Archive of Our Own

Frank was, if nothing else, punctual. Whenever he set a time to meet, Matt could always count on him being at least half an hour early to scope the place out. A military habit, maybe. Or just one of the reasons the Punisher had managed to stay alive this long.

There was no need for Matt to waste time on surveillance. After getting his ass kicked a couple memorable times when he first started as Daredevil, he had finally learned to listen before rushing into anything. This time he had a pretty good handle on the situation before making his way to where Frank was waiting.

The scars of the Chitauri invasion still remained on New York even years later. Despite all the political promises of rebuilding, and not helped by certain crime kingpins embezzling the funds, partially destroyed and condemned buildings weren’t uncommon in his city. Not that condemned meant empty.

For example, the two-story building- an old office or factory, maybe- full of their targets, and the rotting apartment building across the street where Frank was watching them from. The devil slipped in through some heavy plastic construction sheeting covering a hole in the wall, at one point intended to be temporary.

It was almost a game Matt played, sneaking up on Frank Castle. Sometimes he got as close as thirty feet before he was caught, depending on the location. He could always tell the instant he was noticed, just a slight uptick in heart rate before it settled back down in seconds. Almost inhuman amount of control that man had. How could he always tell it was Matt and not someone there to kill him, anyway?

This time he got as far as the door to the studio apartment before he was caught. The layout was to his advantage this time. On a rooftop, he sometimes couldn’t get closer than the next building.

“I’m gonna shoot your ass one of these days, you keep trying to sneak up on me like that,” Frank said casually just before Matt creaked open the old door. As if he didn’t say that every time. It was part of their little dance of quips and bitching that played out on the rare occasions they worked together. Or, maybe not so rare lately.

Matt didn’t bother rising to the bait. “There’s eighteen people inside. Nine are armed: two on the back exit, four on the front, three on the second floor,” he informed him primly.

“Fucking show off.” Frank kept his scope aimed out the window and hadn’t moved at all.

“Would you rather I keep that information to myself?”

“Didn’t say that.”

“I don’t know why you even bother bringing this thing,” Matt said, poking at the scope. Frank huffed but finally leaned back in his chair with a stretch. Judging by the empty coffee cups, the stakeout had been a few hours at least.

“Just wanna see it for myself. I do this shit all the time without your freaky hearing, you know.”

“Yet you asked for help.” This was the first time he’d asked when they weren’t already working on the same thing.

“Only because you’re such a bitch about what goes on in the Kitchen. You’d hear about it anyway, figured I’d get a jump on the lecture.” Yet there was a waver in Frank’s heart rate, the way he tensed up. Matt already had his suspicions what that hesitation was about.

“And also because you need help.”

Frank groaned in annoyance. “And because it’s stupid to go in without backup unless there’s no other choice.”

“Still… you came to me.”

“You asked me to,” said Frank shortly.

Admittedly, he had.

Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t that big, so it was inevitable that they would find themselves in the same shitshow on occasion. Daredevil and the Punisher had found themselves working together more times than he would care to admit, but it had always been incidental. Or it was on Frank’s side; Matt couldn’t ignore that war drum heartbeat when it came within a block. Avoiding Frank would be easy if he tried. He didn’t.

The second or third time it happened, and the first time they hadn’t bothered trading more than a handful of blows, they’d even exchanged numbers. Or rather, Frank had demanded his burner, grumbled through navigating Matt’s accessibility settings, and thrown it back at his head. He’d saved his number under “Pete” and said to call if he ever got his stupid ass in trouble. Matt had made the same offer to him- how could he not- but he never expected Frank to take him up on it. It seemed out of character, but then, he had once been a soldier with a unit. He hadn’t always worked alone.  

It should also be out of character for Daredevil to team up with a man who killed people so often. But here they both were.

“You don’t have to help, y’know,” said Frank after Matt let the silence drag on too long.

“No, I’m staying. I just… didn’t think you’d ever call.” Now he sounded like a lovesick teenager. “I must not be such a pointless half-measure after all,” he quipped.

Frank laughed as much as he ever did. “I said you’re a dumbass, not that you ain’t useful. Especially with something like this.”

“Really know how to sweet-talk a guy, don’t you? You’re welcome, by the way.” Getting back on track, Matt continued. “But you’ve taken down operations bigger than this yourself before. What’s different this time?”

“Well, I’ve been after ‘em for a while. They know I’m coming for them tonight.”

“This is a trap.”

“Yep.”

“And you’re going in anyway?”

“Yep.”

Matt crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, considering. “You’ve walked into traps before, too.”

“Not if I could help it.”

Fine. If Frank wasn’t going to address the elephant in the room, or if he really didn’t know, then Matt will. “So, this has nothing to do with the fact that the whole place stinks of magic?”

Frank’s heartbeat jumped and stuttered almost worse than he’d ever heard.

“You did know they have magic, right?”

“Yeah.” Frank’s voice was strangled. “How did you… can you actually smell magic?”

“It’s… complicated.” Trying to explain his senses to others was always hit and miss. All the metaphors in the world could never seem to capture how it really was more than just four senses. The only person who understood was Stick, though even the old man’s senses were different in a nebulous way Matt could never put his finger on. With Frank he hadn’t bothered addressing it directly; he just didn’t hide and let him draw his own conclusions. It had been refreshing, honestly. “Magic and alien things just feel… wrong. They don’t interact with the world like they should. It’s hard to explain.”

“Does that mean you can tell if someone’s magic, or uh, an alien or whatever?”

“Depends. I haven’t run into that much magic. Sometimes I can’t tell until they use an ability, and sometimes there’s… other signs.” Danny had seemed normal until his hand screeched with power, and then there were the Hand ninjas who moved without heartbeats.

“So you don’t know for sure. If, y’know, someone’s… magic. You can’t always tell.” Frank fidgeted with his scope as he dismantled it, trigger finger twitching and leg subtly bouncing. The questions made him uncomfortable. Or rather, magic did.

Oh, that must be it. Frank was one of those people who just couldn’t handle the existence of the supernatural. For such a no-nonsense, non-enhanced man who relied on human-made weapons, it made sense.

Matt wouldn’t call himself a fan of magic, per se, but he’d grown up with superpowers and he wasn’t an idiot. Hard to be a skeptic when science couldn’t explain why chemical waste could give a kid super hearing. And that was before honest to God aliens invaded New York.

“No, I can’t always tell,” Matt finally replied. “But I’m sure they’re doing something supernatural over there, though. It all feels too… it’s magic. Trust me.”

“You’re the expert.”

“Not really. Look, I know this isn’t your wheelhouse,” Matt said, “but for the record, it’s not really mine, either. It’s not like I deal with this stuff often.”

“That’s why we’re gonna watch each other’s backs. I’m not here to fuck around with magic shit if I can help it.”

“Agreed. How did you find out about it, anyway?”

“Found some of their files. Stopped a delivery or two. Asked a couple of ‘em real nice. Also, they tried to get me with some sorta magic bomb thing the other night, I don’t know. It glowed like nothing I’ve ever seen. I think they’re scientists who got their hands on magic shit, or maybe magic guys who started using science.” He shrugged like he couldn’t be bothered with a distinction.

“What kind of scientists?”

“I dunno, scientists. They’re bringing in lab equipment- chemicals and shit. Messing with some sorta old book they stole. A magic fucking book,” Frank spat like the very word left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Magic book,” Matt deadpanned. Great. First scientists, now magic book. A few more details would be nice. But Frank didn’t seem too worried, so he shouldn’t be either. After all, Matt had dealt with the Hand before. Whoever these people were, they couldn’t be as dangerous as them. Daredevil and the Punisher could take care of it.  

