He shivers at the kiss, lifting his free hand to circle around her wrist and keep her at his back for a moment. The longer they stay this way, the more memories fade and are replaced with just them in this house.
"I had to get moving," he protests, wishing prison didn't sink so far into his bones each time he went back. There's a part of him that will always long for the simplicity of that schedule and expectation, but being here with her is infinitely better than beating on Zemo's goons and that's saying something. "You needed the rest." Not like he didn't, but better one of them than neither, or something like that.
She listens to his excuses and decides, quite generously in her opinion, to let them go. Neither of them are strangers to being imprisoned. She took no joy from those times. She knows he can't be that different even with a choice amount of Nazis to beat up and kill. "I could forgive you this once." Elektra gently rests her forehead against his back and makes a show of considering the situation. "Depending on how good that steak is."
"Hey," he grumbles, still lame but picking up mirth as he goes. His heavy head lolls to rest against hers as the meal sizzles on the burner in front of them. "Don't judge too harshly– I'm rusty."
"Excuses, excuses." She teases ineffectively. The affection in her voice is impossible to miss. This is something she desperately needed all this time. Now that Elektra has it, she feels like a piece of her soul has been returned back to her. She supposes that fits given the territory.
Frank leans away from her briefly to dump their steak tips onto an awaiting platter and crack eggs into the same skillet. Justifying that he has a few seconds to wait for them to cook through, he turns suddenly and grabs Elektra by the waist. His eyes shimmer lucidly even as he takes hold of the side of her face with his free hand, moving in for a fierce kiss before words can get in the way. He starts moving her towards the island counter at her back as he closes his eyes and deepens the contact.
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"I had to get moving," he protests, wishing prison didn't sink so far into his bones each time he went back. There's a part of him that will always long for the simplicity of that schedule and expectation, but being here with her is infinitely better than beating on Zemo's goons and that's saying something. "You needed the rest." Not like he didn't, but better one of them than neither, or something like that.
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