Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In the midst of the chaos of Hell's Kitchen, Daredevil could hear the distinct, sweet sound in his ears, and it almost gave him peace.

Almost.

Karen was laughing, and as usual, it was pleasing--a melody he wanted to get accustomed to. It was nice to see her that way, doing that uncontrollable giggle where she throws her head back in sheer happiness. The gesture was so carefree and so Karen--the Karen who brightened the dim and at times cold Nelson & Murdock office, her soulful eyes that reminded him of blue skies and sunny days. She was being her beautiful self, having fun and living her life, and the only thing wrong with this picture was that he was up in the rooftops wedged in the darkness while someone else basked in her light. 

Someone else being Frank Castle.

The two of them were in her flat, an upgrade from her battered apartment where her life was mostly in danger--and though her new job at the Bulletin seemed to give her more financial (and dating) freedom, the idea that they no longer saw each other regularly brought a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Bitterness aside, he had meant to keep Karen in his life. When Elektra died, it put things back into perspective. He remembered he was more than one thing, he wasn't just Daredevil, and he had a life left to live.

He also had to wash his costume, and who would he be during those days?

He had to be Matt, he was Matt, and during those times, he had envisioned himself with Karen.

Karen.

Why did he mess things up with Karen? Wasn't she supposed to be everything he's ever wanted? Matt never saw her as a damsel in distress, but the need to protect her was always there. That need was constant, relentless. It was as if he was born to do it--up until Elektra showed up in his life, that is.

Elektra was simply that. Electric. She had the ability to make him feel twice his size. Powerful, like he was immortal. She made him embrace his darkness and turn it into strength. She was his equal. Together, they were an impenetrable force. Matt hadn't realized that he was still holding onto that power-hungry fantasy of being truly free as the Daredevil until she returned. He thought it had only been part of his youthful thirst to live on the edge. Spending the past few weeks fighting ninjas and doing those secret missions in favor of handling the Castle case apparently proved that theory wrong. He was exactly the way she had left him 10 years ago. 

Matt didn't want to compare Karen to his first, great love. Karen was supposed to be different. She was supposed to be for him because she represented the normalcy that a part of him still craved. There was something about her that he was drawn to, and he liked to think it was more than her admiration from his alter-ego. He didn't know whether it was the untold truths they had yet to explore, or was it the laughable dream of a picket fence and kids life he thought he could have with her? 

That's how life was supposed to be, wasn't it? Protect your woman, have a stable 9 to 5 job, eventually have children and grow old? Maybe add crime fighting after work hours too. He didn't know when it happened, but somehow, Karen had turned into his safety net. 

But, Matt scolded himself, Karen wasn't just that. She wasn't just a sexy, blonde woman you made into a trophy wife. She was a beautiful soul who had a lot to offer to the world. Her quest for justice was unfathomable at times, and he knew she had a more dignified purpose than he did. She would be the better superhero. Despite her fears, despite not having superpowers--she was still there, fighting the good fight.  

While he was here, cowering in the shadows like the guilty Peeping Tom that he was. 

She had changed, that's for sure. Karen was a born fighter, and now she knew it. Claimed it. And during those moments when she would feel tired, just as he did after those long, useless nights that beat him up inside and out--she had someone to share the night with and vice versa. 

It would all be so convenient, to rat Frank Castle out. Report him to the authorities. He needed to be locked up anyway. Unfortunately, Matt told himself. I owe him one. Beyond that blood debt, however, he knew it was his atonement for what happened to him and Karen. Karen, who so selflessly offered him love and care and everything in between--someone so precious he still managed to push away, deserved this. She finally had someone to offer the warmth she had willingly given him despite his deceit.  

The Punisher might be all blood, gore and violence, but he was unapologetic with his actions, just as he was unapologetic with how he treats Karen like she was the best thing in the world. And she was.

How peculiar it was to think that Matt had feared her rejection, thinking she would plead with him to stop being Daredevil like Clair and Foggy did. He didn't want to worry her, didn't want to trouble her with his guilty--and yet, there she lay, with a cold-blooded killer, who--for sure--could not assure her of morning afters and a promise of tomorrow.

Who knew Karen Page was built to be a superhero's wife? To be strong enough to handle the goodbyes, the uncertainty of the future, the blood and the death? Do they argue about his safety, do they have frantic sex the moment Frank steps through the threshold? Or does Karen simply take it slow and easy, caress him gently, starts to believe in a God she thought didn't exist, praying in thanks that He has brought him back home to her once again? 

Just like Karen could take care of herself, so can she take care of her man, apparently. 