“Don’t really give a shit about it myself. Leave it for the cops or whatever. For the record, even with the magic bullshit, it’d still be a one-man job if I was just looking to clean the place out.” Frank tipped back in his chair, as nonchalant as he ever was about murder. “But they’ve been takin’ people off the streets. Four or five now. I’m just here for them.”

Maybe that’s also why Matt kept ending up in this partnership that seemed impossible- because despite the name the media gave him, Frank prioritized saving people over punishing them. The problem was that usually he thought killing was the best way to save people. Right now, he was willing to put that aside and ask for the Devil’s help. Matt didn’t intend on disappointing him.

“We agree there. Those people are the priority. Are you sure they’re inside?”

“Good ol’ fashioned surveillance does work, you know. That’s why I’m here in the first place. One of the guys who got taken is in my buddy’s… he knows him, and he stopped showing up a few days ago, so he asked me to find him. I tracked him back here.”

Matt managed to hold back the first few comments he wanted to make, like you have friends? or why didn’t you ask me for help sooner? or seriously, who are your friends and can I meet them?

“Do you find missing people for all your friends?” he went with instead.

“For ones who’ve saved my life, shit, four or five times now? You bet. He can ask me to do whatever he wants. Why, you need somethin’?”

Matt very specifically did not ask if Frank considered them friends. He wasn’t ready for whatever that answer was. “No thanks. Let’s just focus on helping those people.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, the whole saving people, heroic shit is more your game than mine.” Matt hadn’t been thinking that but didn’t get a chance to say so. “But I don’t know exactly what we’re walking into, and getting them out safe will be less risky with the two of us. And…” Hesitation was unusual for him. “I thought, y’know, magic should deal with magic shit.”

“Wait, wait, hold on. You know I’m not magic, right?” Maybe he should have explained his powers earlier.

“Hearing a butterfly fart from a block away doesn’t count? You just got done tellin’ me that you can sense magic.”

“Yeah, sometimes. I got my abilities from a chemical spill, not a wizard.”

“Oh yeah? And what was in those chemicals?”

“I… don’t know, but it wasn’t magic.” In college Matt had once tried looking into the accident that took his sight and gave him abilities, but those tracks had long since been covered. Soon enough he gave up, because what was the point? Not as if he wanted to reverse what had happened. Worst case scenario, he could find out the chemicals were toxic or carcinogens. No point in that hanging over his head.

Frank scoffed at him. “Then you’re sci-fi instead of fantasy, same difference. People with weird shit going on should deal with the weird shit. I’d say this qualifies.”

“If that’s the case, what about you? You don’t have any weird shit going on. What makes you think you can handle this?”

Frank’s heart jumped for just a beat. “Doesn’t matter. These assholes are mine. My mission, my responsibility. Don’t care if they’re all fucking wizards or not.”

Ah, so that reaction was anger from insulting his pride. Reading changes in biorhythms was easy, but Matt could only ever guess the reasons for those disruptions. Frank didn’t want to seem intimidated by magic, but at least wasn’t stupid enough to rush in alone.

“Alright, if you say so.”

“Damn right I say so. You ready to do this thing?”

“Obviously,” Matt scoffed. “But only if you promise that-”

“Here we go-”

“No killing. Not if you want my help,” Matt finished stubbornly.

“Yeah, yeah, choir boy, same deal as last time. And the time before that. I wouldn’t call you if I wasn’t okay playing by your rules for a night. Haven’t broken my word yet, have I?”

And that was the thing- he hadn’t. Never once while working together had Frank killed someone. Of course, there was a stipulation: he would use lethal force if it was the only way to save an innocent life or their own. Matt didn’t truly believe Frank would honor their deal without that caveat, not if it really came down to one life or another. But so far, it hadn’t come up.

Frank said they hadn’t gotten into a tight spot because he’s just that good, but Matt preferred to think it’s because the Devil was there watching his back. Working as a team was easier and safer, like it or not.

“You haven’t,” Matt allowed. “Now let’s do this.”

“How about a plan first, genius?” Frank finished packing up every trace of his stakeout. “You get the civilians out while I make some noise at the front door to distract the hostiles. Simple enough for you?”

“Making yourself bait when they already know you’re coming? That’s reckless.”

“It’s tactical. They don’t know you’ll be there, and your not-magic ninja bullshit is better for finding them and getting ‘em out safely. My op, my rules.”

“I’m not one of your soldiers, Frank. I don’t take orders from you,” Matt bristled.

He laughed. “Don’t I know it. You got a better idea?”

“Yeah, I go in and take care of them all by myself.”

“Not on your life.”

“Then I guess we do it your way.” But Matt couldn’t resist a bit of a smile.

“Guess we do. You be careful in there, Red, hear me?”

“I’m always careful.”

Frank actually laughed at him.

“I am!”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

_____

Things, as they always did with Matt, went sideways.

The “op”, as Frank called it, started out well enough. He waited for the first pops of gunfire before scaling the building to the second story and an open window he could hear rattling.

This close, he had a better read on everyone inside. He was pretty sure he could tell who the captives were- four elevated heartbeats all in the same small room smelling of unwashed bodies. First things first, deal with the guards. He kept an ear on the fight downstairs while he slipped through the halls. It was child’s play. All but three of them had gone to deal with Frank on the first floor. Judging by his heart and respiration, they weren’t giving Frank much trouble either. He had them exchanging fire in a stalemate that would last until Matt gave him a signal.

Once he had taken care of the single armed guard in the hallway, he used a stolen key to open the room where the four people were being held. It said something about how well the Devil’s reputation had recovered after Dex, or maybe how bad their captors were, that the reaction Matt got when he opened the door was relief. Heartbeats lowered, tense muscles relaxed.

“Oh, thank God. You really him? The devil guy?” asked an older man in a thick Boston accent who had positioned himself in front of the other three. Hopefully, the person Frank’s friend was worried about was among them.

“Yeah. Can you all move?”

“Think so.”

Good enough. “Then you’re all getting out of here.” He gestured them out of the sour-smelling room. “Down the hall, turn left, down the stairs, door is on your right. It’s unguarded.” Just in case he checked one last time- yes, everyone armed had been drawn into the fight with Frank. They were clear.

That was all the other three needed to hear, but the older man grabbed his arm. “They took one of us away earlier. Older lady, named Margie.”

Shit. “I’ll get her out. You go with the others.”

Matt took a moment to focus as he tried to split his attention three ways. The victims making their way out of the building. Frank, steadily exchanging fire with six others. And the quiet sobbing of a woman at the end of a hall.

Creeping down the hall, he listened carefully to the room she was in. There were four other people, two of them armed, all of them nervous.

“-should be getting out of here while we have the chance!” one of the unarmed ones was yelling at the other.

“And leave everything behind?”

“Are you fucking stupid? The Punisher is here! You want to get your head blown off?”

“I told you it’s handled. We knew he was coming and I prepared for his kind. There’s nothing to worry about.” The arrogance suggested this was the man in charge- a lead researcher, maybe. Whoever he was, if he thought a handful of guys with guns was enough to stop Frank’s kind, he was an idiot.

“You’re sure it’ll be enough to take him down?”

“Of course! I designed it myself. How can you walk away now, when we’re this close? Everything we’ve been working for has been for this moment!”

“I’m not dying for a job!” That man sounded to him like exactly the type who would be willing to flip on his boss in exchange for immunity. Daredevil and the law together would make sure all this magic and human experimentation got cut out by the roots.

Matt finally found what he was looking for, the breaker box, and flipped every switch. Buzzing lights went silent through most of the building. Because he was listening for it, he heard Frank’s low voice over the gunfire.

“Alright, Red. Message received. I’ll wrap things up here.”

Inside the room, there was panic. Matt waited outside the door like a snake ready to strike. If he was lucky, one of them would come wandering out looking for a light.

