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One small slip
He should have known better. But in his defense, it’s not like he was trying to get hurt, it just kinda… happened.
The gym is alive with action. The small bell above the door chimes as Frank strolls into Fogwells, a black gym bag slung over his shoulder when he feels it twinge.
Freezing he suppresses a curse. It’s an old injury that comes to extract its toll, one that probably hasn't gotten the attention it needs. He tests the muscle, flexing his calf extra as he walks trying his best to gauge the problem.
It's fine he thinks, I’ll make it work.
His eyes flick over to Karen, steadily hammering away at the heavy bag like it had personally offended her. She’s got that expression on her face, the one that says fuck off and die.
He steers clear of her.
Following the well worn trail into the back of the gym, Frank drops his bag at Micro’s feet, starling the man out of a deep conversation with Curtis.
“Hey! Look what the cat dragged in,” Micro eyes him, raising an eyebrow in mock disdain.
“Fuck off,” he grumbles.
Leaning down to pull his gloves from his bag, Frank freezes again.
It’s his fucking calf, or dehydration, probably both. He can feel the muscle tense beneath his skin, as if it’s baiting him. He wants to groan and yell not today goddamnit! He decides to just ignore it instead. Not like it’s going to get worse right?
Straightening up, gloves in hand, his eyes meet Curtis’.
“You good man?”
Damn Curtis and his fucking medical laser focused eyes, nothing gets by the bastard.
“Yeah Curt, nothin’ to worry about.”
At this point he likes to think he’s almost perfected the art of brushing stuff off.
Stepping away from Curtis’ concerned glances, Frank windmills his arms, bouncing from foot to foot as he warms up.
His eyes snap up to Fogwell's entrance as the bell rings again.
Strutting through the door is none other than Billy Russo.
“You're late,” he grits out.
“I’m here ain’t I?” A perfect fucking eyebrow raises at him.
“Some of us got better things to do than sit around waiting for your fancy ass to show up.” he growls in response
“My my Frankie, you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or somethin’?” Billy drawls, a sharp smile tugging at his lips.
“So what? Maybe I did,” Frank challenges.
“Alright, alright, don't get your panties in a twist Frankie, just give me a goddamn second.”
Billy puts his hands up before backing away, turning to place his bag on the floor next to Franks.
Frank continues warming up, letting his brain drift to anything other than that pinching feeling in his leg.
It’ll pass.
Billy takes his grand time, the slow fucker, grinning from ear to ear as he slowly winds wrap over his hands. Frank just stares, an unamused expression plastered on his face.
He’s been waiting for nearly five minutes when Billy steps into the ring.
If he’s careful he can’t even feel the pain spike in his leg, if he’s not it feels like something is clawing at the muscle in his calf.
It's only going to be a short spar.
It’s like Curtis knows, Frank can feel his eyes boring into his back as he turns around to look at him.
He’s met with The Eyebrow of Disapproval ™.
Whatever.
Turning back to face Billy, Frank overhears a quiet, “10 bucks says Frank’s gonna eat mat today,” from Micro.
Wow, of course it's Micro.
He wants to scoff and say “‘thanks for the vote of confidence.”
He lets out a long-suffering sigh when he hears Curtis’ response of, “No way I’m taking that bet, Frank is 100% eating it today.”
So much for friends.
He must be scowling because when his eyes meet Billy’s, the man is nearly doubled over with laughter, watching the quick exchange between Curtis and Micro.
“Damn Frankie, looks like you need some new friends.” Bill winks at him before flashing another one of his winning smiles.
Billy rolls his shoulders and finally nods that he’s ready.
“Let's go Frankie! Try not to break your nose again.” Bill smirks as an outraged expression appears on Frank’s face.
“Go fuck yourself,” he’s grinning now, the anticipation and adrenaline of a good fight fueling him.
Slowly they circle each other, before meeting in the middle to touch gloves. It starts slow at first, nothing more than a casual match between two friends. Billy throws a friendly jab his way that Frank lazily swats away.
“That all you got Bill? Starting to look a little slow there.” He laughs as he easily dodges another punch.
They trade blows, steadily ramping up the intensity as they go.
Frank’s light on his feet, but slower than usual. He hopes it's not too obvious but he’s favoring his left leg, leading with weaker punches than his usual brute force method.
