Dangerous

Chapter Twenty

A/N: This is becoming a clusterfuck due to the fact that I haven't been into this show in a good three...? years? But, with the shit going on at this point in the story, both my life and Bek's are giant clusterfucks so I guess it kinda works?

It went slightly routinely like that for the next couple days. Awkward small talk, awkwardly laying around my apartment. Awkward silence as we tiptoed on eggshells around each other. A direct side effect of me being unsure of how to react to Frankie's big secret suddenly being out between the two of us.

Finally, though, after about a week, he was more or less all the way healed up. The almost permanent bruises on his face had, well, more or less disappeared, since I'd been keeping him from his nightly escapades. There was more natural...ish...? colouring to his face, and less limp to his step. He still sometimes flinched when faced with almost simple tasks -- reaching above his head for a coffee mug, for instance. I'm pretty sure he thinks I didn't notice, but he's about as subtle as I am when my knee starts acting up.

Which means he wasn't. At all.

Like, the man seems to basically be a human punching bag, but he took a beating last week. He's gonna fuckin' hurt.

I wish he'd quit acting so tough.

Sigh... Men.

(Cue the eyeroll)

Can't say I don't do the same, though. Whenever I hobble into work toting my staff, I get all the worrisome comments and I simply wave them off and say, with a small grunt, that I'm perfectly fucking fine, now bugger off.

And then, aside in private, Matt apologizes, again, for essentially permanently fucking up my right leg. As much as I remind him he only refucked it, he still won't shut the hell up.

Anyway...

Whilst I was taking you through my mindless rants just now, my eyes had been following Frankie as he stomped around my apartment, "What are you doing?"

"Goin' out." was the grunted response.

I sighed and pushed myself to my feet so I could step in his path. I really hate how I'm still shorter than him. By like... what? four inches? I'm trying to stare him in the eye but I'm basically looking at his lips.

Mmmm...

Shut up you absolute whor--

"I know you're trying to go "out" but what makes you think I'm going to let you? Hmm?" I propped my hands on my hips, right before crossing them over my chest. The way I stood when my arms were across my chest, was all my weight on my left leg, right leg jutted out a bit. And, to keep my arms comfortably crossed, I'd somehow gotten into the habit of squashing my hands under my arms.

And when I became acutely aware of how my boobs probably looked, I shoved my hands back in my pockets, instead.

Poor Frankie sighed and untensed, "I'll be fine, kid. Nothin' too strenuous, but I gotta get back out there."

I narrowed my eyes at him, "Alright, let me get changed."

I trotted past him, a smug grin growing on my face when he did a double take, "Let yo-- Kid? Hey!"

He was following me, that much was obvious from the heavy footsteps thudding down the hall to my room. He's gonna be in for a rude surprise when--

There it was. The door flung open, a curse was yelled, and the door swung back shut, "Kid, you're not comin' with me."

I finished re-dressing myself -- thankfully, I always face my back towards my door when changing clothing, for that exact reason -- pulling my hair back as I toed back open the door, "Who's gonna stop me, hmm?"