[Steven isn't sure what's happening until Frank's clunky phone is suddenly appearing in front of him, the glow of the screen so bright in the otherwise dark cave, though when he sees what's being shown to him his eyes light up, so to speak - as much as they can in his mask. The dogs are an adorable pair as Steven suspected, though he has a certain fondness for animals, especially rescues.]
Oh my days, look at 'em! [He can't help the immediate reaction, happily going through the photos with Frank and listen to the way he rambles on about both dogs. Steven doesn't even interrupt, just delighted to get his mind off of everything with something that Frank is clearly passionate about. He wonders if the man even realizes how much he's gushing about his own pets or if he just can't help himself. Either way, it's ridiculously sweet, unexpectedly soft. No one would believe him if he said this is how he spent his weekend.]
It's sweet you took them in rather than left them to their fates. [Steven glances over to Frank then, despite how close they are, eyes glowing and unnatural but his voice is sincere.] Doubt they'll ever forget your kindness, after everything the poor lads have been through.
[ He can feel those eyes on him in the end, and they feel so impossibly Steven's. Free of judgement or pettiness, nothing awful for the man to say. Frank still can't meet them, instead swiping back and forth through his phone. Even if they're the same photos, even if he's mumbling to himself now, almost breathless. There's few things he has to go home to or fight for, as pathetic as it sounds when it's dogs, but that's where his life wound up. ]
Yeah... I gotta look into a real apartment then. Might put me on the map though, but I guess an actual neighborhood with numbers on the doors is a step up, huh? Guess if I get out of here... [ He clears his throat. ] "When" I get out of here, fine.
[ Finally he dares to look at Steven from the corner of his eyes, head slowly turning to meet his. All he's expecting is to be smirked out or playfully shoved around, but he knows Steven better than that. The man is soft, small, and unfortunately fits perfectly in the hollow of Frank Castle that can allow those things in his life. His smile is thin, unsure, and he gives Steven's forearm a small squeeze. ]
Guess I'm thankful you treat me the way I treat them. Patience and all...
[Steven would argue that having loving pets to come home to is a most worthy thing to fight for, and if Frank is willing to let these animals into his life, it means a part of him still wants to lay roots. It's sweet and shows a humane side of him that many don't get to see, one that Steven has been clinging to in the bits and pieces he's been privy to. There is so much more to him than the man who runs around dealing justice by his own hand (or gun).]
Oh, we're getting out of here. I'm not letting us die out here either when you've got these cuties to get home to... and we have our fish.
[There is a moment of hesitance before Steven appears to make up his mind about something and the smooth mask of his suit slips away seemingly into nothingness, taking the glow of its eyes with it, but Frank's phone currently makes up for that. It's chillier and darker than he anticipated but he doesn't care, the rest of his body warm, wanting to offer Frank an actual smile versus a hidden one. He shares the same face as Marc and yet he is so clearly different, his features softer, his eyes a little warmer than Marc's probably ever looked at Frank.]
I think I've had a lot of practice handling Marc which has helped. [A tease, yet also quite true.] You haven't really given me reason to run in the opposite direction quite yet.
[ Frank hates himself for knowing the difference, further complicating how he should be looking at one person and instead feels greatly different things toward two parts of them. From tones in text to just seeing the slightest shift in Marc's posture telling him he's wrestling with something more sympathetic, merciful than him (either of them). It's those naïve eyes now that run him into silence, remind Frank of just how human Steven lets him be... without judgment.
Like this. God, he hates himself for it. It's just fucking nice to let his guard down. Steven has to deal with Marc on a more than personal level. If they're anything alike, that definitely does mean that Steven has all the practice in the world, the patient, and the confidence. Enough of it to take over in this situation and not panic.
No, Marc, you didn't panic. I get it. His phone's light dims and it draws him away from staring. Shit, it hurts to care. Not as much as being gutted like a fish by a splintered log, but - ]
Yeah? The whole... "murder" thing doesn't turn you off only because you've got a friend who does the same. Or relatively similar. Marc is pretty quick about it, doesn't play with his food, so to speak. Sometimes you need answers but he doesn't.
