[Fanfic] Cursed

[shuufleur93]

Title: Cursed
Fandom: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV)
Word count: 8122
Type: OS
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Micro Cameo, Curtis Cameo, Angst, Happy Ending, Introspection, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Getting Together
Summary:

In a world where you find your soulmate by seeing colors after you touch them, Frank has to come to terms with the identity of his own soulmate.

Notes: Fill for the square WILD CARD, for which I chose Soulmate AU, of my What if AU card & for the prompt Red of the 100 Ships Challenge table. This fic is also an answer to a (very) old prompt from the DaredevilKinkMeme that you can find here.
AO3 Link: Cursed.

Nighttime, on a rooftop. His unsuspecting target in sight and the devil on his shoulder.

“Leave me the fuck alone!” Frank growled.

“No.”

Frank turned to Daredevil and aimed his gun at him.

“Come closer and I’ll shoot you. I won’t hesitate.”

The other vigilante smirked, irritating Frank even more, and continued to walk.

“Will you be fast enough?”

That was the only warning before Daredevil threw one of his sticks and knocked the gun off Frank’s hand. With a shout, he charged Daredevil, his punch ready. The other man dodged the first couple of punches, but even he couldn’t avoid Frank’s rage.

His fist connected on Daredevil’s cheek in a satisfying slap. Several things happened all at once: an electric shock surged from his hand, goosebumps ran through his arm, a sudden pressure squeezed his eyes. It was only for a moment but so intense he had to close them, hoping Daredevil wouldn’t try to sneak an attack on him. When everything abated, he finally opened his eyes and was struck by how vastly different the world looked with colors.

Shocked by the sudden assault, it distracted Frank long enough for Daredevil to kick him in the chest. He fell disgracefully with a grunt. He used this momentum to roll back and face the other vigilante.

Breathless, not just from the kick, Frank had to take stock in what he was now seeing, his mind and his heart going wild with surprise and a touch of dread. He had trouble realizing that there were so many different shades of colors, some he had never imagined before. One reassuring thing though was that he could tell it was night as the sky was dark, the clouds passing lazily above them, illuminated by all the lights offered by the city.

“Are you already giving up, Frank? Didn’t think you had it in you,” Daredevil taunted.

Frank’s eyes snapped back at the other man, his breathing accelerating at the thought of what all this meant to him, for them. He was now seeing colors, and it only happened after he punched Daredevil’s face.

He looked at his hand, fascinated by the splatter of blood on his knuckles (red) and looked back at Daredevil. He couldn’t really repress the smirk; if he’d thought the little horns were corny as hell before, now they looked even more ridiculous, especially in red with the red suit.

“Frank? Did I finally break you?”

Frank snorted. He recognized a dare when he heard one.

“When are you gonna learn that I don’t get tired?”

The other man scoffed but smiled smugly. His teeth gleamed in the night. The lamppost light shining from behind him expanded his shadow, making his horned mask scarier than it was. At that moment, Red might have been the Devil himself and Frank couldn’t find anything wrong with that.

Dammit. His fucking dumb luck struck again. Figured the only guy in town who was such a pain in his ass turned out to be his soulmate. God, Fate, or whatever other dick upstairs or downstairs thought they would be a perfect match when the only thing they seemed to agree on was to find ways to beat each other up. On that point, they were perfect for each other. Frank was going to say something to that effect (see, we’re soulmates, how do you feel about that choirboy?) when he realized that Daredevil hadn’t reacted at all. He just waited for Frank to get up and fight again.

“Oh, good,” Daredevil sighed exaggeratedly when Frank stood up from his crouch, “you’re up.”

Before Frank could reply, though, Daredevil launched himself at him. The Punisher dodged at the last second, blocked the kick coming his way, turned around to try and catch the other man unaware, but he just knew and evaded his punch.

“Alright, that’s it,” Frank said suddenly before Daredevil could throw another punch or kick or do a gymnastic move, still thinking about the lack of reaction from the other man. “Why aren’t you saying anything? This is starting to get on my nerves.”

Daredevil had the nerve to look confused. Not surprised or even disgusted, just confused.

“Saying about what?”

Frank couldn’t let this monumental shift go without acknowledgement.

“Don’t fuck with me, Red! I know it also changed for you, stop actin’ stupid.”

Daredevil tilted his head as if he was trying to puzzle out what was happening.

“Red?”

Frank repressed a sigh. He hadn’t meant to say it, but the other man frustrated him so much.

“You’re fucking with me,” Frank replied, hoping it would lead Red away from the new nickname.

“I don’t understand what’s happening, Frank,” Red said slowly after he stopped listening to whatever he was listening.

Frank sneered, trying to hide how hurt he felt about this pretense.

“Damn, I didn’t know you were that great of an actor,” Frank replied, “You know what? You don’t have to be a dick about it, just say you don’t want to talk about it and it’s fine. I didn’t believe in this bullshit anyway.”

Red opened his mouth, probably to reply, but Frank didn’t have the patience to stay. What was the point? It wasn’t like he was going to say anything about the soulmate thing. 

“You know what, I’m done. You’ve won. I’m going home. You do your thing.”

