#stakeshipping

This was a bad idea. This was such a bad fucking idea, why couldn’t Joey see that? It was such a bad idea to come here but no, she just had to drag him along. You need to socialize, she had told him. Well he wasn’t doing much of that now, was he? If anything he was watching her socialize with her friends’ friends and him standing in a corner clutching a drink wanting desperately to go home. He had dragged him to a sad excuse of a birthday party one of her close friends from college was throwing. He didn’t know any of these people and the one person he did know was quickly whisked away from him by her friend.

Her friend had laughed at something said by someone that was honestly not even that funny. Her laugh was more of a shriek if anything; shrilling, high pitched, and annoying. But the people he could deal with. What he couldn’t deal with was the guy that had been talking Joey’s ear off. All night. Without fail. Even if she wasn’t listening! The guy just couldn’t take a hint. It was pissing him off how close he was getting to her. Joey would shrink away, and he’d leave her be for a few minutes before trying to get closer again.

Rinse and repeat.

All. Fucking. Night.

He didn’t know how much longer he could take this. It was almost laughable, that this guy thought he would even have a chance with her. What did he know about Joey? Surely not as much as Frank knew about her. Frank fantasized about ripping the guy limb from limb for his dinner but instead, he stood up straight and sipped on the shitty booze in his drink. It was almost like he was in college again. Standing around drinking shit alcohol while everyone around him got shitfaced, socialized, and made out.

Except the difference between college and now was he had someone to look out for. Truthfully his eyes hadn’t left Joey all night. And it wasn’t because he didn’t trust her. If anything it was because it was a new environment, and he didn’t know the people. But now? His eyes were trained on that guy. God, why couldn’t he bother someone else? He knows Joey’s hot but christ, she isn’t interested. Why can’t he pick up on that?

He probably doesn’t have the mental capacity to do so, Frank figured. Idiots. He was surrounded by idiots. Joey really needs better friends but he wouldn’t voice that.

His last straw, however, was when the guy had touched her shoulder. He nearly broke the cup he was holding. Frank tossed the alcohol and made his way over, not so gently setting a hand on Joey’s waist and pulling her close to him. The sudden movement seemed to spook her a bit, seeing as she flinched when he had grabbed her, but she relaxed quickly. She looked up at him with an expression that read the fuck are you doing? But he didn’t care to respond. Frank’s eyes were dead - set on the man in front of them.

“ … this is m —”

“Her boyfriend. Hi.” Frank interrupted her with a tight smile, cocking his head to the side slightly.

He reeked of jealousy. Even Joey could tell. Of course, how could anyone not recognize it? She nodded in response. “Yes, my boyfriend, Adam. This is —”

“I think we should head out, Ana.” He looked down at her with an arched eyebrow. She didn’t need to be a mind reader to tell that if he opened his mouth, Frank would punch him. “Let Marley off babysitting duty early tonight.” So she nodded once more.

“Alright. Let’s head out. Just let me say goodbye to Tyler, alright?” That was her name? He didn’t care to remember.

“I’ll start the car.” He gave her one last, much more gentle, squeeze before releasing her from his iron grip and leaving. Mostly because he knew that if he was alone with that asshole he would have easily killed him. By the time Joey got in the car she barely closed the door before she spoke.

“What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?”

“Don’t give me that shit. You know what.”

“He was flirting with you all fucking night!”

Joey clicked her tongue, “You’re jealous?”

Frank looked over at her and moved some strands of hair out of her face. “I don’t take too kindly to men flirting with my girlfriend.”

“You’ve never called me that before.”

“Jesus, just stop talking, will you?” He leaned over the armrest to kiss her, effectively taking away her ability to retort the previous statement. It was surprisingly tentative, and languid. Not at all the impatient and sloppy jealous kisses she’s used to. Their lips pressed against each other and it was an uncharacteristically romantic kiss. Frank broke it off first to trail down to Joey’s jawline, but she set a hand on his chest to lightly push him away.

“Mm, drive, Adam.”

Pairing 1: Manipulashipping(Anzu Mazaki|Tea Gardener/Malik Ishtar)

Propaganda: I think this pair is a way to explore the really rich ideas of bodily autonomy and different ways people suffer (not to mention there’s something about the way that she’s briefly the last piece of him)… mostly i think this could be really good in a postcanon setting but that’s beside the point

Pairing 2: Stakeshipping(Mai Valentine|Mai Kujaku/Bandit Keith)

Propaganda: Originally grew to love it from writing with a friend; Keith and Mai so naturally fit together in their Compatible Depression. If they'd ever gotten to have a conversation, they would've had a hell of a lot in common; it'd also be nice to put Mai with someone who's, y'know, a grown-ass adult instead of a teenager.

Sleeping at night wasn’t something Frank much needed anymore. Throughout the day was another thing but at night he usually stayed awake as Joey rested, her head against his arm. He often lost feeling in it but he didn’t care. As long as she slept soundly he would be alright. Sometimes he would doze off but it was very rare. The city was loud at night and with his enhanced senses it was hard for him to fall asleep.

