Bad Idea! ✐ FRERARD

✩ MELLOW MORNINGS ✩

Eyes immediately darted from Ryan, who had been filling everyone in on some kid strangler, to Frank, who was stood crookedly with an exhausted frown.

"Sorry." Frank mumbled to the guys stood at the front of the briefing room. He took a seat next to Ray who was smiling sympathetically at him. A gesture he most definitely did not return.

He could tell both Hurley and Way, or Milky-Way as Brendon called him outside of work, were incredibly underwhelmed with Frank's late arrival, Ryan clearing his throat before continuing.

"So, we actually got the attention of the press, so if..."

Frank probably should have felt bad for zoning out what Ryan was saying, but he was already too far in his own thoughts to properly give a shit.

This wasn't unusual for him actually. This was Frank's fourth year on the force, and his die-hard passion for putting away bad guys and their associates really had died down quite a bit after his third year. It wasn't really that he didn't like his job, because he did, it was just that there wasn't anything in his life apart from work, and he was getting really tired of it. He didn't have much of a social life and he rarely ever had time to just relax, because if he wasn't working on a case he was cursing out defense attorneys in his wake.

He didn't think he'd genuinely had fun in months, which really scared him shitless because he had watched enough movies to know that after the protagonist stops having a passion for their living situation, they become the bad guy. Which sounded like a load of Disney-bullshit to Frank, but the little kid in him still got way too uncomfortable by the idea to play it off as nothing.

Frank was startled out of his thoughts like a cold bucket of water being poured over his head when Ray nudged his shoulder. He flinched, glancing over at him quizzically.

"Briefing is over." Ray said softly, making Frank nod.

He got up and went to follow the everyone out of the room when he heard Hurley calling him back in.

Frank suppressed a wince and nodded, sitting on one of the beat-up metal tables.

"Detective," Hurley started, his voice more exhausted and tired than angry.

In actuality, Hurley was probably one of the only Captains Frank had ever seen that didn't typically get genuinely angry, but just disappointed more often than not.

The same went for Mikey Way, the Sergeant bellow Hurley. No one ever really saw his face change expressions, but when it did, it usually wasn't a positive change. He was quite skinny for a Sergeant, but he did have some loosely defined muscles under his shirt and tie, much like the rest of the squad. Frank himself wasn't too shabby in that department, though his shortness always seemed to overpower that when it came to the superlative question of 'who was build like a greek god?'

Him being bellow average height had always been a problem, even before he became a detective, or even joined the academy. One of the many reasons Frank even wanted to be a police officer in the first place was to prove to those around him that his height had no bearing on his ability to have a strong role in society. Not in the weird, sadistic, police-brutality way, but more to showcase the fact that he had a badge— and a clear right to make you shit your pants. Even if he wasn't six foot three.

"This is your fourth time being late to work," Hurley said, throwing Frank out of his thoughts, "You've got to start taking your job seriously— this is becoming ridiculous."

Frank nodded, honestly feeling his fecklessness overriding his anger. He set his coffee next to his thigh that was leaning against the table.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I was just—"