“I don’t understand, Frank, can you explain?”

He seemed genuine but Frank had no patience. He got his gun back and left the rooftop they had shared for the night. Thankfully, Red didn’t follow him, which wasn’t uncommon; they fought but if one of them stepped away, the other didn’t usually pursue the other.

The new, overwhelming information put a new perspective on a few things he hadn’t wanted to admit to himself for the last few months.

Back in the streets, he found himself stopping to look at everything around him. Unsurprisingly, the sight of colors was almost overwhelming. Like everybody else, he learned the names of the colors at school, but he couldn’t tell which was which. You’d think that since a lot of folks lived in black and white all the time that the world would be dull.

Obviously, that was bullshit. Even in black and white, you noticed the nuances, the light and the shadows. It wasn’t dull, and with colors, it brought a new dimension to his vision. Daredevil came back to mind and Frank discarded the thought. He didn’t want to think about him tonight. But he couldn’t because everything was happening because of him.

Frank hated that. He had never paid attention to this soulmate stuff. Before meeting Maria, he didn’t care. When he had found Maria, his vision remained in black and white, but he never questioned for one second that she was his soulmate at the time. She completed him in ways others had never done before. She gave him two beautiful children, and he loved them to the death, and he knew they loved him to their death.

To him, love and romance was over when his family died. This new discovery made his heartbeat race at the possibilities, and the sickening hope it brought. Could he have found his soulmate after all this time, after everything he had done, and everything he will do? Could his soulmate be the fucking choirboy that didn’t let him kill scumbags in peace?

He couldn’t answer that. Not yet and maybe not ever. But there were things he could have answers to, and he knew one person who could help him.

---

He had never realized Micro had such a deep color of eyes. He couldn’t put a word to describe that hue. His house was still quite light, but a few spots of color were displayed.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Frank, what the hell!”

Micro gripped his shirt tightly, breathing deeply, while his other hand went for the knife on the kitchen island.

“You busy?” he asked, kind of enjoying having scared Micro like that, though trying to smother his expression in something more threatening.

“I guess I am now,” Micro replied, passing a hand in his hair. “Can’t you just... call me? Or better yet, text me instead of sneaking in my home where my wife and kids could see you?”

“I can’t.”

Micro stared, unimpressed, then sighed. He closed the jar of peanut butter and put his dirty spoon in the sink.

“Your wife knows you’re eating straight from the pot?”

Maybe he shouldn’t tease him, especially when he needed him to explain things to him, but he couldn’t help it.

“Shut it. Or I’ll tell her you’re visiting.”

Frank made a face but didn’t say anything more. He wasn’t taking the risk.

“Right,” Micro replied with a smirk. “I’m guessing you’re not going to elaborate, or even apologize for this interruption. Can we go outside, or are we in the ‘only inside’ kind of mood?”

Instead of replying, Frank went through the kitchen door.

In the back garden, the grass (green) was due for a trim if you listened to HOA, the toys of the children were scattered here and there as if they just left them. His eyes looked at everything hungrily, finding new ways of appreciating objects. He found himself drawn to the little scooter. He recognized the red colors on the sides, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember  the names of the other colors.

“What are the colors of the scooter?” he asked when he heard Micro’s footsteps.

“Why do you ask? Never mind,” the other man added after a few seconds of silence, “Red, green, and yellow. You’d think it’d be garish together, but it’s pretty OK. And apparently, scientists say it’s important for kids to see colors’... well, to see shades of colors. For later. I don’t know why. Don’t ask me. Honestly, I’m not sure it’s useful. It was a shock to see colors anyway—”

“Show me which are which.”

Micro stalled, frowned, his eyes now trained on Frank. He could almost see the wheels turning in Micro’s head, probably wondering why the sudden questions about colors above anything else.

“Is everything OK, Frank?”

“Just do it, Micro.”

To Frank’s relief, Micro thought that arguing with him right now wouldn’t be productive and went to fetch the toy scooter. He pointed at the different parts and listed the colors. As he did, Frank thought back at the fight with Daredevil, and the way he didn’t acknowledge it. It stung more than he had expected. It wasn’t like he was friends with the guy. The only thing in common they had was beating up bad guys and sometimes each other. Hell, even on that they didn’t agree most of the time.

Frank suddenly realized he couldn’t hear Micro’s voice anymore. The other man was staring at him again, a smudge of worry on his face.

“Frank, can you tell me what’s happening? What’s with the questions about colors?”

“’M just wondering how this stuff works,” Frank replied, scratching his face nonchalantly. “Maria and I never had them. I always assumed it was bullshit.”

“... ""But not anymore, right?”

Shit. As if the random questions about colors didn’t tip Micro off, he probably had just confirmed his theory. Why did he ask Micro? He was the man who found him even when he tried his hardest to stay hidden.

“Have you found your soulmate?” Micro asked softly, as if Frank was an animal he didn’t want to spook.

A wild animal, probably.

“No.”

But despite the negative answer, Micro didn’t seem convinced. Even worse, a smile started to grow on his face.

“Frank Castle, the Punisher, has found his soulmate.” Micro snorted and giggled.