[ There's a sly smile, the only hint that he's trying to make Steven uncomfortable on purpose. Hot and cold, remember? Like purposefully driving enough space between them to keep the other man on his toes, or just far enough that Frank doesn't have to worry about him. Too fuckin' late. He looks up, still hoping to catch that warmth of Steven's eyes even in the total darkness. ]
I offered to teach you how to fight... god forbid, defend yourself...
[Frank is just about the last person Steven would have expected feeling any sense of fondness for, given the nature of his vigilantism and the way their views clash so drastically. Part of it has to do with Marc's consistent interactions with the man bleeding into Steven's life as well, but he's come to appreciate the fact that Frank isn't as one-track minded as he anticipated. He thought it would be difficult to get to know the man beneath the layers of armor and tough skin, but Frank's been willing to share bits and pieces of himself too.
The close proximity and life-or-death survival situation is also accelerating certain unexpected feelings. As his eyes adjust to the darkness, he catches Frank's smile, cheeky as it may be, and he shakes his head as if in mock disbelief.]
You don't only "murder" because you get some sick pleasure out of it, I know that much. You're not exactly Ted Bundy, are you? [Steven isn't sure why he's trying to justify any of this though. Perhaps some part of him feels better knowing that Frank has a good heart, as if there is no other way they could realistically be friends.
He shifts subtly in his seat, the stone floor of the cave as cold and uncomfortable as ever, but the points where their bodies meet are warm, and he holds onto that fact. He feels like he can breathe better without the mask on though he isn't certain how long he'll last with the chill. Still, his maskless state also allows him to feel Frank's breath on his neck and jaw when he talks.]
I can defend myself better than you think, Frank. The suit... helps. So does Marc. [His memories, anyway. Still, Steven tips his head to glance over at Frank again, a hint of interest in his voice:] I'd be curious what you can teach me.
If Marc's taught you anything, I refuse to believe he did that directly. See, at least I could get you in a ring or actually in a gym, huh? Then you'd really hate me.
[ But if anyone could teach Steven how to defend himself properly, to kill as a last resort, the man whose body count was confidential under the country's own military was probably the guy you'd call on. And a part of him wanted to push that for the both of them. He'd seen Marc get his shit rocked once or twice and that was only because it came with the territory.
If one day Marc slipped away, for some reason, leaving Mr. Knight without a clue - Frank suddenly laughs, just still caught up on the Ted Bundy comment with all of this, but it quickly devolves into a short, hard coughing fit. He turns away, one hand planted on the cave floor. Frank tastes metal in his mouth and spits, dragging in a breath. There's no hiding that, but he still tries to play it... cool. ]
[The idea of sparring with Frank in a more formal setting should probably be a bad idea but Steven is more intrigued than he thought, wondering what it would be like. To be honest, he could definitely use more formal training, especially if Khonshu will not be letting Marc go any time soon. He's avoided it thus far, mainly because the vigilante lifestyle isn't his priority, but he's come to accept that it's part of his life now... unwittingly or otherwise.]
I might be willing to try... Though you're not allowed to make fun of my form. It's nonexistent.
[He's still smiling as Frank laughs so unexpectedly, the sound reverberating louder off the walls, though moments later it sounds like he's hacking up a lung - not good. Steven can't quite ignore that, turning just a bit in his arms out of concern.]
Oi, you alright? [It's instinct to ask, worry clear in his voice.] Your breathing doesn't sound great, Frank...
[ It's a lot of things. He's fucking lucky beyond belief he didn't puncture a lung, or get speared halfway down a great pine like a hunk of meat on a skewer; lucky he was stubborn son of a bitch with a vindictive, competitive heart. Lucky he felt that these days, he really did have something to fight for. But unfortunate accidents like these don't choose between the saints and the sinners. It's probably the stress, something else knocked around inside of him. Frank wipes his mouth on the back of his glove and sits back, staring up at nothing again.
Anything but Steven. ]
L-listen. You can hear the wind dyin', right? Remember what I told you...? It's gonna be fine. Hell, I'd go to the ER at this point if you asked nicely...
[It is in Steven's nature to worry so of course he's going to be concerned when Frank sounds like his breathing is rattled, especially with the cold and injury combined. Steven isn't the one who witnessed the worst of the blood as Marc helped bandage him up, but he can guess how bad it is based on Frank's voice, his body language, and the way he blames all of this on the cold. Steven can read between the lines.