He was, to a point. The door opened, but a voice followed it. “Stop, there’s a backup generator, just wait a damn minute for it to-”

Too late. The person’s skull was within billy club range. Matt grabbed the gun from the stunned man and forced it up to fire uselessly into the ceiling.

“Fuck, it’s Darede-” another strike to the jaw and he was down. This was too easy, honestly.

He should really know better than to even think things like that. At that second the buzzing of electricity started up in the ceiling again- the lights were back on.

“It’s the Devil!”

Matt dove behind a table before gunshots ripped through the air. Luckily there was plenty of cover in the room. Lab tables, he guessed, judging by the strange smells and glass equipment.

“You didn’t say Daredevil would be here!” Exclaimed the man who had been complaining earlier. “I’m getting the fuck out of here!” If it weren’t for Margie, Matt might have chased him down to put on the witness stand. For now he had to let him escape. The devil would come for him later.

“Do you want me to go after him?” Asked the armed man, making the mistake of taking his attention even slightly off the fight. Daredevil pounced on him from behind and wrenched the gun out of his hand.

Then- boom.

An explosion rattled the world, and for a handful of seconds, his senses.

Matt made a wild grab for his opponent, found the collar of a shirt, and made an educated guess where his nose was.

It broke under his fist on the second blow. He threw a few more just in case.

Heaving the man over a table, Matt shook his head to put his senses back together. Damn explosions. This one was strange, with a weird piercing quality to it that left his ears buzzing as well as ringing. What kind of explosive was this? Some kind of magic bomb? Hadn’t Frank said something about that?

No time to ponder it.

“Stop! I’ll do it, I swear to God!”

Matt stopped. The woman’s heart was racing. Drawing blood at her throat was a blade held in the last man’s trembling grip. The one who seemed to be in charge here, who he’d thought was unarmed. Careless of him to only listen for guns.

“Alright,” Matt placated, holding up his hands, still holding one baton. Couldn’t risk him panicking and cutting Margie’s throat. The instant the knife moved away, he could make his move. “But you’re done, you understand? It’s over.”

He hadn’t taken in the room before, full of strange smells and sounds coming from unidentifiable equipment. It smelled like herbs, smoke, ozone, and blood. A lab? A magic lab? Incongruous among all the modern technology was a huge stone slab at the center of the room. Margie was zip-tied and curled up on top of it.

Stone table, the knife, the bound woman- was she some sort of… human sacrifice? Was that an altar? There better not be a fucking pentagram anywhere.

This guy was off his rails. Or he would be, if there weren’t a not insignificant chance that whatever he was trying to do might work.

“No one understands the importance of this work,” the scientist hissed. “Stark and all those other companies control all research on extraterrestrial materials. What is there for the rest of us?”

Matt couldn’t care less about his justifications, only keeping him distracted long enough to save Margie. “You couldn’t get aliens, so you experiment with magic instead?”

“It’s not magic, just unexplained phenomena. And it’s only unexplained because it hasn’t been researched properly.” He slammed his palm down and Margie screamed. He hadn’t hit her, just a book. The scent of old parchment drifted up- that must be the magic fucking book Frank had mentioned.

“Can’t imagine why, if you need to kidnap people for your research.”

“Human trials are a necessary step for plenty of fields of-”

“You call this human trials? Trials for what?”

“For everything! The things this book can do are limitless if used correctly. Don’t you see what I could do?” He gestured grandly at the tome.

No, thought Matt pettily. “Nothing is worth kidnapping people over.”

“We can’t stop now! You think you can just throw us in jail and let all my work rot in evidence? You don’t understand what you’re-”

The mad scientist tirade was cut short by a crash much closer than the rest of the other conflict had been. Close enough that even a normal person could hear it now.

Something was coming, and fast. A thudding storming up the stairs trailed by screams and gunfire.

It was… it was crashing through the doorway, taking half the frame with it, and he still wasn’t sure what the hell he was sensing.

He could tell it was big, heavy, quadrupedal, and snarling like a motorcycle engine. But the shape was blurry, indistinct, fluid. Like it was made of smoke and heat despite the force with which it rattled the floor.

Magic. A magic beast, a monster, a… demon? Had they summoned it, was that what the explosion was? This is what their magic was for? To unleash some sort of monstrosity?

“Oh God,” the scientist was gasping, “oh God, it didn’t work, oh God-” but in his distraction the knife fell away from the woman’s throat. Matt threw his baton, knocking it away, and was on the man in a second. A single brutal blow to the head knocked him to the ground.

Matt still couldn’t get an accurate read on the beast even as it whipped a screaming man around by a shattered arm. “It’s going to be alright, Margie,” he assured the woman, who was still frozen in terror. “I’ll get those off, okay?” She flinched when he grabbed her hands, but there wasn’t time to calm her. He cut the zip ties on her wrists with the knife as the beast tossed its victim aside like he weighed nothing.

“It-it-it’s, it’s a wolf,” Margie stuttered. So that’s what it looked like to everyone else? The shape of it was right, roughly, but it was just so massive. Whatever it was, its attention shifted to them. It stalked towards Matt a few steps, footfalls nearly silent, growling continuously.

Matt stepped in front of Margie. The scientist was still hyperventilating on the ground, mumbling about dogs and something about how things were grim. They agreed on that much.

Man Without Fear he may be, he still didn’t want to fight a demon. But there wasn’t a choice. Escaping simply wasn’t an option without getting Margie out, and Frank-

Wait. Where the fuck was Frank?

Frank was supposed to be downstairs dealing with the other guards. Downstairs, where the monster had come from. And he would never let that thing get past him. Not without a fight. The Punisher should be racing towards the action with guns blazing like always.

No, Frank just retreated. That’s the only explanation. He got a little hurt, maybe, and did a tactical retreat. Except that wasn’t it, because Frank would never leave a man behind, not even Matt, and certainly not the captives. Not with this thing around. Not if he could help it.

Just- just focus. Get the victim safe. Find Frank. Get them out of here. That’s what mattered. Overgrown wolf or not, he would get it done.

“Margie, can you run?”

She had snapped the second zip tie around her ankles with the knife. “Y-yes.”

“Okay. Down the hall, left, down the stairs, and out the door. The others got out there. Run when I tell you. Both of you. Got it?” He gave the scientist a kick that had him scrambling to his feet. As much as he loathed the idea of him escaping, it was better than letting him get killed.

The wolf eased towards them again. How could something so big move so quietly? It didn’t even- God help him, it didn’t have a heartbeat. At least the Hand ninjas had been human shaped. Was this thing even alive? Were magical demons alive?

“Come on, you monster! I’m right here!” He yelled, clacking his batons together to draw its attention. The sharp echo of the sound did little to give the beast a clearer shape. Four legs, a swishing tail, and air moving around sharp teeth.

This was reckless and he knew it. Whatever this thing was, it was out of Daredevil’s paygrade. But the Avengers weren’t about to bust in the door. There was only Matt. Everyone was going to be torn to shreds if he didn’t stop it here.

Running just wasn’t an option. He would stand and fight.

The demon surged forward like a wave, dodging around Matt at the last instant. He brought his baton down hard where he thought its face was- and was rewarded with a crack and a yelp. It was solid and could be hurt. Good.

“Run!” he shouted, and swung again. He landed a hit, then got knocked off his feet by something. A paw? Shit, he couldn’t predict how this thing was going to move.

It lunged- not at Matt on the floor, or the fleeing Margie, but at the scientist who hadn’t run fast enough. If these people did summon or create it, obviously they couldn’t control it.

Matt rolled to his feet and threw his shoulder into the monster’s side. It staggered but didn’t go down. How much did this thing weigh, three hundred pounds? Four? He felt all that weight as it shouldered him right back. It was too intent on its prey to bother with him, it seemed. But if he could just stop it from killing the man long enough for the idiot to run… there was a chance.