And it wasn’t Maria, Frank thought bitterly. One of the only people he had truly loved.

“Who is it? Where did you meet? Did you know her? Is it... is it Karen? Because I didn’t think she’d go for a guy like you, she seemed much more attracted to that lawyer, Murdock, the blind one—”

“Do you know how this stuff works or not?” Frank interrupted.

“Well,” Micro started, squinting his eyes a little, “scientific explanation or a quick summary?” At Frank’s dark look, he smiled with contrition, “Right, quick summary. Of course. Well, first things first, the soulmate thing can be unrequited.”

Great. Either Red hadn’t seen the colors, or he ignored them. Frank wasn’t sure which version he preferred.

“It’s not an exact science but basically, a soulmate would be the perfect person for you at this point of time, but it doesn’t necessarily mean you would be the right person for them. Which is one of the reasons why some people prefer to stay with non-soulmate people.”

How ironic that fate or whatever else decided to pair off the killer and the choirboy. It suddenly became a lot clearer why Red had reacted like that. Maybe in this story, Frank’s soulmate was Daredevil, but it didn’t seem so far-fetched that he wasn’t his soulmate. He would be no one’s soulmate anymore.

“And well,” Micro waved his hand, “having a soulmate connection doesn’t necessarily mean you’re going to fall in love with each other as soon as you touch. Or ever. It’s just a sign that this person at that moment is the perfect person for you. They also say it might change over time.”

“Do the colors disappear if that person stops being the ‘perfect person’?”

Micro shrugged. “To be honest, I’ve never looked into it. I never wanted to know, actually.” He had a sheepish smile. “I had Sarah and I couldn’t imagine my life without her. I don’t know what happens when the supposed connection fades.”

So, he might lose the colors as well. He had only started seeing them in the last few hours, and at night, but he couldn’t imagine going back to that gray world.

“You and Sarah are soulmates and you stayed together all those years.”

Micro smiled softly at the mention of his wife. Frank felt a tiny spike of jealousy, but as usual he ignored it.

“Yes, because we were friends first, so when we touched, it was just... logical. We’ve had our ups and downs.” A pointed look at Frank. “But I think we’ve managed to be good to each other. Mostly. I don’t recommend faking your death. Or, again, if I were you. And I’m on the side of if you don’t want to get with your soulmate, don’t. It’s OK to love someone else.”

“Who’s talking about love?”

Micro raised his hands in innocence at Frank’s growl.

“It’s just strange you’re suddenly asking questions about soulmates, that’s all, there’s no judgment here. Are you... do you want to talk about it?”

Frank decided to ignore that question. Micro sighed, not trying to hide his annoyance.

“I know your shtick is to be a tough guy, but I think it’d be great if you had someone else in your corner. Curtis, Karen and I shouldn’t be the only people who don’t want to kill you and like to help from time to time.”

Frank looked at him, tempted to say the Punisher didn’t need friends or a romantic partner. Instead, he said, “Do you have any scumbags I can go after?”

It’d probably help him to stop thinking about Daredevil, soulmates and Maria.

Micro seemed to hesitate at first, but then nodded.

“I’ll get you a list.”

Frank went on the hunt as soon as he got it. The targets were the usual: pedophiles, drug dealers, and even one corrupted cop. Every time, he got to the next one in the list, he almost expected Red to show up, but he never did. Frank also tried to avoid Hell’s Kitchen if possible. Though, it never stopped Red from fucking up his shit often enough.

When he got to the end of the list, the sun was rising, and Frank had to stop and look. Quickly, he found a rooftop to witness the changing colors in the sky (blue); from dark to light with a side of a warmer tone, which he guessed was the sun’s (yellow). But the most impressive thing for Frank was the clouds. They seemed to pick up so many colors he couldn’t name them all, but he did recognize some of them; white, gray, and a shade darker than the sun.

For the first time in years, watching the sky filled him with peace instead of rage.

---

“Are you avoiding me?”

Frank aimed his gun at Daredevil’s chest as he jumped from his perch and landed behind him.

“Are you insane?”

Red tilted his head as he usually did, then replied, “I asked you a question first.”

Frank grunted and lowered his gun. Red might be annoying—and his soulmate—but he wasn’t a scumbag. The Punisher turned back to one of the guys he had tried to kill before the devil came in. He was going to finish the job when the horned bastard decided to intervene.

“You are avoiding me, Frank,” he said, posting himself between the gun muzzle and the wounded guy. It irritated Frank as usual, but he didn’t want to murder Red... yet.

“Did you miss me, Red? I didn’t think so. If you want an autograph and my picture, I can give it to you but you’re gonna have to wait.”

Another tilt of the head.

“You’re still calling me Red?”

Fuck.

“But to answer your question,” he continued, not missing a beat, “nah, I just find it suspicious. A silent Punisher is a scheming Punisher, and bodies tend to drop when it’s the case.”

Frank smirked. He liked hearing the tired but kind of impressed tone from Daredevil. It took quite a bit of work to get it.

“I don’t even bother going to Hell’s Kitchen anymore, you should be happy.”