Frank didn’t even remember falling asleep but when he opened his eyes he was back in that damned mansion’s control room with that two - timing bastard Lambert. He had found himself thinking about that night often but not once did he turn up in his dreams. His eyes were trained not on his face but his hands which were wrapped tightly around Joey’s neck squeezing in an unrelenting grip. Her face was red as she was helplessly pawing at his arms to pull him away to no avail.

He took a deep breath as she offered a weak plea of his name which was something he thought about a lot, but it was mostly what came after. He was rooted in selfishness so why he had given up his humanity for her remained a mystery to them both but one thing was for sure; he would do it again given the chance.

“Fuck it,” he had said with a relatively straight face as if to not give away that he was plotting against him. “Bite me.”

Frank could’ve winced when Lambert had let go of Joey, damn near bashing her head on the wall and she collapsed. The rest of the dream played out how the situation went down except for one variable — Joey. In reality she looked up at him, drenched to the bone in blood from both Sammy and Lambert shaking and carefully reaching for the stake, and Frank would tilt his head and ask, “The fuck are you doing? Get up, we’re leaving before Fancy Nancy and her father decide to show their ugly faces,” but now Joey wasn’t looking at him. She wasn’t reaching for the stake, she wasn’t fearful that he had turned on her.

Joey wasn’t moving at all, actually.

Frank furrowed his eyebrows and gave her leg a light kick, “Joey. Get the fuck up, we’re leaving.” No response. “We don’t have the fucking time to play possum, Joey, get up.” When she didn’t respond again he started to get a bit worried, slightly. Frank knelt down and lightly shook her. “Ana?” He reached for her head and on his hand was a fresh coat of blood that was not there prior. When the realization set in he shook his head, moving to carry her in his arms if he had to. “No, no, no .. you are not fucking dying here. Y’know how annoying it’ll be to explain why you’re so fucking bloody to a morgue?” When the door to the control room opened, that's when Frank finally woke up.

He would’ve sat upright had it not been for the weight of Joey’s head against his arm.

The weight.

The weight of Joey.

The weight of Joey’s head against his arm.

He looked over at her and in an attempt to be discreet, gently set two fingers on the pulse in her neck. It was slow but it was there. She was fine. She was alive. She was sleeping. Frank relaxed slightly but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something would happen to her, so he carefully moved Ana so that she was gently pressed against his chest and his arms wrapped around her protectively, that way nobody could touch her.

Not Lambert, not angelina ballerina, and certainly not Lazar. It was just them. Joey, in his arms, Frank holding her, and Caleb in his room down the hall fast asleep. He placed a hesitant kiss to the top of his head and felt a shift in his arms.

“What’re you doing?”

Fuck, he woke her up.

“Nothin’,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “You rolled over is all.”

The state of them could have been near impossible if it were Joey who had just rolled over into his arms but she wasn’t even fully awake so he doubted she would cue in on that. “I did?”

“Yeah. Go back to sleep, Ana.”

Despite his hearing he didn’t catch what she said before she pulled the covers more over them and went back to bed. Frank took a deep breath. He was fine. She was fine. Everything was fine.

Every sense of good conscience was telling Joey that no, this was a bad idea. It wasn’t that Joey didn’t trust Frank around her son, it was moreso that she didn’t know if this would make this already rocky relationship weird. Her and her son have been very low contact; waiting for Caleb to come to her, visiting when he wants, etc. All contact has been through Caleb’s initiative and he’s aware of the fact that she’s been seeing someone for the better part of the past year, and has expressed wanting to meet him, but it didn’t make her any less anxious.

She wrung her hands as she paced around the house, muttering to herself quietly. Her mind was going about a million miles a minute thinking about all the things that could possibly go wrong. Frank put a hand on her shoulder gently as if an attempt to bring her out of her spiraling thoughts. “Ana,” the use of her real name was enough to bring her out. She looked up at him, eyebrows knitting together. They rarely referred to each other as anything but Frank and Joey despite knowing they didn’t need to anymore.

“Just … relax,” it was easier said than done. His attempts to calm her down were appreciated, but if they were working was another thing entirely. She checked the time and pursed her lips, “I need to go pick him up.” She got herself out of his uncharacteristically gentle hold to grab her keys. Before she left the house, she turned to face him. “So help me Adam Barrett if a single swear word in front of my kid leaves your mouth you’re not gonna be seeing him for a while.” Frank rolled his eyes and waved a hand dismissively.

“Yeah, yeah, just go get the fuckin’ kid.”

“Frank!”

“I’m sorry!” No he wasn’t.

Joey let out an exasperated sigh as she left. About an hour later Frank, who was in the kitchen fixing himself a totally non - alcoholic drink, heard the door unlock and some shuffling, as well as two voices in a somewhat awkward conversation. It was clear they were still trying to get used to one another. When he poked his head out of the kitchen he was met with an approximately thirteen year old boy who looked like an almost smaller version of Joey.