Steven knows he won't die, that Khonshu would never let this body go to waste, but the old god wouldn't hesitate to let them leave Castle behind.]
I think you're not going to have much of a choice there. Unless you know a nurse who works exclusively on vigilante maniacs. [He sighs out hard, trying to keep his cool, turning a little more in Frank's arms until he can grab the phone to light it up and shine it toward Frank's body, needing to see if any of the blood has seeped through further.]
[ He can't stop him. Frank runs a hand under the armor to cover where fresh blood sticks tattered cloth to burning skin. The bandage and the compression had been enough but it was still a puncture wound. Something that should have killed him on the spot.
Instead, it was an easily-settled infection. Something that probably thrived on any form of heat out here, waiting for the chance to leap to the next passing body. Now it was taking its chance to blossom as these two fuckin' cuddled. It's obvious he's still bleeding even if he tries to hide it; even if it's not enough to kill him on the spot or any time soon. Frank feels caught. He grumbles. ]
[Stubborn, stubborn man. Steven knows they couldn't do much up until this point with a storm raging outside but he feels like it will be worse for Frank if they linger here, cold or not. Of course the light shines on the wound and Steven's frowning at the sight of so much blood against stark white, wondering how the hell Frank is even conscious still.]
Please, I don't think we should stay here even a half hour longer. [He isn't sure if Frank can see the clear worry across his features, but it's definitely there, and Steven doesn't want to sit by and get cozy when Frank could slowly bleed into a horrible, painful death.]
You need proper care. Something not in a dingy, dark cave. [Placing a hand on Frank's shoulder, he gives it a firm squeeze.] If we get back outside, Marc can come back and- and maybe he can get you to safety faster... [with Khonshu's help.]
[ It's his first slip into acceptance of his fate. Not to die in a cave but to be dragged from it, worse for wear. While Frank needed Steven to talk him through the worst of it, they both need Marc right now. As if he'll ever say it out loud! He winces as he sits forward, pulling a leg in to begin the long, painful journey of getting back on his feet. A hand comes down on Steven's shoulder, pulling him in close. For a moment, their foreheads are together, Frank letting out a jagged breath.
There's a lot he wants to say to make sure Steven knows he trusts him. All he can do is stare, and then keep pushing through the pain. It feels like something rolls and adjusts inside of him, and between ragged breathing and grunting, there's the soft splatter of blood on rocks. ]
[Steven is well aware of his own limitations and will not deny that Marc is skilled in some things better than him, and vice versa. That's why they work better as a pair. Right now, Frank needs someone who can assure him safe travels back into society, back somewhere he can get treatment. God, if Steven could give some of their healing abilities to Frank in a split second, to make sure he'll be okay, he would.
Foreheads touch and for a split second Steven is knocked into surprise, a solitary beat of silence that leads into the reality of movement. He doesn't say anything, not until he gets on his feet and offers Frank an arm up to stand, not liking the sound of his breathing.]
Right, then. [Just like that, his mask returns, the glow of his eyes bright in the darkness, and Steven can see so much better.] Maybe I should lead the way this time, mate.
[He encourages Frank to hold onto his shoulder if need be, determined to get them out of here in one piece.]
[ The Moon system was stronger than they looked, and probably thanks to the suit's help. He couldn't imagine Steven in plain clothes dragging him along like this. Frank's arm is heavy around him, relying half his weight to Steven and, subsequently, Marc. With that bit of thawing out they've done, he at least doesn't feel half dead. Now he feels warmed over... and half-dead. Eyes on the ground, just keep going forward.
He can hear the outside, the worst of the storm having passed. Frank fumbles for one of the flares in his utility belt, giving it to Steven just in case. It feels like a mile, two miles, quickly passing under him as he's forced to stay conscious. Steven's got this, little hero that he is. ]
Y-you're a good guy, Steven Grant...
[ At the mouth of the cave - all he sees is white. The rest slips away. ]
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Oh my days, look at 'em! [He can't help the immediate reaction, happily going through the photos with Frank and listen to the way he rambles on about both dogs. Steven doesn't even interrupt, just delighted to get his mind off of everything with something that Frank is clearly passionate about. He wonders if the man even realizes how much he's gushing about his own pets or if he just can't help himself. Either way, it's ridiculously sweet, unexpectedly soft. No one would believe him if he said this is how he spent his weekend.]