Red’s lips twisted, the only sign he was annoyed. Now that he noticed his mouth, Frank couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like kissing those lips. Frank’s heart stutter with want and shame at the same time, quick and sudden. Fuck. What was he thinking? How could he do this to Maria?

“Frank? Are you OK?”

Jesus Christ on a cracker. Red and his supernatural powers always surprised him. He hated it when people read him like an open book, but Daredevil had a knack for always knowing when he was feeling different than usual, even when he kept a poker face.

“I’m fine,” he growled to close the conversation.

“Doesn’t sound like it,” Red replied with a sigh. “Look, I know we have our differences, but if there’s something I can help you with, I would help. Just no killing. As usual.”

He smirked, his white teeth gleaming in the dark. As Frank stayed silent, Daredevil decided to leave. The urge to make him stay hit Frank like a truck.  

“What do you think about this soulmate business?” he blurted, wincing already at the stupid question.

Red froze on his way out and looked back at Frank. Frank swallowed the instinct to clear his throat. He didn’t need Red to know how nervous he was. Frank fucking Castle, the Punisher, didn’t do nervous.

“What do you mean?” Daredevil asked when Frank didn’t continue.

“Do you even have a soulmate? Is that something that—” Frank gestured in the air vaguely to finish his sentence.

“That?”

He really wanted him to say it, hm? Frank debated with himself if he should continue this conversation. Maria appeared in his mind, her smile, her hair, her voice which he had started to forget. Guilt. Frank closed his fists from anger at himself. Why was he trying to find answers when it would lead nowhere and only taint Maria’s memory?

“Frank?”

Fuck it. He started it, he was going to finish it.

“Is that something that... you want or expect if you haven’t found her? Or him,” he added, remembering who his soulmate was.

Red opened his mouth, but no words came out at first.

“People have tried—” Red paused, resignation seeping through his words. “I mean, I don’t think I’ll find mine.”

Somehow, it hurt to hear that even though it shouldn’t. It shouldn’t matter whether Red acknowledged their new connection or not. It shouldn’t change anything for Frank (but it did).

“I don’t think a soulmate would dream of a life with a vigilante.” Daredevil continued, pensive, “It’s too chaotic, dangerous. I’d be scared for them, all the time.”

Frank had to smile. If a soulmate could hate Daredevil, what about him? Who would be happy to have the Punisher as a soulmate? Heroes and criminals alike hated him anyway. Even Red. Not that he minded too much. He chose this life.

Daredevil pressed his lips in a single line and stopped there. Frank was tempted to ask him to elaborate but decided against it.

“What about you? Since you’re asking the question, it’s only fair you answer it too.”

“Fair enough,” Frank replied, stroking his eyebrow, “Surprisingly, I’ve met my soulmate.”

Despite the mask, Red’s surprise was easy to read.

“You did? Was that... recent?”

“Somewhat.”

Daredevil breathed in and muttered, “It makes sense now,” then louder, “And? What do you think about your soulmate?”

Frank’s brain stuttered for a moment. He didn’t expect the question, or even prepare an answer.

“We’re very different,” he started to say, searching for the right words without admitting outright who he was talking about. “I’m not sure they’d want someone like me either. I’m too far gone because of the things I’ve done and the things I will do. They might want to change me, and I can’t let that happen. They’re too good, too different from me.”

“Did you even talk to them about it?”

Frank chuckled, “I may be a killer but I’m not a masochist. I know when I’m not wanted, and I’ll stay clear.”

“How do you even know they know you’re their soulmate?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Frank asked. “I mean, come on, Red, seeing colors for the first time is pretty intense, anyone would react to that.”

“Not everyone.”

Frank frowned. Not everyone? Was Red for real? Of course, everyone! Well, anyone who had no issues with their vision and could recognize the colors for what they were. Strange he should mention that when it had never crossed Frank’s mind.

Something else suddenly grabbed Red’s attention.  

“Not that this conversation isn’t interesting, but I have somewhere to go.”

A quick smile later, Daredevil was somersaulting his way back down. Frank walked to the edge of the rooftop and watched as the red suit darkened until it almost blended with the rest of the environment.

---

“Just so you know, it wasn’t my fault,” Micro said as an introduction.

Frank sighed deeply.

“What did you do?”

“Look, I didn’t know it would lead to him, right? I was just calibrating my gait detector, and you know this guy. He’s been hard to pin down so I kind of used him as my training material, I didn’t think I’d actually find him.”

“Continue,” Frank ordered already putting away the guns he had been cleaning. He wouldn’t have time to finish.

“Yes, well, let’s just say I’ve found him, you know, DD.”

Frank’s heart skipped a beat.

“Fighting bad guys, ’m assuming,” Frank replied.

“Well,” Micro drawled. “Not exactly. I’ll send you the location but he’s not in great shape. It looks like he got beaten, and bitten? I don’t know, man.”

Fuck. It didn’t sound good if even Daredevil couldn’t walk back from it.

“Why didn’t you call me earlier?”

“I didn’t know he was hurt until I found him in the dumpster!”

Frank had to take a few seconds to calm himself. Micro had a knack for annoying Frank to the point he just wanted to reach through the phone and strangle him.