But the world fuckin’ hates him so of course Billy notices.
Franks only gotten in a few good hits when it happens. A slight feint left from Billy leaves Frank scrambling to adjust. His weight shifts to his back leg while Billy pivots.
It’s a small kick, one meant to disrupt rather than disable, but it's enough. He feels his calf seize just as Billy's foot makes contact.
He goes down hard.
Body folding over itself as the floor rushes up to meet him.
The pain hits him before the floor does, an agonizing burning pain gripping his muscle.
“FUCK! GODAMNIT!” The shout slips from his mouth as he goes down clutching his leg.
His calf muscle jumps, locking as the pain lances up his leg.
“GODDAMN MOTHER FUCKER!”
His vision blurs as he tries to wait out the pain. It's a relentless source of pressure, his calf feels like it's folding in on itself, the very fibers of the muscle tightening as he yells.
“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!”
Then, slowly, it eases.
The initial shock dies down, leaving nothing but pain and curses in its wake. His mouth moves but no words come out, he’s frozen, stuck with the feeling that one small shift will tear his leg clean in half. Sucking in a breath, Frank lets out another pained yell as the second wave hits him. His foot flexes involuntarily, body responding in a way that makes everything worse.
“Fuuuck…Fuck-Fuck-Fuck.”
He’s breathing hard now, whole body tense with pain as he tries not to writhe on the mat. The pain doesn’t let up, instead it worsens.
Billy's by his side in an instant, dropping down on a knee as he asks, “The hell Frankie! What the fuck is wrong with you!?”
“Wait, wait, fuck-” Frank dosen’t respond, he can’t. His fist finds the mat as the pain sharpens, burrowing deeper with every second.
“Fuck Frankie what do I do!?”
Billy’s by his foot now, hands hovering over his leg as he hesitates.
“Don-Don’t-SHIT! JESUS!”
His body jumps as Billy moves, hands wrapping around his foot and pushing it upwards.
“Hey! Frank! Look at me!” Curtis.
Frank’s breathing is ragged, as pure agony fills his leg. Someone's prying his hands off the offending calf as the muscle jumps beneath the skin.
“It-agh-feels like its fucking-GODDAMN IT-tearing.”
His hands scrabble at the fabric beneath him, fingers scraping at the floor as Curtis takes the leg in his hands.
“Don’t move Frank.”
Then Curt's fingers press carefully into his calf and Frank just about screams. He’s been shot, and stabbed, and drowned, and electrocuted, and probably a dozen other things, but none of them compare to this fucking blinding pain in his leg.
“Ow, shitfuckfuckfucknonono.” he gasps. The words spill out of him, desperate and pained as Curtis slowly starts to stretch his foot upwards.
The pain explodes. His back arches off the floor as he claws at whatever the hell Curtis is doing.
“Wait, fucking-sto-wait.” The words are torn out of him as Curtis continues stretching.
Then, just barely the pain loosens its hold.
The muscle trembles instead of locking, and aches instead of screams. Frank collapses back onto the mat, all thoughts burnt by the flame of pain.
Dulled down to a viscous ache Frank just breathes through the pain, too exhausted to do anything else. He stills as Curtis shifts near his feet, face popping into view. He doesn't dare move yet, not when his entire leg threatens to seize up again.
The silence breaks as Billy says, “Goddamn Frankie, you really outdid yourself there.”
Frank just groans in response. His face is flushed from embarrassment and he wants nothing more than to disappear.
“I didn’t even kick you that hard, what the hell happened!?”
Frank cracks open an eye, peering up at Billy, “Shut up and help me Bill.” He lifts a hand expectantly only for it to be slapped away by Curtis.
“What the hell Curt!” He exclaims.
“No Frank, you’ve done enough damage to yourself today. Stay on the floor.”
“Curt I-”
“Stay” Curtis points a fucking finger at him, eyebrow raising again.
“Go to hell.” His response is sad at best, like he knows there's no winning. “And fuck you to.” He turns glaring at Billy.
“Me! The fuck did I do Frank?”
Frank lets his head thunk back onto the floor.
“You exist. Meanly.”
