Forget About It

Frank's pacing in the small room that’s technically his and Patrick’s at the moment, and he’s absolutely livid. Thankfully Patrick isn’t there so he can be angry by himself. If only Gerard wasn't such an inconsiderate asshole, then Frank could actually do his job correctly. He knows if he doesn't talk to someone his head is going to explode. He takes his phone out and scrolls through his list, a name already in mind.

He barely even registers his hand pressing the call button until he brings it to his ear.

“Hello?” The tiny, soft-spoken voice over the phone says.

“Alex?”

“Frank?”

“Yeah, hey,” Frank says, wrapping an arm around his stomach and keeping the phone attached to his ear.

“How’ve you been? You sound like you’re trying not to sound angry,” Leave it to Alex to know exactly what Frank’s feeling. Frank chuckles dryly.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Well, what’s wrong?”

“It’s, man, I don’t know. I shouldn’t get so worked up about it, but my fucking boss is a fucking dick,” Frank groans, tired of the situation already.

“Why? What happened?” Alex asks, his voice a mixture of confusion and concern.

“Well we just got back from this little thing and he blew up on me! Like, I could’ve sworn he was happy I fucking jumped in and helped him, but no, he was fucking pissed and started saying shit about how I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I mean, 'get off your high fucking horse buddy, it doesn't look like you know what you're doing either.’"

"Whoa, Frankie," Alex tries to calm him, "I don't think I've heard you this mad since that jock scratched 'FAG' into your locker sophomore year."

It actually sounds nice to hear someone call him Frankie in a friendly way, rather than to demean him. No one calls him Frankie anymore, but high school friends never really let go of things like that, and Alex is no exception.

"Yeah, no. This guy's worse. I'd gladly take on that bitch than deal with this bozo another day," Frank scoffs, picking at the skin around his fingernails. It was a habit he stopped in high school because it made his Mom upset, but it seems that all of that is out of the window now. He’s so pissed off with Gerard that he used the word ‘bozo’ for god’s sake!

"Damn Frankie, I don't know if this job's so good for you. You sure this is what you wanna do? There’s still time, I guess, to switch careers. Maybe you could, you know, actually visit me sometime?" Alex jokes but it’s half-serious. Ever since Frank got into Quantico, he hasn't had much time to see Alex as much as he'd like. Sure, there are other ways to communicate, but there's only so many phone calls and Skype chats a guy can take before really needing to see his friend in the flesh.

"I visit you, jerk! But nah, I'm never going to quit this job. I don't care if my boss is the biggest queer asshole in the entire world, I'm never going to stop helping people. Never. Gerard can suck my-" the phone is suddenly ripped away from him, and Frank can feel the burning scratch of fingernails across his cheek in the hurry of snatching the cellular device. Frank turns in a flash in time to see Gerard hold the phone up to show him chidingly, and then he hurls it against the opposite wall.

"What the fuck!"

Gerard whips around, his face red and his body shaking with anger. Frank has a strong sense of Deja-vu from their previous argument.

Gerard's vision is covered by a thin film of red. He had walked by the room and heard Frank declaring to whoever was on the phone that he was never going to quit, then heard Frank insult him and his sexuality. Can someone say hypocrite? All of Gerard's hopes about being rid of the runt of the litter had been completely demolished when he heard those words leave Frank's lips.

"Gerard-"

"Fuck you Frank! Fuck you and your prissy teenage attitude! You're nothing but a no-good, incompetent-"

“Oh yeah because you’re a bed of roses! Gerard you treat me like shit-”

“And you don’t treat me like shit?”

Frank groans wanting nothing more than to slap Gerard or something. There’s an idea.

Frank’s never slapped anyone before, but he can’t even contain himself. Gerard broke his phone, over a throwaway insult, he deserves it. He takes his hand and swipes it across Gerard’s face, and then Gerard is so far past angry that he’s likely to turn into the incredible hulk.

“I am going to fucking kill you, Frank!” Gerard shouts.

“Go ahead, it would be Disneyworld compared to having to see you every day,” Frank says coldly.

Gerard narrows his eyes and pushes Frank confrontationally. Frank’s small so he stumbles back more than Gerard had expected, to the point where he hits the wall behind him. It’s not even unlikely that one of them is going to do some serious damage to the other.

For Gerard, he can’t even comprehend the way he loathes Frank. It’s unnatural to hate someone this much, but he so does. Frank’s feelings are no different.

“So what now, Way?” Frank shouts, “Going to hit me? Go on then!”

Gerard steps closer and he is so close to giving Frank a shiner that he can barely hold himself back. It physically pains Gerard to not physically pain Frank.

“You can’t fight fire with more fucking fire!” Gerard says, and he’s about to turn to walk away, when Frank puts his hand on his shoulder.

“You can’t just walk away from this, you fuckwad.”

“Don’t touch me!” Gerard says shrugging Frank off.

“Go fuck yourself,” Frank says deciding he’s not even worth it.

“Don’t talk to me like that. I don’t need harassment from a know-it-all little shrimp like you,” Gerard says and he’s about to leave the room. He’s almost to the door when Frank positively explodes.