“Do you know any of his... I don’t know, friends, compadre?” Micro asked, “I don’t want to sound alarmist, but he really doesn’t look good.”

Jones came to mind directly. She didn’t actively hate Frank’s guts. He could probably contact her without her trying to lock him up.

“Yeah, I got someone in mind.”

---

Curtis stared down at Frank with his arms crossed and a frown.

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m not your and your friends’ damn nurse?”

“How is he?”

Curtis’s face scrunched in annoyance.

“Frank—”

“Look, I couldn’t contact his friends. You’d have preferred if I left him there? Or send him to the hospital?”

“Of course not,” Curtis rebuked, “just—I have a job already, I don’t need another one.”

Frank raised his hands.

“Thank you, Curtis.”

The other man rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. Come on in.”

Frank followed him inside.

“Micro?”

“He left. Said he has other things to do.”

Typical. Micro didn’t like to be directly involved. He’d rather be behind his screen most of the time. He hated being in the same room with armed men, and Frank couldn’t imagine why.

“How’s Daredevil?”

“Fine, considering,” Curtis sighed as he led Frank upstairs. “They injected him with a toxin I was able to mitigate. Though, your guy seemed to have great antibodies.”

Pride washed over him, and he had to taper down a smirk. Why was he so proud when he heard “your guy” from Curtis? Nothing was happening between them.

“The beating, though,” Curtis continued, stopping in front of a closed door, “I can’t do much about it apart from having him rest and drink fluids.”

“Thanks, Curt.”

“Alright, I’ll leave it to you.”

“Where are you going?” Frank asked.

“To sleep,” Curtis replied deadpan, “I do have a day job. Your friend is fine, I don’t need to watch him. But I’m sure as hell not going to be his babysitter, and since you’re here, you can.”

“Curtis—”

“Nuh uh,” Curtis interrupted, “You don’t get to make me feel guilty. He’s your mess, not mine, so you can be the devil’s babysitter. And please let Micro know if he ever comes again to my house without warning, I’ll shoot him.” He was going to leave when he stopped and said, “Last thing, keep him out of trouble. I’d hate to see my good work being undone because he’s been dumb. Holler if you need help.” And he was gone.

Sometimes Frank had to wonder how lucky he was to have Curtis still by his side after all this time. Curtis didn’t have to help them, but he did it out of loyalty for Frank. He appreciated it.

He turned to the door where Daredevil was recovering. For some reason, Frank felt nervous. It wasn’t like he never saw Red hurt, but with the soulmate thing it went to another level. Come on. He was Frank Castle, the damned Punisher, he wasn’t going to be brought down because of that.

Before going in, Frank knocked in case Daredevil was already awake.

“Curtis?” Red’s raspy voice said.

“Not Curtis. Can I come in? Are you masked?”

A huff, maybe a laugh.

“Only if you promise not to gloat.”

“I don’t gloat.”

“Don’t make me laugh, I got a couple of broken ribs.”

Frank took it as his cue to come in the room. As usual, when his eyes fell on Red, he was still surprised to see the colors, and wished he could see his face, his eyes. Maybe someday, he could know his identity. While Frank didn’t care so much for his ‘civilian’ identity apart from being left alone from authorities and enemies alike, Daredevil had always been much more diligent about keeping both lives separate.

Frank whistled, “They did a number on you, Red.”

Bruised and pale, the other vigilante looked weaker than usual. It made Frank want to find whoever did that and make them pay twice fold.

“For a guy who seems to enjoy taking too many punches, it must be bad if you’re saying that,” Red replied with a wan smile.

“Not too bad. I seem to remember you also enjoy taking punches, and you like it better when it takes forever.”

“I’m not a masochist.”

Frank snorted, “Coulda fooled me.”

Red gave him another quick smile as Frank sat near the bed.

“So, are you now my babysitter?”

“Nah. I’m supposed to keep you out of trouble otherwise I think Curtis will kill me. Or even Jones when she hears about this.”

“I don’t think Jessica can scare you.”

Frank made a face. Sure, he wouldn’t hesitate to take her on. She’d give him a challenge. But she seemed to be the only one of the “Defenders” that tolerated Frank, he wasn’t going to sideline a potential ally when she didn’t do anything wrong. Yet.

“She doesn’t.”

Red hummed. Seconds passed. Frank didn’t really know what to do now. They didn’t usually keep quiet like that. And it always involved fighting, apart from once or twice when he had tied him up successfully, or vice versa. But here, alone with him in a calm environment, Frank had nothing else to do but think. And when it happened, his past usually liked to haunt him again.

And lately, Frank’s mind couldn’t keep away from this soulmate thing. He tried to keep busy to avoid thinking, but sometimes, he even had to take a break and wait and sleep. But those activities, or lack thereof, only brought more questions turning round and round in his head.

Without meaning to, his eyes went back to Red’s face, from his neck where stubble had started to grow out, a dark shadow on his pale skin, to his wan lips, and the mask, the eternal face of the devil right in front of him. It should annoy him, remind him of all the times they fought, all the times he won and lost, all the times Red helped him and he did the same for him. He should hate him; Daredevil represented everything Frank despised in the world, the unwillingness to go through with anything, to deal with criminals like fevers dealt with viruses. And yet, he had to admit Red’s methods weren’t so different from his, and they were effective, even if Frank would never admit it or use them.