Some nights Matt knew Karen would be the one to tend to Frank's bruises and cuts, there was one time when he was hurt really bad, but Karen didn't break down. She didn't cry, didn't click her tongue in disappointment, didn't say a word. Karen simply downed a glass of whiskey, swore like a sailor, and stitched him up. She was used to it, Matt realized, and it made him wonder if she had seen worse. There were nights when it was Karen who would wake up sobbing from a nightmare and Frank would cradle her in his arms, demonstrating a softness that was especially reserved for her. And nights like these, both of them would simply sit beside each other, a cup of coffee in their hands, music playing down low, talking about everything from dogs to debates about how the music in the 80s was better than the 90s.

That was supposed to be them, right?

What happened to the string of perfect nights they were supposed to have? They didn't even get the chance to explore a more intimate part of their relationship... 

Ha. 

Relationship. 

Catching himself mid-thought of blaming his deceased ex-girlfriend for ruining his chances with the woman who could have saved him from complete misery, Matt knew if there was anyone to blame--it was himself. When Karen leaned in to plant a kiss on the Punisher's lips, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen set his eyes somewhere else, half hoping the latter would turn away.  

Sadly, only a fool like him was capable of such.

______

Karen loved danger, but that was her own little secret. It wasn't a twisted fascination about her recent bouts with death--being shot at or kidnapped, but it was as simple as her attraction towards the man she was currently touching. Tasting. Kissing. 

She wasn't going to lie. After Matt told her about his alter ego--a revelation that made the nagging voice in her head scream I TOLD YOU SO explode until the world became absolutely quiet, she had briefly entertained the idea that maybe, they could pick up where they left off. Maybe they could still make things work? What if one kiss can fix everything? What's another "perfect night", right? What if they jump in the sack and figure out that sex was the only thing missing on the equation? 

No, both her mind and heart told her in unison. In fact, it all sunk in after a few minutes of speechlessness post confession. Karen was a romantic, sure, but scoring true love wasn't her main goal in life. Love was the least of her priorities, it seemed, because she definitely wasn't going to forget the past few weeks of constant hurt and confusion Matt put her through just because he thought his actions were justified.

Honestly, Karen didn't want to feel hate or anger towards Matt. But when he tried to make amends with her, implied that can still start over... It only made her sick. She'd always seen Matt as one of the best, smartest men she had ever met. Finding out he was Daredevil was supposed to make her feel better, but it didn't, and she figured he assumed it was for all the wrong reasons. 

Karen knew how strong he was; he had survived a many escapades, and it wasn't his safety she was worried about. The chinks in his armor were the things that got her thinking. For some reason, she saw right through him. Never mind Matt's self-absorbed line of thought or that ex-girlfriend on his bed. She could move past that. 

The lies, however, she couldn't deal with. The fact that he was worried that she would reject him because of his alter-ego, the way he had easily fallen into an argument with her (on their supposed date night) for a hypocritical reason was way beyond her. Just because he had come clean to her about being the masked vigilante didn't exactly make the argument invalid. Why did he feel the need to argue with her in such a fashion, to the point of sending her home late that night because they couldn't come to an agreement? It was possible that Matt the lawyer/boyfriend and the Daredevil cared for her in different ways, but she felt hurt just the same. It didn't make sense to her. 

What she understood was that Matt Murdock wasn't ready to love and be loved--at least not by her. 

If anything, Frank was wrong. 

"Are you still with me?" Frank asked, pulling her from her thoughts. His voice was gruff and low and it sent shivers down her spine. His calloused hands rested gently on her ankles as she straddled him on the couch. He looked up at her, his usually cold eyes now filled with concern and something more.

Frank was wrong.

Karen was certain she felt many things about Matt Murdock, but it wasn't love.

Not this love, she thought, cupping his strong jaw to give him a deep kiss. 

Frank might not say he loved her, but Karen felt it. He made her feel safe, and he cared for in ways that she could never describe. Perhaps it was the raw, unadulterated honesty that Frank Castle was. It was his code. He had nothing to hide, and the secrets she thought she would carry to her grave, she knew he was strong enough to share the burden. He understood her, didn't judge her, accepted her reasons because he knew she had come to believe those because she wasn't an idiot. He knew what she was fighting for. He respected her as a woman. He trusted her ability to handle everything--good and bad alike. 

Karen didn't need Frank to pry all her secrets from her, because he knew she would eventually tell him. That's what they had, that's who they were to each other. Sure, they might have had a confusing  start at first, and he was an asshole when he wanted to be, but he was her sexy, son of a bitch asshole at the end of the day. And he knew that. He secretly loved that. 

So when Foggy asked her why couldn't she give Matt another chance--a question out of being polite, not because he wanted them back together for obvious reasons--she just shrugged and told him it wouldn't work out. Matt didn't know what he wanted (from her specifically), and as much as all her months of pining after him like a fool would be put to waste, Karen knew it was for the best. Their shared infatuation was fleeting, and even if his ex Elektra had passed away--in this day and age, who knew? Her ghost would always haunt them, and from what Foggy told her, she was the greatest love of his life and Karen had no plans to compete with that.