He had no goddamn idea how to fight something that wasn’t on two legs. But he had always been willing to improvise.  

Matt jumped on its back.

During one of their college days bar crawls, Matt and Foggy had once ended up in some western-themed bar with a real mechanical bull. Bar activities were something a blind man could take part in, at least not while keeping his senses a secret. God, he had loved the thrill of it. Must’ve ridden that thing three or four times that night, and broke their record for it too. He also rode the very nice bartender in the assless chaps, but that was beside the point.

The mechanical bull was the closest comparison he could make to riding a massive wolf-demon like a damn cowboy, with two main differences: there was nothing to hold onto but smooth fur, and he was going to get his throat torn out when he fell.

For a solid second or two the beast froze, then it snarled and jumped. Matt clung hard to its fur and prayed. Hot, bloody breath closed around his neck. Points of teeth crushed his chest and back. Fuck-

Then he was in the air. Matt only landed in a roll by instinct. Grasping at his shoulder, he expected blood- but there was none. His suit had stopped the teeth before his shoulder got bitten off. It had picked him up and thrown him.

And now he had the beast’s full attention. It- there was no other word for it- barked at him. Was it a dog? A hellhound? Didn’t matter. It stalked towards him, the scientist forgotten and getting to his feet, finally. Matt did the same.

The monster had been playing with him. He had the feeling he wouldn’t get off so easily the next time it attacked.

What was his plan? He still had his clubs, for all the good they’ve done. There was no telling how many times he’d have to hit it before he did any real damage. For once, he wished for Frank’s kind of firepower. Killing a demon didn’t count as taking a life, right?

It stalked towards him, nearly silent even to his ears. Matt took a step back, and then another. Shit. There had to be something here he could use to his advantage. While desperately searching the space, he realized the scientist who had started this whole thing hadn’t run. He had gone to the old book and picked up that silver knife.

If the man said magic words or waved a damn wand around, Matt had been too occupied facing down a monster to notice. There was just a strangled yell and the smell of blood as the man used the knife on himself.

“I- I have to, I have to-” is all the man said before he did something.

The explosion from earlier had been strange. What came now could almost not even be called an explosion at all- more of an implosion. Without warning there was a void in the middle of the room where nothing existed, not even air. Then a concussive wall of sound rushed out like a wave. Matt was thrown to the ground, ears ringing again, the monster blasted in the other direction.  

The sphere-shaped emptiness in the room had taken everything with it, including the floor. Everything else was destroyed by the blast, from the roof to the walls. The whole place was falling apart. Matt scrabbled at the smooth industrial floor as it sagged towards the hole, supports groaning and wood cracking.

How many times was he going to end up in collapsing buildings? Falling through the floor back when he had fought Vladimir, and then Midland. He couldn’t do that again, God-

All Matt could do was brace himself and pray as he fell. All around him a cacophony of crashing.

Then it was- not silent, but quieter.

Everything ached- his back from hitting the ground, his arms from protecting his head- but nothing was screaming in agony. After choking on dust for a moment, he could breathe. Shoving a shard of drywall off himself, Matt almost wanted to laugh. A building falling down hadn’t killed him. Again.

He pushed himself up. His leg wouldn’t move, and thoughtlessly, he pulled. There was a creak in the rubble and the pressure below his knee hardened.

Stupid. He froze like a statue. Moving carefully, he tapped the debris to get a better read on it. A wooden beam pinned him at the shin. The only reason his bone hadn’t been turned to gravel was an uneven chunk of concrete propping it up. If it crumbled or slipped, his leg was done for.

Fuck.

Okay, so that was one problem. Barely daring to breathe, he listened for the rest of the place.

Four heartbeats remained, not including his own. Margie and the other captives should have had time to escape. Everyone else had either gotten out or was dead- it was hard to tell with the stink of blood already in the air. The scientist who had caused the blast was gone as well.

And of course, there was the monster. While it had no heartbeat to hear, there was a shifting and scratching of claws off in the corner that was too huge to be anything else. Being killed in the blast would’ve been too easy.

It was in that moment of stillness that Matt realized what he should’ve noticed long before. Or maybe on some level he already had and was just fooling himself. Four heartbeats- one was a guard he’d fought earlier, one the man that had caused the blast, and two he didn’t recognize, probably other guards.

What he couldn’t hear was Frank’s heartbeat, not anywhere in the whole building. Not in the entire block.

Frank had told him from the beginning that this was a trap set for him. The demonic wolf. The strange boom from earlier. The scientist’s confidence that they could “take care of” him. The human blood he could smell on the thing’s breath.

It… it couldn’t be. There was just no way. Frank Castle was not going to be taken down by a handful of nobodies, magic or not. That dog couldn’t have…

No. The blast just messed with his ears. Frank was here, because it was unthinkable that he would run and even more unthinkable that he could be… could he really be dead? His chest crushed at the thought. Why was it so hard to breathe?

“Frank!” he found himself calling, as if he was just missing him in the chaos. As if he had somehow forgotten that unmistakable soldier’s march of a heart.

The scrabbling of the beast picked up its pace. Announcing his location like that was stupid.

His ears obviously weren’t working, so he searched by smell. That coffee-GSR-leather smell had to be- there it was, with the spray paint and Kevlar of his vest. He could sense it in the rubble. Not the… rest of him, just the vest. Why would he take off the vest?

“God damn you, Frank! Where the hell are you?” The hellbeast already knew where he was, and Frank had to be here somewhere. His vest was here and so was he. And he would answer, because he was alive. All there was to it.

Across the room, there was a snarl and a clatter. The demon was getting loose, and Matt was a sitting duck. He needed to find Frank and get them the hell out of here.

He braced his other foot against the beam and pushed, but it didn’t budge. Not enough leverage- if he could just get his hands on something to pry the beam off him. The pinch on his shin was turning to a concerning pain.

“Goddammit,” he snarled at himself. “Goddammit!”

A clatter and the thuds of four paws on the ground. The wolf was free. The other heartbeats hadn’t moved position, either trapped or smart enough to stay hidden with a monster on the loose.

If this thing was going to kill them, Matt prayed to go first. He didn’t think he could stomach hearing it chew up all the others before it got to him.  

Being Daredevil would kill him one day. He’d known that the first time he went out at night and came back with blood on his fists. Foggy knew it, which is why he hated the mask so much. But Matt never thought it would be like this. Daredevil was supposed to die on his feet, not pinned like a rat in a trap and torn to shreds by something he didn’t even know existed an hour ago.

Murdocks always get up. And if they don’t, they should at least go down swinging.

The dog-shaped monster was getting closer, quiet steps unsteady. Hopefully it was injured. At least Matt had slowed it down some before it was let loose in his city. Who would take care of it now? The cops? Jessica, Luke, or Danny? Captain fucking America?

Matt wanted to end this thing himself. Drag it down to hell with him. Frank would like that. No way could the thing that killed the Punisher just keep living like nothing happened-

“Let’s go, you fucking monster!” reaching as far as he could, he grabbed the first thing he touched and flung it at the approaching demon. It barely flinched.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” He screamed at it, fiercely pleased to be able to say that and mean it for once. Whatever this was, it wasn’t human, so killing it wasn’t murder. The one time he could kill without guilt, he can’t even pull that off right. “You killed Frank, I’ll kill you! Come on!”

A shard of drywall hit it right where the blood-tinged breath was coming from and it growled. There was still no heartbeat, just a void with shape and weight. More like an approaching force of nature than a living thing.

He found a chunk of stone that fit well in his hand. It would have to do. Matt could slam it through the thing’s skull while it killed him. This is how an animal in a trap feels before gnawing its leg off, he thought distantly. If only he had the time. Fuck the leg, he at least wanted to die on his feet.