“What are you thinking?”

Frank shook his head, Red’s voice bringing him back to reality, and turned back to him. His lips were downturned, disappointment on his face and maybe... sadness? Frank had trouble understanding the expression, with only half a face to look at.

“Nothin’,” he replied, “Nothin’ important.”

Red didn’t seem fooled by Frank’s non-answer.

“I don’t think it’s nothing. Not after our last conversation.”

Damn him. Why didn’t he forget that?

“Look, just forget it,” Frank said, before regretting it. When had Red listened to Frank? When had he ever stopped doing something if he thought it was the right thing to do? The usual stubborn expression settled on Daredevil’s face.

“Have you told your soulmate?”

Frank sighed. He wasn’t going to rehash everything. Red could fill in the blanks. Red opened his mouth and closed as if he didn’t know what to say, which caught Frank’s attention. The other man didn’t usually hesitate to tell his mind to Frank.

“Frank, can you… uh, give me some water? I’m parched.”

Relieved by the change of conversation, Frank went to pour some water in a glass, then took it to Red. The other man brushed Frank’s hand when he tried to take the glass, not exactly hitting the target right, and the new familiar zap sent shivers through Frank’s hand, arm and head. Red froze at the same time, keeping his hand on Frank’s.

“I wasn’t sure,” he murmured, verging on breathlessness. “The first time, I thought it was a consequence of the punch. Then our last conversation made me realize I had felt something that day too.”

Without meaning to, Frank’s hand had started to shake at those words. He snatched it back from under Red’s touch.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Red?” Frank growled, trying to mask the quick th-thud, th-thud rhythm of his heart. But he knew Red better than that. The latter smiled sadly, letting Frank know he wasn’t hiding his emotions as well as he thought.

“But now… I know. I know we are soulmates.”

Shit. Anger, surprisingly deeper than expected, dug its claws in Frank. He didn’t want to feel that, not for Red.

“Were you just pretending you didn’t know?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Frank chuckled bitterly, debating whether he should just leave right here and now. This talk made everything too real.

“Why did you pretend you didn’t know?”

“Frank.”

“No, no,” Frank interrupted, “you knew since the beginning, and you just… pretended nothing happened.”

“You did as well. You never told me.”

Frank shook his head. Red was right, of course, he was. He could have just told him that day, or the day after.

“I never believed you would even consider me like that.”

“Frank...”

He couldn’t stay here in the same room, so he left and went back home. He didn’t expect to see the other vigilante soon.

---

Curtis: You left.

Frank: Got sth to do

Curtis: HE left. Didn’t warn me. If he finishes in the Hudson, I’ll blame you.

Frank: Fair enough IOU

Curtis: A truckload, yeah.

Curtis: Be careful.

---

Nighttime, on a rooftop with his trustee sniper rifle. A great night ahead. Just waiting for the right moment. He watched his target through the lens. There, he stopped. Frank let out a breath and put his finger above the trigger, not touching it. He breathed in, his eyes locked on the target and breathed out and held it just for the quick second of the shot. Footsteps behind him broke his focus. Annoyed, Frank released his breath, knowing without looking who had found him.

“You don’t give up, do you?”

“You should know that by now,” Red replied, his voice much closer than his footsteps had indicated. “We need to talk, Frank.”

The target moved out of sight. Damnit. Frank’s mission was done for tonight.

“You just let a scumbag live a day longer, Red, I hope you’re happy.”

Daredevil sighed, and Frank couldn’t help but smirk at that sound.

“Frank, we need to talk about our soulmate connection.”

“Why? Are you going to—”

Frank swallowed his shock back when he faced Daredevil without his mask. His face, his very familiar face, suddenly made sense and at the same time, it didn’t.

Daredevil always had some quirks, like the tilting of the head, or his weird knowledge of somebody walking nearby when no one else could hear, or even a kind of prescience thing when he just avoided hits that seemed unavoidable. Frank had assumed that he was just one of the freaks with powers, like Jones or Cage. But this reveal destroyed Frank’s assumptions.

Red’s—or Matt Murdock—head was up and turned towards Frank, hooded lids partially hiding what the dark didn’t, but he didn’t look at him directly in the eyes.

Fucking shit.

The way he talked to Frank, the familiarity as if he already knew him. Figured he was the fucking lawyer who tried to get Frank. He fought him during the day and night, and Frank never realized it.

“How?” Frank said because he didn’t know what else to say. “You’re…”

“Blind?” Red chuckled, his teeth gleaming in the dark. “Yeah, I know. For a long time now.”

“Red—”

“I think you can call me Matt, now. Or Matthew, but I don’t really like that.” Red made a face. “Daredevil is fine too. Or maybe counselor, but I’d feel like I was your lawyer, and this is not how I’m seeing our relationship right now—”

“Relationship,” Frank muttered.

“Yes, relationship, because we do have one, even if so far it has only been about beating each other up and sometimes saving one another, either from themselves or from somebody else.” Red—Matt marked a pause. “By the way… thanks for sending your friend and having your other friend to patch me up. I don’t know how I would have gone home otherwise.”

