"IERO!" HURLEY YELLED at a dazzled Frank who in turn snapped his head up.
His eyes were still fuzzy with sleep as he tried to focus on his C.O, who didn't look too impressed as everyone in the room stared at Frank.
Ray nudged him, almost telling him to apologise, but Frank's mind was still half off so of course he didn't catch that. Instead he let out a grunt and rested his chin on his palm, glaring at the screen in front of him.
"Anyway," Hurley said slowly, making it a point to look exclusively at Frank who blinked blankly in response. "As I was saying, there's been a break in near the Angelika, so I want Ross and Iero to scope out the place."
Iero barely had a chance to nod before he was zoning out once again.
He wasn't always a great listener, he could definitely acknowledge that, but he swore this time it wasn't his fucking fault. Some dude had just moved in next door to his and Bob's apartment, and he was fucking loud. He drilled and listened to music all night and sometimes made it a point to listen to TV at a high fucking volume at ungodly hours.
Frank wasn't exactly a fan, and Bob had to keep him from going over there and kicking his ass various times. Though Frank swore to himself that one more disruption would mean the guy getting his ass handed to him. Frank didn't care if he had to play the 'cop' card or not.
They hadn't actually met the fucker, but oh did Frank intend to.
Once the briefing was over, Frank followed the rest of the officers out of the room. Though quite quickly he winced when he caught sight of Bert clutching his coffee mug so tight his knuckles were white, the cup seconds away from shattering in his iron grip.
Frank obviously couldn't give a single shit regarding why he was pissed off, because he himself wasn't in the best mood, but he figured he may as well ask before he breaks his damn coffee mug and Frank has to listen to Hurley lecture him about it.
"You good, McCracken?" Frank asked, trying to sound just the least bit charismatic but his disinterest was very clear.
Bert grumbled something Frank didn't hear, but he just nodded anyway, making Bert raise an agitated eyebrow.
"You've been cheated on before?" He asked curiously, and Frank half kept himself from smacking the shit out of himself.
Why did he nod to a question he didn't fucking hear in the first place?
What was worse though, was that as much as he didn't want to be having this conversation at that moment, or ever really, he found himself nodding slowly. Actually having understood the question that time. Because truth be told, Frank had been cheated on. A lot. By a multitude of partners.
Though Frank had to admit after the third time he stopped being surprised, because he came to the conclusion that dating and trusting anyone who could hurt him like that, was honestly beneath him.
Frank wouldn't blame his horrible dating history on him being a complete dick at times, but it did play a somewhat large part. Believe it or not, Bob and Ray had both known Frank before he became the coldhearted asshole he was today. Frank used to be quite the optimist.
He loved his job and was proud of it too, because he wasn't exactly aware of the whole 'ACAB' thing at the time. But now he was. And now he wasn't the proudest, or happiest about his life either. Although there was just something so damaging about being cheated on, he had to admit his coldness did come mostly from how the public viewed him.
It was hard being happy with himself when he knew just about everyone hated him, for reasons completely beyond him. He was a good cop, or that was what he told himself anyway, and he hoped he was a passably good person, but sometimes that just wasn't enough. Like when he had first moved to the city, he didn't have a car so of course he used the subway. But he soon just started walking home because every damn time he came onto the subway with his badge out or in uniform, people would avoid him, or curse him out, or in one case, try to clock him.
But cheating was a little different than being hated by the public. It almost hurt more, and it broke so many layers of him. Granted the first time it just hurt his heart, but by the fourth he half expected in. Because it was a given. Frank was just always preoccupied, whether it be with work or his own emotions, or stress, and unfortunately that wasn't enough for his significant others. Which was why he'd given up on loving anyone a long time ago.
Sure, when he'd seen Gerard at that bar a small part of him wanted to try again, wanted to feel wanted and needed again. But now he knew that he wasn't ready to put himself out there, and he wasn't ready to even remotely stop the hate in his gut that appeared when Gerard was around.
Just because he felt bad for practically standing him up, didn't mean he magically liked him again. Not at all.
"Yeah," Frank finally croaked in response to Bert's question, making the older detective look shocked for a moment.
"Wow, Iero," He said quietly, "I didn't know you had a heart under all of that stubbornness."
Frank cracked a small, pained smile. "Yeah, well. Learning new things everyday, huh?"
Bert nodded, looking down at his mug, "Yeah.. Just like how my girlfriend's not really invested anymore."
Frank frowned at that, stiffly patting his back, "It um, it gets better,"
It was a lie sure, or at least in Frank's case it had proven to be a lie, but Bert didn't deserve the same rollercoaster of compartmentalization as Frank did.
Bert scoffed, "I hope so."
Frank nodded awkwardly, almost sighing in relief when he heard Mikey calling his name. He nodded as a parting and walked over to the stressed man.
"Briefing room." Was the only thing Mikey said to him before the taller man stormed into the empty room.
Frank raised an eyebrow, ignoring the work he had to be doing and instead did as he was practically ordered to.
