Work Text:
"You know, I'm pretty sure they just keep us around so they don't have to get up for drinks." Frank pulled two more bottles from the fridge, glancing out into the living room where Yolanda and Trinity were gossiping about something. He'd learned to just pretend to ignore it, by this point in time. Mostly because if he pretended not to listen, he still got to hear it.
Dennis shrugged, currently balancing a bowl of pretzels as well as another two replacement bottles for him and Trinity. "I'm pretty sure I'm kept because I can fix her sink. She really can't use any tools, it's a little terrifying."
By the haunted look in his eyes, Frank knew there was a story there he'd have to get out of him another day. He elbowed shut the fridge and began the journey back to their friends, looking over as he spoke. "Abby's kind of the same. Absolutely wicked with a hot glue gun, a drill, she can do a bandsaw just fine, but I think she's put more holes in the wall than Tanner has."
"Actually?"
"She cannot be trusted with a hammer."
"Hey!" Trinity called over to the kitchen, her empty bottle pointedly raised in a similar fashion to her eyebrows. "Are you seriously gushing about your wife again?"
"I think he's technically insulting her?" Dennis shot Frank a 'sorry' look, scuttling off to deliver his treats to the awaiting parties.
"It's called being honest." Frank passed over Yolanda's drink and sat down in one of the side chairs, putting a hand to his chest and pulling the most monotone voice he could manage as he looked at Trinity. "Oh no, how terrible of me. I love my wife and like to talk about her."
"Gross." She pipped back, kicking her feet up on to her coffee table. "Not the place, unless you really were as lame as I thought you were before meeting her."
Frank could physically feel his cheeks scrunch up, shooting Yolanda a confused look with a gesture towards the offender in question. "I was gone for a singular minute, what the hell did you guys talk about?"
Something about his tone, his expression, or maybe just the fact that they all had a nice buzz going, set Trinity off, ducking her head and covering her mouth to try and stifle the sudden laugh. "Nothing bad, Langdon, chill out. We've just got questions for you and Dennis."
Ah, so they were at this portion of the evening. At some point in time, every time they got to drinking, Dennis wanted to play some kind of awful game he probably learned in a barn and Trinity wanted to dig into their personal lives. She had this thing, of wanting to know as much as she could about a person without asking for it directly, and all that caution went out the window once enough alcohol was in her.
"Alright. Shoot." Frank tipped his drink to her. The last couple of times had been asks about high school, one night where he learned every name of every chicken Dennis ever owned, a memorable thirty minutes where Yolanda regaled everyone on the reason she never lets anyone borrow her car, and — not to toot his own horn or anything — a truly riveting tale from when his neighbor's garage exploded from a poorly maintained still.
He was pretty sure the man only lived another thirteen years because the Devil hadn't prepared enough for him yet.
Trinity cleared her throat, looking at the two of them sincerely after sharing a sideways glance to Yolanda. "How old were you when you lost your virginity?"
Ah.
Dennis near instantly spluttered on his drink, coughing out a very startled 'what??' that threw Trinity into another laughing fit, and drew attention away from the way Frank adjusted how he was sitting, suddenly too warm, trying to hide a smile behind his bottle as he took another drink.
He rarely enjoyed this topic. Sexscapades wasn't a thing he shied away from by any means, always plenty happy to dive into the weird shit he got into at college, but this was different. Something with multiple answers, actually, depending on the group, considering he still remembered the look on Abby's face the first time he answered honestly.
Something seemed to finally clear, Dennis now managing to breathe again, waving his hand in front of him like it would clear everything up. "I'm going to repeat, what?"
"Trinity and I were swapping stories, wondered what it was for you guys." Yolanda explained it simply, leaning forward to grab a small handful of the half finished popcorn from earlier. The movie was still paused on the TV, stuck on a frame of some shitty action hero mid-swing on a cable. Frank couldn't even recall the name.
"Don't be such a prude, Dennis." Trinity teased, tilting her foot down to kick lightly against where his were propped up perpendicular to hers. "It can't be that bad of a story."
"It's not great." He defended with a sigh, taking another drink.