Matt’s sorry smile shouldn’t make him feel things.

“Don’t mention it,” Frank replied, his voice rougher than usual. He cleared his throat and tried to look away from Red’s face, but realized he couldn’t. His mind was filled with so many questions, he had to shut it down. He couldn’t lose control of his thoughts like that.

“We need to talk, Frank, you left too quickly last time.”

Frank shook his head and started to pack up his weapon. Red walked up to him when he got back up and took his hand without his glove. The zing happened again almost leaving Frank breathless from anticipation.

“We need to talk about this, Frank,” Red whispered. “This is too important.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Red.”

The other man frowned, his lips twisting unhappily.

“Call me Matt please.”

He could do that, even if he was so used to saying and thinking Red that he was probably going to slip up at a point or another.

Frank was about to nod in assent when he realized that Matt may not “see” his gesture.

“Uh, yes, I can switch from Red for a bit.”

Seeing Matt’s smirk without his Daredevil mask shouldn’t send shivers through Frank’s body.

“Look,” he continued, “we have to be impartial here. Who we are kinda makes it impossible, don’t you think?”

“Why?”

Frank chuckled.

“Why? You’re Daredevil. I’m the Punisher. You don’t kill, I do. Hell, Re— Matt, we punched each other on a regular basis. That’s not what I would call love, or even friendship. Our philosophies are the opposite.”

Matt took a few seconds to think about it. Frank didn’t expect him to deny it; it was no secret that they didn’t see eye to eye on most things.

“Maybe that’s not what’s important,” Red replied with a shrug. “Maybe it’s a sign that we should listen. Maybe…” He stopped, looking for his words. “Look, I may be Catholic, but I have doubts sometimes, I don’t know if you’ve noticed.” The flash of a smile before continuing, “And I even… hated God for some part of my life because I thought He was just being unfair to me.”

“Come on, Red. I know you believe that shit, but I don’t. It might be a sign for you, a good omen or whatever other bullshit. For me? It feels like a fucking curse.”

“Why?”

The simple question threw Frank for a loop. Why, indeed? Frank had a million reasons as to why this was a bad idea (Maria), and he even voiced a couple of them.

“You already know why.”

“Tell me.”

“Red. Matt,” Frank amended after Red’s sigh, “We hate each other.”

“Do we? I mean,” the other man continued after a pause, pondering the question. “I’ve never hated you. I hated, or hate, your methods, but I’ve never outright hated you. I don’t hate you, Frank Castle. I dislike the Punisher, and what you had to live through to become him.”

The words hit more than Frank had expected, and he found himself unable of looking at Red right about now. Since the massacre, his life had been lonely save for a few select moments. Hearing him say this just put everything in sharp contrast.

“I don’t believe we hate each other, Frank.” Frank closed his eyes for a brief moment, discovering he liked it when Matt said his name. “Or we wouldn’t have these types of conversations. Last time, you told me you’re too far gone. I think you’re still here. And maybe me being your soulmate means you’re never going too far, you’re never going to hit rock bottom, unable to come back.”

“I did some pretty shitty things, Red, even before I lost everything. I’m not… I can’t be saved. And I’m not sure I want to be saved.”

Silence. Maybe now Matt understood where he was coming from, and he’d leave, although somehow his heart yearned for that connection he hadn’t felt for years.

“I got into an accident when I was a kid,” Red started to say slowly. “It left me blind. It left me overstimulated. I hated the world, God, my father, even though it was my own stupidity. I just wanted everything to be over. Then I met my mentor. And it felt better, for a while. Felt like I finally had my life on track again. Until my dad was killed, and my mentor decided to leave me.”

“Jesus, Red,” Frank let out. He had struggled to deal with that kind of loss as an adult, he couldn’t even imagine when you were a kid. It must have been so tough.

“Frank…” Red sighed. “I do have a name, you know.”

Frank waved a hand to let him know he was sorry, then stopped, remembering he couldn’t see it. Couldn’t he?

“Anyway… I thought I was cursed, you know. With my abilities, everything became a nightmare. I still decided to become a lawyer because I thought people like me, like my father, and like my neighbors deserved to be defended, to have the law on their side for once. And then I started my extracurricular activities.”

“Are you talking about Daredevil or…?” Frank teased with a smirk.

“I could do things even able-bodied people couldn’t, not the people I knew anyway. At that point, I thought God had decided to give me something more. He believed in me again.” He smiled ruefully. “You can say I have a strange relationship with Him, and I believe He has a strange relationship with me.”

“Why are you telling me this?

“You think we are too different,” Matt continued, taking back Frank’s hand. “Personally, I think we’re just the right kind for each other.”

Filled with emotion, Frank had to ask.

“Why are you saying that?”

“I’m not sure why He chose you for me, but you never let me cross that line. Remember? You think you can’t be saved, hell, you said you didn’t want to be saved, but I don’t believe that. You try to do good despite your methods. Underneath all that bluster and anger, you’re still in there. And I like to believe that I can be the one to hold you up, keep your head above water, even if you hate it.”