“Stop making fun of my size!” Frank screams, losing whatever control he had left, and he pushes Gerard against the opposite wall, not even sure what he wants to do at this point. He’s a cop, a fucking Fed even, but what he wouldn’t give to do serious damage to Gerard right now.

Gerard’s head slams painfully against the wall and he looks down at Frank with a scowl. He’s uncomfortably close and Gerard can’t count the number of places he would like to kick Frank. It’s somewhere in the low thousands.

“Move away Frank, before I do something I regret,” Gerard breathes out as slowly and calmly as he can. Frank can see the muscles in Gerard’s jaw working, and he fucking loves it.

“Why? Is it bothering you? Do it Gerard, fucking hit me,” Frank is just itching for Gerard to give him a reason to swing at him.

Gerard has a flash of a thought that makes him smirk.

“Sorry, I don’t hit midgets,” Gerard barely gets his insult out before Frank is roaring and grabbing a handful of his collar, pinning him even harder to the wall.

“Say that again. Slower,” Frank says lowly, looking up at Gerard through his lashes, pure fury emitting from the hazel irises.

Gerard almost swallows his tongue and his brain short circuits. He can barely remember what they’re fighting about, because all he can think about is how fucking pretty Frank looks when his eyes are burning like they are, surrounded by thick long lashes. Frank is still looking at him evilly, waiting for Gerard’s answer, and all Gerard can think about is if Frank would look at him the same way if he was on his knees in front of Gerard.

“Go on. I dare you,” Frank growls, completely oblivious to the thoughts in Gerard’s mind. Gerard tries to shake the thoughts from his head, literally, and Frank takes it as a refusal to repeat his insult and smirks.

“I thought so,” He says smugly and Gerard’s anger comes back, not as strong as before, but it’s still vehemently there.

“Fuck. You,” He spits, trying to forget about Frank’s eyes and his stupidly flushed face, and his red lips. Most especially he can’t forget about how he can feel the heat radiating off of Frank’s smaller frame. Fuck, this is not turning him on, it can’t be!

Frank opens his mouth, most likely to spew out another insult, when he stops, eyes widening. This is the moment where Gerard wishes the ground would swallow him up while it still has the chance. Frank’s eyes flash down for a millisecond before meeting Gerard’s once again. Then slowly, ever so slowly, he smirks.

“By tell of your pants, I’m guessing you mean that literally?” Frank whispers, his voice dripping with amusement. Gerard almost whimpers in despair when Frank pushes a leg in between his, cutting off any oxygen in his throat. He looks at Frank in disbelief, but Frank just grins wolfishly and steps closer until their bodies are left with no space in between them.

“Frank-” Gerard tries to stop him, but Frank just rolls his hips on to his, and Gerard can feel Frank’s hard on against his leg as well. Gerard tries to thrash out of Frank’s grip, and only succeeds in grinding himself on Frank even more, which admittedly, isn’t as bad as it sounds.

“Fucking cock-sucking son of a-” Gerard's line of insults is interrupted by the door being pulled open.

"Would you two fucking stop?" Brendon says, sticking his head into the door to look at Gerard and Frank who are still uncomfortably close to each other. “What are you even doing?”

“Well I was going to knock his lights out,” Gerard says, and he pushes Frank away without looking at him, then walks over to the door, fixing his collar. He decides that any attention he’d give to adjusting his pants would only make Brendon more in tune to what just happened. Gerard doesn’t even know what just happened.

“You guys cannot keep up like this!” Brendon exclaims. “You just can’t. You’re FBI agents for god’s sake! You're supposed to help people, but you’re being blinded by that because of your hatred.”

“I’m not going to stop hating him if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“No, we’d need a miracle for that to happen,” Brendon says, “but keep it civil. Cold stares, spit in the coffee mug, don’t hold the doors for each other, and maybe the occasional middle finger, but you two are homicidal in here. I’m going to be standing over a body sometime soon and it’s going to be one of you.”

“You mean it’s going to be Frank,” Gerard says.

“Yeah right, because you could take me down,” Frank sneers.

“You’re like four feet tall,” Gerard says, and Frank’s getting ready to pounce again, but Brendon gives him a terrifying stare that makes him reconsider. “I think I could take you.”

“Are we good then?” Brendon asks, “Are we going to let each other go our separate ways without stabbing each other with forks?”

“I’m not going to shake his hand,” Gerard says.

“Same,” Frank says, but Brendon only rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t ask you to,” he says, and opens the door wider for Gerard to leave.

Gerard takes a step towards it, but before he can, Brendon pulls it back to a narrow opening, and gives him a look in the eye that is not to be messed with, “Frank, say you’re sorry for calling Gerard queer, and smacking him.”

Frank looks like he’d rather make out with Susan Boyle, but he says a very reluctant, “sorry.”

“And Gerard, apologize for ruining Frank’s phone, and making fun of his height.”

“Sorry,” Gerard says stubbornly with distaste, and Brendon opens the door wider for him.

As Gerard’s leaving he finishes his sentence, “that Frank is an ignorant dwarf.”

Frank’s mouth opens like he wants to say something but thinks better of it when Brendon gives him that look again.

Brendon turns around and walks after Gerard.

“You are an asshole, Gerard,” Brendon says when he catches up.

“Here we go again,” Hayley’s voice can be heard saying.