Frank busied himself with the label on his beer, running his nail underneath the glued down edge. It was wet with condensation, bunching up as he scraped at it, just needing something to do.
Trinity rolled her eyes at the continued protest. "Okay, I'll start. Get the ball rolling." She cleared her throat, as if about to begin a dramatic reenactment. "I was fourteen, with this girl I had a massive crush on. Joy, I joined volleyball just to be near her."
"You joined a sport to get with a girl?"
"Worth it." Trinity nodded her head deep at Dennis. "It was middle school, and they really needed players so they let anyone on. I was, so bad, but," she raised her bottle, "I got laid for about a minute and a half."
"Jesus." Yolanda cringed, light-hearted.
"Oh he had nothing to do with it."
Dennis groaned, a wrong move, judging by the way Trinity's grin turned to him. "Alright, wise guy. What about you?"
Frank chuckled, small and amused, a little curious himself.
He doubted any of them had him beat. He'd be a little horrified if they did, actually, considering everything. Thing was, he had been a mature kid, able to manage a lot more than his siblings when they were his age, so it made sense he'd hit milestones first. He could handle it a lot better.
Hell, Frank remembered what they were like at eleven, and they probably wouldn't have enjoyed it very much.
"What're, we counting as sex?" Dennis asked after a moment, clearing his throat. Frank couldn't tell if the flush was from the alcohol or the topic, but it was amusing either way.
"Penetration." Frank looked over at the girls, eyebrows raised in question. "Simple enough metric, covers all bases."
Once agreement was reached, given in raised glasses, Dennis nodded, leaning forward, shoulders drawn up. "Okay. Um." He hit a hand against his thigh with a sigh, dropping his head to the side as he thought. "I would've been sixteen, with my sort of girlfriend, Katherine, on the couch in her living room."
Yolanda nodded her approval, similar to Trinity. God, they really needed to spend less time together if they were picking up motions so easily, Frank regretted ever agreeing to go out with them.
Ever the knowledge needler, Trinity asked the important question. "How was it?"
"Not the worst sex I've ever had?" Dennis cringed. "Definitely the shortest."
Oh, Frank grinned, unable to help himself. "How long?"
It was obvious now, the red tint was definitely from embarrassment. "Being generous? Maybe twenty seconds."
There was absolutely no way the three of them weren't going to giggle, making Dennis cover his face and cringe. There wasn't technically any shame in it, so incredibly common in teenagers, especially for first times, but come on. Some teasing had to be involved in this, or the tension band strapped between his ribs would never loosen.
It took a hot minute for things to settle, for everyone to return to baseline breathing and take drinks to soothe dry throats from their merriment, Yolanda moving the party along. "Alright, Frank, what about you?"
"I lasted longer than twenty seconds." He couldn't even hide his smile, even as popcorn was tossed his direction and almost hit him in the forehead.
Trinity looked heavenward, then down at him, up through her eyebrows. "Not what was asked. C'mon, details."
He thought about it for a moment, the risks and benefits of if they'd react how people normally did, or if he'd spend the rest of the night awkwardly drinking to forget that he'd been honest with the wrong people.
In the end, he decided on being intentionally annoying. "Nah."
Yolanda gave him an incredibly done look, which he honestly just found fun. "Oh my God, don't be a tease."
"A lady never kisses and tells." Frank hummed, taking another sip of his drink.
"That is such bullshit, Frank." Her turn to roll her eyes at his feigned nonchalance, making his cheeks hurt with the smile. "You have told me way more than whatever your first time was."
That was true. Honestly, Yolanda knew more about his sex life than she probably should, but what else were friends for if not telling about your first horrible attempt at bondage back in college and the beauty of martial aids?
"Wait, was it actually your wedding night?" Trinity asked, a little surprised.
Yolanda almost looked entertained, eyeing him a little. Maybe put off by how dodgy he was being? "Not unless he's lied a shit ton."
All that did was make him chuckle, half there, shaking his head on autopilot. "No, I wasn't some twenty-eight year old virgin, much to your evident disappointment."
"C'mon, Langdon, how old were you? I promise we won't make fun of you." Trinity crossed her heart, pulling a small pout face at him that he saw right through. "You will lose the bet though."