Billy barks out a laugh at that, grinning down at him, “Yeah? Well at least I’m not the one whose leg tried to kill me.”
“I swear to god if you say another word I’m going to crawl over there and-”
“And do what Frank? Curtis cuts in, “trip over your own feet?”
Billy laughs outright. Asshole. Frank flips him off, shaking his head.
“Does this mean I get 10 dollars?” Micro stands up from where he’s been seated, a grin on his face.
Frank pauses before glaring at him and giving him a middle finger too. He’s got some shitty friends.
Maybe he should rob them and buy himself a drink.
He opens his mouth to respond to Micro when the door jingles.
All four of them freeze, heads swiveling almost in unison to the two figures standing in the doorway.
“Hello-oh what the heck happened here?”
None other than Nelson and Murdock stand in the doorway, the latter is holding the door open with his foot, coffee in one hand, white pastry bag in the other.
“Hello to you too Nelson," Frank bites out, trying to hide his flush of embarrassment.
Karen rushes forward to hold the door open for Nelson and Red, eyes glimmering with mischief.
“Oh don't worry about Frank here, he was just dying a second ago.”
Evil woman.
That gets Karen a middle finger too.
“I ain’t dyin’, just needed a damn second, I’m fine now.”
A restless stirring awakens in the pit of his stomach, the aftermath of the cramp fading as he’s left with a pit of annoyance and nowhere to put it. Pushing off the mat with his arms Frank moves to sit up.
“No you're not. Frank, sit back down.”
“Goddamnit Curt I’m fine! Lemme up!” Frank pushes up again only to find a firm arm on his chest pushing him back down.
Relenting with what is probably an overdramatic sigh, Frank flops back onto the mat, eyes trained on Billy’s shoes.
That's when he gets a really bad good idea. Bill leans on one leg, hip cocked to the side, eyes boring into Foggy’s pastry bag like it owes him money.
A grin splits Frank’s face as his hand darts out, wrapping around Billy’s ankle and pulling.
A small yelp escapes Billy as his balance shifts, his body follows his foot as he thuds onto the mat.
“FRANK!” A muffled groan escapes into the air as Billy glares daggers at Frank.
That was fuckin’ hilarious.
Frank grins, biting down a howl of laughter.
“This is why we aren’t friends. This is exactly why!” Billy grumbles, dusting himself off as he rises to his knees.
“Get fucked Bill.” Frank winks at him grinning.
“Oh yeah? That's what you want?” Billy questions, “Fine then, Karen! Come to dinner with me!”
Frank feels his heart stop from shock.
Karen looks up from where she stands next to Foggy and Red, a look of utter disgust on her face. Frank can sense her no before she even begins to say it.
Ignoring her response, Billy grins down at him, a smug smile on his face. Frank gives out his fourth middle finger of the day.
“See that Bill? Yeah, go away, doc’s orders.” There's another sound of exasperation and Frank lifts his head to see Curtis placing his head into his head, shaking with suppressed laughter.
“Frank?” Matt’s voice sounds from where he stands, hands gripping his walking stick as he tilts his head–listening.
“Yeah Red?”
“You uh…You still in one piece?” Matt asks quietly, head tilting in curiosity.
“I’m fine,” Frank’s voice is clipped. Short. But his heart hammers the lie out.
His heartbeat upticks the lie the words, just enough for Matt to know.
Ninja motherfucker.
Before Matt can call Frank out, Curtis beats him to it.
“No he’s not.”
Frank splutters, taken aback at Curtis’ bluntness.
“He’s lying again,” Curtis cuts in, “I wouldn't suggest listening to his bullshit.”
Some friends he has.
“I’m right here man.” Frank lifts his head, trying to catch Curtis’ eye.
Matt steps closer, finally coming out of the doorway as he approaches the ring. His head tilts, a smile blooming across lips as he ‘looks’ at Frank. His sightless eyes land about three feet to the right of Frank, but it's the thought that counts.
“You know I can tell when you lie right Frank?”
“I didn’t lie.” Frank says, voice completely neutral.
“You just did it again Frank.” Matt’s brows furrow as he tries to suppress his laugh. Frank bites his retort back, settling for flipping him off instead.
“There ya go Red, your fuckin’ ninja senses catch that?”
Frank watches as Matt’s lips purse, hiding his grin.