“Re— Matt, I get what you’re saying, this is very choirboy of you, but how can you think that this soulmate thing means we can get along? What if we do end up hating each other after all?”

What if I fall in love with you and you get taken away from me like they took Maria and the kids.

Matt took his other hand. Zap. Goosebumps.

“The life we choose is tough, and lonely, and desperate. I like to believe this is God’s way of giving us comfort in our mission. For years, I thought that being alone was the solution. How could I put the weight of it all on someone else’s shoulders? But then we touched, and I understood what this meant, I realized something.”

“And what’s that?”

“I had hope, for the first time in a while.”

Frank snorted and shook his head. He thought about removing his hands but didn’t. It did feel good to hold someone’s hands just for the sake of it.

“Jeez, Matt. Don’t get sappy on me.”

“I’m not.” Matt shrugged. “I’m just telling you the truth, my truth. You don’t have to accept it or agree with it, but I want you to hear it because whether you like it or not, we are soulmates.”

Frank lowered his head. He was right, of course, he was. But a part of him couldn’t let it go: the doubts, the self-deprecation, the anger. Everything he felt and knew, he couldn’t just discard it. He knew that if he did do that, it would make things easier, with himself, with Matt. But how could he? He was a stubborn man, set in his ways. Could he change? Could he let the other man in? It wasn’t like Matt didn’t know his past, or some of his thoughts and beliefs.

“I’m not sure I can—” Frank stopped, flashes of Maria reminding me of the love they shared. This soulmate connection felt like a betrayal to her memory, to their family’s memory.

“Frank… let me help you, please.”

Matt cupped Frank’s cheek (zing). His hand was warm, calloused, but his touch was soft and kind. Frank’s eyes fluttered and his body relaxed.

“Can you tell me what else is bothering you?” Matt whispered.

Frank shook his head. He couldn’t talk about Maria, not now.

“It’s OK,” Matt replied with a soft grin. “You don’t have to tell me now or ever. I just—I just want a chance.”

Frank looked up at Matt. Despite his internal conflicts, he wanted that connection as well. And if Matt was willing, then… maybe it was worth exploring.

Matt hadn’t removed his hand from his cheek, and as close as they were now, Frank realized he had never seen his eyes clearly before as they were always hidden by his glasses or his mask.

“Can I see your eyes?” Frank asked.

Matt tilted his head in incomprehension.

“My eyes? I’ve heard they’re quite boring.”

He let out a chuckle, but somehow Frank knew he was only pretending, passing it off as a joke when it hurt him. Frank couldn’t even imagine saying something like that to someone, let alone a person he appreciated.

“Maybe I can be the judge of that,” Frank murmured, “after all, I can see colors now thanks to you.”

A bit slack-jawed, Matt nodded. He let his hand fall from Frank’s cheek to his shoulder, and he already missed it.

Matt angled his head a little higher and waited. With his free hand, Frank brushed the other man’s cheeks with his thumb. Matt sucked in a breath but didn’t say anything. Gently, Frank turned Matt’s head slightly so that the light from the streetlamp and the ad on the next building highlighted him better. The other man shivered from the touch, and Frank didn’t really try to keep his smirk down.

Red, green, yellow, white lit Matt’s face in a game with the shadows. In his eyes, he saw the brown first, but as he studied the color more, he noticed the nuances, the variations in the color. He couldn’t name them all, he didn’t know the names, but he could recognize some, flecks that looked like gold peppering the ring just outside the iris.

“I don’t know who told your eyes were boring,” Frank murmured, “and I couldn’t tell you how they looked before, but with colors, they are just…” mesmerizing, incredible, breathtaking, so many words that went through Frank’s head, but he settled on one for now. “Beautiful.”

This simple word drew a moving smile on the other man's face, and the irresistible urge to kiss him was strong enough Frank brought Matt's face closer to his. He stopped not a moment later, realizing that maybe Matt would like to have a say in it as well. Matt quickly reassured him when he closed the last inches of distance between them and put his lips on his mouth.

As first kisses went, this one was chaste, soft, almost shy, which didn’t sound right for the hardened vigilantes they were. Frank abandoned Matt’s face and went around his shoulder, slipping his hands between Matt’s shoulder blades and pressed him against him, relishing in holding someone close for the first time in years, trying to ignore the tinge of guilt.

Matt passed his arms around Frank, one hand slithering its way up to his hair. Frank was ready to deepen the kiss when Red stiffened and started to pull out, putting some distance between them. Frank’s heart missed a beat, his mind already going to the worst-case scenario. He braced himself for the fallout.

The soft smile on Matt’s face though did abate the worst of his wild theories.

“I really like the kissing, but I’d like it better without the gun digging into my ribs, or you knife poking a hole in my thigh.”

Frank let out an unexpected chuckle, making Matt smile wider.

“Right, yeah, you’re right. Let’s take that somewhere more private. I’ll undress for you.”

Matt’s smile turned a little devious.

“Mine, or yours?”

“Whichever is the closest.”

“Mine, then,” Matt replied in a breath before kissing Frank hard, his teeth lightly grating his lower lip like a promise for what was to come.