Matt wanted his last rites. He wanted to say goodbye and apologize, to Foggy and Karen, to Maggie, to Frank. He was furious that it was ending this way, and under that he was…

Some man without fear he turned out to be.

He should’ve died with Elektra under Midland, or fighting Fisk, or the first time he went out in a mask, or from the accident when he was a kid. Not eaten by a goddamn demon.

The beast stopped just outside of swinging range, the coward. “What are you waiting for?! Come on!”

Matt got in one satisfying bash with the rock before the monster was on him. Two heavy paws- he could tell they were paws now- crushed him by the shoulders into the ground. He thrashed and clawed at the thing’s forelegs.

“Do it.” He wasn’t sure if he was daring or begging for it to be quick. “Just do it, come on, come on.”

Matt felt the hot breath on his face, how the air moved around sharp teeth, smelled the bitter blood-

And it licked him.

It licked him on the cheek.

What?

Was it playing with its food? But it kept not biting his throat out for breath after stuttering breath. It whined like a dog and nosed at his chin.

“What… what are…” he breathed shakily. Why was it suddenly so… tame? Had it been controlled by the scientist who died? But… it hadn’t attacked Matt earlier, had it? Not at first. It ripped and bit the others, but not him. Its fangs hadn’t even broken skin, and the suit could only do so much.

Why would it want to hurt everyone except the Devil trying to kill it?

Matt pushed through the near-death adrenaline rush and made himself think for a goddamn moment. A monster had appeared sometime after that strange first boom. It brutally attacked everyone but him- no, it hadn’t chased Margie either. Even though it smelled like human blood and smoke and… coffee?

Matt generally identified people by their voice, heart, and scent. Mostly the smells he associated with people were things like perfume or soap. But underneath that was a constant scent unique to each person. He knew Foggy and Karen’s by heart, and Frank’s… well, knew that one too.

Frank had been downstairs when the monster appeared. Matt would smell his body or at least the blood. His vest and only his vest was in the rubble. Frank would kill guards but not him or an innocent person. The pseudo-scientific magic bullshit all around. The beast that carried his scent, but not the scent of Frank’s blood. The sheer fact that the wolf should have already killed him.

Ergo…

It couldn’t be.

“You can’t be… Frank?”

He wasn’t expecting an answer, but the demon jerked its head down, then up. An awkward nod.

Holy shit.

“Holy shit.”

It- he? Huffed at him.

“Are you really him? Can you understand me? Are you… still you?”

Another awkward nod, and a cold wet nose bumping his chin. Belatedly, Matt realized that the cheek that hadn’t been licked was wet with tears. Shit. He scrubbed at his face, embarrassed.

“Did they turn you into a magic dog?” He blurted. The beast- Frank, he still wasn’t sure he believed it- grumbled low and swung his head in a no. That baffled Matt even more, since that’s the only explanation that even approached making sense here. Maybe his head was still a little scrambled? Or he was completely off-base and this wasn’t Frank at all? But they couldn’t exactly argue about it, so he just said, “Okay. Sure,” then, “Get off me, asshole.”

He did, sitting back with a couple light thumps of his… he was hearing things, that couldn’t be his tail. Matt pushed himself to a sit. The whiplash of panic still had his head spinning.

This didn’t seem real, because even if this thing was Frank, he still didn’t feel real. Too indistinct and silent and wrong. Matt found himself reaching for his face. The shape shied away.

“Sorry. I’m not going to hit you again, I just- I can’t get a read on you. You feel off to me, like you aren’t even real, and you don’t have a heartbeat, and I can’t really tell-” his rambling was cut off by Frank pushing his face into Matt’s hand. Permission, as much as he could give it.

Thank you, he couldn’t say, so he went with, “Sorry. Sorry, I just need to…” He couldn’t feel texture through the gloves, so he tore them off. One last time he held his bare hands out, waiting to be bitten for being so stupid about this. He wasn’t.

Like a circuit connecting, Frank lit up in his senses when he touched him. His shape became clear, all the tiny movements, and finally, his heart. The relief had Matt pressing his hand into his soft neck without thinking- he could feel his heart beating again, and through all the magic, it was undeniably Frank’s. Between the scent and that heart, there was no longer any doubt in his mind.

“Jesus Christ, it’s really you.” Matt nearly laughed.

Magic bullshit was just blocking his senses somehow. And this was magic bullshit, no doubt in his mind, even if Frank denied being transformed by them. For the moment it didn’t matter why he was like this, only that he stayed himself on the inside. Or at least enough to not gore him like he had the guards.

He couldn’t help his hands wandering to continue the exploration of this new strange body. They hadn’t done this yet when Frank was human, and he really should have asked better. It was intimate, or at least it was for Matt. He also, admittedly, used it as a bit of a move to initiate a kiss. For the record his success rate with that move was stellar, but trying it on Frank Castle was surely a great way to get himself punched.

He skimmed his fingertips along the soft fur, trying to keep it perfunctory. Wet nose, sharp whiskers, up his snout to his eyes and pointed ears. He felt how the tail twitched, but certainly didn’t do anything like wag, when he brushed the unearthly silky fur behind one ear.

Frank was a dog. No obviously weird demon features, besides the size and way that he fucked with Matt’s senses. Didn’t stink the way dogs did either, though maybe that was just a matter of having human hygiene habits. The hint of dog was layered under a cocktail of dust, blood, GSR, smoke, coffee, and Frank. And around the edges, not quite a scent, was the zing of magic.

“Sorry. My senses aren’t working right because you’re magic. And also a dog, or, wolf… werewolf?” Another emphatic shake of the head.

Right. Asking anything more than yes or no questions was pointless when Frank wasn’t really in any shape to answer. Was he even really in his right mind? Earlier he had licked his cheek, after all.

It would be up to Matt to stay focused on the important things like getting out of here. Experimentally, he twisted his leg a bit, but only gritted his teeth when it flared in pain. Frank started nosing at his leg and made a strange, high-pitched noise in his chest. Must be annoyed at his delay.

“Yeah, I’m kinda stuck. Would have kicked your ass otherwise.” Then again, if he hadn’t gotten trapped like this, Matt would be halfway across Hell’s Kitchen by now, and Frank would be on his own. The Lord works in mysterious ways, alright.

Nearby, some of the rubble shifted. Matt could tell it was nothing but Frank’s head snapped towards it and he growled.

“It’s nothing. The captives escaped, everyone else is either trapped or gone.” Or dead, but he didn’t want to think about that right now. At his words the wolf seemed to sag, maybe relax? It was too hard to tell.

“If you want to be helpful, there’s some rebar over there that might work to pry it off.” He pointed to it, tried very hard to not make a dog joke, and failed. “Go fetch,” he said with a bit of a grin. Frank growled at him, which was honestly fascinating to feel while touching him.

Frank’s threats now were the same as they always were- not unfounded, but empty against him. He wouldn’t bite Matt anymore than he would shoot him. While they may not be friends in any conventional sense, he was confident of that much.

And Frank even did what he asked. He carefully pulled a long iron rod from a pile and dragged it back. Matt held back making a comment about carrying it in his mouth. It wasn’t Frank’s fault he didn’t have hands at the moment.

“Can you change back? Into a human?” Matt asked as he got the rebar wedged under the beam. The shape wasn’t perfect, but it should work as a lever. Frank grumbled unhelpfully. Well, if he could change back, he probably would have already. He didn’t seem to be enjoying being on four legs.

“Do you think it’ll wear off and you’ll be able change back later?”

Frank gave a huff and nosed at the bar. Didn’t know, or maybe just uninterested for the moment. Communicating with Frank like this wasn’t all that different than usual. He was all grunts and growls and huffs half the time anyway.

Bracing himself against the floor, he pushed with all his might against the bar. The beam creaked and shifted. Matt hissed as the pinch on his ankle only increased.