"There was a bet?"
"Only a little one."
He rolled his eyes, taking another drink to try and put off answering.
Honestly? He still didn't know the right version to tell. There was the certain safety that came with the mild intoxication, that he might be able to brush it off as a misspeak if they took it the wrong way. If they reacted the same way Abby had, with a gentle mourning for him that made his skin crawl. Still did, even if he was trying more and more to understand why she got that look on her face when he mentioned anything mildly related to it.
It wasn't like it was a bad memory. Just, one he refused to look at.
Frank cleared his throat, once, twice, paper stuck under his thumb. "I was eleven."
You could physically hear the pulse of the party flatline, the way silence came over them, and suddenly, painfully, he realized he picked the wrong story. That this wasn't the right age to tell them.
"Eleven years old?" Yolanda broke the quiet with a siren, voice pitched with a specific kind of incredulity. Not just disbelief, but a distinct want to not believe.
He nodded, dragging his eyes up from where they were focused on glass and to the three sets focused on him, all wearing varying stages of shock.
Of course, it was Trinity who asked. He should've known. "How um, how old was she?"
Frank shrugged, felt it in his shoulders, shaking his head a little as he thought. "I don't know. Twenty-five, twenty-six."
The bottle was practically warm by now, label half gone and in small pills on the floor. He'd need to pick those up, find some way to vacuum them before he left for the night. That's where his thoughts were as he went back to it, gathering material up under a nail before spitting it out to join the rest of itself in the carpet.
"Really?" Dennis, this time, entire body stiff and eyes wide.
"Mhm." Frank shifted, spinning his drink between his palms as he breathed. Just needed to do that. "She tutored my sister through high school. Mary-Anne Whitmore, friend of my parents from church. Thought I was a cute kid or something."
Whatever joke it was he was trying to make, one he wasn't even sure he was aware of, fell flat on the floor and made the skin on the back of his neck squirm uncomfortably. This was what he had wanted to avoid, this feeling that infiltrated, that ruined the entire night.
"Did your parents know?"
Frank looked up to Trinity, who was staring at him with the most horrifying look of understanding he'd basically ever seen on a person.
He swiped a hand quickly over his mouth, noting his ring was still cool from the condensation. "Yeah, I told my dad. He told me congrats on being a man. Gave me a beer the next day, I think. Mom threw a fit about him doing that, it was a whole thing."
"Your mom was pissed your dad gave you a drink and not that you were raped?"
Trinity's feet hit hard against the floor as she sat up, as close as you could get to controlled slamming her drink down on the table directly after. She had switched over from that nearly heartaching acknowledgement into outrage and Frank felt that word rattle between his ribs.
"I didn't tell her the reason, and rape's a strong word, I woul-"
"Frank, shut the fuck up, I swear to God." Yolanda was leaned sideways against the arm of the couch, her elbow up on it and resting fingers against her lips. "She was a full grown adult, you were in, what, fifth grade?"
Being honest, a lot of that year was fuzzy, but that sounded right. Mostly looking at the space around, the year before and after, what he knew happened from stories. "About."
Trinity got up, shaking her head, and Frank felt dizzyingly like he was losing his grasp on the situation.
"Your son is six, right?"
He snapped back from where he was watching Yolanda stare forward, entire body tense, from Trinity standing to the side, arms crossed over her chest, and looked straight across to Dennis. "Yeah?"
"So," Dennis hunched his shoulders a little, leaning forward to also place down his drink, "that's almost the age gap between him, and Javadi. She's twenty-two."
That hit him like a bat to the chest, stealing air right out of his lungs. And it seemed like he wasn't the only one, Yolanda's eyes closing and Trinity letting out a long breath from where she was standing.
Frank blinked, cleared his throat, felt it stick. Swallowed instead. Five years from now, Tanner would be the age he was when she came over, not knowing Lacey wasn't going to be there, and decided to spend the afternoon with him instead.
Tanner, who was still struggling to not end his name with an 'uh' sound. Who just lost his first tooth last month, and grinned with a gap in his bottom row for a school picture. Who he still picked up, back permitting, carried him from the car when he fell asleep after a long day. Who was still getting the hang of how to play baseball, that didn't even like the sport that much but loved playing it with his older cousins.