When Frank sat down on one of the metal desks, Mikey almost immediately slammed the door and towered over him with a glare.
"Heard you've been getting acquainted with Gerard recently." He said, and Frank suppressed an eye roll.
"Not by choice, but sure." Frank muttered, and Mikey's poker face seemed to stiffen at that.
"Well, then I'm only going to say this once, Detective-" Mikey started lowly, but Frank cut him off.
"I have a name." He said through his teeth, making Mikey's glare harden even more which almost seemed impossible.
"Alright, Iero," Mikey said, making Frank raise an eyebrow, "I... I know how you are. I know how you act around others, and I don't want you hurting Gerard because you just don't know any better. If you want to keep whatever the hell kind of relationship you and my brother have, that's fine, but you better fucking cool it with your temper tantrums. Alright?"
Frank scoffed, "Real professional."
And before Mikey could retaliate, Frank was speaking again, "And not that it's any of your fucking business, but your brother and I don't have a relationship to maintain. And in case you forgot; even if I wanted to maintain one, even if I wanted to be friends with him or handcuff him to a car- or even bend him over a fucking desk,"
Frank looked up at Mikey unwaveringly, "It would still be none of your business, Sergeant."
Frank sat up then, not caring about the undeniable fact that Mikey was his superior officer and instead just left the room promptly. In all honesty, he didn't care all that much that he'd just disrespected him more than he'd ever done so before, because he really had it coming.
Frank was digging his dull nails into his palms as he grit his teeth, taking a seat by his desk. How fucking dare Mikey tell Frank what he could and couldn't get himself into.
Sure him and Gerard were brothers, but that gave him no right to tell Frank what he was and wasn't allowed to do. Especially not during work hours, and especially not about his out of work relationships.
"You okay? I saw you headin' in the briefing room with Way." Ray said behind him, making Frank pull at his own hair in anger.
"I'm fine." Frank growled, screwing his eyes shut tightly.
✩ ✩
Despite his earlier words, Frank saw Gerard again. Though he was probably doing the last thing Frank wanted to see.
Frank had been on his way home from work when he drove past that bar Ray had forced him into going to, Peggy's or something, and for some reason beyond his understanding, he stopped in front of it. He stopped his car and walked through the squeaky bar doors as if he had actually meant to.
And then as if the universe was just squatting down and taking a huge fucking shit all over his life, Gerard was spotted. For probably the millionth time, though this time Frank could safely say he hadn't been expecting like this.
He was by a booth this time, his body shifted to the side as he seemed to have another pair of lips latched onto his own. Gerard's eyes of course shut and his hand playing with the man's coat zipper.
And Frank felt something deep in his chest ache at the sight. This wasn't new, he knew Gerard inherently went around since he saw him at the club with that other stranger, but maybe a small, almost missable part of Frank's subconscious hated that. He... didn't exactly want Gerard to be with guys the way he was right now. Maybe the only guy Frank really wanted Gerard to be fooling around with was anyone but a stranger.
Yet even in his hazy state, Frank couldn't tear his eyes off of him, only jolting back into reality when he the two stopped and Gerard caught his eyes.
His cheeks instantly bloomed a ripe red, and he moved further from the man as he sent Frank a confused stare. Obviously seeming surprised that Frank had not only seen him, but that he was in a bar of all places.
Frank eventually looked down, swallowing down a lump he hadn't even known he formed, and instead turned back to walk out the doors.
A small part of him knew he shouldn't have gone into that bar, even if a bigger part of Frank was intrigued by the idea.
Because now Frank felt hurt, deep within his chest, for a reason beyond him, and he couldn't even dwell on it too long before a hand started tugging on his sleeve.
Frank didn't need to turn around to know it was Gerard, he could smell the vanilla and ripe berries. Though there was a clear hint of a man's cologne lingering and the smell of vodka too.
"Iero- I mean Frank, what are you doing here?" He asked, and he seemed more curious than anything else.
Frank has stopped walking at this point, though his back was to Gerard and he kept his gaze low.
"Just getting a drink." Frank said quietly, because he really didn't know any other reason he could give him. Only now he was certain he needed something to drink, and if it didn't have at least a shot of alcohol in it he wasn't interested.
"Wow, I'm starting to think you're an alcoholic at this point." Gerard said, and Frank clenched his jaw at the small laugh Gerard let out.
He acted as if this was nothing. Just another encounter they always seemed to have. But this time it didn't feel like nothing to Frank, it felt like something but he just couldn't pinpoint it.
When Frank didn't respond, Gerard let out a sigh. His hand letting go of Frank's jacket sleeve.
"But you don't usually go to bars..." Gerard said quietly, as if he was still trying to figure Frank out.
Frank rolled his eyes sourly, "Look, just because we went to a coffeehouse for twenty minutes doesn't mean you fucking know me."
Gerard raised an eyebrow at Frank's words.
Gerard sighed, "You don't really give me a chance to, do you?"