“Shit,” he tried to get a better grip, but he could hear the concrete chunk crumbling. He was only making it worse- then Frank shoved his furry head under the bar and heaved. The beam nearly flew off him.

He was kicking himself free the instant he could. The whole thing came crashing down when Frank pulled back. Matt took a moment to breathe and check his leg for lasting damage. The joint was fine, thank God. At worst he’d have a bone bruise, but nothing a little ice wouldn’t fix.

Frank was also interested in whether he could walk, judging by how he snuffled around his leg. Pushing him away, Matt said, “Thanks. I’m fine. Now let’s get out of here so we can focus on getting you changed back. Alright?”

Heaving himself to his feet, Matt realized his leg wasn’t quite as steady as he hoped when he found himself stumbling just a bit. And catching himself on the only thing available. “Sorry,” he said, snatching his hand away from Frank’s back. He shouldn’t touch without permission. The guy wasn’t the touchy-feely type usually, so why would now be any different?

But Frank only pushed more firmly against his hand. Right, this was just a practical thing. They’d helped each other limp out of tight spots once or twice.

The lack of sirens outside meant they had at least a few minutes to get out without being caught. Matt decided there was enough time to scavenge his billy clubs and the Punisher’s vest from the wreckage even with Frank shoving at him impatiently. He didn’t know about the vest, but his clubs weren’t easy to replace.

Matt aimed them towards the front of the building where it was more structurally sound. They picked their way through the mess, Frank at his side the whole way. Being used as the occasional crutch didn’t seem to bother him, and he was the right height for it. Jesus Christ, was he big. Standing up straight, Frank’s head came nearly to his shoulder. He was a dog in shape but not in size.

Sometime in middle school Matt had insisted he wouldn’t mind going along on a zoo trip with the other kids at St. Agnes. He spent the whole trip lingering around Sister Anna and pretending to be bored, all the while internally marveling at the sounds and smells of the animals. The squawks of tropical birds, chatter of monkeys, and the quiet breathing of the sleeping tigers that the other kids complained about not being able to see.

Even after so long, his memory told him Frank was closer in size to a tiger than a wolf. They couldn’t be seen walking down the street like this. Even in the middle of the night, this was still New York. People would be around. And though Frank seemed to be in his right mind, Matt was uneasy letting him be around other people. If he suddenly snapped and killed an innocent bystander, Frank would never get over it. Neither would Matt.  

Thankfully, they got out without much trouble. He had to guide Frank’s huge new body over some unstable footing, and he snarled viciously at every sound, but they made it.

“So,” Matt asked rhetorically, “what now? We can’t stay on the street for long, and I don’t know how to get you up on the roofs like this.” The one safehouse of Frank’s that he knew about was even further than his apartment, which was eight blocks away still.

Frank seemed to have a destination in mind. With no better ideas, Matt followed. He led with purpose down the block and around the corner, listening to Matt’s cues of when to move and when to hide in the shadows.

Their apparent destination was a garage door. Behind it was a large empty space that smelled abandoned but for a van parked inside. Frank pawed uselessly at the handle until Matt pulled at it- locked.

“What, leave your keys in your other pants?” Matt teased, earning a snarl. Come to think of it, what had happened to his other clothes? Kevlar had a distinct enough smell, but he hadn’t even thought of looking for anything besides the vest. Maybe they magically disappeared? He kept the question to himself. “It’s alright, I have it covered.”

Matt wasn’t as well practiced with his lockpicks as he probably should be, but he could handle a padlock. The whole time he worked, Frank stood facing the road.

“You don’t have to keep watch,” Matt said as he heaved the door up in a jarring rattle. “There’s nobody around.”

Frank slipped into the garage and made a loop of the perimeter while Matt got the door closed behind them. The place smelled like oil and tires, an old auto shop, maybe. “Frank, are you listening to me? There’s no one here. I would be able to tell.” But Frank planted himself in front of the closed door.  

Well, he had brought them here for a reason. Maybe there was something useful in the van? There was no question this was Frank’s van- it was mobile armory.

“It’s a good thing you only drive old pieces of junk. If this were an electronic lock, we’d be shit out of luck,” Matt said as he got to work on the back door of the van. The lack of responses from Frank was starting to make him a little uneasy. When he wasn’t touching him, Frank was a ghost, like he could vanish at any moment.

Even though he could tell there wasn’t, he still asked, “You don’t have this rigged to blow up, do you?” Frank huffed at him, an annoyed but reassuring sound.

Matt had admittedly used Frank for transportation once or twice, so he knew what was in his van. The usual things: guns, ammo, bombs, first aid kit, basic supplies, food and water, more guns.

“Is there anything in here that could help us? Help you change back?” Matt asked, sitting heavily on the back of the van and pulling off his helmet. His bruised leg was complaining bitterly. Frank finally gave up on his sentry position by the door and trotted over to him.

“Okay, so you just brought us here to hide. Do you think you can change back on your own?”

A nod. That was a relief. Matt didn’t have the first clue how to undo a werewolf curse or whatever this was.

“Has this happened before? Changing like this?”

A long pause, and another nod.

“Jesus Christ, Frank. And you didn’t tell me? What, did you think I wouldn’t get it? It would scare me off?”

He tipped his head away, not in a yes or no, but avoiding the question.

“I can’t believe you made fun of me for being a ‘freaky magic ninja’. We’re talking about this once you turn back,” he warned. “Do you know how long that will take?”

A no.

“Great. I’d ask what I should do to help, but that might be a little beyond your ability to communicate right now.”

Frank only leaned against his shoulder, nearly pushing him over if he didn’t balance himself. By touch he could tell Frank’s pulse was up- for a human, at least, which could mean nothing here. But he was tense as a bowstring and jumping at every bit of sound that leaked in the garage door.

“Do you just… need to calm down?” He didn’t say feel safe, since he’d learned that Frank shut down or lashed out at that kind of talk. In fairness, so did Matt. “You’ll turn back if you just rest for a while?”

This time he got a more enthusiastic nod, along with a huff that he had the feeling implied about time you figured it out. As if anything about this situation was at all obvious.

All he had to do was help a shapeshifted Punisher relax. Great. If he could just get him back to his apartment, or at least to one of those safehouses of his. Somewhere calm and secure where Matt could watch over him.

“Okay. I can do that. It’ll be fine.” Matt reassured himself. “I’ll stay with you until you can change back.”

Frank huffed again and nudged him with his big head, nearly pushing him off the back of the van. With all the finesse of a bull, Frank shoved him bodily towards the garage door.

“You’d make a god-awful guide dog,” Matt grumbled. “Yeah, I get it, you need to get somewhere to calm down. But you can’t just walk around the city like this, and it’s not like either of us can drive.”

Frank’s answer was to push him at the door again, turn around, and sit pointedly in front of the van. “What are you trying to-” when he took a step forward, Frank growled at him.

Matt put the pieces together. “Wait, you want me to leave you here?” Frank nodded again and barked for good measure.

“That’s out of the question! What if those guys come looking for you? Or the cops? Best case scenario you get animal control called on you, and that’s if they don’t just shoot you first!” Matt stomped back to the four-legged pain in the ass, undeterred by the meanest snarl yet.

“Oh, shut up, asshole. I can’t believe you really think I’d just leave you like this. I’m staying whether you like it or not.” Hands on his hips, Matt did his best impression of staring him down. Neither of them moved for a long moment while the rumbling in Frank’s chest trailed off.

Matt sat back down on the back of the van, heedless of the fangs he could tell were still bared. “You just… lay down and do whatever you need to do to change back. I’ll watch your back until then. Alright?”