It's sweet you took them in rather than left them to their fates. [Steven glances over to Frank then, despite how close they are, eyes glowing and unnatural but his voice is sincere.] Doubt they'll ever forget your kindness, after everything the poor lads have been through.
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Yeah... I gotta look into a real apartment then. Might put me on the map though, but I guess an actual neighborhood with numbers on the doors is a step up, huh? Guess if I get out of here... [ He clears his throat. ] "When" I get out of here, fine.
[ Finally he dares to look at Steven from the corner of his eyes, head slowly turning to meet his. All he's expecting is to be smirked out or playfully shoved around, but he knows Steven better than that. The man is soft, small, and unfortunately fits perfectly in the hollow of Frank Castle that can allow those things in his life. His smile is thin, unsure, and he gives Steven's forearm a small squeeze. ]
Guess I'm thankful you treat me the way I treat them. Patience and all...
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Oh, we're getting out of here. I'm not letting us die out here either when you've got these cuties to get home to... and we have our fish.
[There is a moment of hesitance before Steven appears to make up his mind about something and the smooth mask of his suit slips away seemingly into nothingness, taking the glow of its eyes with it, but Frank's phone currently makes up for that. It's chillier and darker than he anticipated but he doesn't care, the rest of his body warm, wanting to offer Frank an actual smile versus a hidden one. He shares the same face as Marc and yet he is so clearly different, his features softer, his eyes a little warmer than Marc's probably ever looked at Frank.]
I think I've had a lot of practice handling Marc which has helped. [A tease, yet also quite true.] You haven't really given me reason to run in the opposite direction quite yet.
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Like this. God, he hates himself for it. It's just fucking nice to let his guard down. Steven has to deal with Marc on a more than personal level. If they're anything alike, that definitely does mean that Steven has all the practice in the world, the patient, and the confidence. Enough of it to take over in this situation and not panic.
No, Marc, you didn't panic. I get it. His phone's light dims and it draws him away from staring. Shit, it hurts to care. Not as much as being gutted like a fish by a splintered log, but - ]
Yeah? The whole... "murder" thing doesn't turn you off only because you've got a friend who does the same. Or relatively similar. Marc is pretty quick about it, doesn't play with his food, so to speak. Sometimes you need answers but he doesn't.
[ There's a sly smile, the only hint that he's trying to make Steven uncomfortable on purpose. Hot and cold, remember? Like purposefully driving enough space between them to keep the other man on his toes, or just far enough that Frank doesn't have to worry about him. Too fuckin' late. He looks up, still hoping to catch that warmth of Steven's eyes even in the total darkness. ]
I offered to teach you how to fight... god forbid, defend yourself...
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The close proximity and life-or-death survival situation is also accelerating certain unexpected feelings. As his eyes adjust to the darkness, he catches Frank's smile, cheeky as it may be, and he shakes his head as if in mock disbelief.]
You don't only "murder" because you get some sick pleasure out of it, I know that much. You're not exactly Ted Bundy, are you? [Steven isn't sure why he's trying to justify any of this though. Perhaps some part of him feels better knowing that Frank has a good heart, as if there is no other way they could realistically be friends.
He shifts subtly in his seat, the stone floor of the cave as cold and uncomfortable as ever, but the points where their bodies meet are warm, and he holds onto that fact. He feels like he can breathe better without the mask on though he isn't certain how long he'll last with the chill. Still, his maskless state also allows him to feel Frank's breath on his neck and jaw when he talks.]
I can defend myself better than you think, Frank. The suit... helps. So does Marc. [His memories, anyway. Still, Steven tips his head to glance over at Frank again, a hint of interest in his voice:] I'd be curious what you can teach me.
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[ But if anyone could teach Steven how to defend himself properly, to kill as a last resort, the man whose body count was confidential under the country's own military was probably the guy you'd call on. And a part of him wanted to push that for the both of them. He'd seen Marc get his shit rocked once or twice and that was only because it came with the territory.
If one day Marc slipped away, for some reason, leaving Mr. Knight without a clue - Frank suddenly laughs, just still caught up on the Ted Bundy comment with all of this, but it quickly devolves into a short, hard coughing fit. He turns away, one hand planted on the cave floor. Frank tastes metal in his mouth and spits, dragging in a breath. There's no hiding that, but he still tries to play it... cool. ]
S-someone's gotta save my ass too out there.
