Dangerous

Chapter Nineteen

A/N: And, by popular demand, I am beginning to ooze my way back into the writing biz. Mainly the writing of This Particular Story , though. I've had people on here and on my AO3 account comment and request. I had no idea anyone even read this anymore. 

Thank you for those of you who still do

Short chapter to start out. Had this bit written a billion years ago but I like to stay ahead of where I'm posting so I wanted to write more before posting, which, sadly, never actually happened [until now]

Good God it's been so long since I've done this....

What does one even feed another human being?

I am so terrible at cooking, let alone cooking for other living, breathing people...?

I set the smoke alarm off boiling water for fuck's sake!

I guess I just have to get back into the swing of things...so, y'know...bear with me, please..?

But, y'know, if I concentrate really, really hard I can boil spaghetti noodles without hurting anyone or anything else...

And that's the short story of how the Punisher and I were sitting in awkward silence, watching a marathon of Archer on FXX, eating spaghetti -- and spaghetti sauce. No meatballs, because I can't cook worth a damn. Frankie offered to make some and I snarled at him.

"Maybe another time..." he'd quietly amended, settling back in on his couch.

I can't believe he made me swap channels, though.

"I just hate violence upon innocent people," he muttered when I'd asked, "Women, children, animals... I hate it, and that show you were watchin' makes my stomach churn."

"Yeah, mine too..." I whispered quietly, agreeing to turn the channel, forcing back the thoughts trying to creep into my head.

But now we're back to awkward silence, save for our chewing and the scrape of forks against our plates. But it's so fucking awkward... I basically just accidentally proclaimed my undying love for the man['s existence, may I remind you what I actually said] and from what I gather, I highly doubt anyone's ever done that for him.

I also have so many questions that are hanging in the air, the main one being, why the fuck did he come here instead of going to a hospital -- well, not a hospital, now, for obivous reasons, but someone more qualified to help him when he's in that state? I don't fuckin' know, but why me?

He cleared his plate, and then his throat, really quietly and slowly, "Ey.. am I allowed to, uh.."

"Nope," I popped the P and snatched up his plate, "I'll get you more, stay your ass on that fucking couch."

In all honesty, I was really glad to get out of the close ass proximity we were in. Why the hell did I sit on the same couch as him, anyway? I'll hopefully remember to sit on the other one when I go back.

Probably way too much spaghetti on both of our plates -- lots of sauce for his, just a bit for mine, and I'm wandering back into the living room, trying in vain not to trip over any of the animals. They know not to jump on the couches when there's people eating there, but they sure are nosy when you're anywhere else.

"Here y'go," I flopped back down next to him -- shit... -- and handed him his plate before digging into mine, "Feelin' better? Want some pain killers?"

He shook his head, but otherwise stayed quiet.

Lord, this silence is suffocating me... And I'm not in the mood to go to work, mainly because if I let Frankie outta my sight I might actually have a brain aneurysm, but also because it's the middle of the afternoon. Showing up to work this late would be ridiculous, even on my account.

Let's just skip the rest of my awkward-ass day of not speaking to the fucking Punisher, and fill you in on everything else.

Here we are, still attached to the couch. I think, since it's nighttime and apparently we both have strange nighttime hobbies... I think we're both avoiding the fact we have somewhere to go, and neither of us know how to speak up about it.

Regardless, neither one of us really can go because Frankie over here just almost died and I still have a bum-ass knee.

Still.

Sigh...

How long do I have yet? Like... a while, probably. I'm too brain dead to think right now. Must be all the tv I have to watch to keep my mind occupied...

Frank cleared his throat and I damn near jumped outta my skin, "Are you goin' out tonight...?"

He got a skeptic snort in response, "And leave you here all alone? You wish I was that dumb, leavin' you here all alone so you can sneak out and go almost die again. Pft. I ain't leaving this got-damn apartment 'till I know you're healthy. Gotta keep an eye on you."

Was he blushing? I've never really seen anyone blush before -- mainly because I don't associate with anyone, ever -- but he was looking a little less pale, and was doing that adorable half-grin, again.

He's so cute. Ugh!

Wait, what the hell... Bekah, knock that shit off.

He glanced at the other wall, "Look, I appreciate everything goin' on here, but you don't gotta sit and look after me like a hurt pet."

"No, I'm going to treat you like a hurt friend," I stressed, "Since you're apparently too tarded to stay put and heal yourself, I have to make sure you do it yourself. Cassian, get," I shooed away the dog that was licking at my folded hands, "Shoo! Oh-em-gee..." Anyway... I stood up and stretched, "Wanna take the dogs for a walk?"

Frankie paused and blinked slowly before looking me in the eye, "What?"

I sighed, putting extra dramatic emphasis on my body movements to show just how sarcastically exasperated I was, and slowed down my speaking a ridiculous amount, "Would.....you....like....to...take--"

"I heard what you said," he swung out a foot and knocked my good ankle, "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Well if you don't come with I'll go myself, but you apparently want to get out and about, and whoever the fuck poked you full'a bullets probably thinks you're dead, anyway," I strode over to the door and snatched up the leashes, careful not to get knocked over by the chunky puppies who are now trying to jump on me, "Plus, it's dark and we're a couple of almost-able-bodied people, should something arise."

God these dogs are large. Am I even prepared to have two fully grown Rottweilers and a Husky in my apartment at some point?

No, but I'll figure it out, and probably get more pets, anyway.

Frankie moved, ever so slowly, so he was standing, "Alright, fine. Gimme a leash."