Predictably, there was no reply, but Frank sat down right in front of him, facing the door again. Great. Both of them were too keyed-up to get any rest. And it was freezing now that Matt wasn’t moving around. Even if he had the keys, he couldn’t run the engine in an enclosed space, so there was no heat. There had to be something in the stupid van.

“Do you have any blankets back here?” He asked redundantly, poking around in the back for something that wasn’t a gun. A thick coat was thrown over the passenger’s seat. It felt warm, and smelled a lot like Frank. He berated himself for being weird about it and shoved it on over the suit. A duffel bag revealed enough spare clothes for him to lose the Daredevil suit if he needed to. Not that it mattered with one of them still the size of a bear.

Frank had turned his head towards the van. Looking at him? “It’s fucking cold, and you’re the only one with fur,” he groused, completely unnecessarily, pulling the leather coat tight around him. Why would Frank give a shit? Matt was the only one who was… weird about scents. Nobody else realized how overwhelming it was to be so surrounded by someone like that. Even when the scents were mostly GSR and blood, which shouldn’t be comforting in any capacity.

“You know, if you had turned into a regular sized dog, this would be so much easier. We could just walk out of here,” Matt said half to himself, just for something to say. He wasn’t looking forward to spending the night if Frank didn’t turn back soon. Who knew how long that could take?

Without warning, Frank let out a high-pitched yelp and there was the strangest sound, like air rushing in. Matt was on his feet in an instant but there was no other movement. Frank… the shape of him in the air had changed. He couldn’t help but reach out to touch him to confirm.

Frank was still a dog. He had just gotten smaller.

“What the fuck, Frank. Did you shrink?” Matt ran light fingers over him to check anyway. Everything seemed to check out- face, ears, paws, tail. Even the texture of the fur was more defined, though he still couldn’t hear his heartbeat. As long as he wasn’t a strange color, Frank should appear to be just another dog. “Could you have done that this whole time?”

Frank shook out his fur, turned in a couple of tight circles, and sat down again. If he was this unsettled, it probably took him as much by surprise as it did Matt. Magic was so goddamn weird.  

“Well, at least that makes getting home a lot simpler. Let’s get out of here.”

____

An unassuming man turned the corner and walked onto the street. He walked a bit slow and stiffly, but was not noticeably limping. At his side was a large dog with a rope for a leash.

It had taken some growling, snapping, and at least five minutes of one-sided argument for Frank to accept the rope tied very loosely around his neck. This was still New York and there are leash laws, Frank, we don’t want to cause a scene. He’d promised not to pull on the leash if Frank agreed to not just take off on his own.

Matt was dressed in Frank’s spare clothes from a duffel in his van. They were a bit baggy, since of course the Punisher had to be built like a damn tank, and not particularly clean. On the bright side, he had also been reliably informed that Frank only ever wore black, so at least he wouldn’t stand out. The vest and his Daredevil suit were in a backpack he’d also found in the van.

He even had sunglasses he’d stolen from the console, but no cane to complete the look. Ideally he wouldn’t be recognized by anyone he knew, but if pushed, he could probably sell some bullshit about using a guide dog even though Frank obviously wasn’t geared for it. Sighted people tended not to push about blind stuff, which he had to admit was convenient as hell for him at times.

Matt tracked every heartbeat they passed, sure that someone was going to find something about them strange. But he was just a guy walking his dog, and this was New York. No one spared them a second glance.

Well, almost no one.

A group of teenagers, out too late on a Friday night, were shoving each other and laughing down the sidewalk. It felt like a good sign for his city that kids felt safe out this late, and Matt found himself smiling, then holding back laughter when they caught sight of Frank.

“Oh my god, check out at that dog!”

“Aw! Pretty puppy!”

“Who’s a good boy, look at you!”

This night had been full of plenty of surprises, but Frank Castle being baby-talked was still almost at the top of the list.

“Your dog is gorgeous!”

“Thank you, he is,” Matt said politely. He didn’t offer to let them pet his “dog”, not because there was any chance of Frank snapping at some kids, but because he would definitely bite Matt about it later.

Might bite him about it anyway. “What was I going to do, disagree with her? That would be rude,” he said when they were out of earshot. Frank responded by nearly shouldering him into a pile of trash.

Another conflict arose when they miraculously made it to his apartment. Matt went towards the front door and Frank towards the alley with the fire escape. The leash yanked tight between them and Frank jumped with a throaty snarl.

“Sorry, but there is no way you’re getting up the fire escape like that. The camera on the front door hasn’t worked in months. We’re taking the stairs. Come on, there’s no one up. I can tell.”

Frank had been to his apartment, shit, twice now. How had that happened? Neither of those times had he entered through the front door. He unlocked the door with the spare key, and they were in.

Thank God, they’d actually made it.

Frank shoved through the door the instant it opened, pawing off the rope Matt had dropped as soon as they got in the building. He took a moment to lock the door behind them, and resisted his body’s request to lay down right then and there.

Frank was standing stock-still in the middle of his hallway. Just like before, there was no warning before a rush of air like a balloon popping- and he was right back to his former massive size. Damn. Regular dog sized Frank was easier to deal with, but apparently that was only temporary by whatever laws governed this magic. Laws that definitely did not include the law of conservation of mass.

“So, you’re big again. Are you okay?” Matt asked. Changing shape like that didn’t seem pleasant, and while he hadn’t yelped like before, Frank was panting heavily.  “You didn’t have to, uh, turn small if it… we would’ve been fine in that garage.”

Either Frank wasn’t listening or he was simply ignoring any suggestion of help like he always did. He shook out his new fur and stalked into his apartment with a purpose. Tracking the clacking of his claws on hard wood, Matt listened to him make a loop of the perimeter just like he had back at the garage. Up the stairs to the roof access, down through the kitchen, along the windows, in and out of the bedroom, past the bathroom, back to the hallway. Then he did it again.

Matt didn’t know how to stop him, or even if he should. He busied himself with hiding the backpack with his suit and the vest. Getting out of Frank’s warm clothes should probably also be a priority… after he got the radiator going. Damn thing was half busted.

Once that was done, Matt was left lingering uselessly in his living room. Frank wasn’t even walking the perimeter anymore, just pacing restlessly back and forth in front of the windows. The next time Frank passed by, he put a hand out to stop him. When that was ignored, he wrapped his arms around that furry neck and pulled.

With his hands on him, Matt could feel his heart again. It was racing even more than before, and tiny tremors flowed up his four legs. “Frank, stop. It’s fine. I can hear danger coming from a block away. You can relax.”

He didn’t relax, but he did stop, still panting like he’d run a marathon. Couldn’t be a good sign.

“Just sit down. Let’s both just sit down, okay?” He was ready to pull with all his might, but Frank followed him to a chair, docile as anything. It wasn’t right. Normally all they did was bicker. Frank was supposed to be stubborn and independent and snapping at him.

“Frank, you’re still… you, right? Let me know you still understand me.” Frank’s heart pounded under his hands, but he didn’t react. Just sat and played guard dog. “Come on, give me a sign. I don’t care if you bite me, just…”

Still nothing. Frank only tipped his head at him.

This was pointless. They’d come this far, but it didn’t change the fact that Matt knew shit about magic.

The Hand used magic, maybe, but that door was long closed. Danny might help, though his magic knowledge seemed to begin and end with dragon bones and the Iron Fist. That and he didn’t know how Danny felt about the Punisher. If all else failed, he supposed there was always that building down in Greenwich Village that buzzed at his senses from three blocks away.

Not without Frank’s permission, though. Being supernatural, or enhanced, or whatever this was, it was obviously something he wanted to stay a secret. Only in a life or death situation would Matt consider revealing that. They weren’t at that point yet, but how much longer could this go on?

There had to be something he could do. Frank had said he needed to relax. So, maybe Matt just needed to convince his dog-brain that everything was fine and he was safe. Act like nothing was wrong. Not exactly his strong suit, but he could try.

