theprettymarine | [voice test]

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frank

[voice test]

Billy didn't know how to name the feeling he had when Frank married Maria. He was happy for his friend, for both of them. He did everything a best man was supposed to do, and then some, because he would be damned if Frank didn't have a decent wedding, even if it was a rush job. Because Maria was pregnant. But Frank was happy and that was what mattered.

But something did shift in him as he watched his friend take his vows. No one sticks around. Maybe that wasn't totally fair - Frank was his brother, they were Marines, and they would share things that no one else did, and that was okay. He didn't need anything else from Frank. He didn't deserve anything else.

They had some leave before their first deployment, which was how Frank managed to get married at all. And after Frank resurfaced from his brief honeymoon, Billy was happy to meet him for drinks.

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Billy thought about it. He thought about the way that word made him feel - vulnerable and helpless and in pain - but he thought of the way Frank made him feel, too. Maybe he could get over it, get past it.

"You can call me pretty, Frankie. And I'll tell you if I can't take it." Because they could do that, right? If he said it was fine now and changed his mind later, Frank Castle wasn't an asshole.

Billy turned toward him, looked at him. He cracked a little grin. "You're not that stupid, Frank Castle. I know that cause Maria wouldn't've fuckin married a total dumbass and I wouldn't be trying to have conversations with you if you were."

"Maria's the one that likes to remind me what a complete dumbass I am," Frank pointed out, smitten smile living around his eyes, because it was the truth.

He leaned his forehead against Billy's and was quiet for a long time, just breathing, letting all this weight and heaviness settle. Things did not feel imminently changed. He did not feel like Billy was more fragile, like he needed to be handled differently. Really, all he felt like was finding some kiddie-touching asshole and tearing him to pieces, just absolutely destroying him.

Frank smudged his thumb against Billy's cheek, almost to his nose. He tilted slightly and brushed his mouth, chaste, against Billy's. "Love you." It was barely a whisper of the words, but it felt noisy in the quiet of the apartment.

Hearing it knocked the air out of him. Billy didn't know how to respond, because for so long he'd told himself those words mean fuck all. They come from parents who abandon him or people that want to hurt him or get something from him. But Frank wasn't like any of them, and he knew that

But he still didn't know what to do with those words. He'd been protecting himself from them for a long time.

So he smiled, weak and vulnerable as it was, and tried to laugh. He wanted to make a joke but he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to cheapen what Frank just gave him. So he touched their heads together and gave Frank a quiet kiss. It was the best he could do.

It was not a silence of rejection, and so Frank did not recoil or laugh it off or just to smother it. He took the weight and the quiet and held onto it, tucked it gently away. He'd rushed, maybe. Billy wasn't prepared. But he hadn't pushed back.

Frank shifted his arms slightly, pushed Billy bodily to adjust them so he could hold him more comfortably. Billy was taller than him but that didn't matter; he was going to hold him close and put Billy's head on his chest, and Billy was just going to have to deal with it.

"Go to sleep, baby," he murmured. "It's been a long night. I'll still be here when you wake up."

Billy let Frank pull him into place wherever he wanted him. It felt good to rest on his chest, to be held. Frank was bigger than him, even if Billy was taller, and it didn't feel like a threat. It just felt safe. He let himself have that.

"You better be," he said quietly. "Even if I have fuck all for breakfast."

"I'll run to the bodega," Frank assured, only half-awake already, drifting gently. It had been a long night, and he'd woken on just a couple hours of sleep. Maybe he'd sleep through the rest of the night, and maybe not. They'd see. "Once you're awake."

"Yeah, yeah." Billy tried to wave off what any of that meant to him and tried to just settle in. The idea of waking up alone after all this had crossed his mind, and Frank had preempted it as much as he could. So he'd trust it.

He ended up falling dead asleep on Frank's chest. He must have moved just long enough to get a blanket over them at some point, but he didn't remember doing it.

They slept. It was a heavy, long sleep, and when Frank woke, Billy's head was still on his chest and the sun was on the foot of the bed. He was still, quiet. He breathed in the smell of Billy's hair, the sharp smell of his pomade still lingering there.

He ran his fingers gently up and down Billy's spine.

Billy woke slowly under Frank's touch. He felt like he'd slept a hundred years, and like he'd needed it. Frank was warm and solid under him, and he didn't want to move or wake up much more than he had, like it might break some spell.

Eventually, he opened his eyes and tipped his head up a bit.

"Hey, Frankie," he murmured, voice still heavy and a little rough from sleep.

"Hey, Jersey boy," Frank said, a soft laugh. Billy's accent was soft and rolled out and heavy just then, out of control in his mouth, and Frank loved it. He bent down a little bit and kissed his forehead. He didn't go much further, because he had morning breath.

Even though he'd been hoping for all of this to happen, he hadn't packed any sort of overnight bag, and he was feeling a little self-conscious about that now. That was fucking stupid.

"Fuck you," he mumbled lazily, a smile in his voice. He stretched lazily against Frank's side and rolled a little so he could do more without hitting Frank in the face or anything.

"Shit." He yawned, covered his mouth, and yawned again. He looked over at Frank, soft and warm. He was still here; he hadn't disappeared in the night. Then he cracked a grin and lightly nudged Frank's leg. "Pretty sure you promised me breakfast, Frankie boy."

