Chapter Text
It’s quiet when you first meet him. But you don’t meet Frank Castle, no, you meet Pete Castiglione. You remember, faintly, from your brother when he was younger that the name was also that of a baseball player.
But that didn’t matter, because what caught your attention was the burly man looking lost as he stared at the shelves. He'd been standing there for a while, your body remaining behind the front counter. After the first hour had passed, your hand remained on the baseball bat that you kept just beneath the cash register. Sure, perusing was nothing new to you. Ever since you opened your little bookstore, you found it common – it was like a library but you were actually purchasing something.
The problem, however, wasn’t the hour he'd already clocked, it was the extra one that concerned you.
From behind the counter, you spoke, “Hey, man – I get that you might need extra cash or whatever, but you won't find much here. I barely make anything as it is, I’m living off inheritance money. I really don’t know how to use a bat to beat someone's head in, and honestly? I don’t want to learn now.”
The man's head turned to the side, as if he just registered your voice. “You just grip it right and swing,” the man said gruffly, his voice music to your little heart's ears. “But I’m not gonna knock over the joint, just lookin' for some new reading material.”
“Well, are you reading the spines?” You questioned cautiously, hand firmly gripping the neck of the bat as you moved slightly behind the counter. “Do you have one in mind?”
“What, a spine?”
“No, a book.” You reiterated, voice a little higher than your previous threatening tone. “I assume you’re reading to occupy time?”
“Don’t wanna think too much,” the burly man told you, eyes fixed on you. It was strange, when you were threatening him, his eyes were fixed somewhere behind you but the second he likely thought you were no match, he met your gaze. “Makes my brain hurt.”
You chuckled softly, nodding as you stepped out from behind the counter with the bat hanging at your side. “I feel that.”
“Help me out, then?”
“We'll start with something short – see how you like it.”
“I’m Pete,” the man told you, extending a hand for you to shake before he looked down at the bat, the weapon signaling your hesitation. He then met your eyes again, dropping it. “Pete Castilgione.”
“(First Name / Last Name).” You replied gingerly, eyes focused on his warm ones. You nodded, then, watching him. “What’re your favorite genres?”
His quizzical look made you grin.