Red n' Black. (Daredevil x Punisher)

Chapter 2 - The drunk and blind man.

Frank seems completely fine—amused, even—up until Matt gets knocked over. His lips in a thin line, he clenches his jaw and turns his head. Casually, the man cracks his knuckles and stands from his stool, lifting the wooden seat and approaching the man who'd thrown the other. He smashes it over the man's back, hearing the crunch as the wood splinters and the legs come apart on the stool. He tosses it off to the side and lifts the man up by the back of the neck, slamming his head into the poker table. "You fuckin' ableist or some shit?" He questions, threatening, holding the man against the table. "You really aimed for the only fucking blind guy in this entire joint. Does it make you feel better?" He hisses out, lifting him up and slamming him down harder against the wood. It begins to crack beneath the force.

"You wanna fucking apologize or walk outta here with your tail tucked between your legs and a billboard in your name? You'll never guess what it'll read." He continues. "It'll read 'meet the ableist, deadbeat cuck who can't fuck his own wife 'cause he's got limp dick from alcoholism and erectile dysfunction.' If you walk outta here, I'll add on 'newly disabled' somewhere in the mix and I'll rock your shit until you're blind too." He lets go of the drunken man with a harsh movement.

Matt hits his head on the counter on the way down, clearly agitated by the fall. He just wanted to have a good night, and fuck, of course this shit happens. He stands up, picking the dude up off the ground who got thrown into his seat. "You alright, bud?" He questions, the man only nods. "Alright, good." Matt's lips purse into a smile, punching the guy solidly in the gut. He drops him unceremoniously on the floor. "Sorry 'bout that mate." He mumbles to himself, rubbing the back of his head as he makes his way over to Frank, putting a hand on the man's shoulder to let him know it's him. He can finally sense what Frank's done and how Frank's demeanor changed so quickly. Matt sort of enjoyed seeing Frank like this, it got his blood pumping, reminding him of the many times Frank defended him against bullies. At this point, he's basically swooning over the man whilst he beats the living crap out of another. "God, you're so hot." He huffs out under his breath to himself.

The man on the floor groans in pain, clutching at his back with one hand. "I-I'm sorry man! I didn't mean to! I swear!" He whimpers, struggling to stand on shaky legs as he looks at Frank, fear captured in his pupils.

"Are you seriously going to let him do that?" Matt asks incredulously, looking between Frank and the shaky man who looked ready to puke. He makes his way over to the two, kicking the man square in the throat, breaking his windpipe. Matt rolls his eyes, noticing this. "Of course your weak windpipe has to break, hm?" Matt remarks sarcastically, kneeling down next to the man. "So what are we gonna do about it?" He asks cockily, grabbing a straw from a nearby drink and a pocket knife off a table. Using it, Matt slices the man's adams apple with precision and care, effectively putting the straw between the muscle, sticking it through and into the windpipe. "You'll be able to breathe now, through the straw that is. Yes, it's uncomfortable. But it's better than dying right? Maybe." He murmurs to himself, leaning closer towards the victim.

Frank looks completely and thoroughly pissed off. His hair is a little unkempt now that he's exerted himself into such force, and his hand isn't doing so hot, having clutched so hard on the drunken man's nape. Upon Matt approaching, and an adrenaline rush through his veins, he can't keep still. His chest heaves as he moves over to the bar and slams down some dude's shot of tequila, the burning in his throat satisfactory. He slaps a five dollar bill in front of the man—more than the drink actually costs—and fishes out a ten from his wallet to pay for both him and Matt.When he returns to the brunet who'd accompanied him, he pulls him up by the hood of his hoodie and presses his lips against the man's with immense force, rough. He can taste the blood from how easily he'd split his lip open, copper on his tastebuds as his fingers card up into Matt's hair and pull. "Son of a bitch." He hisses out, chest heaving as he backs away. He kicks the man on the floor's ribs to let off some steam before storming out of the bar, coming down from blind anger after moments and realizing what he's done. "Fuck's sake!" He shouts, smacking himself in the face, hair even more of a mess after he runs his fingers through it. He stomps his foot down hard on the pavement in frustration with himself.

"Stupid fuckin' dumbass. What were you thinking? You just saw him after this many years." He scolds himself, looking out toward a field begging for his remaining anger to be let out on.

Matt is surprised by Frank's sudden kiss, brushing it off as brotherly love and exerting his anger. He shrugs, giving a small wave to the bartender as he steps over the man lying unconscious on the floor. "Better luck next time!" He calls out sarcastically, waving a bit more before turning around and walking out the door. "Frankie?" He questions, tapping his foot on the pavement. "Sorry, it's my fault. I should've moved when he got thrown. I-" He sighs, stopping himself from babbling further. In response, he rubs his head. "Why'd you have to pull my hair though?" Matt questions, thinking he'd done something wrong.

Frank looks back at Matt. He swallows thickly, audibly panting. "I don't fucking know." He answers, voice breathy and angry, aware he can't blame it on the alcohol. "Blame the dude who threw the guy at you in the first place. Started the whole thing. You can't always be lightning fast with your reactions—I don't need you to apologize for being human." He starts walking off."Are we going back to your apartment?" He asks, blood boiling.

Matt acknowledges Frank's words, nodding. "Yeah, come." He'd gesture Frank to walk with him as they walked back to the apartment. The streets were fairly empty compared to earlier that evening, but Matt could still smell alcohol lingering in the air, along with cigarette smoke. The cold night air had settled in and was biting at his skin, the tip of his nose red. Finally, they made it to the apartment as Matt climbed the stairs, unlocking the door and walking in. 

The ex-marine remains quiet on the way to the apartment, heart still thudding behind his ribs. The noiret can still feel that adrenaline rush as they're walking, even as he climbs up the stairs and follows Matt into the apartment. Frank feels as though he'll regret this decision as he shuts the door behind himself and locks it.