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(A/N: Since I couldn't put this in the title, just wanted to let you know that the reader is crossdressing and Frank is unaware of it until now.)

*Bang* *Bang*

Shots ring out above their heads as Frank and (m/n) dive for cover behind a stack of cement blocks.

Dozens of Italian mobsters fan out, ranging from your lower ranking associate, to your average capos.

Their desire is to end Castle and his accomplice.

Of course, the duo would be in for a challenge. Frank could go guns blazing and attack both the right and middle while (m/n) got the left. It'd be their best option if they're to find Angelo Fontana.

On his go, both rush out from their cover, bullets ricocheting off the various objects that got in the way of their designated targets.

"I swear, if we have to kill every one of these fuckers to get to him, so be it, " (m/n) shouts across from the other side of his cover, gunning down a rat hiding behind a beam.

Frank smirks, his dark eyes hazed over by bloodlust and the want to kill those bastards.

"You and me both, kid!"

The gun battle rages as (m/n) steadies his gun, muttering under his breath as the weapon starts to jam. This gives a nearby mobster precious time to slip by and grab the young man by the throat, repeatedly slashing him with a butcher knife.

Yells catch his attention and Frank is quick to make use of his pistol, shooting the man in the head.

The (h/c)-haired male lands on the ground, holding his side in pain.

"Shit…" (m/n) mumbles, removing his hand to uncover the warm crimson staining his fingers.

As the last of the mob is cleared up, Frank runs to his partner, all the anger from earlier resurfacing.

"They got me pretty good, but I'll be fine, " (m/n) reassures, standing to his feet with wobbly legs.

He takes one step and collides into the older man, who catches him in his arms.

Frank's brows furrow together and his breathing slows. His eyes fall on the wounds. There are knife marks all over the jacket that hardly graze the skin, but it's the bullet hole on the side of the young man's stomach that causes Frank to lose it.

He leans in to hear slow breathing and sweeps (m/n) into his arms completely, carrying him from the construction site all the way to his safe house.

~

"Nngh..." (m/n) groans against Frank's chest, his face contorting into one of hurt.

It kills Frank just by looking at him. The kid was young and although he understood his reasons for going after the gangs in Hell's Kitchen, in no way, shape, or form did he deserve this.

They make it back to the apartment, greeted by the wary barks of Frank's pitbull. He lays (m/n) on the dirty mattress and further analyzes the damage done.

Indeed, there's a bullet lodged somewhere inside of him.

He grabs his supplies and starts to work. As done many times before on himself, Frank tears off the bloody jacket and the sweatshirt that accompanied him, only to be met the most shocking surprise of his life.

(m/n) is actually a woman.

Her chest is bound by an assortment of bandages, the lower part bloodied from the gunshot.

Fuck, how could he not know?

There was something wrong with "him", but at the time, he couldn't place his finger on it.

He found him pleasant, a traveling companion to converse with. He had grown to care a great deal about him, to the point of having feelings for him. Now that he knew about his identity, he had to know more. What else could she be hiding from him? What other secrets did she have that she didn't tell him about? It wasn't his business to pry, but they've been close to each other so he needed to know that she wouldn't stab him in the back if it came down to that choice.

"S-So you know, " she stammers her words garbled and quiet.

The woman turns her head towards him, the fringe of her short hair blocking her (e/c) orbs.

He doesn't respond. Instead, he continues to dig for that bullet, inducing blood-curdling screams from her petite body.

"I'm sorry, Frank. I didn't want me being a woman to get in the way of bumping these guys off. It would've distracted you, " she tells him, wincing.

She never takes her eyes off of him, opting to keep them narrowed.

"What's your real name?"

She wets her lips, "It's (y/n)."

Miraculously, he retrieves the bullet after a moment of endless howls and screams. Chucking it across the room, he stitches her up and backs away, retreating to a corner of the room.

In spite of her pain, she pushes herself up into a sitting position and faces him.

"You didn't have to hide yourself from me, (y/n), " he chastises, his voice softening.

(y/n) wrings her wrists and shakes her head.

It's not like he would drop everything and forgive her for what she did. Or maybe he would.

"I had to. For so many reasons..."

He glares at her, "Why?"

She looks at him and then returns to focus on the dog, who's fallen asleep.

"Because I thought my feelings for you would.... be a problem. I thought that by masquerading myself as a boy, I'd push them away. Clearly, it didn't work."

Frank purses his lips and places his hands over his knees, folding them.

"Why me?"

She crawls over to him and takes his face in her hands, stroking his cheeks.

"We're alike, you and I."

He frowns.

It's not what he wants to hear.

"I'm a monster, (y/n). I've killed so many people. So much blood is on my hands, all because of my need to avenge my family. You, on the other hand, don't carry the burden of the lives you've taken. You're not desensitized. You and I aren't anything alike," he mutters, pushing her hands away.

(y/n), stubborn as a bull, grabs his head and forces him to face her, (e/c) to his dark brown ones.

"We are. I'm not innocent or pure, Frank. If you saw my body, it's covered in scars. I've been through shit and you know why? Because the day they took my brother away, I promised him that I would kill every son of a bitch I saw. But, when we met, you made me different. You're not a monster. You're a man who has a heart, compassion, and a need to find an end for the ones he loves," she soothes, cupping the side of his face, "We're human and things like this happen.... I know one thing: if my being here bothers you, I'll leave right now."

The warmth radiating from her hands disappear as she's pulled into his lap, almost straddling him. She blinks, taken aback, but there's a glint in his eyes. Something that causes him to reach up and tangles his fingers through her short (h/c) locks.

"Don't leave," is all he says, crushing his lips upon hers.

(m/n) returns the kiss with twice as much fervor, hands firmly on his chest. Her whimpering brings the kiss to an end.

"I won't leave you. Not now, not ever."

He squeezes her hands in response and lays her head on his chest, savoring the opportunity for some peace and quiet.

This is what he wants.

He wants to bring back the love he neglected.

Since the deaths of his family, his heart became hardened and stone cold. He shut himself away from the world to travel down the path of vengeance, to get justice for those he's lost.

To feel what he had pushed away made him feel like a man again, not a mindless killing machine.

Still, he reciprocated (y/n)'s feelings to the tenth degree, but there would be risks involved in this deadly affair.

He had to be careful, very careful.

There was no way in hell he'd lose another loved one.

Not on his watch.