After some deliberation about the chances of Frank drinking from a bowl, he settled on leaving the kitchen sink running while he got clothes out of the bedroom. Just the idea of putting something on the floor for him to use like this felt wrong. Demeaning, or dehumanizing. And Frank was still human, or he would be human soon.

Awkward splashing was his reward- Frank got some water in him. That had to be good, right? Once his clacking paws wandered back to the living room, Matt emerged and shut off the water.

During his quick shower, he listened to Frank pace the apartment. His steps were getting increasingly uneven. When Matt came back to the living room, dressed hastily for bed, Frank planted himself right back next to the chair. Matt accepted the invitation and flopped down next to him.

Without thinking he held out his hand, and Frank pushed his soft fur into his fingers. It didn’t escape him that every time he had implicitly asked for permission to touch it had been granted without hesitation. What did that mean? What did the elevated heart rate mean? Was he getting worse? Matt tipped his forehead against that sturdy shoulder. Goddamn, his fur was like silk. And the deep scent of gunpowder was still more comforting than it should be.

“Shit, Frank. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. How do I get you back?” Matt said into his fur, to no reply. What if he never replied again?

Frank leaned into him and whined. He whined, like the downstairs neighbor’s dog did whenever its owner left for work.

Shit.

Matt was the one who needed to keep it together right now.

“Just lay down. Please?”

Frank’s paws slid until he was technically laying down, but with ears still pricked and muscles tense.

“Better, I guess. Just stay there and go to sleep, okay?” Matt kept a hand on his back to stop him from getting up as he stepped away. He whined again, but obeyed. “Stay there. It’s okay.”

Matt had just gotten his leg elevated and iced for bed when his bedroom door rattled. Of course. Frank pushed it open with his nose and lingered in the doorway.

“Everything’s fine. I’m going to sleep, see? I wouldn’t be sleeping if there was danger. You’re safe. Just calm down.”

Frank wasn’t listening. He hadn’t been listening for a while. He trotted to the other side of the bed and sniffed at the pillows. Then he put his two front paws on the bed. Matt cringed as his bed creaked ominously. “Wait, don’t-” Goddammit, he could not afford a new bedframe right now. Oblivious, Frank heaved the rest of himself onto his poor bed. The mattress dipped precariously, tipping Matt right into the furry intruder.

“God dammit, Frank.” Matt scrambled back to his side of the bed.

Said pain in the ass turned in an awkward circle, nearly stepping on him twice, then curled up on top of his comforter. And because this was a queen and Frank was massive, that meant taking up noticeably more than half the bed.

As if to rub it in, that big fluffy tail tap-tap-tapped against the blankets. But what was he going to do, kick the four hundred pound, semi-lucid, mystical hellhound onto the ground? This was the least he could offer. He got his icepack resituated and lay back down.

“You’re going to be okay, right?” He whispered. Soft breaths tickled the hairs on his arms, finally growing slower.

God above, he was exhausted. There was nothing to do but rest.

“If you get fur on my sheets, I’m going to skin you,” Matt mumbled.

_____

After all that worrying Matt, somehow, slept right through the transformation itself. He only woke when the weight on the other side of the bed changed so suddenly the whole mattress moved.

He didn’t flinch or lash out, even if that should have been the logical reaction to waking in bed with a killer. But he felt only a bleary relief.

Frank, or rather human-shaped Frank, was finally back. Gone was the unsettling blurry outline of the hulking dog; in its place was the normal sharp shape of the man. Very sharp, even, because he was also naked. Which was- expected, and not important.

Adrenaline stung his nose. Frank was curled on his side, gasping for breath and shaking.

“Fuck. Hey, Frank, you’re fine, it’s okay,” Matt soothed uselessly, with no idea if that was even true.  Dawn hadn’t arrived yet but he couldn’t tell how long they had been asleep.

Frank started mumbling, something that might have been “what?” or “where?”

“You’re okay, it’s okay.” His hand found the back of Frank’s neck again without thinking, rubbing at it awkwardly.

A grumbling growl resolved into a consonant. “R… Red?”

“Yeah, I’m right here. You’re human again, you’re okay.”

Frank clamped a hand around his wrist, but instead of throwing Matt off, he kept the hand on his neck. The trembling under his palm seemed to ease. If it was helping, then he would keep doing it.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Wi’ you.”

Close enough. “Do you know what just happened? Are you okay?”

“’M fine… tired…” Frank mumbled.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep. What the hell just happened? What was that?”

“I jus’…”

Matt gave his neck a little shake when he trailed off. “Frank!”

As an answer, Frank rolled onto his stomach- and flopped himself directly on top of Matt, arm draped over his chest, face tucked into his neck. He barely dared to breathe for a long moment.

“Frank. Hey. Are you seriously asleep?” That’s what his vitals said, but Matt wasn’t confident he knew what Frank’s baseline was anymore, and how could someone fall asleep right after shapeshifting into a human? How could Frank possibly sleep while naked in a strange bed? Which wasn’t something he was thinking about, except that now he had his answer as to what happened to his clothes. Probably in shreds back in the rubble. Though, curiously, a clinking metal chain was around his neck that dog-Frank definitely hadn’t been wearing.

None of which helped with the reality of Frank Castle in his bed with his ass out.

“Wake up, Frank.” This he punctuated with trying to shove his head away. It earned him a vague grunt and Frank rubbing his head against his palm.

Now he decides to become a heavy sleeper?

The thing about his senses- one of the many things- is that by necessity he was pretty good at ignoring things, up until the point where he couldn’t. The shape of bodies, muffled only somewhat by clothes, had long since become background noise. But a naked body in his bed, draped over him like a lazy blanket, that was harder.

Another thing about his senses- Matt often slept without a shirt even in this chilly weather because it defeated the purpose of his sheets otherwise. So there was nothing to distract him from the skin on his skin, the texture of chest hair, the body heat through the thin sheet, the exact positioning of respective anatomy- though the last one he was trying really, really hard to ignore anyway.

He couldn’t help but remember that the last person he had recovering in his bed had been Elektra. This situation was untenable. And the soft breaths on his neck where Frank had nestled himself right in were maddening.

But waking him up wasn’t working. Frank was completely exhausted, which he supposed wasn’t the worst consequence of spending extended time as some sort of magic dog. Probably best to let him sleep. Matt would take the couch for the night. There should be enough blankets around for him to not completely freeze his ass off.

The problem came when he tried to extract himself out from underneath Frank. Matt heard thousands of voices a day, all day, at least in the background, so he was very familiar with the entire register of human sounds.

What came out of Frank was not that. This was a loud, full body growl, the same as he’d been making while transformed. So maybe the beast wasn’t as gone as he’d hoped. No normal human body could make a sound like that. But still-

“Frank, let go.” He pushed at the arm draped over him but immediately it clamped around his chest like iron. What rumbled through his chest and spilled out his lips was nothing less than a snarl. A warning and a threat in one. Matt was suddenly very aware of the proximity of his jugular to Frank’s teeth. And the fact that he could still smell human blood on his breath.

Okay, so. Staying it was.

The combination of skin-to-skin contact and the weight pressing him into the mattress was a balm on his senses like little else was. Add in the space heater of Frank’s body heat to the frigid air of his bedroom? It… wasn’t unpleasant. And something to go to confession for later.

He tried to leave. It couldn’t be a sin if he tried, right? Who was he kidding. The relief was a sin. Enjoying it was definitely a sin.

To assuage his guilt Matt pulled at the comforter until it was at least mostly draped over Frank, and by extension himself.

Matt would keep a metaphorical eye on him, he decided. He would stay awake for the rest of the night and make sure that there were no other side effects of the transformation. He would stay on guard while Frank came down from it. He would…

He lasted about three minutes before nodding off.