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#there's not much shipping going on in this but Frank did use Karen's shampoo
fruitlicense · 3 years
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four friends
“Karen!” Matt yelled into the hallway. “Get your boyfriend out of my office! He stinks!”
Karen, Frank, and Foggy all started talking over each other. “What? No he doesn’t, I know for a fact he showered this morning -” “I don’t stink, Murdock -” “Wait, Karen, how do you know -”
“All of you shut up! Foggy, it’s obvious, they both smell like Karen’s shampoo. Except Frank also smells like preservatives.” He said it like it was a dirty word.
“Jesus Christ, Red, I just got back from a weeklong job fuckin’ yesterday -” “And did you eat ramen flavor packets as your only meal for that entire week?” “No,” Frank said, “I ate ramen for that whole week. And I spaced it out with some beef jerky and dried fruit.”
Matt hissed. “Shitty dried fruit. Gas station dried fruit.” “Oh my god.” Karen tried to hide her smile, but her quiet huffs of laughter gave her away. “Matt, chill out,” Foggy said. “I know all that crap makes your taste buds revolt, but it’s okay for other people to eat them, they’re not banned.” “They should be!” Matt exclaimed. “Frank! I’ve had your cooking! I know you know what good food tastes like!” “What, you think I got a gourmet kitchen in my fuckin’ van?” “Maybe!” Matt spluttered.
“Matt,” Foggy tried again, but Matt rounded on him. “You have no leg to stand on, Mr. I-ate-exclusively-from-vending-machines-during-finals-week! I’ve known the smell of hot Cheetos from miles away since freshman year!” Karen winced. “Ooh, Foggy. Hot Cheetos?” “It was college! Frank, stop fucking laughing, you dickhead!” “Yeah, Frank,” Matt chimed in.
He snatched a Daredevil helmet-shaped stress ball off his desk and lobbed it at Frank’s head. Frank ducked, predictably, and Matt rummaged through his desk drawers for more. “What, are you trying to take over for Bullseye too, now?” Karen joked. The boys all turned to stare at her - or in Matt’s case, in her general direction. “Too soon, man,” Foggy said. Karen shrugged. “What’s trauma for if you can’t joke about it?”
Frank made a choking sound and tried to cover it up with a cough. “Hey, Nelson,” he said, bending down to pick up one of the foam Daredevil helmets that Matt had been throwing at him. “When the hell did you guys get branded stress balls?” He examined the white “NELSON, MURDOCK, AND PAGE” emblazoned on the helmet’s scarlet forehead before chucking it at Matt, who fumbled it a little but managed to send it flying back toward Frank’s torso.
“I had kids, Red,” he taunted. “Foam balls won’t do shit - I’m tougher than that.” Matt pulled open another drawer, slammed it shut, and threw something else, directly at Frank’s nose. “Ah, FUCK!” Frank yelled as the whatever-it-was fell to the floor. Matt grinned. “Ooh, the big bad Punisher, defeated by a plastic dinosaur!” he crowed. Foggy scooped up the dinosaur - a pink Stegosaurus - before Frank could stomp on it. (He did not come close to getting his fingers smashed under a heavy pair of combat boots. Not at all.) “Matt, this is one of the ones I gave you!” “Oops, sorry Fogs.” “He could’ve died!” “But for a good cause, Foggy!”
Later: Frank looked Matt in the face and made sure he was paying full attention before tipping the packet of ramen seasoning into his mouth. “Couch,” Karen proclaimed. “Wait, no,” Frank protested half-heartedly. It was hard to argue his case through his mouthful of salt and seasoning.
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