Joey, who was standing behind the boy, had a look on her face that clearly read to watch his mouth. No fucking promises. She gestured towards the former cop with a tight smile on her face, “Caleb this is … my boyfriend, Fr — Adam.” Labels were still weird with them. But instead he just nodded at the kid. He could barely talk to his own fucking kid, how the fuck would he talk to hers? Caleb nodded in return, an equally as tight smile. God he was just like his fucking mother.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Joey could have fucking facepalmed. At least he’s not swearing, she thought to herself. Joey cleared her throat and just pat Caleb’s shoulder, “Why don’t you set your stuff down in your room? Dinner should be … quick.” She had no fucking idea what to make. When Caleb went upstairs, she sighed.

“I got dinner handled, Ana.”

“What?”

She looked in the kitchen and there was a pot boiling on the stove with miscellaneous types of pasta in it. He shrugged halfheartedly, “Didn’t know what the kid liked so … I just grabbed a shit ton of different ones.” She couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, leaning up slightly to kiss him; it was quick, like it almost always is. Just enough but it never lasts long.

“So you do have a heart. I’m a bit surprised,” she teased.

“Yeah don’t fuckin’ mention it.”

“Language.”

“The kid isn’t gonna hear from upstairs.”

The sound of Joey’s fingers rhythmically drumming against the kitchen table was the only noise that she could focus on without spiraling into a black hole of anxiety - ridden thoughts regarding her lover’s location. He was never out this late — not really. And even when he was, he called. Or texted. But it’s been radio silence since Frank left. The typical goodbye while she cleaned up from her dinner; a half - hearted kiss to the side of her head, an “I’ll be back soon,” followed by the sound of the door shutting behind him rather aggressively, whether it was intentional or not. Frank may not have been the most outwardly affectionate partner, but he cared. He’d let her know she was fine if he was out later than intended to ease her nerves. Caleb was with his dad for the weekend, so she was left alone with her thoughts, and it wasn’t the greatest position to be in.

Joey was anxiously checking her phone for any notification she could have possibly missed from him but there was nothing. Not one. She had resorted to picking at the skin of her lips, a nasty old anxiety ridden habit of hers that she’s had when she was a child and teenager that had resulted in her lips often bleeding and her tirelessly scrubbing the dried blood under her nails with a nail brush. When she did this, Frank would often grab her hand and mutter a gruff stop, and it usually worked. But he wasn’t here to do so, so she picked away whether she was consciously aware of it or not.

It seemed the more time ticked on, the more worried she got. What could have happened? Was he okay? Did he get caught? Was he even alive? That thought alone was enough to make her feel sick to her stomach. She thought she might not be able to keep her dinner down. Frank was a cautious man; he didn’t take his car, so in the event someone did see him they wouldn’t be able to identify him with a license plate so she couldn’t strain her ears for the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway in the house they’ve been sharing for the better part of the past year.

Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven.

The hours passed and she didn’t even realize the blood that dripped down her chin and onto the glass kitchen table. Her eyes were intensely fixated on the clock as the minutes ticked by. Five hours. He’s been gone for five hours. The thought of him leaving had briefly crossed her mind — he’s done so before, what’s stopping him from doing it again? She tried to shake such thoughts, she wanted to think better of him after everything they had gone through together, but was he? He had done so before, what was stopping him from doing it again?

When the clock struck Midnight, as if on cue she heard the door unlock and his string of muttered curses. In the moment she couldn’t bring herself to care about her bloodied lip or nails, she just needed to see him. He had blood of his own smeared on his lips, presumably from whatever poor soul he had made his dinner, as he hung up his jacket and paid Joey little mind.

“Six. Hours.” She said, staring up at him as if waiting for some kind of explanation. “You were gone for six hours. Do you even know —”

Instead of answering her, he stared at her for a long moment. There was no clear emotion etched onto his expression, but it was obvious the gears in his head were turning. He tilted her chin up slightly and swiped his thumb across her bottom lip. Still relatively fresh blood. “You’re bleeding, Joey.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Where were you?”

He licked the blood off his thumb carelessly and walked past her towards the bathroom to wipe his mouth and rid it of the blood he knew she hated so. “You know where.”

“For six hours?”

“Late night.”

“This goes way past a late night, Adam.”

The use of his actual name caused him to falter for a minute, but he rinsed his mouth out without a word. Joey was getting progressively more annoyed at him avoiding the question, “Adam.”

He dried his mouth and Joey’s next words were met with his lips on hers in the swift steps he had taken to her, cupping her face in an uncharacteristic gentle manner. She couldn’t bite back the surprised gasp into it, but she ultimately returned the gesture. When he finally came up for air, he licked off any remaining blood from her lip and sighed quietly. “I’m sorry I took so long, okay?”

Actual verbal apologies from Frank were few and far between so she didn’t completely process his words for a moment. He took the opportunity to continue, “I took a detour — the bus sucks at night, by the way, but I took a detour because I was grabbing you something.” He rummaged through his pockets and opened up a box. Inside was a ring, nothing too extravagant or anything just a normal silver ring. He took it out and showed Joey the inside of the band. Engraved in it was their initials. He shrugged nonchalantly, “If you want it. It’s not a big deal.” His nonchalance when it came to nice gestures like this annoyed her a bit, but nonetheless she reached for it, only for him to put it back in the box.