One of Lacey's kids was ten. He was in fourth grade, joined his school's band this year, called Frank once because he didn't know how to do his science homework and was too afraid to admit it to mom.
What was Frank's biggest concerns when he was eleven?
He'd just joined Boy Scouts. Scouts, nowadays. He had been learning the periodic table at school, and discovering how cool and gross the human body was. He was bright, and excited, and nearly bombed his class that year. He was pulled aside by his teacher, asked why he wasn't doing homework, why he didn't pay attention, and hadn't had an answer beside everything seemed boring.
Entirely, utterly uninteresting.
========
The get together wrapped up pretty damn quick after that.
Frank was not to proud to admit he fully hid in the bathroom for a good fifteen minutes. He did actually have to piss, but he spent the remaining thirteen minutes after washing his hands staring at himself in the mirror and thinking about the fact that three of his coworkers — one of which was a close friend — wouldn't be able to look at him the same. And, that he'd done it entirely to himself.
When he emerged, the apartment was mostly empty. Bottles cleared from the table, the snacks that had been out probably shoved back in their bags and into the pantry, television turned off. He wondered if they were ever going to finish that movie.
"Where'd the others go?" He looked to where Trinity was sitting on the couch, grabbing his jacket from the back of the armchair he had been sitting in.
Glancing at the floor, the pieces of label had been picked up. Or maybe vacuumed. Honestly, his ears had been ringing so hard for at least half of the time he spent trying to pull himself together, tornado sirens could've gone off and he wouldn't have been any the wiser.
"Dennis is standing on the curb with Yolanda until her Uber gets here." She supplied, rubbing her hands together. "Look, Langdon-"
Frank jolted, holding his hands up. "No, we do not need to do a whole thing-"
"Frank."
He felt his jaw click with how hard he clenched it, taking a deep breath. Alright, sure, guess they were doing this. Why not? "What?"
Trinity swallowed, flicked her eyes down to her hands, and he was washed with the realization she was nervous.
It took him a moment, needing to breathe and compartmentalize and just accept this conversation was going to have to happen. "Alright, out with it."
"You know what she did was wrong, right?" She exhaled it, like she needed to make sure he heard her, that he understood what she was saying. She was looking up at him, a little unsteady, but sure.
He felt his brows pinch at the perceived accusation, closing his eyes for just a moment before sighing. "Yeah, Trinity."
This time, it was a lot gentler. "You know it was rape, right?"
"I-" Frank rolled his shoulders, trying to cool the automatic urge to defend his position, "I, do. I don't.. like to call it that."
It wasn't like he thought it was a bad word. He knew it wasn't. He knew objectively, that's what happened. That someone over twice his age, when he was a minor, coerced sex out of him.
But it didn't feel like that.
He didn't want it to.
Trinity sighed, watching him for a moment before reaching up a hand to run it over the back of her neck. "Why not?"
"It.." Frank didn't know how to phrase this. Not without sounding like an asshole, or like one of those wayward folks they got through triage and wouldn't be let out a man's sight, swearing it was her choice and not the way he kept eagle eyes on every movement they did. "It makes me sound like a victim."
He said it slowly, a little haltingly, not really sure how to proceed. This was uncharted territory, having someone strip what went down so bare, exposing what happened so easily. Like this was just something she was used to.
It was, clearly, the wrong thing to say, making her whole frame hesitate. "Why, is that such a bad thing?"
"Because." Frank exhaled harsh, irritation sparking up his spine. "I didn't, it's not like I spent years being traumatized after. It took me until my twenties to figure out that's what happened. I was a slut, all through my teens, college, up until I met Abby, basically. I partied, I messed around, it didn't even bother me for years. That's not, average pathology for- assault victims."
His tongue caught on the sharp edge of that word, choosing instead for a softer drag along the knife. Both still cut, both drew blood, but one felt way more familiar. More neutral. Allowed.
Trinity looked oddly, physically pained by what he was saying, closing her eyes for a moment. Tight, like she needed to compose herself, and he very openly gave her the space to do so. This was uncharted territory for him.
