Frank Woods x Reader

Thirty-Five

"How have you been?", you asked, eyes turned to the sky. "I was... well, let's just say it was fine."

Next to you, Woods snorted. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. But instead of watching the stars, he watched you.

"It was boring.", he grinned. "I missed fighting with you."

You chuckled.

"I doubt that. You always lost."

"In your dreams."

"Oh no. I dreamed about way other stuff.", you gifted him a kind of grin that said it all.

It made him laugh. It was such a deep, genuine sound, that he felt free for the first time in years.

Letting out a breath of relief, he slid down the wall with his back and sat next to you.

For a moment, he eyed you.

You looked at him as well.

It was a moment that was hard to categorise, something between familiar comfort and not knowing what to do.

He slid a bit closer, close enough for his head to fall onto your shoulder.

You let it happen. It felt good to feel the weight of him press down on you again.

"Glad we manage to get along.", you smirked and let your head fall on his.

He hummed.

It felt comforting to be close to him again. In that moment, you felt at ease, just like back then.

"Now that we settled on, whatever this is, you might as well scratch my beard.", he huffed and raised his chin.

"Hm?"

"Scratch my beard."

A huff of amusement made your chest vibrate.

"Are you sure?", you glanced down on him.

He shrugged.

"You always knew how to do it right. Do me the favour? It's itching for ages now."

With a broad smile, you just shook your head and reached down to let a finger slide along the edge of his jaw.

Letting out a deep hum, he leaned into the touch, but held back. Instead, he waited for your nails to start scratching the hairy skin.

His beard felt different than it used to. Back then he had always kept it short, not more than a three day beard. But now he was fully covered with thick, black hair that started to turn grey at the tip.

"What made you grow it out?", you asked and slid your hand under his chin to give it a good scratch like you used to do it many nights in front of the tv.

Closing his eyes, he sighed.

"I know you liked it better long and thick.", he smirked.

"But you never fulfilled my wish. What changed your mind?"

"I got old. So I thought I might as well let it grow out."

"Good decision."

He huffed.

"I knew you'd like it.", he opened one eye to glance up at you.

With a smirk, you shrugged.

"I was always weak for a hairy man."

"You were always weak for me."

"I still am. But let's not go there again."

Agreeing, he hummed, not wanting to think about it again. It hurt him to agree that repeating the past mistakes would have done no good.

But now that he was sitting on the ground, head on your shoulder and your nails scratching him like back then, it started to get hard to hold onto the decision he had made in the house.

Silence spread again. But this time it felt a lot more comfortable, like being around a friend.

His lips moved, he was thinking.

Your fingers kept brushing through the thick strands of his beard. It just felt like a natural thing to do.

"Can I ask you for a favour too?", you suddenly asked out of the blue. "You owe me one."

He huffed.

"Go on."

For a moment, you chewed on the inside of your cheek, lips pressed into a thin line. It was stupid to ask, but it felt like it needed to be done.

You wanted an answer, even if it would ruin all the progress that you two had in the past few days.

"Did you ever realise what the real problem was?", you finally asked.

His expression changed. For a moment, he frowned as if he was unsure what you meant.

"You're asking a lot of questions today...", he noted.

"I don't want to overwhelm you."

"With what?"

"Things. I never gave you time to take things in and figure them out. I always wanted an answer on the spot. So I'm asking questions instead. It gives you time."

He swallowed hard. Then a deep sigh made his chest shake.

"I know my attitude is... special. But I tried. I swear."

Softly, you nodded.

"It wasn't the worst part. But the other thing."

"I know what you mean."

"Could you say it out loud? For me?"

He took a deep breath in and squeezed his eyes shut.

"The hardest part was to accept that I had to tell and show what I felt. I never did that. I've never shown anything. Expect for anger. I've never considered you mine. You were always someone I desired. We chilled and got along. But... I always expected you to leave one day. For someone better."

Satisfied with the answer, you smiled softly and continued to scratch his beard.

"Then why did you start being jealous all of a sudden?"

He shrugged.

"One day I woke up and realised, shit, if I don't marry you, I'll die all by myself. I realised that if there's some bullshit like a soulmate or a perfect match, I'd never find something better than you. And I wanted to. I wanted you to marry me. Really. So... I realised that you'll be my fiancé, my second piece or whatever. But I kept worrying you'd leave for someone better. All of a sudden I couldn't bare the thought. It was obvious I'm no good."

A deep sigh left your lips. You squeezed your eyes shut.

"You're a good man."

His eyes turned sad.

"Then... why did you leave?"

"It was exactly that. Because you're a good man, Frank. You're good to everyone. You try to be good to everyone. Everyone except yourself. And I couldn't bare to see it anymore how you destroyed the man that I love most."