Warnings: Closeted!Frank Langdon x Semi-Out male reader, Smut, angst, internalized homophobia, divorced frank, slight dacryphilia, praise kink
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Frank wasn’t always like this. He wasn’t born defensive and angry. He was gentle once. He promises. But somewhere along the line he was broken down one two many times. And so he stayed down. What was the point in getting back up if he was just going to be knocked back down? What is the point in letting people in if Frank was just going to disappoint them? So he put up walls. He builds his barriers and tells himself it’s safer this way. It’s for the better.
But then you came in. And it seemed as if you thought your whole life's purpose was to get him to let you in. Frank believed it was his life’s purpose to not. No matter what he did, you were still there. It didn’t matter if Frank fought or bit or yelled like a petulant child. You were there.
He began to expect your efforts. He was no longer surprised when you brought him a red bull at the beginning of your shift. He is no longer surprised when you offer him a bite of your snack. He still does not like it, but he expects it.
Frank loves his kids. He thinks he could have loved his wife. If he wasn’t like this. He wasn’t raised religious or anything, he doesn’t know why he’s so “weird” about it. God he’s pathetic he can’t even think the word gay about himself. He doesn’t even know if you're gay or bisexual or what, but sometimes, when the light frames your face just right, he hopes you are. It is because of you, that when his wife gives him the divorce papers, he is not, totally devastated. Instead of looking forward to getting home to his wife after a long day of work, he looks forward to the long winded praises and goodbyes you give everyone at the end of shift. As much as Frank detests this change in his mood, he cannot train his heart to sit. He wants to stick to his own dogma, that he cannot see what is in front of him. That he is irrevocably in love with you
He tries not to cringe at his own eagerness when you invite him out for coffee "Whenever we’re both off next.” He tries to not let it show that he knows exactly when that is, that he has your schedule memorized. His chest twists slightly when he realizes that he now has to wait nine days for this. His face brightens when you say:
Frank knows that logically, you did not mean this literally. That even though it’s Pittsburgh, and none of his coworkers would care, the chances of a man asking out his male coworker at work is next to zero. He also knows (hopes) that you do not know that he is gay. That as far as you know, he is just a heterosexaul man, who is going through a rough time and could use a friend. You don’t even know the half of it.
When Frank walks into the coffee shop you picked out, his heart stops so suddenly that he thinks he had a heart attack. You're sitting there scrolling on your phone, and you already ordered for yourself. There is something so endearing about seeing you just, existing. In your element, not aware or worried about anyone's perceptions of you. As he makes his way over to you, all of his worries melt away. Conversation flows easily with you, of course it does. As he sips his coffee, the outside world slips away from him, and he lets it. He wishes he could feel this carefree all the time.
But he can’t, so he takes what he can get.
The next day at work Frank feels like he’s walking on air. He’s the most energetic he’s been in months. And people notice.
“Someones in a good mood.”
He wants to ask you for coffee or something again, but he’s terrified. What if you didn’t have as good of a time as him? You haven’t texted him since, and you don’t have work today. Frank silently criticizes himself for expecting you to. It’s not like it was a date or anything. He’s a grown man, he should be able to handle himself. Frank has quickly ruined his own mood and it’s all his fault.
At least until the next day, when he sees you again. At first, he’s elated to see you again, but quickly becomes anxious. You still hadn’t texted him. He spends all day avoiding you, until you confront him.
“Frank, can you come with me for a moment?”
He would do anything you asked him, so he follows like a lost dog into the supply closet.
Frank is caught completely off guard. He spent the past two days thinking he did something, and apparently so did you.
“You’ve been avoiding me all day.”
Shit. He really thought he was being more discreet.
“It’s um. Because after we got coffee you kinda um. Ghosted me. God that sounds really pathetic out loud.”
“Yes it does. I’m a grown ass man, I should be able to deal with this.”
“Just because you're a grown man doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to be upset. And for the record, I didn’t mean too. I just had a ton of stuff to do yesterday.”
Frank thinks if he looks up at you he might start crying. He knows that he’s allowed to be upset but something about you saying it hits him.
“No I’m not.” Frank mumbles. He’s allowed to be upset, but he should not feel the things he feels about you.
“Shouldn’t feel like this.”
“Frank, what are you talking about? Look at me.”
It’s only when he does that you realize he’s crying. He looks like he wants to crawl in a hole and never come out. You open your arms and he instinctually falls into them as he chokes out sobs.
“What shouldn’t you feel? Talk to me.”
“This. For you.” He sobs out.
That's when it finally clicks for you. And you start to cackle. You don’t mean to, honestly you don’t.
“Frank, I’m so sorry, but what did you think of me asking you for coffee?
“Honey, did you not think I meant as a date?”
And that just makes Frank cry even harder.
“I’m supposed to like girls. I should like girls, why aren’t you mad?”
“Why would I be mad when I’m the same?”
And Frank just looks at you, and you’ve never seen him look so scared, so small, so beaten up.
“We’ve gotta get back on the floor, but we can keep talking about this after work okay? You can come over to my place.
All Frank does is nod as he tries to compose himself.
When he gets to your home later that day, he has a pitt in his stomach but also something new. Lighter. You open the door with a smile and usher him in. You have pasta on the stove, and wine already on the table and it is then and there Frank realizes how hungry he is. After giving him a moment to eat, you speak up.
“Why did you want me to be mad?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for honey.”
Frank tries to ignore how the pet name makes him feel. As you take his empty plate from him and you both move to the couch you continue talking.
“You don’t like women because you were never meant to. And who am I to judge a fish for its ability to climb a tree?”
You hold Frank, and anything that has ever been wrong is no more. And he is calm, he is safe.
“Does anyone know that you’re gay?”
“You really haven’t told anyone?”
“No I uh. Sometimes I think I was like I was born with something wrong. Like pathologically. And if I let people know anything about me, they're gonna leave. I’d rather no one know me and be there, than be gone and know. I think that’s why I got so freaked out this morning.”
“Oh baby. There’s nothing wrong with you, and I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
Frank now feels small for the second time today, except this time it feels good. You kiss his tears away and it feels good. You hold him and it feels good. And you pick him up, and you take him to your bed. Frank has never felt more at home than he does right now. You undress him (ignoring how hard he is, for now) and change him into your pajamas. You kiss him and tell him it’s gonna be okay, and he believes you.
When Frank looks up at you with his needy blue eyes, asking you to make him feel good, who are you to say no? When he presses his erection up against your thigh, you swear you’ve found heaven. He is wearing your shirt, and rubbing against you, asking for you to make him cum. When you tower over him, it is the third time that day that Frank feels small. He is falling in love with the feeling. And when you press your fingers into him, he falls in love with you. Moving them in, and out, and in, Frank has found heaven in you, like you have in him. You press into him, and Frank sees stars.
“You’re doing so good for me Frankie.”
“D-don’t praise me, I don’t wanna finish yet- please-”
“Aww does poor Frankie have a praise kink? You just need to be told how good you're doing huh?”
All Frank can do is moan in response, because how can he be expected to form a coherent thought when you speak to him like that? And you’re looking at him like he’s your life, and he supposes that you are his.
When he finishes he cries. Cries because he got to experience you, cries because of how good it feels. He cries. And once more you kiss the tears away.