"Oh don't pretend like you'd want to." Frank scoffed, swallowing thickly, "I think you've got your hands full fooling around with random assh—"
"Well you don't fucking give me a lot to work with, do you?" Gerard interrupted sharply, making Frank jolt back. He watched as Gerard's eyebrows furrowed angrily and his breathing turned laboured.
He groaned as he looked away from Frank, "God, it's not like we have anything- I don't know why you're being such a prissy child."
Frank didn't answer, looking down as he resisted the urge to slam Gerard against a wall and make a hasty escape.
"I never said we did- we don't even know each other- don't even—" Frank's excuses were getting him nowhere as Gerard cut him off again.
"Maybe you would know something if you actually fucking listened, you snob." Gerard snapped and Frank froze when he felt Gerard poke at his chest forcefully with his index finger, though it just caught him off hairs more than anything. It hadn't hurt or anything, he was just surprised Gerard had done it in the first place.
There had to be something wrong with him, because from the times Gerard had spoken to him he had never gotten angry like this. He had never physically done anything apart from maybe flick Frank before, and maybe it did have something to do with how Frank had completely ditched him at that coffeehouse.
Frank felt the same sticky dread fill his chest as his own eyes shifted into anger, his sympathy and almost worried nature fleeting as he grit his teeth, "Oh I'm sorry I don't care what your fucking favourite movie is."
Frank watched as Gerard whole expression changed, from once practically pissing himself in anger to an almost unreadable one. His eyebrows were raised and his eyes shimmered with raw hurt in the dim lighting of the lamppost on the street. It illuminated Gerard's face enough for Frank to see his mouth in a frown.
"Yeah, well," Gerard muttered dryly, "I honestly didn't think you would."
"I-"
"No, in all honesty," Gerard cut him off quickly, and Frank noticed a small sniffle fill the air, "I think I've had enough of you for tonight, Frank."
"You're acting like a fucking child," Frank said though his mind didn't even register the words he spat out, "You're pissed I don't know your favourite movie so now you're just gonna go back in there and smack lips with some random asshole?"
Gerard stared at him for a minute before rolling his eyes, "Oh, I'm the child, got it."
"I don't even see you denying what I—"
"You want me to deny being called a whore?" Gerard asked with a raised eyebrow, his hands practically twitching in anger.
Frank's tongue felt heavy in his mouth as he swallowed and looked away again. He willed himself to say something, anything as long as it maybe meant Gerard wouldn't leave and go back to that guy in the bar. Frank couldn't quite grasp why but the simple thought made a sour taste fill his mouth. It was so selfish and yet Frank supposed he was just wired that way.
"I didn't... mean it like that." Frank said quietly, his voice heavy and low, "Honestly, maybe I-"
"You did though, didn't you?" Gerard interrupted with a defeated voice, "I think out of the few times I've spoken to you, you've made it perfectly clear I'm just beneath you."
Frank was left speechless. He couldn't... seem to find a way to explain why he didn't actually think as lowly of him as Gerard thought. Because as he was stood there, Gerard yelling at him, he couldn't even find it in himself to deny anything he was saying. He was right, Frank was a prick, he was impulsive and he chose to leave Gerard that time at the coffeehouse. And beneath it all, Frank knew he didn't hate Gerard, or maybe even dislike him, or think less of him in any sense. Frank was just an asshole. He supposed he had always been subconsciously, even before he came to terms with it.
Decidedly Frank had taken too long to speak, because by the time he opened his mouth Gerard had wiped his nose and was scratching his head in almost an agitated way.
"I think you should leave me alone." Gerard finally mumbled, his eyes on the ground as he spoke.
Frank stared at him silently for a moment, "But you still haven't given me a chance to explain what I me—"
"I don't owe you shit, Iero." Gerard snarled again, and he sighed before speaking again in a calmer voice, "I... I'm getting really tired of you. You always act like a fucking heartless prick and then make it seem like I'm the asshole for not keeping some fucking vow of chastity?"
Frank recoiled when he heard those words. It felt almost like a strike or harsh jab to his chest. The words he knew he deserved to hear filled his bones with hurt, the feeling almost like a spider web, intricate and strong and to most, disgusting. It was a harsh slap into reality if Frank were being honest, because out of all of the times he'd called himself a prick or an ass, he never took into account that maybe he was heartless. Maybe he'd gone so long without loving that he was just... incapable.
Did that make him sick? Was Frank sick for not finding it in himself, more often than not, to sympathise with those around him?
"I," Frank was at a loss for words as he felt his voice crack unnaturally, in a way it hadn't in years. "Honestly, I didn't mean..."
"I'm going back inside." Gerard said quietly after Frank had failed to find any sort of viable argument, "And if you ever see me around again; don't come near me, Frank."
Gerard gave Frank one last glance before turning on his heels to walk back into the lively bar, leaving Frank in the cold.
And Frank cleared his throat as he felt his posture deflate slowly but surely. Mikey was right. He should have stayed the hell away from Gerard until he had himself under control, which for all he knew, would be never.
★ not edited ★