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I might be willing to try... Though you're not allowed to make fun of my form. It's nonexistent.
[He's still smiling as Frank laughs so unexpectedly, the sound reverberating louder off the walls, though moments later it sounds like he's hacking up a lung - not good. Steven can't quite ignore that, turning just a bit in his arms out of concern.]
Oi, you alright? [It's instinct to ask, worry clear in his voice.] Your breathing doesn't sound great, Frank...
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[ It's a lot of things. He's fucking lucky beyond belief he didn't puncture a lung, or get speared halfway down a great pine like a hunk of meat on a skewer; lucky he was stubborn son of a bitch with a vindictive, competitive heart. Lucky he felt that these days, he really did have something to fight for. But unfortunate accidents like these don't choose between the saints and the sinners. It's probably the stress, something else knocked around inside of him. Frank wipes his mouth on the back of his glove and sits back, staring up at nothing again.
Anything but Steven. ]
L-listen. You can hear the wind dyin', right? Remember what I told you...? It's gonna be fine. Hell, I'd go to the ER at this point if you asked nicely...
no subject
Steven knows he won't die, that Khonshu would never let this body go to waste, but the old god wouldn't hesitate to let them leave Castle behind.]
I think you're not going to have much of a choice there. Unless you know a nurse who works exclusively on vigilante maniacs. [He sighs out hard, trying to keep his cool, turning a little more in Frank's arms until he can grab the phone to light it up and shine it toward Frank's body, needing to see if any of the blood has seeped through further.]
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[ He can't stop him. Frank runs a hand under the armor to cover where fresh blood sticks tattered cloth to burning skin. The bandage and the compression had been enough but it was still a puncture wound. Something that should have killed him on the spot.
Instead, it was an easily-settled infection. Something that probably thrived on any form of heat out here, waiting for the chance to leap to the next passing body. Now it was taking its chance to blossom as these two fuckin' cuddled. It's obvious he's still bleeding even if he tries to hide it; even if it's not enough to kill him on the spot or any time soon. Frank feels caught. He grumbles. ]
I'm fine. We're almost... out of here.
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Please, I don't think we should stay here even a half hour longer. [He isn't sure if Frank can see the clear worry across his features, but it's definitely there, and Steven doesn't want to sit by and get cozy when Frank could slowly bleed into a horrible, painful death.]
You need proper care. Something not in a dingy, dark cave. [Placing a hand on Frank's shoulder, he gives it a firm squeeze.] If we get back outside, Marc can come back and- and maybe he can get you to safety faster... [with Khonshu's help.]
no subject
[ It's his first slip into acceptance of his fate. Not to die in a cave but to be dragged from it, worse for wear. While Frank needed Steven to talk him through the worst of it, they both need Marc right now. As if he'll ever say it out loud! He winces as he sits forward, pulling a leg in to begin the long, painful journey of getting back on his feet. A hand comes down on Steven's shoulder, pulling him in close. For a moment, their foreheads are together, Frank letting out a jagged breath.
There's a lot he wants to say to make sure Steven knows he trusts him. All he can do is stare, and then keep pushing through the pain. It feels like something rolls and adjusts inside of him, and between ragged breathing and grunting, there's the soft splatter of blood on rocks. ]
C-come on then. Let's get the fuck out...
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Foreheads touch and for a split second Steven is knocked into surprise, a solitary beat of silence that leads into the reality of movement. He doesn't say anything, not until he gets on his feet and offers Frank an arm up to stand, not liking the sound of his breathing.]
Right, then. [Just like that, his mask returns, the glow of his eyes bright in the darkness, and Steven can see so much better.] Maybe I should lead the way this time, mate.
[He encourages Frank to hold onto his shoulder if need be, determined to get them out of here in one piece.]
no subject
He can hear the outside, the worst of the storm having passed. Frank fumbles for one of the flares in his utility belt, giving it to Steven just in case. It feels like a mile, two miles, quickly passing under him as he's forced to stay conscious. Steven's got this, little hero that he is. ]
Y-you're a good guy, Steven Grant...
[ At the mouth of the cave - all he sees is white. The rest slips away. ]