It took a little bit, but when she spoke, it was chosen. Careful. "When, when I was sixteen, I wanted to get ahead in school. So me and a friend, we took a night class at a community college near us."
She shifted how she was sitting, telegraphing discomfort that just made him concerned. "We met an older guy in one of our classes. Late twenties, an uncaring kind of look to him. We both really liked his vibe, so, we joined a study group with him. And, then started just hanging out with him."
Oh.
Considering what they were talking about, it wasn't hard to figure out where this story was going. What she was about to tell him. What part of herself she was letting him see.
He moved, slowly sitting down on the other end of the couch, a cushion between them.
"We both, we thought we were old enough, to handle everything. We were naive, and desperate for attention, and he gave it." Trinity sniffed, clearing her throat. "I mean, as you learned tonight, he didn't take my virginity, but he took hers. We thought it was, it was kind of cool? To both have experience with the same guy. But, time went on, and over the semester, he got worse. Possessive, controlling. He was really into how young we were."
The look she gave him earlier made a lot more sense, now.
It wasn't just someone who knew someone who went through something. It was raw, first had experience. Horror known by someone who stared at the same star, who lost part of themselves to it, sucked into the gravity of it all.
Trinity broke eye contact now, looking down to her hands again. He wondered if she used to wear polish, the way she kept running her nails over each other. A nervous habit, probably years old by now. "We, didn't take another class there."
"It still stuck. I, mostly retreated into myself, but she reacted similarly to you, Frank. To, take back control of what happened, she got mixed up with sex and drinks and drugs and.. and a lot of the wrong people." She swallowed harsh, starting to pull at her cuticles.
This grabbing, gnawing feeling settled in his stomach at the way she was reacting. Something happened to this girl. "What um-?"
"She killed herself, right before the end of year finals."
Trinity was watching him again with a liquid gaze. Waves, angry, crashing against one another, collapsing into each other. It was challenging, like she expected him to discount what they went through. As if he could know the wood of every ship sunk in that ocean, and laid to watery rest on the seafloor.
It felt like speaking through cotton. "Fuck, Trinity, I'm- I'm so sorry, you went through that. That both of you had to deal with that, that sounds.." He couldn't think of a good word. "Hellish."
For what felt like the first time that night, it seemed like he picked the right words, something calming, just a little, over her ocean. "Thank you. It, it was, but," she took a breath, not pulling her eyes from him, "I still managed to become a doctor. He's not taking anything more from me."
Even though there had been a lot of quiet, slow forgiving between them since he got back to work, that just dug nails into fresh scars for him. Made him, all over again, feel like a dick for how he treated her on her first day at PTMC. It must've shown, because she just raised her eyebrows at him, as if daring him to apologize again.
That point he wouldn't concede. Not tonight. Too many topics for a table already rotting.
"I didn't- I didn't mean to imply anything, by what I said."
"Yeah you did." But it wasn't harsh, the way she said it. Just aching. Old wounds.
Frank felt that like a pinch, the way a parent would in public to remind you of your place. It was a good skill to have, that quick ability to put someone back where they belonged, but it stung nonetheless. Especially coming from her, subject matter be damned.
He ran a hand through his hair, nerves buzzing away under his skin. Had he? He wouldn't say that to someone in their ED. He wouldn't discount what they went through just because of their reaction to it, of their choices. Everyone processed different.
It just felt like, for some reason, that wasn't really a grace he was supposed to give to himself. Like it would be too telling, giving too much of himself, that every way he behaved could be tied back to that. He had enough, he didn't want to add another point of connection.
"Yeah." He sighed, tired, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "I guess, I guess I did. I don't know, it feels different. Thinking about her, what she did, I just.."
The problem was, he hadn't even said anything and he felt exhausted. Maybe it was wear from the day, from taking on what she said, from knowing his own heart was exposed, but that just made him, selfishly, want to pour himself out just a little more. That maybe she'd understand he didn't mean harm.
Or, just maybe, he wanted, horrible in his throat, that connection. That feeling that someone, even just a little, might get it.