And though Karen knew she was a smart woman (because it was best to stay away from The Punisher), she knew she was a fool enough to know that this risky relationship they started was nowhere near the end. Every time they were together felt like a new beginning, and she was a sucker for this whole "starting over" thing, apparently.

It's something she knew she would never tire of. 

"Always," Karen whispered, reassuring herself, loving the taste of coffee with a tinge of blood, letting her tongue linger a second on his split lip. He might have been wrong about her feelings for Matt, but he was damn right about his thoughts about love. He can tear her heart out from her chest, feed it to the dogs--he could be so ruthless, but he's just the right man to piece her back together. 

Frank Castle's infamous brutality was tantamount to his capacity to love, and even if being with him was borderline fatal--foolhardy woman that she was, it was a chance Karen was more than willing to take. 

Chapter Text

Frank knew Red was watching. He wasn't a dumbfuck. Sure as hell he wasn't normal enough to be oblivious when he wasn't being watched. At first he didn't think much of it. Red was probably doing it out of habit, keeping her safe. Couldn't exactly blame the guy.

Karen's new stint at the Bulletin put a rather bright target mark on her pretty head. They haven't exactly talked about it, but Frank knew that she was aware that he was playing bodyguard whenever she was putting her detective shoes on. At first he wanted to leave bloody trails to make sure she knew it was him--not her horned lawyer who only knew how to start things and not finish them. But he didn't because he didn't want her rolling her eyes at him and wishing he was more Daredevil than Punisher, not that he cared.

Then Red kept it up. Despite knowing he was doing his job protecting Karen, Red still made a habit of checking in on her and there was a time when he was almost tempted to stoop so low and let him see just how much peep eye he could handle for a night.

For a blind guy, Matt Murdock was getting an eyeful.

He never let things go too far when Red was watching though, even if it was more than tempting to do so. Show him exactly what he missed out on. Let Red hear how Karen's moans could bring a dead man back to life. How his name felt like heaven in her lips every time he brought her to a mind-numbing release. Make him wish that it could have been his name.

But he didn't.

Frank was too old for petty shit like that. He didn't need to be stuck in a dumb love triangle with them because one, Karen and he liked each other more than enough. They didn't need a voyeuristic vigilante looming on the rooftop across her building because Red couldn't move on.

He drew the line tonight, when the Daredevil just didn't budge from the rooftop. Despite the growing need in his jeans, Frank gently set her aside and told her he'd be back to get some protection. It was a lame excuse, earning him a frustrated puff.

"Be back soon."

"Liar," Karen mumbled, twisting away from his grasp, burying her face on the covers. She wriggled deeper in the pillows, giving Frank a lovely view of her lace panties.

Giving her left ass cheek a kiss and squeeze, Frank ducked when a small pillow smashed against his head. He couldn't help but chuckle. "And your people say I'm the Punisher."

"Just get back here soon, Castle," Karen said with a giggle, embracing a pillow that was covered in his shirt. "And babe? Tell him to stop watching. Getting creepy."

When Frank went up the rooftop, he found the Daredevil leaning against the wall, expecting him. Of course. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"I want to ask 'why Karen', but I think I get it," Daredevil said. "However, I don't trust you."

"You're not her dad, Red."

"And what are you? Her new boyfriend?"

Frank grunted. "Just stay clear. She knows." If they were in broad daylight, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen would probably be as red as his suit. "She's a smart woman, y'know?"

Murdock looked like he was going to say something, but the man sighed instead. "Hurt her and you'll regret it."

I should beat you up then, Frank wanted to say, but he didn't think it was necessary. Karen's feelings wasn't his to ponder about. Hell, the guy probably knew it too. He turned to the door, knew he didn't have to explain himself to the man. Not hurting Karen went without saying. Only Matt Murdock didn't get the memo.

Frank returned to Karen's bed with a full box of condoms, and he kissed her awake, loved how a perfect fit his body was underneath his. A part of him loved covering her soapy scent with his musk of smoke and at times, gunpowder. He nuzzled her hair, felt his bulky exterior mold perfectly against her soft curves. "Awake?"

"Mmm," Karen moaned, turning around to wrap an arm around him. Her fingers traced his jaw, the bridge of his nose. She was looking at him like he was her champion again. "Hi." She always said the word like it was her first time to see him, and she found comfort that he was back in her life again. It was her own version of I love You, a thankful response to his return.

As they began to kiss deeply, Frank felt a strong sense of contentment fill his being. He didn’t understand why Karen was with him, what good he had done to deserve someone like her, but he decided, he was going to keep holding onto her as long as he can.