[ he lets out a low, shuddering breath at the way her fingers map him out, exploring him the way he hadn't allowed from anyone previously. with her, he doesn't feel scrutinized, only appreciated. but then as he's pulling back, his hands rest on her shoulders, not wanting to lose what they're building up to here but also unable to continue until she knows.
her reaction isn't what he expected either, but he's come to expect that from her most of all. frank holds her gaze unwaveringly, letting her get through her whole speech without so much as opening his mouth to interrupt. does she really mean that? all of him. he's not sure there is an all of him anymore, but if it's what she wants he knows he'll end up sweeping the pieces into a pile to show her anyway. and if she looks him over and finds him lacking, well. then she's probably better off anyway and he will have had another taste of happiness. what a lucky guy.
the kiss to his nose breaks him out of his thoughts completely, going briefly cross-eyed before regarding her with bemusement. and then, as ever, his brows knit together again like he's remembering. maria kissing his nose and frank laughing -- it's like he's watching people who he has no relation to. he supposes it's because he doesn't, not anymore. ] That's not--
[ he can't scare her. frank didn't think he could, honestly; and he knows he's certainly not capable of trying. the big bad punisher is really much more of a softy than anyone ever expects. it's hard to get a grip on the words, and suddenly, his hands move around her waist, easily lifting her off the counter to swing her around and set her on her feet. ]
Why don't we try making that tea again? [ he picks his coat up off the floor and places it across the back of a chair, never one to leave things untidy for too long. then, he turns back to the counter to put the kettle back on himself. he really needs coffee, but he knows all clara has is instant. if she's teaching him tea he's teaching her what real coffee is pronto. without bothering to analyze why, frank finishes cleaning up the mess from earlier and dumps out the tea water to start again, holding up the tea bags to make sure he has the right ones before depositing them into the cups for round two. and then, finally, he turns to lean against the counter to answer her at last. because sometimes he just needs... a minute, and some space, in order to say his piece. ]
I don't think you can't handle it, alright? I know you can. Just don't think you should have to. [ he's a lot to deal with, and he knows it. ]
no subject
her reaction isn't what he expected either, but he's come to expect that from her most of all. frank holds her gaze unwaveringly, letting her get through her whole speech without so much as opening his mouth to interrupt. does she really mean that? all of him. he's not sure there is an all of him anymore, but if it's what she wants he knows he'll end up sweeping the pieces into a pile to show her anyway. and if she looks him over and finds him lacking, well. then she's probably better off anyway and he will have had another taste of happiness. what a lucky guy.
the kiss to his nose breaks him out of his thoughts completely, going briefly cross-eyed before regarding her with bemusement. and then, as ever, his brows knit together again like he's remembering. maria kissing his nose and frank laughing -- it's like he's watching people who he has no relation to. he supposes it's because he doesn't, not anymore. ] That's not--
[ he can't scare her. frank didn't think he could, honestly; and he knows he's certainly not capable of trying. the big bad punisher is really much more of a softy than anyone ever expects. it's hard to get a grip on the words, and suddenly, his hands move around her waist, easily lifting her off the counter to swing her around and set her on her feet. ]
Why don't we try making that tea again? [ he picks his coat up off the floor and places it across the back of a chair, never one to leave things untidy for too long. then, he turns back to the counter to put the kettle back on himself. he really needs coffee, but he knows all clara has is instant. if she's teaching him tea he's teaching her what real coffee is pronto. without bothering to analyze why, frank finishes cleaning up the mess from earlier and dumps out the tea water to start again, holding up the tea bags to make sure he has the right ones before depositing them into the cups for round two. and then, finally, he turns to lean against the counter to answer her at last. because sometimes he just needs... a minute, and some space, in order to say his piece. ]
I don't think you can't handle it, alright? I know you can. Just don't think you should have to. [ he's a lot to deal with, and he knows it. ]