Sensing his unease, possibly just giving a canned prompt, Trinity kept her voice level. "You don't have to tell me."
"I know." He looked over at her, tilting his head back some. "You don't have to listen."
She nodded, small, yet her voice was steady as she parroted. "I know."
It went quiet, for a little while. The two of them sitting there, a blood soaked string connecting them. Gory, and painful, and a lifeline born of circumstance.
Frank felt himself inhale, felt it leave. "I liked biology. And she knew that, I was, I was a-a smart kid. So, when she came over, and Lacey wasn't there, and Tommy was at practice, she.." He huffed, wet and morbidly amused. "God, it sounds like a bad porn intro."
Trinity didn't share the humor. Different coping for different kinds, he guessed, but it did add a weight he wasn't used to feeling. A heaviness, cold and metal, to the internal scale he was trying to balance.
He scratched lightly at his ear, uncomfortable. "She asked me what I knew about sex, about puberty, if I'd, y'know.." He flicked his eyes down, unable to not smirk just a little at the slight, ever so slight exasperation on Trinity's face.
"You can say the proper terms, we are doctors."
"Yeah, but it's more fun this way."
Not that there was a whole lot of fun about anything that happened in that bedroom. It took him over a decade to start recognizing what she did as damaging, and even now, it was hard. To label it, put a word to her stripping down, telling him to do the same. To the way she coached him through the entire thing. To the ice that settled in his arteries, pumped out from a heart that froze as he laid in bed after she left, confused.
Honestly? He still didn't know how much of him had thawed.
"She asked if I enjoyed it, and if I wanted to 'experience the real thing'." It echoed even as he said it, Mary-Anne's drawl pulled up from whatever file he'd tried to delete and played again between his ears. It made his stomach roll.
A pause, her tilting her head some. "That, actually does sound like a bad porn intro, I see what you mean."
"Right? What was with that?" He scrunched his face in the middle, chuckling with air that didn't feel like his, too exhausted from the emotional toll of the evening to attempt to control any of those reactions.
Trinity clenched her hands, looking up at him with her lips pulled tight, almost a frown. Probably just sympathy. "I'm sorry that happened to you, Frank."
He did not expect the way just a few words from someone he wouldn't have considered a friend until a few months ago would hit, grab him by the throat, by the lungs. Simple acknowledgement, understanding from someone who knew, and it made his eyes buzz. "Yeah. Thanks, Trinity. Thank you."
There the quiet was again, neither of them sure where to go from here. It wasn't like they were particularly close or anything. Though, this had probably done wonders for their understanding for one another. Even if they weren't particularly fond of each other, this wasn't going to just go away tomorrow when he woke up.
It was that exact thought, the fact that there was now a brand on each other of this, that made him check his phone. "I should get going."
That seemed to jumpstart her, making her blink and nod, clear her throat to rid the feelings this all must've stirred up. "Yeah. Yeah, right. Um, I'll see you tomorrow?"
Frank smiled as he stood, barely there, perfunctory. "Seven AM."
"Ugh." She flopped her head back, watching as he slipped on his jacket, pulled on his shoes by the door. "You want someone to wait with you?"
"Nah." He grabbed his bag from the floor, tossing it over his shoulder. "I think I uh, just need some space to think."
That, she understood intimately, nodding once. "See you around, Langdon."
"See you, Santos." He shot it back easily, an old volley they were used to, unlocking the door and walking off into the complex. He knew his way out by now.
He was right, as he waited on the corner, letting the cold air seep into his bones. He needed to be alone for a minute. It was an unusually wet night, but he appreciated it all the same, reminding him just a little of the mountains.
Waiting there on the corner, he tilted his head back, looking at the impressions of stars. They weren't super easy to see in the city, but he didn't mind it too much most nights. It felt nice, being somewhere new, untainted by everything back home. No ghosts of hands, phantom lips against his ear, against him. All of that was exorcised, left behind on dirt roads as best as he could. He'd still catch glances of spectres, remnants, still wake with a rush of a cold grip on his wrist, his waist, but it wasn't here.
The only shit that went down in Pittsburgh was caused by him and him alone, and he could live with that. To be quite honest, that's how he preferred it.