cop car judging by the scanner still hooked up. Frank doesn't lay on the horn when he honks, and he sits back to stare up at the entire hotel. How the hell does someone just wind up here? With a sigh he shoves the passenger car door open. ]
Fuckin' guys with the gods in their heads, man...
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[Oh, Steven heard that little utterance as he slips into the car... just grateful to be hopefully getting as far away from this creepy area as possible.]
And he was supposed to be gone, to be fair. But he is a sneaky old pigeon.
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You look like you're in one piece. How the hell, Steven...?
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[He looks himself over before he gives a shrug of his shoulders.]
Oh-- were you worried?
[He actually looks a bit-- guilty. He didn't mean to worry anyone. He's not-- used to many people fretting after him really.]
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Yeah... And you don't remember a damn thing?
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; for spktr.
Oh, I'm ready for you to talk my ear off.
[ Until I know when to shut you up. He could calm down, let it all wash over him, and expect the worst to happen. Well, if Marc had the audacity to slip in unannounced, he was just asking for trouble. What left was there except letting the adrenaline and vodka curl back around his better judgment. Aha, no more photos, you're gonna kill him. ]
Hey, uh. I'll see you then.
Just lemme know when I should head out yeah?
G'nite, little moon.
[ . . . ]
[ He does his usual that following day, sitting rooftop and scanning the streets. It's boring but he finds it's necessary, as well as passes the time. Tabs kept on Steven are to say good morning, see him later, but his mind shuts off for hours. There's no plans. A walk, dress down, be fuckin' normal. Be a proper human being. He's just waiting for a command. ]
you mean the BEST attempt
Well, he's meant to be fearless, isn't he?
He bids Frank good night and has a fitful sleep, unable to shut his mind off, but what else is new? Marc continues trying to prod and pry in the morning, asking Steven why he seems so nervous, but Steven does his best to reassure him that he's just fine. He needs a day to himself. Part of him feels guilty for it but Marc does eventually leave him be, withdrawing into himself, and Steven feels... bad. He'll tell him later, after he's already done the thing to make the other mad.
Steven has a modest job in a lesser known gallery near the heart of the city, but he actually enjoys it. It's honest work and that's been the most important thing to Steven, who refuses to use Marc's blood money for things like rent and food. It's never felt right to him. His colleagues are much nicer here too and don't mind his oddities. Apparently he's "quirky" in New York - something about his accent and general disheveled nature seemingly working for the underground art world. He'll take it.
He's understandably distracted all evening though and he's kicking himself for saying they shouldn't meet until after work. Frank hasn't been as responsive today and Steven's been busy tending to visitors, so by the time he's ready to leave, his nerves are at an all time high. He picks up his phone, shooting Frank a message and trying not to second guess everything:]
I'm off in 10... are you still coming round?
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If anything, the button-up with the sleeves rolled up - he's decided he actually looks approachable. Frank picks at the white shirt clinging to his chest and growls, and takes it back. You'll never be that approachable. I just look like Marc. ]
Yeah, on my way. Figured we walk if it's not too far?
And it's nice out
Aaaaand I dressed nice...
[ Feels like such a non-masculine thing to say but you'd be surprised by the guy who surrounds himself with guns and violence. And his version of tender. Come on, he's the guy who got the girl! Got everything! Still a soft, caged heart in there. There's just been no key for a long time, so it's time he brought out the spare.
Poetic, eh? ]
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You mean you put on something without blood splatter?
Frank, I'm flattered :)
[It's easier to tease anyway and as Steven gathers his things to meet Frank outside, he also makes a quick pit stop to the restroom to check his hair isn't a complete mess, to splash some water on his face, and catch the look of judgment from the man in the mirror, whose arms are crossed and clearly skeptical of what's to come.]
It's fine, stop it with that look. It'll end up permanent. [Steven waves Marc off even though the man doesn't say much of anything as Steven hurries outside to wait for Frank on the sidewalk. He's a little fidgety and nervous but also quite excited to see him again.]
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; coffee_and_a_cult
Frank wasn't even being paid for all of this and he still needed to meet his "boss". ]
Can do. Send location and we can meet halfway.
We call that neutral ground.
Maybe there's a diner, maybe it's the middle of nowhere.
Guess we'll find out.
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Let me know what you think would be a good meeting spot halfway between here and wherever you are.
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And meeting Julian Concord.
There's no vision of him in his head, more of an unmolded figure with a tight posture (only constructed because of the way he talks, merciful but direct). He doesn't know what to expect but what Frank has to prepare for is this being a long con. No matter how generous, kind, and honest this man may be, there are much more terrible things people can do with a tighter smile. At least he has those of days to think about it...
And come Sunday, he's actually rather unwound. The coffee is basic and he has a couple of his pancakes and a strip of bacon. It's all just a normal day for the guy who had to resort to only one gun in a concealed holster, black coat thrown over the back of his seat. It was just a waiting game now and every time the door opens, he flicks his eyes up. Not trying to seem to eager to guess who Julian is going to be. ]
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He arrives two minutes early, because of course he does, hair still partially drying from the shower he took earlier in an attempt to wrangle his curls under control, still smelling faintly of oranges from his bodywash. His clothes are clean and his shoes are well-worn from having walked around town more than having had access to transport, his eyes bright and focused, face just neutral enough to not let anyone in on what he's thinking. Still, a genuine smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he spots someone who can only be Frank - the sustained eye contact when Frank looks up is a giveaway, and honestly, this is in fact what Julian thought Frank would look like.]
Frank? Hi. It's nice to see you.
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; spktr
It's all a big distraction. The only thing left is to unlock the door and tell Steven he can let himself in, so easily done he's then left just leaning against his own little kitchen counter.
Clueless. Dazed. Luv. ]
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Maybe he's feeling a tad bit dramatic but whatever the case, he's happy to seek shelter and comfort with Frank for the evening. A part of him is also feeling petty glee at the thought because he knows Marc will hate it.
He arrives at Frank's apartment soon after, looking a bit disheveled as always, though that's just Steven, isn't it?]
Hiya, I'm home. [He calls out as if he lives here, automatically kicking off his shoes and sliding his work bag onto the floor. When did he get so comfortable being around Frank's space like this?]
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There's muffled excitement from the patio where the dogs watch their new friend arrive. Frank smirks and leans back enough to find Steven's face, brushing a few strands from his eyes. ]
Need a shower or anything? I think you'd be pretty cozy in a big shirt of mine. Just sayin'... I also think you'd look preeeeetty great.
[ Way to get the ball rolling. But Frank is eager to make Steven comfortable, happy, and his. ]
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Still smiling, he looks up at Frank with a raised brow at that suggestion, though he's clearly not against it.]
A shower would be nice. Do I get pants with that offer too or am I walking around half naked tonight?
[Steven lets out an amused breath before leaning up enough to kiss Frank sweetly on the lips (something he's still getting used to doing without hesitation). When he pulls back his attention clearly moves to the patio, expression softening.]
Do I get to say hello first or will that just get them even more excited?
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