"I did indeed," Frank said, smiling, all smitten and charmed to watch Billy in the early morning light. He didn't want to get out of bed, but he had promised.

It was torture to extract himself from bed when Billy looked that good. He stretched languidly. His shorts had been lost somewhere in the sheets, and he sort of didn't care, as long as he could find his jeans and shirt again.

"You got coffee, or is this a whole grocery run?"

"What I have is not as good as the bodega coffee," he confessed. He looked over at Frank, enjoying the sight of him. Billy rolled closer and crawled to the edge of the bed. He pressed a few lazy kisses to Frank's hip, dangerously close to his cock.

Fuck, he was gone for this man. It wasn't fair.

Frank sighed softly and ran his fingers gently over Billy's hair, cupping the back of his head. He was drawn in when he did shit like that, tempted to climb right back into bed and not get back out.

He'd promised him breakfast, and he would provide. Gently, making a low, suffering noise, Frank pulled away.

"I'll pick something good up," he promised. He found his jeans, and his shirt, and pulled both on without anything underneath. "You're a menace. I'll be back in a bit, yeah?"

"Yeah but you wouldn't know what to do if I wasn't, Frankie boy."

He almost went for Frank's dick, but if he did that, they wouldn't be eating for a while. So he gave his hip one last kiss before he eased back and gave him room to get dressed. Billy enjoyed the view and a grin quirked his mouth when he realized Frank hadn't bothered with shorts.

"I'll be waiting."

Frank wasn't gone long. The bodega was better stocked than the one that he lived nearest to, back in Manhattan, and he was a little jealous about it. He grabbed them enough food to make it through breakfast, and maybe lunch as well if they made it that far, and then headed back to the apartment, half expecting Billy to have fallen back asleep--it was still sort of early--or have slipped into the shower.

In either case, Frank went straight for the little kitchen to start coffee--of course Billy had a French press, and Frank had been banking on that--and eggs.

Billy came out of the shower to the smell of coffee and breakfast. He wrapped a towel around his waist and headed out to the kitchen, smiling when he saw Frank there. It felt domestic as fuck, and that was a feeling he'd never thought he'd have.

"Could get used to this," he said with a little grin that felt more vulnerable than he wanted it to. Getting used to things never worked out for him; he was afraid to start now.

Frank smiled at the frying pan and sort of gestured to the French press. He glanced over at Billy, saw the way his skin caught the light for a second, and he was gone. Totally lost. How was he supposed to make it through fifteen months in close quarters with this guy without anyone knowing that he absolutely adored this man?

He'd manage. They'd made it through Basic and SOI. They'd make it through tour.

"I don't think they've got good coffee in the MREs, man," he said. "We might be shit out of luck for the next year. I'll just have to treat you nice when we get back."

Billy found two mugs and got them down. He'd started drinking his coffee black sometime in basic, figuring he should get used to it. He poured some for himself and for Frank, then leaned back on the counter near the stove so he could watch him cook.

"Yeah, I don't have a lot of high hopes regarding what makes up our calorie intake over there," he said with a wince.

"But you can find other ways to treat me nice." He hid a smile behind his first sip of coffee.

Frank, honestly, loved cooking. He was good at it, and he was going to miss it out in the desert. So he was glad to subject Billy to it while he could.

He leaned over, while Billy was so close, and kissed him. “I got bacon and sausage. Do you want either? Both?”

He turned his head to meet the kiss. "Both, obviously. Breakfast meat, dude."

Billy wasn't generally picky about his food, which was partially why he'd survived basic as well as he did. That was also why he wasn't inclined to pass up good food when it was on offer. He bumped his hip against Frank's, but for the most part tried not to distract him.

"Do you-- what time do you have to head out?"

Frank shrugged one shoulder, sliding soft srambled eggs onto a plate and then throwing rashes of bacon onto the same pan. He liked his crispy, but he’d glance Billy’s way before it got too far gone.

“I think Maria probably wants me out of her hair, honestly. She needs to nest.” He screwed up his face a little. “I’m here as long as you want me here, man.”

He huffed a laugh and looked down at his coffee. Some desperate voice inside him wanted to beg. Stay, just stay. Another part of him said to be grateful for whatever he could get. Frank was married, he had a kid on the way. This would all end eventually. He'd want to focus on his life, his family.

"You're burning that bacon, man." He grinned though, because ribbing Frank was easy. "You're welcome to hide out here whenever you need to. But uh, I think she's gonna want you back before we get deployed."

“I am not burning it, it’s hardly cooked,” Frank complained. He took a couple slices off and put them on the plate as well so Billy could have his limp bacon.

He smiled and nodded. He knew Maria would want him around. She’d want Billy around, too. But Frank didn’t know how to invite his—boyfriend? Lover? Brother—to hang out with him and his wife.

He threw a couple links of sausage on the pan to start cooking. “Do you like your sausage undercooked too?”

"Fuck you and your burnt bacon," he said as he picked up a piece from his plate. He ate it and hummed his satisfaction. "Cook the sausage how you want, I'll trust you with that."

Billy pushed away from the counter to refill his mug. "I feel like I should be doing more but you got this shit handled."

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