jealousy + frank and henry ( bc no human being in this earth can convince me frank wouldn't be jealous of those two talking )
Send a word + another muse and I’ll write a drabble or headcanon it | Accepting
She’s watching him from the bed as he smokes his seemingly mandatory cigarette out on the balcony. It must be two in the morning by now and she’s probably going to fall asleep any second now. Yet thoughts cloud her mind as she watches him. She’s not sure how to describe the look on his face earlier. Anger? Jealously? Annoyance? She’s not sure if it had been directed at her, but he sure took it out on her. The way he had fucked her had radiated dominance and no love.
There had been a lot of people at their home earlier, as they had thrown a barbecue in their garden to mark the beginning of Summer. Their family and friends made up for a good thirty people crowding their backyard. As the evening passed, people started to leave, but not Henry. Granted, he wasn’t the only one who had stayed. Some of his colleagues stayed a little longer than the invite said, as well as one of her sisters and some of her friends. But it seems that Henry staying longer was the only thing that bothered Frank.
Sometimes she’s not sure why the two are friends. She doesn’t see Henry that often, but she knows he’s Frank’s drinking buddy. Can you really call someone like that a friend? Someone you have to get drunk with to talk to? Maybe that’s why Frank had seemed annoyed with Henry staying late. Though she figures it’s most likely because of the way Henry sometimes is around her. Or how he is most of the time, rather.
It’s not just her, she knows that. He flirts with her friends and her sisters too. Sometimes she can’t tell if that’s just the way he is or if he’s actually flirting. She knows Frank can’t tell either. He seems to able to see Henry often without growing tired of him, but there’s always a brief interval when he’s been around to their place. She’s seen Frank ignore his calls for a couple of days before the two suddenly pick up where they left things.
At the end of the night, Henry had sat down next to her. Frank was seeing some of the last few people off and it was only the three of them at the house now. So, with Frank inside, it had been just Henry and Arabella. She has always known Henry to be flirtatious, but she often treats it likes he’s just messing around. She knows Frank doesn’t see it that way.
When Frank had come back outside, she had been laughing about something Henry had said. Neither of them had seen Frank yet. Or maybe Henry had. She’s not sure. All she knows is that Frank definitely heard what he had said. “Oh, come on. You’re beautiful. You can get anyone you want.” She had waved it off, taking a sip of her wine before she had noticed Frank. Henry’s words can be interpreted in many different ways, especially without context. And she knows exactly what Frank had been thinking. And she knows Henry had too, because he was suddenly in a rush to leave.
They both walked through the house and to the front door to see Henry off. Not much had been said, just Henry thanking them for the invitation and kissing her cheek as a goodbye. Then nodding at Frank before heading out the door. She hadn’t been able to see Frank’s reply, but she had seen the look on his face after closing the door. She had gone upstairs to get a jacket so they could clean up the backyard. The look on his face had been the same when he had kissed her and they had somehow ended up on the bed. He had been thinking about other things when he had fucked her, she knows that. Probably about what Henry had said and how she had been laughing. How he had said it even though he probably knew Frank had come back outside.
She can see the droplets of rain on the window, more coming every second. They hadn’t cleaned anything up in the back yard and she wants to get up and save the lawn chair cushions from getting soaked, but she doesn’t. He’s still standing there like it’s not raining, smoking his cigarette. She pushes the covers off of her and gets out of the bed. She takes her robe from the back of the door and shrugs it on while heading to the balcony. She steps outside, suddenly realizing how cold it is. The wine had been keeping her warm throughout the evening, but that feeling is gone now. She moves up against his back, her arms wrapping around his stomach. She rests her cheek against his back, her fingers intertwining on his stomach. She wants to say something, but she doesn’t know what. So she says nothing instead, hoping that her embrace is enough.