“Sorry Castle, I didn’t quite see that, could you spell it out for me?”
Frank holds up his other hand, letting his other middle finger stick up. “Uhuh, what bout that!?” Casual annoyance drips from his tone, even as he tries to bite back a laugh.
Matt’s face goes slack, all traces of a grin are gone. Leaning in close to Frank, Matt whispers completely deadpan, “No. I-I think I’m blind!”
Silence fills the room as Frank processes the absolutely god awful joke.
Then, laughter. Full bodied laughter. Frank grins looking at Curtis, “Hey Curt! Don’t they say laughter is the best medicine? Am I all healed?”
Curtis lets out another long-suffering sigh before looking up at the ceiling and muttering, “Lord help me.”
Billy leans in conspiratorially, winking at Matt, he says, “You keep that up Matt, Frankie here’s gonna start liking you more than me.”
Billy lets the silence hang before continuing, “I can’t have that, I’d have to kill you.”
Frank swats at his ankle, missing as Billy takes a step back.
“One more word Russo. One.”
Billy takes another step out of reach, hands held up in mock surrender as he says, “I like my face where it is thank you very much.”
Pulling Curtis in front of him Billy holds him like a shield. “Save me doc!”
Frank groans at the dramatic faint Billy enacts, clutching on to Curtis with a desperation that wrinkles fabric.
“Billy-”Curtis shoves Billy off of him before turning his attention back to Frank, “Frank. In all honesty you need to rest, drink fluids, heal.”
Frank winces a little bit at that. He has neither rested nor drank any water within the past day. Curtis notices the movement, raising The Eyebrow of Dissaproval ™ at Frank.
“Castle.” His tone is firm, leaving no room for argument, “I swear on all that is holy, you will do these things, or it's gonna happen again.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Frank groans as he finally pushes off the mat.
Now sitting up, he’s nearly eye level with Matt, the ring's raised platform giving him just enough height.
“I’ll make sure he rests Curtis,” Red's voice is quiet but deadly as he focuses on Frank. For a man without sight, Red’s glare packs one hell of a punch.
Frank feels like he’s a child being scolded by a disappointed parent.
“Aw shit Frankie, look at that–there's two of em now.” Billy pats Frank’s shoulder comfortingly.
Turning up to glare at Billy, Frank makes another swipe at his ankle, missing yet again.
“Goddamn Frankie, you’re losing your touch.”
“Shut it Bill.”
He makes a move to push off the floor, when a hand lands heavy on his shoulders.
Looking up, Frank sees Matt, who is very deliberately pushing him down.
With a dramatic groan, Frank falls back on to the mat, letting his body flop.
“Thou would wound me so?” Silence fills the space as he peers up at Matt.
Then-loud sharp clapping. Billy. “Ten outta ten performance Frankie, almost as good as your cursing gig earlier.”
Billy winks again, patting Frank on the shoulder.
Curtis sighs before pointing to the door, “Out.” Curtis nudges Billy with his shoulder, like a very inconvenient coat rack that needs moving.
“Geeze doc, just being an emotional support BFF here.” Sauntering off, Billy jumps out of the ring, saluting as a broad grin fills his face.
“You’re stressing the patient.” Curtis responds bluntly.
“Hey! I ain’t no patient!” Frank barks from his spot on the floor.
Curtis raises his eyebrow again, before pressing two fingers into Frank’s calf. Pain blooms at the pressure, a dull ache that attaches with a vengeance.
“Ah! Fuck, shit! Curt!” He groans, letting a palm slap onto this face, ignoring Curtis’ quiet mutter of, “drama queen.”
Matt obviously doesn't do the same, when he lets out a snort of laughter that he tries to cover with a cough.
Need new friends ASAP. Put it on the to-do list.
Curtis, noticing Matt, starts to laugh too.
Fucking assholes, the lot of them.
Frank groans as the noise washes over him, the laughter at his expense.
He can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips. Matt’s voice rings loud in his ears, a bell in the middle of the night.
His wake up call.
He needs new friends. Could do with a little less of Billy. But it's his.
All of it.
A part of him warms at the thought. That even though, after everything he’s done, he still has this.
That no matter what, these idiots would follow him through hell and back.